《The Grave Keeper》


 A World To Unite

    Solomon sat in the broken remnants of a bed chamber, exhaustion hanging over him like a cloak.


    The room had been opulent once, with tapestries, silks, and priceless paintings adorning its walls.


    Now, those works of art were scattered, and the walls gouged and broken, letting in cracks of moonlight. Those rays fell upon piles of rubble as if to draw a spotlight on his crime.


    Solomon had tried to keep their battle contained. He¡¯d tried to keep the servants out of it.


    His Master had shown no such restraint.


    He closed his eyes and let his head rest against the remnants of the bed.


    He was so very tired. He wanted to sleep, and a deeper, darker part wanted to stay asleep until morning, let the sun take care of the lot of them.


    But he had work to attend to.


    With a groan, Solomon pulled himself to his feet. The magic he had plundered from his Master pulsed in his chest, a cold presence. It wouldn¡¯t do him any good here.


    Wind gusted through the holes in the wall, and he glanced up in time to see the clouds shift.


    The moon came into view, full and beautiful.


    What am I? Some werewolf? Focus, man.


    Solomon drug his gaze down to the two vampires staked at his feet. To his family.


    His Master was already dead, his head lying a few inches from his neck, his red eyes staring at the axe embedded in the stone as if commanding it to halt.


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    Solomon wouldn¡¯t have been surprised if he could.


    Even at the end, with a stake through his heart, a part of Solomon believed his Master to be invincible.


    His vision started to blur, and he forced his gaze away. This night isn¡¯t over. Weep when you are done.


    He turned his focus to Roland. The burly vampire was still alive. Helpless but alive.


    He looked like a bear more than a vampire, with a great barrel chest and two pillar-like arms. His beady brown eyes stared straight up, full of hate and rage that begged for release.


    As he stared down at the man, at his mentor, his rival, his¡­constant, the exhaustion tripled. ¡°I know you won¡¯t believe me, but I never wanted this. Any of this. But you wouldn¡¯t listen to me. None of you would.¡±


    He pinched his brow.


    ¡°The other houses, the humans, the factions, all of it would just continue as it always has in your mind, but it won¡¯t! And you refused to listen!¡±


    Centuries of effort, of arguments, and it had never gotten Solomon anywhere. ¡°But I would have just left, struck out on my own. You know that, don¡¯t you? He was Falling, Roland. I know you saw it.¡±


    The man was paralyzed, but that didn¡¯t stop his mind from working, just his body. Solomon tried to find understanding in his eyes. Anything.


    He failed.


    Solomon crouched down, his dark shoes crunching on rubble. ¡°I never wanted any of this. But I have waited too long already. So I¡¯m left to choose between our bad options.¡±


    His hand closed around the axe.


    He closed Roland¡¯s eyes. He could give him that much, at least.


    He stood, the moon bearing down on him like a witness, painting the room in silver and shadow. Then he brought the axe down.


    With a grief-filled heart, Solomon strode from the broken room.


    Tears rose in his eyes again, but he blinked them away. When the work is done.


    Magic roiled inside him. His Master magic. It was cold and hungry, and it did nothing for the empty feeling in his chest.


    He closed his eyes. When the work is done.

 An Inexperienced Diplomat And His Apprentice

    PART ONE: Welcome To Silver-Spruce


    Cornelius heard the click of chitin on wood. The sound tore through his sleep and sent his mind into overdrive. The cave floor was cold, their auras under such constant strain that they couldn''t afford to heat it. The smell of rot and copper filled his nose. The spiders must have killed the first watch silently, but how? A new breed, maybe?


    Without opening his eyes or giving any physical tell that he was awake, Cornelius shoved his aura throughout the entire room, and with an effort of will, he split his mind.


    One half remained cold and focused well the other... The other was wondering why it took so much effort to split his mind. Maybe there was an easier way to do it. But was the easy way to do something always better? How much effort could you shave off something before it crossed the line between efficiency and laziness? Cornelius didn''t mind being lazy on occasion, but only on occasion. Being lazy too often would set a bad example for Dalton.


    As his disjointed thoughts flowed to any topic they wished, his aura changed. Taking on a bright yellow hue in his mind''s eye.


    The second his aura shifted aspects, Cornelius was weaving power. Young mages often tried to make a solid shield out of wind, but that was inefficient at best and ineffective at worst. Wind wanted to be in motion, and unless someone had the iron will and expert control necessary to keep the wind moving in a tightly controlled shield, it was best to go big.


    A miniature tornado formed in the room as Cornelius poured magic into the spell. At the same time, he pushed a separate vortex into being around his bed, this one far tighter than the other, the air spinning as fast as he could will it in the small space. Cornelius sat up. A spider bigger than his torso flew across his line.


    The voice of an older, matronly woman wailed in his mind. This happened once more before Cornelius remembered where he was and hastily, but carefully, dropped the spell¡ªsetting the giant spider down gently in front of his bed.


    He kept the smaller vortex going at reduced power, making it almost invisible. It was not a good idea to drop ones guard entirely after offending someone with venomous fangs.


    The spider was around four feet tall and covered in a glossy black carapace. Save for a few splashes of blue and pink along the thorax that reminded Cornelius vaguely of flowers. Two large black eyes, which were flanked by three smaller ones, stared accusingly at Cornelius. Dust and debris that Cornelius''s spell had whipped up slowly floated down around them.


    "Of all the ways to respond to being woken up!" The same matronly voice shouted into Cornelius''s mind, indignation and disapproval dripping off every syllable. "I made it two steps through the door and hadn''t even managed to clear my throat before being manhandled by the air!" A curious part of Cornelius marveled at how well she managed to use human phrases. He wasn''t even sure if spiders had throats. Plus, she spoke mentally, so she didn''t need to clear her throat to talk if she had one in the first place. The rest of Cornelius was overcome with embarrassment.


    He rubbed at the back of his neck before bowing to the spider. "I apologize, Madam Lillian. My squad and I were once trapped in a complex of caves for the better part of a month. The spiders there were far less... refined than you and your clan. Madam Lillian''s demeanor flipped immediately. "Oh, you poor thing! I understand. One of the reasons we are here instead of in one of the counties of the DownThere is because of how barbaric our Kin can be." Lillian waved her front legs in a way that Cornelius somehow interpreted as reassuring.


    Fascinating, this clan''s empathic abilities were top-notch. And the tiny threads of magic that Lillian could spin like silk were imbued with intent like a ward. They even radiated peace and patience, which was likely how they were able to get through his defenses.


    Cornelius caught his thoughts before they could get lost in magical theory and steered them back on track.


    "Still, I apologize for my reaction."


    "You are forgiven, my dear, and I won''t hear any further apologies from you." Cornelius gave another seated bow. "I will let the others know to knock instead of trying to call. Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes." Madam Lillian gave a dip that reminded Cornelius of a curtsy before turning and gliding out of the room. She thoughtfully shut the door behind her with a back leg.


    Once he was sure she wasn''t standing right next to the door, Cornelius let out a breath and laid back on his bed. He pushed images of many-legged horrors pulling his friends apart out of his mind. His hands tightened on the bedsheets, which he noted were silk. Giant spider silk? Whatever it was made from, it wasn''t the hard stone of the cave.


    Despite his predisposed hatred of spiders, he couldn''t deny that Madam Lillian and her Kin had been nothing but accommodating since he and his apprentice arrived in Silver Spruce. And Cornelius had done his best to return their kindness.


    He was a man of many flaws, but he refused to let racism be one of them. Far too many spooks fell into that pit. If the giant spiders were kind to him, he would be kind in return. Though he had almost burned the entire house down when he arrived.


    The Knull clan had bought this house for him before he arrived in Silver Spruce. The home, and the entire neighborhood around it, had been up for sale for decades. The Circle was only one subdivision of the town''s largest neighborhood, which was impressive in size for such a relatively small town.


    When Cornelius arrived at the house, he had found that while it was up for sale, it wasn''t unoccupied. It had been an intense first meeting, Cornelius would admit. But once both sides realized the other wasn''t out for their blood, productive conversation had quickly followed.


    While the clan owned the house legally, much of the supernatural world didn''t particularly care about legality. They cared about who was there first and who was strong enough to make others respect that claim.


    Madam Lillian and her- her brood? That word didn''t sound very faltering, and the spiders had been very kind to him and his apprentice.


    ... Kin. The spider and Kin had acknowledged the situation''s awkwardness. Cornelius''s clan had bought the house after all. But he was in no rush to evict the spiders. They didn''t harm humans and lived partially off the ambient magic in the area, which was quite dense. They also hunted animals in the forest and plenty of insects, many of which were far larger than normal.


    As far as Cornelius could tell, the spiders were upstanding citizens.


    With a grunt, Cornelius climbed out of bed. He looked down at his floor and sighed. His impromptu tornado had scattered his belongings to every corner of the room. Leaving his floor looking like a mix of college students dorm and an in-process art project.


    With a slight effort, Cornelius started to shift his thoughts. He didn''t go for a complete mental split this time, leaving his entire mind to wander free as his aura shifted yellow.


    His floor really did look like an abstract art project, one made by the kind of artist who would insult you if you asked them what the project was. Cornelius could enjoy the abstract on occasion. He was quite a fan of art in general. Though he had little patience for the snobbery that often slipped in like rain through a leaky roof.


    While his thoughts went where they liked, Cornelius''s aura had strands of power weaving around articles of clothing. Each one only needed a strand or two before they were carried into the air on a gust of wind. Wind magic without a full mental split had always given Cornelius trouble. The very nature of the mental state required made it hard to focus on a single task, unlike the stubborn patience of earth or the passion and aggression of fire. But Cornelius had eventually gotten the trick of it. It was a little like intentionally zoning out. Letting your hands to a monotonous task as your mind wandered.


    Cornelius steered his mind towards thinking about flowers, had to keep the thoughts moving, which was another frustration of wind magic. You couldn''t even contemplate the thing while using it, not for long anyway.


    Without a full split, Cornelius didn''t have the dexterity required to fold his clothes with wind, but he did have the skill to lay them in individual piles. Less than thirty seconds after he started, the floor was clean. Once that was done, Cornelius clapped his hands and refocused, his aura bleeding back to its usual off-white as he did.


    He needed to get going. If he wasn''t quick about it, Dalton was going to be up before him. He wasn''t going to give his apprentice that kind of ammo. Cornelius threw on some heavy jeans, a dark long-sleeved shirt and topped it off with a bright yellow raincoat that went just past his knees. It looked a little ridiculous, he''d admit, but he liked it all the same.


    Cornelius stepped out of his room and immediately had to dodge a small spider. Well, he said small, but that was only in comparison to spiders like Mme. Lillian, as it was still bigger than his head. Black eyes looked up at him as furry legs twitched. Cornelius felt a conflicting mass of emotions. His own revulsion to spiders clashing with the knowledge that he was looking at a thinking individual.Not a thing to be judged because its appearance scared him.


    The voice of a young boy spoke straight into Cornelius''s mind. "That coat looks dumb on you." Cornelius blinked at the spider, which promptly turned and scurried off down the hall, sending a few mental giggles Cornelius''s way as it ran. Okay, so maybe Cornelius should judge the little brat just for his personality instead of his looks.


    Cornelius stomped down the hall, a hall that was totally clean of webs. Certain rooms in the house were mazes of spiderwebs, furniture, and even small rooms made out of the stuff. But Mme. Lillian and her Kin understood that humans weren''t overly fond of sleeping in rooms full of webs, so they had cleared out several rooms, including a few hallways.


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    He reached Dalton''s door and gave it a few firm knocks. It would be disappointing if that woke him, but Cornelius gave him a chance. Though, considering how hard the lad slept, Cornelius doubted a raging werewolf would wake the boy up. He gave another firm knock.


    Nothing.


    Cornelius opened the door and slipped inside. His apprentice was right where he expected him to be¡ªin the middle of his bed, snoring loudly. Like most teenagers, Dalton could sleep like it was a professional sport. Cornelius didn''t begrudge him that teenagers needed more sleep than adults. What he did begrudge was his apprentices'' inability to set an alarm. In the four months since Dalton had become Cornelius''s apprentice, he could count on one hand the number of times the boy had gotten up on time.


    That was fine though, it gave Cornelius the excuse to open the day with a lesson. It was a lesson that had yet to sink in, but Cornelius was a patient man.


    He pushed his aura into the room, surrounding the area around Dalton but not covering the young mage himself. Touching Dalton''s aura with his own would immediately wake him up, which would waste this opportunity.


    It was hard to affect another mage directly with your aura. People had natural defenses against that sort of thing. You had to overpower their own aura for one, which people had even if they weren''t mages, which was usually such a power-intensive thing to do that it wasn''t worth it. It was easier to just throw fire from a distance or affect the ground beneath their feet than directly affect their bodies.


    But if the person was significantly weaker than you or entirely unprepared to defend, it made it a far easier task. Cornelius once again aspected his aura to wind and got a spell ready. Then he slammed it forward, overcoming Dalton''s aura in an instant. Before Dalton could even open his eyes, he was floating in the air. "Gahhh!?" Cornelius dropped his apprentice after flipping him once, making sure he landed on his bed with all of his limbs in a safe position for the impact. It took considerable finesse to drop someone just fast enough to startle without hurting them. But Dalton had given Cornelius plenty of practice in the art.


    "Goddammit!" His apprentice swore. "Why!" Cornelius smiled at his swearing apprentice while using a few gusts of wind to tidy up his room. It was far from the worst teenagers room he''d seen, but Dalton had still managed to make a sizable mass in two days.


    "Several reasons." Cornelius raised a finger. "First off, I find it rather funny." He quickly continued before a tirade of expletives could be sent his way. "But far more importantly, because it is good for you, my apprentice."


    Cornelius''s lost most of his smile as he met Dalton''s dark eyes. "You are well aware that this world is not safe or kind, Dalton. And it is even less so to those with magic which cannot defend themselves. Every time I wake you up by overpowering your aura, waking up alert becomes just a bit closer to the usual. If I can get you to wake up ready to defend yourself without the brutal methods many masters prefer, I will."


    Cornelius crouched down as he continued to stare into his apprentices'' eyes, making sure he understood the gravity of his words. "And continuing on that line, each time I overpower your aura from surprise, it gets a little bit harder.""Doesn''t stop you from overpowering me in a heartbeat," Dalton grumbled.""Not yet, but I have to put more effort in each time. Eventually, I won''t be able to overpower you from surprise; you''ll make me work for it. And one day, you''ll be able to hold off my aura entirely. When that happens, will move into the next steps of defending yourself from a mage ambush."


    Cornelius stood and clapped his hands. "Right then," he said as he turned to the door. "That concludes the first lesson in the diplomacy of the day, will be leaving in fifteen minutes, Dalton, don''t be tardy." "Diplomacy, my ass!" Dalton yelled after the closing door.


    ~<>~


    "Explain to me why, when we have a perfectly good car, we are taking the bus?" Dalton asked.


    Cornelius looked at his slightly sullen apprentice with a smile.


    The boy looked out of place with his lanky frame stuffed into a bus seat. He was dressed, in sharp contrast to Cornelius, fashionably. Or at least, Cornelius assumed it was fashionable. He couldn''t claim to be with it. Dalton wore far tighter jeans than Cornelius, a sky blue shirt, and a brown jacket. Did that count as fashionable?


    "We have three weeks until the summit," Cornelius began. "Three weeks to get to know the town, three weeks to complete all of our tasks. The public transport system is a great way to get to know the town." Dalton gave Cornelius a doubting look. For someone Cornelius would describe as having a honest face, Dalton was surprisingly good at giving those looks. "Plus, I needed to get some thinking done, and driving takes too much focus."


    Dalton gave him an even more skeptical look. "How is it, oh master mine, that you can do all of the things you do, but driving proves to be the limit of your multitasking abilities?"


    Cornelius shrugged, his heavy raincoat squeaking slightly with the motion. "We all have our limits. Ah, would you look at that, we''re here." The bus pulled to a stop with a hiss of hydraulics. Cornelius and his apprentice being the only occupants, they were out the doors as soon as they opened, only pausing to give the bus driver a quick wave.


    Downtown Silver Spruce was a sharp contrast from the rest of the town. Aside from a few neighborhoods, most of the town was incredibly spread out, with moderate swaths of forest between most buildings. But the downtown was about as packed as any Cornelius had seen. Albeit far smaller in scale.


    Tourist season hadn''t truly died yet, so a still sizable crowd bustled through the street, flowing in and out of the dozens of shops and restaurants.


    Dalton perked up immediately at the sight. The boy did have a fondness for shopping.


    "Today''s second lesson in diplomacy is thus," Cornelius said as they headed towards the throng of people. "When trying to get a feel for a new place, talk to people."


    Dalton gave him some side-eye. "First off, we''re still sticking to the whole ''diplomacy'' thing? And second, I think I could have figured that one out on my own, master."


    Before answering, Cornelius angled towards a shop with brown siding and a large red sign in front that read "Wallace''s Wax whats-its."


    "Yes, we are still sticking to that whole ''diplomacy'' thing. I am a diplomat, and you are a diplomat''s apprentice. And while it sounds simple, the best ways to get information often are. Just striking up a friendly conversation and asking a few good questions can get you great results. But there is also more to the lesson, which I would have already gotten to if my apprentice had not so rudely interrupted me."


    Dalton raised his hands. "Fair enough, please master mine. Would you continue the lesson?"


    He nodded. "I shall, but I''ve told you not to call me master in public. It gets us weird looks."


    "You call me apprentice. And you''re wearing a giant yellow raincoat. We''re already getting weird looks."


    Cornelius, like the wise mage that he was, ignored his apprentice and continued speaking. "Like I was saying. Talking to people is the way to go. It''s best to start with people who interact with lots of the town, bartenders, and the like since they often hear the local gossip from patrons. But really, you want to talk to everyone that you can. You never know what Larry, the truck driver has to say about his town or neighbors. The more information you can get, the better. Even seemingly useless pieces of gossip are useful when you are trying to get a feel for a place." Cornelius slowed slightly as they approached the shop. He wanted to finish giving his lesson before they entered.


    "Today, we''re going to start with shop owners and cashiers because they''re closer, and I want to shop, but we''ll get to plenty of others. Just maybe not today."


    Dalton nodded. "Alright, that all makes sense. But tell me this. If I''m a diplomat''s apprentice, then why exactly, oh master mine, do you wake me up with an attack!?"


    Cornelius smiled at his scowling apprentice. "Come now, Dalton," he said as he walked into the shop. "Any good diplomat needs to be able to defend themselves."


    ~<>~


    Over the next hour, Cornelius and Dalton perused shops, chatted with the locals, and generally enjoyed themselves. Cornelius made sure to take his own advice and talk to as many shopkeepers and cashiers as he could. He had certainly gotten an impression of the locals. They were, in a word, odd. Most of them were friendly enough, but Cornelius couldn''t shake the feeling that all of them were a little too casual about the supernatural.


    Even the people that were, as far as he could tell, vanilla humans supernaturally speaking. He had seen one shopkeeper lure away a greed fiend, casually flashing some money to get it to follow her into a back room. She hadn''t been a mage or any other type supernatural to Cornelius his eyes. But she hadn''t even paused when the sickly yellow spirit had floated up from the floorboards.


    He supposed it made sense, considering just how dense the ambient magic was here. If it was a loose fog in most places, then here it was like walking through a thick gel.


    Aside from how comfortable they seemed with the supernatural, Cornelius also noticed a few weak hedge mages as they shopped. Hedge mages were self-taught and unaffiliated with any of the three major clans. They tended to be relatively weak since the strong ones were usually scooped up by the clans.


    Cornelius made sure to remember the hedge mages'' faces and even talked to a few of them. They would be his best bet for getting vouchers. He and Dalton were heading to their last stop for the day, a small coffee shop at the edge of downtown, when Cornelius stopped mid-step.


    A mage''s sense for magic extended a bit past their aura. Most mages could feel a change in the magic around them, kind of like a mix between your sense of smell and feeling a temperature change. But a mage''s magical senses could be trained and improved far more than their ordinary senses. Cornelius wasn''t at the top of the totem pole when it came to magical senses, but he was far from the bottom. So it took Dalton several feet before he realized Cornelius had stopped, and he didn''t understand why.


    Something pressed against Cornelius from the road. It was like a whisper from someone he knew but couldn''t place, but if they just spoke a little louder, it would click.


    Cornelius closed his eyes and tried to follow the sensation, extending his aura and senses alike.


    The feeling went from a faint whisper to a deafening cry in a heartbeat. It blasted his senses, causing him to stumble. Then, the feeling changed again. It pressed against him, growing as it did until he felt like a mountain was looming over him.


    Ah, so that''s who it is.


    Just as he readied himself to try and push back, as fruitless as he knew it would be, the pressure vanished as if it had never been.


    Cornelius spun and scanned the road. He didn''t see it at first, but he kept looking. She wouldn''t take off before he caught a glimpse. Sure enough, he saw a black motorcycle that was almost blocked by the surroundings. He couldn''t make out who was riding it, not that he needed to, but he could see the incredibly detailed broomstick drawn on the side of the bike.


    A second later, the motorcycle took off, seemingly with the flow of traffic, but Cornelius was sure she''d managed to influence said traffic somehow.


    The old hag had arrived early for the summit. Cornelius turned to his apprentice, who had his mouth open to ask a question. "Dalton, be polite to any old women you meet. Even if they''re annoying."


    Dalton rolled his eyes. "I wasn''t planning on badmouthing any old women. Why ¨C" Cornelius cut him off. "Dalton!" Part of him, the part that always panicked when she was around, caused his voice to come out sharp and hard. The air heated up around them as his aura responded to his emotions.


    "In the coming weeks, this town is going to be filled with spooks, and while plenty are going to be mages or factions we have good relations with, just as many will kill you if you give them an excuse. I can protect you from most, but some beings are above me, Dalton. If you are not careful, then you will be snuffed out like a candle. So listen to me, and listen well, because I am not going to have my apprentice die because he lipped off to the wrong creature." Cornelius took a step closer, and while he turned down the heat coming off his aura, he kept up the pressure.


    "Be. Polite."


    Dalton looked up at him, his eyes wide, and nodded. Once Cornelius was sure his apprentice got the message, he reined in his aura. Dalton gasped. "How do you do that! You weren''t even pushing against my aura, but it felt like a knife was against my throat." Cornelius studied his apprentice, then smiled. "I''ll teach you how to do that in time. After all, a diplomat must have presence."

 Strangers In A Strange Town

    Blair Northwood stood outside of Don¡¯s Gas and Grub. A burger joint/gas station. The entire front wall was painted with a beach scene, fluffy white clouds, seagulls, colorful towels, and bright umbrellas dotting its surface. It was a sharp contrast from the rich browns and greens of the store next to it, which was less than 6 inches from the gas station¡¯s side.


    The rest of Blair¡¯s Pack was already inside, loudly bickering with each other and the cashier behind the counter. Part of Blair itched to go in. An Alpha didn¡¯t leave their Pack alone in a new territory. But her Pack was right there, and Silver Spruce gave her an opportunity she¡¯d had little of the past eight months.


    Time to think.


    In the eight months since, the Barrow King crushed two other vampiric houses under his foot before gathering two more to follow him. Eight months since the ensuing chaos caused Blair and her Pack to run from one fire to the next.


    Blair, like many werewolves, was a fan of control. Control kept people safe, control kept Blair from lashing out at the first sign of challenge, control was¡­ Control was something Blair didn¡¯t always have. And the last months hadn¡¯t given her much control over her Pack¡¯s future. She was a woman who liked to plan things out, and well, she might not actually be able to make any long-term plans in this chaos. She could at least map out their next steps.


    She leaned back against the hood of the Pack¡¯s new van and closed her eyes, letting some of the noises she¡¯d been blocking get through. Sounds jumped to the forefront of her attention; the clicking of the van¡¯s engine, the shuffling of a man across the street, Bobby¡¯s cheerful voice as he argued with Simon, the rustling of the great pines overhead as they danced in the wind. Blair relax slightly, releasing as much tension as she would allow herself.


    The shop door next to Don¡¯s opened, and Blair picked up a conversation from inside that caught her ear.


    ¡°Dammit, why are there so many fiends today? I feel like I¡¯m wading through them!¡± An old, cracked voice complained. Blair cocked her head and listened closer. ¡°It¡¯s tourist season,¡± another voice answered. ¡°Plenty of emotions flaring up. That shit creates some and calls even more.¡±


    ¡°I know how they work!¡± The first voice snapped. ¡°Why hasn¡¯t The Grave Keeper come and cleared them out yet! If they¡¯re supposed to be so good with ghosts and spirits, then why the hell-¡±


    ¡°Oh, quit whining. They always come on the 1st, which you know! You just want to grumble about shit, you old geezer.¡±


    The door shut, and the voices became muffled. If Blair focused, she¡¯d still be able to hear the conversation, but she didn¡¯t bother. She doubted it would be worth the effort. Their talk of fiends was interesting, though.


    The little emotion spirits often popped up in places with thick ambient magic, so that wasn¡¯t surprising. What was a little surprising was that a local mage could affect spirits and ghosts, at least according to those two. Blair was no expert on human magic, but everyone in her parents¡¯ Pack had to learn the basics growing up. Affecting spirits was supposed to be difficult, ghosts even more so.


    After a moment, Blair shelved the thought and focused back on the task at hand.


    Their mission here wasn¡¯t any less important than the others her parents had sent them on. But unlike most of the crises they¡¯d been sent to, their work in Silver Spruce couldn¡¯t be completed in a day. Instead, they had a little more than three weeks, enough time for Blair to indulge herself in a bit of planning.


    They needed to go to the house next to drop off their luggage. After that, Blair wanted to start immediately on getting a sense of the town. Then they could start moving to get vouchers. More of a to-do list than a plan, but it was a start, and it made her feel better.


    Blair opened her eyes as she heard her Pack heading for the door. She quickly walked to the restaurant¡¯s door and pulled it open. She received a round of thanks as her Pack, their arms overflowing with paper bags stuffed to the brim with food, made a beeline for the van.


    Blair shot a quick look inside the building to make sure they hadn¡¯t trashed anything. It looked normal inside, save for a cashier staring at the door with a disbelieving look on his face. They had made off with a massive amount of food. Werewolves needed to eat a lot. While some of their strength came directly from magic, some also came from muscles and bones. Muscles and bones far denser and stronger than any humans. Which meant their bodies needed a lot of calories to maintain.


    ¡°We didn¡¯t trash anything, Mom!¡± Blair turned to Bobby. The other two had already gotten in the van. Bobby was tall, with sandy blond hair and a broad face that always housed an easy-going smile. Blair was torn between wanting to smile and wanting to break his arm.


    She had told him not to call her mom. She didn¡¯t actually mind that much, but he was flaunting an order from his Alpha. Maybe after some blood, he would remember ¨C Blair closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then another.


    Control.


    After another five deep breaths, she opened her eyes. And if there was still dots of red swirling in them, Bobby didn¡¯t mention it. ¡°You good?¡± Blair pursed her lips and nodded.


    ¡°Sorry.¡±


    Bobby just smiled and climbed into the van. Part of Blair snarled at her apologizing, but she stamped that part down with an effort will. She climbed into the driver¡¯s seat and started off down the road. The others bickered and joked, but that they made sure to leave her out of it for now. They knew when she needed time.


    Blair¡¯s breathing was as slow and deep as she could make it. Then, finally, after a couple of minutes of driving past homes and massive trees, she started to regain some of her composure.


    Power had a cost. And Blair had power, far more than a werewolf her age should. But gaining too much power too quickly was not a good thing for a werewolf.


    Werewolves were bound to the moon. They drew power from it, and the fuller it was, the more they drew. But their instincts and urges grew in proportion to the power.


    Over time, the bond grew, strengthening the werewolf even further and letting them draw more power. But an old werewolf had hundreds of years to strengthen their willpower in step with the rest of them.


    Blair, on the other hand, had been born with an incredibly strong bond to the moon, but not the centuries needed to strengthen her will against the more monstrous parts of her nature.


    It was¡­ difficult.


    Eventually, Blair¡¯s attention shifted from her breathing and the road to the town around her. It was odd, to say the least. They passed by ordinary houses and neighborhoods, but they made up less than half of what she saw.


    While one neighborhood held picket fences and maybe the odd cabin, the next was made up of three, three-story stone castles. One gray, one white, and one black. Another neighborhood seemed to be made up almost entirely of one giant mansion being used as an apartment complex. Thin houses that had to be five stories or more, some that seem to have partially sunken into the ground, the list went on.


    ¡°Where are we?¡± Simon asked, bewildered. No one answered.


    Blair wanted to say that they slipped into the north side of Silver Spruce. But that would imply a gradual change. The boundary to the north side was as gradual as a car wreck. One second they were driving on dark pavement; the next, they were bouncing over a dirt road that was absolutely covered with potholes.


    ¡°Jesus!¡± Bobby swore as the van bucked and bounced over the road.


    Unlike the rest of them, Laurel hadn¡¯t put her seatbelt on. Which was relatively understandable. A werewolf pretty much couldn¡¯t die from something as tame as a high-speed car wreck. But just because it wouldn¡¯t seriously injure her didn¡¯t make it comfortable. Laurel bounced, her head clipping the ceiling and the window in quick succession. She went from looking like she was ready to go to a dance to looking like she¡¯d opted to pick a fight with her face. Blair slowed down while Bobby held Laurel in place so that she could put her seatbelt on.


    ¡°Hey, look, I think you left some lipstick on the window.¡± He commented while giving Laurel what Blair assumed was meant to be a comforting pat on the back. Laurel thumped her head against Blair¡¯s seat and groaned. ¡°This is your fault, Bobby!¡±


    ¡°What? How is this my fault!¡± Laurel groaned again, and Blair felt another thump against her seat. ¡°You wear a seatbelt. It¡¯s standard logic to assume anything you¡¯re doing is a bad idea. If you weren¡¯t wearing one, I would be.¡±


    ¡°That train of logic is both flawed and hurtful!¡±


    Blair¡¯s attention shifted to their surroundings. They had plenty of time to look, considering anything above twenty turned their van into a maraca.


    While there was no shortage of trees and other foliage through the rest of Silver Spruce, the north side¡¯s road cut through something primordial. The trees were huge, ancient things that pressed down on you with their presence, and you could vanish in the underbrush after only a few feet.


    The buildings were another thing that differed from the rest of town. While they passed the occasional home, their neatly cut yards and typical suburban design standing out sharply against the thick forest, the other buildings were far less standard.


    After about a mile down the road, they passed under a huge wooden sign, its bold red letters dulled with age. ¡°The Silver Spruce Museum next left.¡±


    ¡°Ah, a museum. It seems this little town has some culture. I approve,¡± Bobby said as he pulled out his pipe and puffed on it. It wasn¡¯t lit.


    Laurel snorted. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t know culture if it bit your tail off.¡±


    The sign didn¡¯t lie. A few seconds later, there was a break in the trees. The gap revealed a long winding road that led down to a massive wood building, its chipped paint the same faded red as the sign.


    Blair couldn¡¯t see much of the building, as the trees had only been cut back to the bare minimum for the installation to exist, leaving it cradled by the forest on all sides. But she could tell it was big.


    The museum was hardly the only oddity they passed. There was an abandoned quarry that was cast in shadow despite the early morning light. Several mansions, all but one of them clearly empty. And an old fairgrounds. That one gave all of them pause.


    One moment there was unbroken forest, the next, they were staring at a fenced pumpkin patch in front of an old rundown fairground, with a giant Ferris wheel at its center. Blair stopped and craned her neck to get a better look out the van window.


    The pumpkins were huge and more than a few had their surfaces crawling with vines. ¡°Are some of them carved?¡± Simon asked as he leaned over Bobby and Laural to peer out the window. Blair looked closer, and, sure enough, some of the pumpkins had been expertly carved into Jack¡¯o lanterns. Grinning maws and narrowed eyes all seemed to be turned to face the van. In at least one pumpkin, Blair saw a sickly green light flicker in its eyes. She narrowed her eyes, looking closer. There was no candle in the Jack¡¯o¡¯lantern¡¯s depths.


    The Ferris wheel, which was oddly pristine despite the rusted, worn down state of the rest of the grounds, started to turn. Blair assumed it must have caught a gust of wind, except¡­ The wheel was silent as it turned. And her nose wasn¡¯t picking up any scents that should be carried by a breeze. And no trees were shaking in this breeze¡­


    Faintly, so faint that Blair¡¯s supernaturally good hearing could barely pick it up, she heard cheery carnival music start to play.


    Blair decided it was time to leave.


    The fairgrounds were weird, but there was one spot that stood out to Blair above the rest. On a particularly long stretch of road, where the forest was entirely unbroken for the better part of a mile. They were slowly making their way along when Blair felt a growing sense of unease.


    The others felt it, too, all of them shifting in place and looking around. The feeling grew and grew, and as it did, the forest seemed to darken around them. It was like an itch she couldn¡¯t scratch combined with the unmistakable feeling of hostility. It wasn¡¯t even directed at them in particular. Instead, the feeling blanked the entire area like a wave of malice.


    It continued to build until, at one long curve in the road, Blair slammed on the brakes. There were no complaints or questions. All of them stared out into the woods in the same direction.


    Something was there. Something old. Something malevolent. Something that was watching them back. Blair switched petals, and they took off in a spray of dirt. The feeling of eyes on their back followed them. They bounced along the road in silence until they crossed some invisible line, and whatever watched them lost interest.


    She slowed but didn¡¯t stop. No one spoke. The world was a big place, and there were things in it that no one really comprehended. But running into something like that wasn¡¯t exactly common, even for spooks like them. They had experienced weird. Hell, their world was weird. But that feeling, that sheer, overwhelming malice.


    Blair shuddered.


    The sheer number of oddities in Silver Spruce was starting to unsettle her. She had done as much research on the town as time would allow, but every second she spent here convinced her that she hadn¡¯t done nearly enough.


    They passed more houses and buildings, but Blair didn¡¯t pay attention. Which irked her a little. An Alpha should be taking note of everything in her new territory. But Blair¡¯s brain was so fried that she only remembered passing a quirky graveyard that sprawled up a hill. And even that she only remembered because of the conversation, she¡¯d overheard in town made her assume a mage lived around that graveyard.


    Someone didn¡¯t get referred to as The Grave Keeper like it was a title without clocking in the hours.


    Everyone finally shook off the fog around them when Blair checked the map and announced that they had arrived.


    They hadn¡¯t bought just any house for what was coming and what tradition demanded. The strongest Pack needed to provide adequate housing for all the representatives or entire packs that chose to attend. And they would attend, not everyone would bring their entire packs, but to not show up at all would be to look like you were hiding. Like you were scared. Like you were weak.


    Showing weakness to that many packs at once was not a good plan if one valued their long-term survival.


    So they had been forced to buy big and isolated. A full moon would occur before the summit, and werewolves needed space to hunt and stretch their legs. It had been surprisingly easy to find a mansion big enough to fit their needs.


    Silver Spruce, it turned out, had no shortage of abandoned lots and mansions. Blair would need to look into why exactly that was the case later, but it was convenient right now. She had found a mansion, abandoned for years, but all reports said it was still in surprisingly good shape. And even if it was slightly rundown, werewolves were good workers. Plus, they could always call in a growth mage if necessary.


    Blair hadn¡¯t been able to spend as much time looking into the house as she would¡¯ve liked, but her mother had decided to go with this one. Blair could disagree with her mother. She could rarely disobey an order from her Alpha.


    The driveway wound its way uphill. It was a long drive, but in sharp contrast to the main road, it was paved and without a single pothole. Halfway up, Blair noticed a small shack off to the side.


    It was unremarkable save for the fact that it was in perfect condition. Its wood looked freshly painted, not a scratch or chip in sight.


    Odd. That was all the energy Blair could spare for the shack. She had been driving all day and combined with the earlier shock from that stretch of road, she was in dire need of some caffeine. The pick me up wouldn¡¯t last long before her body tore apart the drug, but it would be a pleasant couple of minutes.


    The trees were so thick that they could barely see the mansion until they were almost through the drive. The thing was big. Blair was no stranger to big, she¡¯d grown up in a castle, but this mansion was still nothing to sneeze at.


    It was an imposing thing, built from wood and stone. It stretched several stories high to an arched roof.


    Windows lined its front, their clear glass offering small glimpses into the dark interior. Blair only spared them a glance, her eyes drawn to the front doors. A short flight of cobblestone steps led up to a gigantic pair of wooden doors. She had seen castle gates less imposing.


    As Blair took in the building, she couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that the manor was looming over them like some great beast waiting to pounce.


    She shook herself, then pulled to a stop a few feet from the grass. The yard was huge as well, stretching out further than Blair could see from the drive. Simon and Laurel quickly climbed out, eager to explore.


    Bobby, Bobby, was snoring loudly. Strange as it was, that was typically how he responded to stress. As soon as the man was certain the danger was over, he¡¯d clock out. It was a habit he¡¯d picked up before joining the Northwoods Pack.


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    He looked older asleep, the typical smile and glow of warm humor gone. Leaving him looking worn and oddly cold.


    Turning in her seat, she reached back and shook him. He woke with a start, quickly looking down at his empty hand. He started searching frantically, only for Blair¡¯s words to bring him up short. ¡°On the left.¡± He looked and saw his pipe. It was a sturdy piece of dark brown wood a little longer than his hand. The bowl of the pipe flared out only a little wider than the rest of it. Engraved into its side with exquisite detail was the image of a wolf chasing maple leaves that swirled in a breeze.


    Bobby pocketed the pipe then looked up at Blair. He gave her a look full of genuine thanks, then his wide smile returned. ¡°I appreciate it, mom.¡± Before Blair could even get mad, Bobby was already out of the van and running over to the others.


    Blair took a moment to gain control of the anger that had begun to spike. As annoying as it was, willpower training was essential for her. And despite his general demeanor, Bobby always seemed to know when he should or shouldn¡¯t push her buttons.


    After a minute, Blair climbed out of the van and joined the rest of the Pack. They had all waited for Blair before going inside.


    As she approached them, she noticed something was off. She wasn¡¯t quite sure what, but as she reached them, she followed their gazes, and it clicked. The grass was freshly mowed and vibrant green. There were no weeds or fallen trees insight, and what she could see of the mansion itself was equally maintained. It was not the look of a property that had been abandoned for decades.


    ¡°Did your mom or dad call in a team to clean this place up ahead of us?¡± Laurel asked as she examined a freshly trimmed hedge.


    Blair shook her head, inadvertently sending strands of blond hair into her eyes.


    ¡°Not that I know of. And that¡¯s usually the kind of thing they¡¯d have me handle.¡± Blair had actually been expecting the property to be in mild disarray. Her mother often threw little games like that at her. She called it ¡®testing her skills and resourcefulness.¡¯ Sometimes Blair agreed. Other times Blair called it being a pain in her ass.


    Maybe the whole ¡®unofficial war¡¯ thing had convinced her mother to put those little games on the back burner. Blair snorted. And maybe she would sprout wings and start breathing fire.


    ¡°Anything?¡± She asked Laurel. The black-haired werewolf shook her head. ¡°I can¡¯t pick up anything out of place. Far as I can tell, everything is normal for miles around.¡± Blair looked to the others and got similar shakes. Bobby and Simon didn¡¯t even look at her, keeping their gazes fixed on the mansion. Laurel had the best senses out of any of them. She couldn¡¯t sense anything wrong, and neither could the rest of them.


    If Blair had sensed so much as a rat where she felt one shouldn¡¯t be, she would¡¯ve told them to get back in the car. But nothing was wrong, aside from the pristine state of the property. Despite how strange it felt, the most likely answer was that her mother had simply taken care of the groundskeeping before Blair and the others arrived.


    She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. ¡°All right, let¡¯s go inside.¡± Blair unlocked then shoved open the towering double doors. They swung inward on silent, massive hinges, the thick wood moving as easily as a screen door.


    ¡°I was expecting some ominous creaking noises.¡± Laurel shushed Bobby.


    A few steps inside revealed a massive chamber. It stretched three stories up to an arched roof lined on the sides with windows. To her right, the walls were taken over by huge windows with a view of a long hill with an immaculate hedge maze that spilled into the forest.


    Directly across from the entrance was a wide staircase that split to lead to the second story. Said second story had a balcony overlooking the first. There were dozens of other details, paintings on the walls, chairs, and tables, a fireplace, all of which Blair barely even registered as she searched for any hidden dangers.


    She wasn¡¯t finding any, but they wouldn¡¯t be hidden dangers if she could spot them easily, would they?


    Blair searched for a solid two minutes before she begrudgingly signaled her Pack to come inside. Her instincts itched that something was wrong, but her senses told her nothing was there. It was a frustrating experience. A werewolf¡¯s senses and instincts were seldom at odds.


    Her senses were better than a wolf¡¯s in her human form, and if she shifted, they would improve far beyond anything natural. It was a foreign experience to not be able to pinpoint what was wrong.


    Bobby whistled low as he walked up next to her. ¡°The Alpha Northwoods didn¡¯t spare their pocketbook any punches.¡±


    ¡°It probably wasn¡¯t that expensive,¡± Simon cut in. ¡°At least as far as giant mansions go.¡±


    Bobby nodded. ¡°Fair. If this thing really has been abandoned as long as we thought, Its market value probably took a few hits.¡±


    Blair looked around for Laurel and found her admiring some of the paintings. The girl did have a taste for the finer things in life. They advanced further into the room. Wind howled in the distance, causing the fireplace to rattle. She glanced at the windows hoping to see some trees moving in the wind. Nothing. She couldn¡¯t even see a branch shaking.


    Bobby had also looked to the windows. ¡°That¡¯s the second time today this town has had something that resembled ethereal wind. It¡¯s starting to creep me out.¡±


    Blair opened her mouth to agree but hesitated. Do not show weakness. Do not admit fear. She choked down a snarl. She could show weakness to her Pack, and fear was natural. You just couldn¡¯t show them to the enemy. A sickening sensation moved through her gut. Her own opinions and instincts on the matter shifting one way, then the other. Laurel spoke up before the feeling settled.


    ¡°Look at this guy, he really shouldn¡¯t look regal, but he does.¡±


    They moved over to Laurel, who was standing at the corner of the room examining a painting framed in black wood. It was of an older man somewhere in his late fifties or early sixties. He wore a buttoned-up coat split at the sides and a comically tall top hat. His features weren¡¯t perfectly symmetrical, his nose was a little too bulbous, and his eyebrows looked like two caterpillars. But despite that, the man¡¯s face radiated a kind of regal kindness. The painting itself was done with excruciating detail. It looked like it belonged in an art museum. Though Blair wasn¡¯t a great judge of such things.


    ¡°I see what you mean,¡± Bobby said. ¡°He certainly doesn¡¯t look regal.¡± Blair heard a scraping noise from across the room. She spun, but nothing was there. Had that just been the building settling? Her Pack had also turned, but when they saw nothing, they turned back to the painting.


    A moment later, Blair heard another noise, this one unmistakably the house shifting on its foundation.


    ¡°Yet he does all the same.¡± Bobby continued.


    The feeling that something was off refused to leave Blair. It was almost familiar, but her continued failure to actually sense anything wrong kept her from placing it. Simon pointed toward something on the painting, his finger coming close to touching it. The hairs on the back of Blair¡¯s neck stood on end as she felt something change.


    Everyone else reacted at the same time. Bobby shifted into a ready stance while Laurel stepped away from the painting to put her back to his. Simon quickly did the same with Blair.


    The temperature dropped, and the sound of gusting wind slowly picked up inside the room. As that happened, a pressure settled onto Blair¡¯s mind like a wet towel. Finally, she placed the feeling.


    Back home, there was a room in the castle that no one was allowed to enter. It was one bedroom in a hall lined with them, seemingly nothing different about it. But, Blair had stood outside that door before and heard things wailing inside. And once, when her curiosity had gotten the better of her common sense, she had grabbed the doorknob. The second she had made contact, a hateful, overwhelming pressure had pushed against her mind.


    Just like what she was feeling now.


    ¡°Ghost!¡± She screamed just before the wind coalesced into a voice.


    ¡°Intruders! Trespassers! Thieves!¡± Every painting in the room, save for the one of the old man, began to rattle on their hooks. The fireplace roared to life, casting the room in harsh, dancing shadows as the furniture started to float. No one spoke as shock set in. Ghosts could be dangerous. Blair knew that. But that was usually in the form of a spectral hand shoving you at the top of the stairs or a bookshelf falling over.


    Right now, as Blair stared at the house that was turning alive around them, she doubted any mage short of a master could do this many things at once.


    Bobby, unsurprisingly, broke the silence. ¡°Apologies! We didn¡¯t know this place was occupied. If you let us, we will leave immediately.¡± All humor was gone from Bobby¡¯s voice, his words as calm and reasonable as a diplomats. Despite that, the ghost did not take it well. The wind once again roared through the room until it formed words. ¡°I am sure you did not know! You were just looking for a place to stay the night!¡± Hate dripped from every word like acid.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be out by sunrise!¡± A door slammed open, and kitchen knives floated out. ¡°I¡¯ve heard them all before, trespasser!¡± The voice tapered off into a howl as the blades descended.


    ¡°For what it¡¯s worth,¡± Laural said moments before they burst into motion. ¡°It was a good attempt at being diplomatic.¡±


    Blair¡¯s focus shifted as gleaming knives flew towards her. She stopped filtering her senses, letting every detail in the room jump out to her in sharp detail. She heard the air shift as the knives cut through it, heard the floorboards creak as she and Simon shifted their weight, and she could smell the steel right above her. One hand snapped up, taking the point of a falling knife on her palm.


    The knife had been driven down with similar force as a grown man could bring. The tip barely broke her skin. As the surprise attack failed, Blair smacked three more knives with her other hand. One of them managed to break her skin, but it wasn¡¯t deep. More blades flew, and Blair was forced to take several more hits, at least one of them breaking skin.


    She usually would have dodged, but she was back to back with Simon; what she avoided had a decent chance to blindside him. Besides, until the ghost upped its strength, it was going to have trouble giving her more than surface scrapes. One didn¡¯t have the strength to powder bone and flip cars without the durability to take the kind of stress that put on the body.


    Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Bobby and Laurel weaving between the knives, deflecting points and slipping into gaps like trained dance partners. The blades probably wouldn¡¯t be able to cut through their muscles, but they would still do more damage to her Pack than herself.


    Something flew towards Blair from the side, and she barely got her hands up in time to deflect a plush armchair. While the hit itself didn¡¯t do much more than bruise her forearms, she hadn¡¯t been braced for a heavy impact, and the force of it shoved her into Simon. He stumbled, only for a moment, but it was enough for several knives to slam into his legs. They sunk deep, and Simon let out a grunt of pain as he was forced to ignore the blades in his skin to deflect his own armchair.


    We need to get out of here. While they weren¡¯t going to be worn down anytime soon, werewolves had no direct methods for countering ghosts. They were just target practice.


    ¡°The doors!¡± Her Pack reacted immediately to her order, turning and bolting for the door as a group. Each of them trusting the other to cover for them. Blair did just that, catching one kitchen knife as it sailed past her, using it to deflect several steak knives flying for Simon¡¯s neck.


    The kitchen knife struggled in her hand, trying to wriggle free like it was a living thing. But Blair could¡¯ve splintered the wooden handle in her grip. The knife wasn¡¯t going anywhere.


    The cuts she¡¯d received had already healed over. But more quickly piled on as they reached the door. Simon had it far worse. One of the knives in his legs must¡¯ve managed to cut muscle, as he was limping badly when they reached the door. Laurel went to open the door while Bobby and Blair covered. With a wet sound, Simon pulled out one of the knives. There was a quick spray of blood, but it ended just as fast. Simon had the slowest healing in the Pack, but it was still fast enough to stop the bleeding immediately.


    ¡°It¡¯s locked!¡± Laurel called over her shoulder. Blair swore as she was forced to smack away a butter knife aimed at her eye. They could try and break the doors down, but they were not some flimsy bathroom door. It was made from thick wood taller than Blair was. They weren¡¯t tearing through that wood quickly, and if they tried to kick it open, they would be working against the massive hinges. They could do it, but it would take time, time in which they could be turned into imitation porcupines.


    Blair was forced to step forward and catch a small sofa. As her fingers tore through the fabric and cushions to get a better grip on the frame, she got an idea. There was a set of far more breakable exits than the thick wooden door.


    ¡°Windows!¡± She took off towards the closest one. The attacks increased as she did, the ghost clearly reading her intent. The knives began to hit harder, punching through skin and fat before skittering off the muscle. And even more household items began to pelt her. Old-fashioned candle lamps, umbrellas, brooms. All of them smacking at her face and arms. The sofa she was still carrying served as a makeshift shield for the front of her body. The rest was easy to ignore. While pain flared across her as cuts and bruises added up, werewolves and pain were old hunting partners.


    Blair reached the nearest window, the towering wall of glass easily half a foot thick. Blair switched her grip on the sofa, grabbing its metal frame on one side and leaving the other to drag against the floor.


    She sped up, then pulled, bringing the sofa up like an unwieldy club. Then she brought that club down on the window, hard. Sofa club met glass, and glass gave way. It punched through the window, the massive amount of strength she¡¯d put behind the swing blasting through the glass without resistance.


    The house wailed. Not just the howling voice of the ghost, but the house itself. Walls creaked, the fireplace roared, and every floating object in the room turned towards Blair. Perfect, that would make it much easier for her Pack to escape.


    As a storm of projectiles slammed into Blair from all sides, Simon jumped through the window, quickly followed by Laurel. Knives punched through her skin, chairs slammed into her legs and back, spoons smashed into her head. Blair smiled. She could take punishment. In fact, she welcomed it. For one wonderful moment, there was no conflict within her. No split desires of monstrous savagery pushing against control. Every part of her agreed with her task, protect the Pack.


    Stab wounds stopped bleeding as soon as the blades left her body, her skin and muscle healed almost as fast as chairs could bruise it, and anything else sent her way wasn¡¯t even worth her attention. Then part of the cloud split to block Bobby from going through the window.


    No!


    She pivoted, snatching a wooden stool from the air. This ghost had kept the property immaculate. Not even a speck of dust had been inside the manor. And its anger had shifted to her entirely when she broke the window. It served to reason that a bit more breaking would regain its attention. So, with barely any effort at all, she ripped the stool in half. The storm of objects fell to the ground in a chorus of platters and thumps. Blair jumped, looking around for any hidden knives or maybe a falling piano. Nothing, as far as she could tell, every floating object in the room had dropped lifeless.


    What?


    The air changed. The temperature dropping until her breath started to fog. Then the smells changed. The scent of metal, leather chairs, and wooden walls vanished. Replaced by sweat, whiskey, and rope.


    What was ¨C the knives around her feet clattered. Blair jumped, looking down for the incoming attack. None came, not from the blades-- instead, a thick, heavy rope fell over her head. No, not just a rope, she realized as it pulled tight. A noose.


    It jerked up, yanking Blair off her feet. She kicked, trying to find purchase, but she was already too high. For a few seconds, she could still breathe, her windpipe strong enough to take her body weight without closing. Then the noose tightened even further, and Blair¡¯s lungs seized.


    Blair had been trained to fight since she could walk. She knew what you should and shouldn¡¯t do when being strangled. But moments like this were when powerful instincts worked against her. Panic, desperation, ferocity. She had to fight against her instincts as hard as she ever had before, trying to keep her head.


    She reached to her neck, trying to dig her fingers under the heavy rope. She got a decent grip and pulled. Nothing. She pulled harder, putting all of her strength into it. Her muscles bulged as she tried to force the knot looser, then they began to ripple under her skin as she started to shift. Still, the rope refused to budge. She considered trying to shift entirely, but even as her throat changed shape, the rope remained tight. She didn¡¯t know if it was the nature of the knot--she was hardly an expert on them-- or something the ghost was doing, but she couldn¡¯t free herself with brute strength. She shifted her fingers. Joints popped, and bones stretched. A moment later, her hands only vaguely resembled humans, and more importantly, she had claws.


    She slashed desperately at the rope around her neck, not caring if she cut herself. A slit throat wouldn¡¯t kill her. A lack of oxygen would.


    Her claws cut into the thick strands of rope, but it put up far more resistance than rope had any right to. A second later, her claws were stopped outright, and she could feel the strands of rope mending behind her fingers. She wrenched her hands-free and tried again and again. It was useless, the rope was too strong for her to cut in a single swipe, and the damn thing mended faster than she could slash it.


    She gave up on trying to cut the rope from her neck and reached to cut it from higher up. But the rope was even thicker there as the hangman¡¯s knot had the rope wrapping around itself. She just barely managed to reach a thinner section of the rope, but she still couldn¡¯t slash through it.


    Panic truly started to set in as Blair heard her blood pounding in her ears. She couldn¡¯t cut it!


    She grabbed the rope and tried to pull herself up, relieving pressure from her neck. But her hands met no resistance, the rope coming down with them. But Blair didn¡¯t lower at all, despite the slack rope in her hands. What? Blair managed to look up far enough to see that the rope wasn¡¯t even attached to anything. It floated in the air, the rope slack despite the tension around her neck.


    She was being strangled by an unsupported noose.


    This was one of the problems with fighting ghosts; they just didn¡¯t care about the rules of nature. Werewolves broke plenty of those rules themselves, but ghosts disregarded them as a whole. Her vision started to blacken, and her control slipped completely, panic taking its place. She was going to die.


    ¡°Ghost!¡±


    The shout was so loud it startled Blair even as her vision continued to darken. She thrashed around and managed to see Bobby holding the painting they¡¯d been examining earlier. ¡°Let her go, or I rip this thing apart.¡± Bobby punctuated his words by tearing his fingers through the left side of the painting. The noose went limp, dropping Blair to the floor in a heap.


    She tore it off her neck, the rope moving quickly now that the ghost wasn¡¯t paying attention to her. Then, as Bobby moved his hand away from the torn painting, a scream ripped through the room. The whole house shook with the sound, and Blair¡¯s ears throbbed with pain.


    The ghost manifested next to Blair, his eyes locked on Bobby. He was tall and whipcord thin. A tattered brown jacket hung around his shoulders, partially covering a stained white shirt. His hair was thinning, and Blair only managed to catch a glimpse of his almost purple face from beneath a thick mustache before he flew at Bobby.


    Screaming, the ghost slammed against Bobby. But, instead of knocking him back, the spirit merged straight into his chest, vanishing from Blair¡¯s sight.


    Bobby went stiff. His arms jerked, stiffly putting the painting back on the wall. Then they froze, his hands inches away from the picture. His whole body started to twitch and shake. His knees broke with a pop as he began to shift. A moment later, his elbow, thigh, and neck cracked as they started to shift as well.


    Then they cracked again as he shifted back to fully human. The process repeated itself several times as Bobby continued to jerk and thrash. Blair shoved herself to her feet, her limbs still shaky from her near strangulation. Possession. The ghost was possessing Bobby!


    She staggered forward. Unsure of what she would do, but knowing that she needed to get the ghost out of her friend.


    Bobby spun to face her, his face pale and lined with tension. He threw up a shaking hand, and the house responded.


    Instead of knives and chairs, the ghost sent carpets, rugs, and mats sailing at her. Blair tried to jump to the side, but all she managed was a pathetic hop in her recovering state. Her entire body was enveloped, and the next thing she knew, she was flying through the broken window. The rugs dumped her into the lawn then flew back into the house. Blair scrambled to her feet, her body regaining strength by the second.


    She sprinted back towards the window only to slam into an invisible wall a few feet from the house. She bounced off of it, so unprepared for the impact that she fell on her ass. She snarled and threw herself forward again, trying to run through the invisible barrier. Simon and Laurel grabbed her and tried to pull her back. ¡°We¡¯ve been trying to break through it. It¡¯s no use!¡± Simon yelled. Blair broke their grip and punched the wall. Her fists sunk in a few inches only to be launched back. It was like trying to hit rubber.


    One of her Pack was inside, in danger. They needed her.


    Blair started towards the wall, getting ready to tear into it with every ounce of strength she could bring forth, but a part of her mind that wasn¡¯t overwhelmed with rage and fear for her friend spoke up.


    ¡°What are you going to do? Even if you break through that wall, what are you going to do? You can¡¯t beat the ghost out of Bobby¡¯s body.¡±


    Blair took another step towards the wall, still fully intent on ripping into it. Then, as if it had a mind of its own, one of her hands reached over and grabbed her index finger. The snap of breaking bone was loud enough to be heard over the growling from Blair¡¯s chest. She looked down at her crooked finger. She had broken it badly. In fact, she could see the bone pushing against the skin for a second before it started to grind back into place as it healed.


    The pain pushed through the rage, forcing clarity to take its place. She needed to save Bobby, and while her instincts screamed at her to tear through the barrier and get to her Pack member, that wasn¡¯t going to save him.


    The continued throbbing from her finger kept the rage away as she thought. This wasn¡¯t a problem she could tackle with her own strength. She needed a priest or a mage. Not just any mage, but one that could affect spirits. Her parents knew a few. It was always a good idea to have contacts with spiritual magic since werewolves didn¡¯t have any direct answer to it. But all of those contacts would take hours to reach here, minimum. Blair wasn¡¯t an expert in possessions, but she knew they could take hours or even days.


    Bobby had a strong will, but this ghost was far stronger than any she¡¯d ever encountered. Hell, she¡¯d barely even heard of ghosts this strong. Blair couldn¡¯t gamble on Bobby holding out that long. She paused as she remembered a conversation she¡¯d overheard. A conversation about a Grave Keeper who could affect spirits.


    Blair turned and got ready to sprint to the graveyard. She had smelled someone there when they had passed by earlier, and even if they had left, she would be able to track them down. She could get there faster than the van on foot, but she wouldn¡¯t be able to get back as quickly while carrying someone, not through dense woods like these, not if she wanted to avoid knocking them out on a stray branch.


    Laurel and Simon didn¡¯t ask any questions as Blair sprinted towards the van. Instead, they followed in silence, trusting that their Alpha knew what to do.

 The Grave Keeper

    The shovel twisted in my calloused hands as it bit into the dirt.  Luckily for me, fall had only recently started creeping onto summer''s doorstep, so I didn''t have to contend with the pain in the ass that was partially frozen soil.


    I lifted the shovel, tossing its load out of the hole before repeating the process.  My rhythm slow and steady.


    Digging up a grave was more of a marathon than a sprint.


    I had been at it for... I wasn''t sure how long, actually.  But it had been dark when I started, and now the gray clouds overhead were hiding the sun.


    I stabbed down again, and my shovel thumped into something solid.  I knelt down and quickly cleared away the remaining dirt to reveal a dark brown coffin.  It took some finagling with a crowbar and awkward maneuvering on my part--there wasn''t exactly a lot of room in the grave to not stand on the coffin.  But I managed to pop the lid.


    The smell of old death poured out of the coffin, mixing with the scent of dirt and oncoming rain.  I ignored the stench and focused on the coffin''s occupant, a skeleton dressed in a formal suit.


    I gave the skeleton a quick pat-down before finding what I was looking for in one of the suit pockets.  A cassette tape in a worn protective case.  I closed the lid but didn''t seal it just yet. Instead, I pocketed the cassette tape then tossed the shovel out of the grave.  I sighed as I looked up, only to get a fat raindrop to the face.


    "Thanks, mother nature," I grumbled. "Way to make the atmosphere even more macabre." The lip of the grave was a solid foot above my head.  But being short and wiry made climbing pretty easy.  I grabbed the lip and pulled myself up out of the hole and onto the wet grass of the graveyard.  My graveyard.


    A ghostly, translucent hand appeared in front of me.  I accepted the help as I climbed to my feet.  The hand was ice cold but solid. "Thanks," I said as I looked up to meet the ghost''s eyes.


    Matthews was tall and thin, with a short beard and a seventies-style shaggy haircut.  Not that I could call someone else shaggy since I''d cut my own hair more times than not.  Matthews had a general college professor look going for him.  With curious brown eyes and a brown suit jacket with slacks to match.


    I pulled out the cassette tape but left it in its case, not wanting the worsening rain to soak it. "Are you ready?" Matthews didn''t answer right away, turning instead to look around the graveyard.  It was old.  Older than mandated procedure and standard practice.  That probably wouldn''t have mattered so much in another town, but Silver Spruce was as odd as it was old.


    Generations of strange caretakers and townsfolk used this graveyard, and it showed.  Some sections were laid out randomly, while others were filled with the neat, orderly rows of headstones that you''d expect in such a place.  But rubbing shoulders with those sections, with no landmark or signs to explain the difference, was...the rest of the graveyard.


    A perfectly straight, vertical line of graves was directly to the left of one of the orderly sections.  Each one marked with a cross carved from a different material, ranging from crudely etched wood to glistening obsidian.  Further up the hill, the graveyard rested on was a ten-foot-tall obelisk carved from dark green stone.  I never met the ghost that grave belonged to, but damn if I wasn''t curious.


    Off to my right, near the middle of the graveyard, was a patch of perfectly ordinary graves. Perfectly ordinary except for the fact that they''d been aligned so that their tombstones spelled out GUH.  Like I said, Silver Spruce was an odd town.


    I broke the silence after a few quiet minutes. "You don''t have to be ready." Matthews turned to me, his face distant.  I didn''t look at him, keeping my gaze on the graveyard. "There are ghosts far older than both of us combined who aren''t ready to move on yet.  If you want, we can leave your unfinished business unfinished." Matthew stared at me for a while longer before finally shaking his head.


    "No.  I think I am ready.  Ready to find out what comes next, ready to be done." I nodded at the man and started walking.  Matthews followed a few steps behind.  We walked to one of my favorite places in the graveyard.  It was a wide ring of graves near one of the fences, close enough to be shaded by the towering pines.  An old weathered stump sat in the center of the ring, big enough around to use as a small table.  Resting on the stump was a worn, battery-powered radio, its cassette player open and ready to receive a tape.


    We stopped in front of it, and I handed Matthews the cassette tape. "When you''re ready." Matthews hands closed around the cassette tape without passing straight through it.  Ghosts could interact with physical objects; it just took some of their magic.  So they could only do so much before they needed to gather more.  Matthews fiddled with the cassette tape, turning it over in his semi-translucent hands.


    "Do ghosts always know?" He asked. "What the last request is, I mean."


    I shook my head. "Not always.  They usually have a general inclination, but sometimes they just don''t have a clue.  Sometimes they''re ashamed and won''t say it." I sighed and rested my hands behind my head. "And sometimes they''re too crazy to care."


    Matthew snorted, then shuddered as a gust of wind brought a patch of leaves tumbling straight through his chest. "You get a lot of crazies?"


    I shrugged. "Feels like it, but they''re the minority.  Probably... one in ten ghosts I run into are off their rocker?  Sometimes more, sometimes less."


    Matthews eyed me as he continued to fiddle with the tape.  He was stalling, but I certainly wasn''t going to call him out on it. "What do you do?  With the crazy ones, I mean.  How do you get them to move on?" I forced a smile that I didn''t feel and looked up at the man.


    "Magic."


    Matthews gave a rueful chuckle as he shook his head. "Magic, the supernatural. I''d say you''re full of crap, but...." He held up his hands.  Hands he could faintly see the ground through. "That would be rather hypocritical coming from a dead man." My smile turned genuine as we laughed.  It was always easier to help a ghost with a sense of humor.  It wasn''t that uncommon either.  People could react rather unpredictably when they realized they were dead.  But humor, dread, and philosophy were the most common responses.


    Well, four responses, I suppose.  But it was iffy since most of the crazies were cracked long before they ended up in the ground.


    I always felt particularly bad for the ones like Mathews. Not all ghosts...woke up, I suppose, would be the term immediately after their death.  Plenty drifted in a middles state, sometimes for decades or more, before being broken from their trance.


    Then they had to come to terms not only with their own death but a world that was radically different from the one they knew.


    "Why ah- why do you bother with all of this last request stuff?" Matthews asked once our grins began to fade.


    I shivered and slipped my hands into my pockets. The air hadn''t actually gotten any colder, but most of my warmth had run off somewhere.  I didn''t look at Matthews as I answered, keeping my eyes trained on the stump instead.


    "My magic... it isn''t free. And the cost for forcing a ghost to move." I didn''t shudder. But I felt a familiar wrenching in my gut as I thought of the cost. "It isn''t a price I like to pay.  Not when I have literally any other option. Plus..." I trailed off, trying to find the words.


    "It feels right. Helping fulfill that last request. More respectful. My magic is the brute force option. Even without the drawback, it would feel...crude. To use it on someone who wasn''t crazy."


    Matthews nodded before reaching down and patting me on the shoulder.  I took comfort from the icy fingers.  After a second, I shook off the sick feeling and looked to Matthews.  His hands were still fiddling with the cassette tape.


    "Do you need me to do it?" I asked as gently as I could.  Matthews shot me a sly glance. "Is that your way of telling me I need to stop stalling?" I chuckled. "No, I meant it when I said you don''t have to be ready.  You can stall as long as you need to." Matthews smile faded slightly as he looked down at the cassette tape in his hands.


    "I think... I think I''ve stalled long enough." He started to move towards the stump when both of us spun at the sound of tires and spraying gravel.


    A large black truck fishtailed its way into the graveyard''s gravel driveway before skidding to a stop.


    Not owning a car and being as far from a car guy as it was physically possible to be, I had no idea what the model of the truck was.  But it was large, and its tires were so jacked up I would probably need a ladder to try and get in the thing.  My magic was not suited to direct combat against anything that wasn''t a ghost or some other form of spiritual entity.  But it did a great job in making me a target to countless supernatural nasties looking for a free meal, and it had done so since I was a small child.


    If there were ratings for survival instincts, mine would be a star athlete.  And that instinct picked up on the warning signs from the compensating for something machine that had just barreled into my graveyard.


    I told Mathews to stay put then made a beeline for a grave near the road.  It was large and had an elaborate carving of a forest on its front.  I ignored that and went around to the back grave.  Unlike virtually every other headstone in the graveyard, this one had a thick bush growing up against the back of it.  I reached in and grabbed the object hidden in the bush.  Then I stood, keeping the grave between most of my torso and the truck.


    The truck doors opened, and four men got out.  They were dressed in dark clothes that seemed suspiciously close to a uniform.  Black jeans and black leather jackets with tight white undershirts.  They even had similar haircuts.  The clothes would''ve made me laugh if they weren''t being worn by four possibly hostile strangers.


    My brain immediately keyed me in that something was off about the group.  They were all in their early twenties, and all of them were unreasonably well muscled.  And not in the way you''d expect from people riding in a jacked-up truck.  They weren''t top-heavy gym bros supported by two chicken legs. Instead, they had the type of solid build you see in fighters and soldiers.  Built for performance over appearance.  That told me they would whip my ass in an arm-wrestling contest, but a sense of danger didn''t truly settle in until they started moving.


    They did it together, each group member moving a few feet apart from each other in perfect sync like they''d rehearsed it.  And they didn''t walk. They prowled.  Their motions filled with the kind of grace and confidence you didn''t see in most humans.  That was enough red flags to make me think they were spooks.


    It was possible they were a group of heavily muscled, highly trained dancers that had decided to pay my graveyard a visit.


    And it was possible that I was a foreign prince from a faraway land who would soon inherit vast wealth and an easy lifestyle.  Possible, but I wasn''t going to bet the farm on it, or graveyard, in this case.


    The leader, who was walking a few steps ahead of the rest, stopped and waved.  He was tall, definitely somewhere over 6 foot.  He had short blond hair and a build I could only think of as bear-like with his broad shoulders that strained his leather jacket and a brick for a jaw.  His eyes didn''t fit with the rest of him.  They were dark brown beads that took in his surroundings with a kind of weasel-like cunning.


    Before the man said anything, I unveiled my aura as quickly as I could.  An aura was what all Telss''s and mages manipulated to do magic.  And unveiling mine would make it impossible to miss for any spook who could see magic.  He didn''t react, which meant he either had a great poker face or couldn''t see magic directly.


    I typically kept my aura veiled to make it harder for any hungry predator to draw a bead on me. But I couldn''t actually work any magic with it veiled. So with a mental effort, I reached out to my shroud, the boundary of my aura, and cut a paper-thin sheet from it. Then, with a quick mental image of ghosts and the impression of friendliness, I pushed that power out.


    It zipped away from me in every direction.  The magical ping should reach any friendly ghost in town.  I hadn''t had time for anything more precise, but that would hopefully be enough.  It had only taken me a few seconds to send out the call, and I quickly veiled my aura and returned all of my attention to the leather jacket.


    "That was quite the entrance," I said as I shifted my weight forward to lean on the grave.  Rogers wouldn''t mind. He was the one who told me to put the gun next to his grave in the first place.


    Leather jacket flashed me a smile that didn''t touch his eyes. "Today''s our first day in town. I guess I''m just a little excited to make the rounds, see the sights, and get to know all the local spooks!" My hand tightened around the gun.


    At least that confirmed they were spooks, but a new group of spooks in town wasn''t necessarily a good thing.


    Silver Spruce didn''t get people moving in that often.  People knew each other. People knew me.  Well, they mostly just knew of me.  But I knew what to expect from the people in Silver Spruce.  But these greaser wannabes were an unknown.  Well, from the way they''d come in, I doubted their intentions were particularly wholesome.  But I didn''t know what brand of bad they were yet.


    "New to Silver Spruce!" I said, doing my best to appear relaxed. "We don''t get too many new people. So what''s brought you all this way?" Leather jacket gave me another smile that showed a few too many gleaming teeth. "Silver Spruce is about to get quite a few new residents!" He said with a chuckle. "And I figured we''d go see the Grave Keeper we''ve heard some grumblings about."


    I scowled.  The rumor mill often rolled onto my shoulders, and I could understand!  I lived by myself above a graveyard at the northern edge of town.  And frequently talked to empty air. The ordinary townsfolk usually just looked the other way and kept walking if they saw something supernatural. But most still didn''t realize I was talking to ghosts.  Or they just didn''t want to think about it.


    Typically the rumor mill just told people that I was the go-to guy if they had a problem with ghosts.  But now, it had brought a crew of unknown spooks to my doorstep.


    I made a ''go on'' gesture at the leather jacket. "Alright, you''ve stopped by. Now what?" the man flashed yet another false smile before taking a few steps closer to me, putting him about ten feet away.


    "Well, you see, a whole lot of spooks are about to be arriving in Silver Spruce over the next couple of weeks." I kept my face neutral, but it took some doing.  I hadn''t heard anything about a group of spooks coming this way.  And while I was about as disconnected from the grapevine as one could be, several of my ghostly friends weren''t.


    My musing was interrupted by leather jacket. "Some of the spooks might not be as kind as my pack and me."


    My brain lit up on the word pack. If leather boy was using terms like pack that narrowed down the kinds of spook he could be by a lot.


    A werewolf or some other kind of were-kin.  But a werewolf felt right to me.


    "This is a pretty nice place," leather jacket said with a quick glance around. I didn''t say anything.


    "My pack could protect it, keep it ¨C and you ¨C safe from the other spooks.  For a small fee."


    I didn''t say a word as I stared at the man.  He couldn''t really be doing what I thought he was, could he?


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "But if you don''t...." The werewolf, and I was increasingly sure that''s what he was, looked around again and put on a mournful expression.  It was as fake as his smiles. "Then I don''t think this place is going to stay so nice."


    Wow, he really went for it.


    I stared at the werewolf in equal parts, disbelief and amusement. "Did you honestly just go for a protection racket on your first day in town?" I shook my head and didn''t try to hide the bark of laughter that rose from my chest. "God damn, that''s so shameless I almost respect it!"


    Leather jacket didn''t take being laughed at well.  His face darkened, and a low, rumbling growl sounded from deep in his chest.  It wasn''t a sound a human could produce.  It was deeper, more savage than that.


    It was a sound that didn''t have any place in a world of metal offices and orderly cubicles.  A sound that spoke to a part of the brain that remembered cowering in the dark, your stomach quivering as you prayed the predator it belonged to passed you by.


    "Maybe I should show you why some protection is a smart choice!" The werewolf snarled.  As he did, flecks of sickly yellow began to flash in his eyes.


    There are things you should and shouldn''t do around werewolves.  I didn''t have a ton of experience with them, but I knew a few and had fought a few.  Doing the latter sucks. I wouldn''t recommend it.  In fact, most of the knowledge I had about werewolves centered around avoiding fights.


    Don''t look them in the eyes is a good one.  They take it as a challenge. Don''t turn your back on them is another good one, though that one varies depending on the pack you''re dealing with.  Some take it as a sign of trust, that you believe them to be honorable and that they won''t attack at the first show of weakness.  Others, well, take it as a show of weakness and attack.


    But most of those tips were for avoiding conflict by not committing any werewolf social faux pas.  One had to take a very different approach when dealing with a werewolf, or werewolves, who intended you harm from the get-go.


    I didn''t tense up before making my move.  That was important when dealing with people that are supernaturally faster than you.  You don''t give any warnings, don''t show aggressive body language, or give off any kind of sign until you''re ready.  Before leather jacket had taken more than a half step towards me, I very calmly pulled my arm and the double-barreled shotgun it held, from behind Roger''s grave and aimed it at him.


    He froze as he was suddenly staring down twin barrels. "Get back in your stupid truck, or I will send your John Travolta-looking ass to the ground with a load of buckshot through your teeth."


    To his credit, the man didn''t immediately charge me.  I was more than willing to go through with my threat.  And the calm voice I delivered it in seemed to convince him of that.


    And I was glad he didn''t charge since while a load of buckshot to the right place would put him on the ground, he''d only stay there for a handful of minutes or less.  Werewolves were tough in all caps and underlined a few times.


    It was technically possible to kill them without silver, which I was fresh out of, but it was also technically possible to dig out the foundation of a home with a spoon.  That didn''t mean I wouldn''t rather have construction equipment.


    Werewolves could heal from any injury that wasn''t caused by silver.  And the only drawback I knew of was that it took energy from them to heal.  And the weakest werewolf was still strong enough to literally rip a human limb from limb.


    Without silver, your only other real options were starving them or strangling them.  Neither of which I could accomplish.


    Which left me with trying to get out of this by playing off werewolf honor and pride.  Those were huge for werewolves and typically interwoven so tightly that I couldn''t tell them apart.  Leather jackets sneered at me, or maybe my gun.  Hard to tell from this angle.


    The expression was far more honest than his earlier smiles. "I can smell what you had for breakfast from here!  Do you think I''d miss the scent of silver?  You shoot, and my pack will hold you down while I heal.  Then," he snarled. "I will choke you to death with your own intestines!"


    I blinked.  I knew how to keep a neutral expression, but that caught me off guard. "That''s got graphic quickly. You''re not going to cut my throat or beat me to death. Instead, you''re going to choke me with my own intestines?  Why was that your go-to?" The werewolf glared at me, his eyes now completely filled with flakes of sickly yellow.


    Leather jacket was searching for something to say, though I felt confident he''d settle on shut up or something equally clever. So I continued before he decided which come back to use.  If I wanted to get out of this, I had to keep the man on his back foot.


    "That''s your plan? You''re gonna have your pack hold me down while you will roll around for a while healing?" Leather jacket started to take another step towards me, but my words caused him to freeze. "I mean, you talked like you were going to do something yourself.  But now it''s sounding like you need your pack to beat one human." I shrugged, making sure to keep the gun pointed at him while I did.  Though I wasn''t actually aiming for his head, you don''t tell someone where you''re going to shoot them when they might be fast enough to dodge it.


    Leather jacket growled, the sound even more guttural than before.  He took a step forward, hesitated, then stopped.  His growl deepened, and his jaw made a wet popping noise as it jutted forward.  He shook his head, and his jaw popped back.  I kept a tiny flicker of hope off my face.


    My plan wasn''t exactly a complex one.  I had just needed to tickle the werewolf''s pride.


    He absolutely could spring forward and kill me.  But he would almost certainly get shot in the process.  Which would put him in the position of being hurt by a lone human, making him look weaker in the eyes of his pack.  That was also why he had just held back his shift. He didn''t want to look like he needed his other form to kill me.  And it would only make him look worse if he had his pack hold me down.


    He was in a bit of a werewolf catch twenty-two.  If he left me alone, he would look weak. If he attacked me, he would end up looking weak.  A tingle along my skin caused me to pay attention to my peripheral vision.  The next and final step of my plan was ready.


    Leather jacket was going to look bad regardless of what he did, and the shade of red he was turning told me he knew that. So I needed to convince him that leaving was the best of his bad options.


    "Get back in the truck. Or do you think killing me here is going to do your reputation with Silver-Spruce''s spooks any good?"


    He sneered, showing off teeth that didn''t look entirely human anymore. "Even if you managed to shoot me, I''ll tear you apart before I finish pushing out the buckshot."


    "I thought you were going to choke me to death with my own intestines."


    "I ¨C shut up!" He marked his words with a slash of his hand and a step forward. He''d been trying to close the gap during the conversation and had gotten close enough that I needed to shut him down before he took another step.


    "And why would I care about how the other spooks react?  I might be merciful and just give you the beating of your life.  But at the rate you''re going, you''ll end up in one of these graves."


    He gave me an ugly smile.


    "I don''t know if it slipped your mind or if you are unaware, but werewolves have a great sense of smell.  We are the only living souls in a few square miles. So no one will know if I kill you."


    I gave leather jacket a cold smile. His own sneering dropped slightly.


    "You''re half right.  We are the only living souls around here."


    My magic gave me the ability to always see ghosts. However, I was still able to tell if they were making themselves visible to others or not.


    And with my not-so-subtle queue, every ghost that had gathered from my call stared fading into sight.    They started in ones and two''s.  Agatha came first, her old bony frame and whirling hair cast in a sinister light as she appeared to my right, her eyes blank and glassy.


    Leather jacket flinched liked he''d been tased as Ben and Rodgers rose from the ground less than three feet in front of him.


    More ghosts quickly followed.  Old men rose from graves, children with clothes that danced in an invisible wind stared with malice.  Men, women, and children from dozens of time periods filled the graveyard. And every single one of them was staring at the gang of werewolves with sightless or hate-filled eyes.


    "You can probably still kill me. Werewolves are tough, after all.  But if you do, then," I trailed off and Burnard, a  young boy, dressed as a Renascence noble, continued without missing a beat.


    "You will never experience a night''s rest again." The werewolf whirled towards the small child, only to spin again as Roger spoke from behind him.


    "Every plan you make will be public knowledge." Then Ben from his other side. "We will spill every secret you have."


    Then voices from the crowd started speaking out one after the other. "Everyone you speak to will know of your crimes."


    "Don''t you want to be able to sleep?"


    The werewolves moved until their backs were facing each other as they were surrounded by the horde of ghosts.  The chorus of threats, promises, and unnerving questions piled on until every ghost spoke in sync.


    "And all of this will continue until your dying day!"


    The werewolves ran.  Leather jacket didn''t even try and posture or make some other kind of threat.  Instead, he turned and sprinted off far faster than any human ever could.  I almost thought they would abandon the truck until one of the fleeing werewolves seemed to remember it.  They scrambled inside, and the vehicle tore off, spraying even more gravel than they had on the way in.


    We all stayed quiet while a few ghosts trailed the werewolves to make sure they didn''t loopback.  It was long enough for Matthews to join me behind Rogers grave.  Before he could ask any questions, we received the all-clear.


    Upon getting the all-clear, every ghost in the graveyard immediately broke into laughter.  Matthews looked around in confusion.  It looked like the unearthly horde act had gotten to him too.  Rogers floated over to me, his bushy red beard split into a broad smile. "We haven''t gotten to do the ghostly chorus act in years!  God, I forgot how much I enjoyed that one." He laughed.


    Matthews looked from me to Rogers and back again. "That one?  Do you just have a bunch of routine acts readied in case you need them?" Rogers nodded before giving me an icy pat on the shoulder.


    "They come in handy! Of course, we don''t need them all the time, but when a group of thugs tries to pressure Alder here, we get to pull out one of the routines."


    Ben floated up through the ground in front of me and shouted, "boo!" I stared at Ben for a second, then sneered and turned my attention back to Matthews.


    "We have a lot of plans, actually. Plenty of my friends have spent more time than is probably healthy thinking of spooky ghost roles they can use when the time comes."


    "Hey! Don''t just sneer, then turn away!" I continued to ignore Ben as I gestured around us. "Then we have like, a handful of acts that all the old ghosts know."


    Most of the ghosts I had just mentioned were waving to me before fading away.  Despite the interruption, the morning had been set aside for Matthews last request, and he had asked for space. That was something all the ghosts took seriously.


    Matthews nodded slowly while looking around at the departing ghosts. "I can see how that could come in handy."


    "It''s kept Alder alive more than once," Rogers said as he started to walk away. "Goodbye, Matthews." Rogers waved, and Matthews returned the gesture.


    I finally acknowledged Ben with a condescending pat on his shoulder. "Go and think about what you''ve done, then come back with a less pathetic attempt to scare me."


    Ben glowered down at me past a nose that had been broken more than once. "It''s not my fault that you''re jaded to so many ghostly scare tactics."


    I scoffed. "Quit grabbing for the low-hanging fruits and come up with some new material.  Now get!" I made a shooing gesture, and Ben floated off with some grumbling about how he didn''t get any respect.


    A few minutes later, it was just me and Matthews in the graveyard.


    We walked back to the old radio and the even older stump it sat on.  The graveyard was, pardon the pun, deathly quiet.  The silence was even more pronounced after the chaos of a few minutes ago.


    Matthews stared down at the cassette, his expression cloudy.  I felt a cold anger towards leather jacket that had been mostly absent while he was threatening me.


    Matthews had worked up the courage to move on. In a way, he worked up the courage to die again, only for that jackass to come barreling in.  And now Matthews had to go through that again.


    He had climbed up the cliff and steeled himself to jump into the waters below. Only to get jerked back from the ledge.


    We didn''t talk or joke this time.  Matthews stood, and I waited.  Eventually, he looked up and turned to me.  Whatever he was going to say was cut off as yet another set of tires spun into the graveyard, sending even more gravel spraying.


    "You have got to be kidding me!" I snarled.  Spinning on my heel and stalked back towards the drive, in time to see a very different vehicle sliding to a stop.  The van looked like a cousin to the mystery machine from Scooby-Doo.  But instead of that classic paint job, it was dark green and covered with drawings of wolves.


    In a brief glance, I saw a wolf in a night robe smoking a pipe, a wolf in a leather jacket with shoulder spikes smoking in front of a school with the words "stay in school" over its head.  And a poker table half composed of serious-faced humans playing cards with the other half of equally serious-faced wolves, who were somehow also holding cards.  The oddness of it made me pause, but a mixture of frustration and anger caused me to keep going.


    I went right back to Rogers grave and picked up the shotgun, lamenting my sore arm as I did. I''d partially supported the gun with my leg, but holding it in place with one hand for so long had been a struggle. Then, the driver-side door practically flew open, and a woman launched out.


    She was tall, blond, and had the same strongly muscled build as the earlier werewolves.  That, all the wolf imagery on the van, and the fact that her eyes were bright red, made me think she just might be a werewolf.


    That theory gained more traction as she crossed the distance between us far faster than a human body could manage.  She stopped a few feet away and stared down at me with a frantic look in her red eyes.


    I tried not to meet those eyes.  With the way this morning was going, I kind of doubted this would be a pleasant visit, but no need to intentionally aggravate her until she whipped out the protection scheme.


    "Are you the Grave Keeper?" She asked, her voice deep and desperate.  I blinked and looked around.  For a second, I considered saying no, but since I was the only other living person here, and werewolves were very hard to lie to, I decided lying probably wasn''t my best move.


    "Yeah, I''m the grave keeper."


    "And you help people with ghosts?"


    "...Yeah."


    The woman gave one sharp nod and gestured to the van behind her.


    "Get in the van."


    I blinked again and took a few unconscious steps back.  Which revealed the shotgun I was holding, but the woman was close enough that I doubted I could get a shot off before she was on me anyway. "Hard pass on that one.  Big strangers, and strange vans, you know the drill."


    I shifted the shotgun slightly, moving the barrel a bit closer to the woman. "Plus, you didn''t offer me any candy, so frankly, your offer is a little insulting."


    The woman crossed the distance between us faster than I could react.  I barely managed a twitch of the gun before it was slapped out of my hand, the gun''s lack of a trigger guard the only thing saving me from some broken fingers.


    Then a hand was around my throat, and I was a few feet higher than usual.  I had been choked one or two, three?  I had been choked a distressing number of times before, and it never got easier.  Even if you know staying calm was your best option, your brain hits the panic button when its supply of the good stuff gets cut off.  As chokings went, this was one of the best since it ended almost immediately.  The grip shifted to my collar as I was pressed into something solid.  While being held up by the collar of your jacket was very uncomfortable, it was a lot better than being choked out.


    I managed to look around enough to see that the werewolf had shoved me against the stone obelisk.


    Said werewolf was currently growling. The sound was deep and strong enough to literally rattle my bones. "One of my pack is being possessed." The woman''s voice came out stilted, random words turning guttural only for the next to sound totally human. "If you refuse to help him." The hand on my collar tightened and relaxed several times in quick succession.


    I had been getting ready to try and knee her in the jaw.  It probably wouldn''t have done much, but if I was lucky, I might get her to clamp down on her own tongue.  That plan probably had a better chance of getting me pasted against the obelisk than getting her to let go, but I was a little short on options.


    But when she mentioned possession, I went limp.  The fact I''d been up since before dawn, the frustration I felt at Matthews getting cock blocked twice, even the fact that I was being held a few feet off the ground, it didn''t matter anymore.


    Someone had ghost problems, and I helped when it came to ghosts, end of story.


    Possessions were time-sensitive, they could last quite a while if the ghost was possessing someone with a strong will, but once they gained control, they could be off in any direction.


    And it was only a matter of time before the body''s original owner passed on.


    The werewolf could be trying to lead me into a trap, but why bother?  The woman could kill me with a twitch.


    "How long ago?" To her credit, the werewolf only paused for a moment at my sudden change in demeanor. "Roughly seven minutes ago." I blinked. Hot damn, she had moved fast!


    I was about to agree to go, but I wasn''t alone here.  I turned my head to Matthews, who had been shooting questions¡ª which I had been tunning out¡ª the entire time. "A possession is time-sensitive. Are you okay if I-"  "Go."  I hesitated. "Are you sure?"  "Go." Matthews voice was firm.


    I turned back to the woman, who''d been looking between me and the seemingly empty air with a mixture of confusion and desperate impatiences.


    "Let''s go."


    I don''t know why, considering how she''d been throwing me around, but when I said let''s go, I wasn''t expecting to get pulled to the van at terrifying speeds like a fleshy sack of potatoes.


    By the time I got my barrings, the van door was shut, and we were off in yet another spray of gravel.

 The Noose Maker

    Werewolves are, on average, much better drivers than humans. They have vastly better senses, better reflexes, and seemed to be more decisive in general. As a result, driving with a werewolf was usually much safer than driving with a human.


    On average.


    "Jesus Christ!" I swore as the Alpha took a turn 30 miles faster than was reasonable. The van bouncing and shuttering so violently that I felt like I was in the world''s least comfortable trampoline.


    I was sitting behind the driver''s seat, gripping the headrest in front of me for dear life. To my right sat a man who looked to be in his early twenties, maybe a year or two younger than me ¨C though age could be deceptive with werewolves. He had slightly pinched features that were partially hidden behind a pair of thick glasses. Which I noted as odd despite my panic. Werewolves rarely needed things like glasses or hearing aids.


    The werewolf was also holding onto the seat in front of him with an expression that matched my own.


    There was another werewolf riding shotgun, but I ignored her for now. I needed some information before we went charging in. I looked to the man at my right, not wanting to distract the Alpha driving and get us pancaked against a tree.


    "How long ago was the possession?" I had already asked the Alpha, but I wanted to double-check. I was a little proud that I managed to keep my voice firm even though my knuckles were white as my fingers dug into the headrest.


    The werewolf answered immediately, and to his credit, his voice was even steadier than mine. "Eight minutes ago, max."


    That matched the Alphas estimate. They must''ve hauled ass to the graveyard as soon as it happened. If it''d only been eight minutes ago, we had more time to work with than I''d feared.


    The relief that started to build quickly dissipated as I put two and two together. Even driving like we were, there were only so many places within five minutes of the graveyard on this road. Plenty of them were hideously dangerous, but only a few had ghosts with both the strength and inclination to possess someone.


    "Where exactly are we heading?" Once again, the man answered immediately. I wish everyone was this collected during a possession.


    "We''re almost there, it''s a massive mansion, it ¨C"


    "Did you see what the ghost looked like?" I cut in. He nodded. "Not a great look, but I saw him from outside. Tall, wiry, balding on top with a big mustache."


    "He was wearing a brown jacket and dark pants. I''d guess somewhere around nineteenth century in fashion." The werewolf riding shotgun added.


    I slammed my fist into the seat. "Shit!" They had stumbled into the Noose Maker''s Manor. They were lucky any of them had gotten out. This changed the timetables. We''d be lucky if the possession lasted an hour before Niall took control.


    Everyone who wasn''t driving was staring at me after my outburst. "We don''t have much time," I addressed both of them and just hoped that the Alpha could spare enough attention to hear my words. "You all just waltzed into the Noose Maker''s Manor. The fact that you''re all alive right now is a little amazing. Normally I''d prefer to give you a history lesson on the place, but we''re going to have to settle for the bare essentials."


    I started ticking points off on my hand.


    "The ghost''s name is Niall, he is old, he is powerful, and he is absolutely insane. When we go in, chances are he''ll have moved your friend, so we''re going to have to track him down before we can do anything else. Naill''s scent is whiskey, sweat, and rope. That''s what we need to follow. While we do that, Niall''s going to be doing his best to kill us all. If you all went in there, I assume you saw the type of fight we''re in for."


    I got two nods, so I continued. "I can help your friend, but the Noose Maker isn''t some freshly dead ghost on a mad rampage. If I''m going to put him to rest, it will take a lot of power, so I can''t just go throwing it out at random. I''ll have to be close. But I''m a squishy human, I am good at dodging, but I''m still going to need help to get to your friend."


    "We will keep you safe." The Alpha had been silent since we got in the car, so it took me a moment to realize she''d spoken. I looked into the rearview mirror. The Alpha took her eyes off the road for a terrifying moment and met my gaze in the reflection. I stared into dark blue as she spoke again. "We will keep you safe."


    ~<>~


    It wasn''t long until we reached the manor. The Alpha going up the paved drive at an even more terrifying speed. The second the van skidded to a stop, we were out the door and running. I was, of course, the slowest of the lot, but I still made good time as we rushed to the mansion.


    The werewolves stood a few feet away from the barrier, waiting. That had to go before we could do anything else.


    I ran up to the simmering air that marked the border. It had been almost a year since I last fought a ghost this powerful, and I still hadn''t fully recovered from it.


    A worm of fear twisted in my gut. I wasn''t an idiot... well, that was debatable, epically considering what I was about to do. My point was that I knew what I was going into. And it scared me. I let the fear stay for a moment, acknowledging the emotion. Then I pushed it away. I had made this particular choice a long time ago, and I wasn''t about to start second-guessing it now.


    I took a deep breath, then unveiled my aura. It spooled out around me, covering more than a dozen feet in a rough circle. My magical senses extended with my aura, and as they brushed against the barrier, they told me that the thing probably wrapped around the entire mansion. However, I had a feeling it was weak until Niall felt something approach it.


    This was his haunt, a place he''d spent so much time in that he had fused with it. As a result, he could affect things in the mansion with less effort and on a larger scale than he could manage anywhere else. That, combined with his age and power, was why he could pull something like this barrier off at all.


    I didn''t hold back like I had earlier. This wasn''t a quick task that I could immediately veil myself after. I pulled every wrap I had on my aura off, leaving it to hang around me in full.


    My magic wasn''t good for any fight that didn''t involve a ghost. It couldn''t set a rampaging monster on fire. It couldn''t keep the rain off me or heat up my toast. But a lack of versatility and a lack of magical power were two different things.


    My aura held so much magic packed into it that even a non-mage would see the air around me ripple with purple and green after images.


    Magic wasn''t just about brute strength. Just like with your body, where and how you applied force mattered. But having a truckload of force certainly helped.


    I reached out with a thought and began to shift my aura. It was kind of like moving a muscle, except the muscle could be shifted in any direction you could think of, and you could also change its shape. I guess it was kind of like a tongue... actually scratch that. I hate that mental image.


    I shaped my aura, condensing it until it resembled a lumpy club instead of a loose cloud. Then I reared my aura back and struck the barrier. Boom! I repeated the process, slamming my will against the wall like a magical battering ram.


    Boom!


    Boom!


    I wasn''t trying to get any specific effect. I wasn''t even using my magic, really. Aside from the slight drain it took on me with each strike, it barely cost me at all. The barrier was made with the ghost''s magic, which I could counter. The problem was Niall was strong, and I was about to fight him on his home turf. He would have power in spades, enough that I actually needed to be smart about my power use if I didn''t want to fall back on my shroud. Which was always an option, but an option that would weaken me in the long term.


    Ghosts didn''t have auras like living things, but some of their magic worked on similar principles. For example, while this barrier used up magic to stay in place, it was also an extension of the Noose Maker''s Will. Blasting someone''s physical body away just took magic and a little bit of his focus. Keeping out my aura as it smashed against the barrier again and again took a lot more than a little focus. And right now, Niall was in a battle of wills against the werewolf he was attempting to possess, which meant he had very little to spare for anything else.


    I slammed my aura forward again, but instead of backing away for another strike, I kept it there. Pushing for all I was worth.


    The barrier buckled, then gave. Crumbling against the force of my will. Purple and green mixed with Dark amber in a flash, then vanished with a blast of wind and a distant wail.


    Before the sound had faded, the werewolves were moving. The Alpha rushed ahead to the door while the other two flanked me. The formation made sense. As long as we stuck to it, the werewolves would be able to cover just about any attack coming my way.


    The Alpha walked straight up to the massive double doors. I had expected her to head for the broken window, but after a moment''s thought, I understood. While all of the werewolves could quickly get through with a simple hop, I''d need to be carried or climb through like an old man to avoid getting sliced open on shards of broken glass. Either way, we would be sitting ducks for Neill.


    The Alpha stopped in front of the doors, then raised her foot. She looked comical, standing there, foot raised to kick open doors that were twice her height.


    Then she lashed out, and the doors buckled. She kicked again, causing the doors to rattle in their frame. She kicked, again and again, creating a cacophony rattling crashes. It grew louder and louder until I thought the doors were going to burst from their frame. Instead, after one particularly vicious kick, something snapped, and the doors swung open. From the glint of twisted metal, it looked like the Alpha had kicked until the lock broke.


    It wasn''t a small lock.


    For a breath, I took in the mansion. The sweeping windows, vast open space, beautiful paintings, and the general elegance of a beautifully crafted room.


    Then a storm of stools, rugs, and knives took up the majority of my attention.


    We started running towards the flying projectiles.


    The Alpha grabbed one of the stools, swung it into a rug to knock it off course, ignored the several knives that slammed into her side, then grabbed the second stool and started swinging it around as well. Well shit, this was certainly going better than I had expected.


    We continued to run, following the Alpha as she carved a path through the storm of household objects. It was a little bit like trying to sprint through an IKEA during a hurricane. Nevertheless, we made good time, the werewolves on my flanks protecting me from the brunt of the storm on their sides while I dodged whatever else slipped through.


    I wouldn''t have been able to make it through the whole storm without help. There were just too many projectiles moving too quickly. But this was far from my first haunted house, combine that with a life spent around ghosts, and I was very, very good at dodging.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    We continued through the chaotic mess. The world condensing down to blurring motion, grunts of exertion, and the sound of the house wailing around us. I dodged and ducked and whatever other adjective that meant I got out of the way.


    The werewolves dodged some, but they tanked plenty of hits. Their wounds starting to heal up almost as soon as they happened.


    The pattern broke slightly as we reached the stairwell. We were halfway up when a sofa flew down towards us like an unwieldy javelin. Without a seconds pause, the Alpha jumped several steps ahead, then crouched and dropped her hands, like she was setting for a volleyball.


    The couch slammed into her with a thud.


    Even when you know you''re looking at someone with supernatural strength, your brain still expects something as large as a sofa moving at fastball speeds to blast them off their feet.


    But instead of getting knocked back, the Alpha grunted, then heaved. She flung the couch up and over like a giant volleyball.


    The sofa smacked into a wall with a crunch, and we kept moving before it could pick itself back up and follow.


    The second floor was a mess of hallways that intersected at seemingly random junctions. Despite that, and the waves of household objects still pelting us, we didn''t get lost. My very human nose could smell it on the air¡ªwhiskey, exertion, and old rope. The werewolves, with their far, far beyond human noses, had no trouble closing in on that smell like it was a damn GPS signal.


    A small part of me that wasn''t focused on staying in one piece marveled at the beauty of this place. The dark walls were adorned with paintings, and the dark wood floor we sprinted over gleamed like it had been installed yesterday.


    Niall kept this place spotless.


    Which wasn''t surprising, conceding what I knew of him. Niall The Noose Maker, the Mad Groundskeeper. He''d killed dozens of people, men, women, children. It didn''t matter. You stepped onto the manor grounds, and a noose was made for you. No exceptions


    It wasn''t a shock that a man who''d killed anyone who stepped foot in the manor kept said manor clean.


    We turned a corner, and I barely managed to drop to my knees in time to slide under an empty picture frame that had gotten by the Alpha. I threw myself back to my feet¡ª ignoring the flashes of pain from my knees¡ª and promptly smashed into the Alphas back. I bounced off with a grunt.


    Ow. That felt like hitting a brick wall. My impact, pardon the pun, impacted the Alpha like she really was a brick wall. She didn''t even sway on her feet. Instead, she turned to a door, indistinguishable from the others around it, and gave it a yank.


    The door resisted. So, with splintering crunch, she pulled it off its hinges. Then, tossing it to the side, she turned back to the now door-less doorway. The Alpha then had to block as the door immediately flew back up to strike at her.


    She smashed it to kindling. I waited for a second to see if I needed to dodge a shotgun blast of splinters. To my luck, the dead door stayed dead. I turned to the doorway, Ignoring the continued sounds of combat from behind me.


    Before I even saw what was in the room, I knew we''d reached our destination. The whole time we''d ran through the house, I had felt Niall''s presence itching at my skin and aura. The sensation had grown stronger when we reached the second floor. And now it felt like bugs were crawling along the edges of my aura. My magical senses were overwhelmed with Niall''s presence.


    The now-empty doorway revealed a small cleaning closet, brooms, dustpans, and the like lined up in orderly rows along its walls. Standing in the center, twitching violently, was a tall blond man. His eyes were closed, and his face was set into an icy mask. He had broad shoulders and the same sharply muscled build as the rest of the werewolves I''d met.


    As I watched, one of his fingers broke with a snap, elongating in a sickening motion. Thick dirty blond hairs started to push out of the skin on his finger, and his fingernail and the tip of his finger began to merge and lengthen into a glossy black claw. The process continued for a few seconds then reversed itself, the image just as unpleasant in reverse.


    As my aura enveloped the werewolf, I could feel the battle raging inside of him. I didn''t have all the details, but I didn''t want the drawbacks of getting a clearer picture. I''d used my true sight to view a possession in progress before. I didn''t need to do it again.


    I knew the lines and shades of color that made up the two minds and souls clashing and intermixing as they each fought for dominance.


    The Alpha stepped up next to me. I looked up at her for a second, then to the door. The others had taken up guard positions.


    "Well? Help him!" I ignored the anger in the werewolf''s voice. I''d just met the woman, but I could still hear the desperation under the anger. I nodded, then started pushing power into the werewolf.


    Magic started draining from my aura like I''d sprung a leak, which wasn''t a problem since I could leak a few swimming pools of magic before I ran out. Normally my aura didn''t do much to a non-ghost. It had an emotional balancing effect, evening out someone''s mental state, but that was generally the extent of what it could do to a living creature. But the werewolf in front of me currently had a ghost melded with his body, which made the lines a little... blurry.


    I started pushing even more power out. And just before I felt the link begin to forge, I turned to the Alpha. "Don''t let me hit my head or bite my tongue off or anything, okay?" Just as she opened her mouth to respond, the link finished forging, and my world went black.


    ~<>~


    Between one breath and the next, I went from smelling whiskey and rope to breathing in a lungful of smoke. Heat came with it, pushing against me from all around.


    Then a flood of memories blindsided me.


    I had to keep going. With stinging eyes, I crawled forward. With every motion, I left skin behind on the burning carpet. The pain was mind-shattering, but another feeling kept me going. Rage. My family, they had already gotten out. They hadn''t even woken me up. They had abandoned me!


    I stood in front of the Bronson''s mansion with a bottle in one hand and a lighter in the other. The Bronson''s mansion. The thought turned the aftertaste of scotch foul on my tongue.


    It should have been my mansion, my business, my idea! I should be happy! Instead, I was standing here on what should''ve been the one-year anniversary of my success, watching a thief celebrate in my place. My hands were shaking badly enough that it took me several tries to get the lighter to catch. But they were more than steady enough to drop it into the trail of gasoline.


    I ran in a crouch through the burning home, trying to stay below the smoke as much as I could. The child over my shoulders coughed and spluttered. That was fine. Coughing and spluttering meant they were still alive. But if I wanted them to stay that way, I had to get them out!


    With a gasp, I shoved the memories down. More tried to rise up. No! Not right now. I could have a breakdown later when it wouldn''t get someone, not to mention myself, killed.


    I took a few stumbling steps, then stopped. My mind was still filled with a mess of conflicting emotions. I needed to center myself, or I was going to get killed.


    I took slow, deep breaths. In. My name is Alder. I own the graveyard, I''m twenty-three, I help ghosts. Out. I repeated the process several more times until I felt steady enough to pick a fight with a ghost. The smoke had gotten worse, so I crouched down, trying to keep it out of my lungs. I didn''t have time to search through this entire burning house. Chances were I''d die of smoke inhalation before I found them.


    Luckily for me, I could cheat. I pushed my aura out in every direction. It moved through the walls, ceiling, and floor just as easily as the open air. I stopped once I felt two presences directly below me. Down I went. What little attention I spared for the house told me that it was ordinary. Family pictures lined the walls, and there were toys scattered here and there. It would''ve been perfectly normal if it hadn''t been on fire.


    Of course, the thought had barely finished crossing my mind before the room twisted and warped. The fire vanished, and I heard a couple''s distant laughter. Then the fire was back, and I was choking on smoke.


    "Dammit!" Possessions were primarily battles of will, and they took place inside the body. Or the mind if we''re being specific. And since we were in the werewolf''s mind, the space around me could pull all kinds of weird shit. Though so far, this was a lot better than the last time I''d done this. That mind-scape had been a summer camp that constantly spun like it was a demented merry-go-round.


    I continued on. I was pretty sure I was on the ground floor, but Niall and the werewolf were still below. So I started opening doors, searching for a basement stairwell. The house shifted around me as I did. First to what I guessed was a family dinner, judging by the sounds, then to a thunderstorm, then the house stayed on fire, but I could hear gunshots in the distance. Finally, I found the door and took the stairs at a run.


    My pounding footsteps echoed out in the narrow stairwell, coming back to me distorted and loud, making it sound like a giant was barging down the steps.


    I reached the bottom of the stairs and was shocked by a wall of cool air that blew away the smoke, replacing it with the smell of artificial fruit. I took in the room with a quick glance. It was a typical basement playroom. A TV and couches sat in one corner, while the other side of the room held a foosball table.


    To my right was a white foldout table with several board games scattered across its surface. The center of the room had been cleared, small chairs and stands knocked aside by the two figures currently circling one another. One was the werewolf, dressed in a set of children''s pajamas. That caused me to do a double-take, and I realized more was off about him.


    The lines of his face were softer, as was the rest of him. And he was at least a foot shorter than he was in reality. All and all, he looked the better part of a decade younger than he appeared outside. The other figure was Niall.


    He was tall, with a frame built out of whipcord and sinew, clad in dirty brown pants, a brown cap, and a dark workmen''s jacket over a stained white shirt. He looked about how you would expect a deranged groundskeeper to look. However, his face stood out in sharp contrast to the rest of him. He had round cheeks and a voluminous mustache. The roundness of his face was jarring in comparison to the rest of his body.


    I would''ve called it a friendly face if it wasn''t for his eyes. Light blue and bloodshot, they stared with the kind of desperate hate that most people would never encounter in their lifetime. The look was so far past anger that it was like comparing a candle to a bonfire. Niall hated the man in front of him, hated him so fully and completely that I knew nothing else existed for him. There were no other thoughts or wants in his head, just the hate and the need to express it.


    Niall lunged. He reached for the werewolf''s throat while lashing out with a kick towards his shins. The werewolf managed to dodge the grasping fingers, but the kick came in too fast. It connected with an audible snap, and the werewolf went down. He didn''t immediately start healing like I half expected him to.


    I started moving. The werewolf drug himself away from Niall, his form shifting as he did. For a blink, he was in between a wolf monster and a man, then he was the adult I had seen before entering this little party.


    The carpeted ground under the werewolf shifted into dark, polished wood. An exact match for the floors of the mansion. That was a pretty clear sign that Niall was starting to take over. The Noose Maker raised his foot to stomp down on the werewolf''s other leg. One of the many downsides to all-consuming hate is its tendency to make people lose track of their surroundings.


    Even though I had broken into a full sprint, and had enveloped him in my aura, Niall didn''t notice me until my dropkick took him in the side. Now, I''m no heavyweight. I''m five foot nothing and made out of wire and bone. So a body slam or dropkick from me isn''t what most would call intimidating. But timing matters. Niall was on one foot, with the other raised to stomp down, and I hit him center mass from a dead sprint.


    Niall went tumbling. Well, he tumbled. I fell flat on my back. Right onto the one patch of hardwood. Ow. I climbed to my feet and saw Niall doing the same. "Who the hell are you?" Asked the werewolf. His voice was composed and far colder than I was expecting. I sighed as Niall finished climbing to his feet. "An idiot who doesn''t say no enough." Niall charged me.


    As Niall closed the distance between us with terrifying speed, I pulled my aura back. It rushed back to me until it only covered Niall and part of the room around us. The thick fog of purple and green magic slowed Niall, but not enough for me to get out of the way. His charge caught me in the shoulder and sent me spinning to the ground. I hit and rolled, ignoring the flash of pain in my shoulder. Niall stomped down where I had been, his foot slamming down with the sound, not unlike a dropped brick.


    Niall was far stronger than me, and my aura was the only reason he wasn''t faster too. I scrambled to my feet just in time to avoid another kick. My magic poured into Niall. It made it harder for him to move, harder for him to work his magic. A fist sailed for my cheek, and I barely managed to duck under it.


    Now that he was in my aura, time was on my side. Eventually, as long as I kept pouring power on the bastard, I''d forge a link, and Niall would be forced to move on. Another fist whistled past me as I jumped to the side. Of course, I would need to live long enough to forge that link. "Die!" Niall bellowed. "Die, trespasser! Liar, trickster! Die!" His voice sounded like a shrill fog horn.


    My ears rang, and I almost got hit with an elbow.


    Despite the ringing pain in my ears, this was actually going pretty well. Niall''s focus and magic were split between resisting my aura and trying to dominate the werewolf. Which was stopping him from doing any nasty workings on me. Well, it wasn''t easy. I could dodge till the link forged. Then, as if he could read my mind, Niall stopped swinging and stood still.


    Crap.


    I poured even more power into the ghost, but he wasn''t completely cut off since he''d already been using his magic before I enveloped him with my aura.


    Niall raised his arms, his hands pressed flat against the purple and green waves crashing against him. Then he shoved like a man pushing against a collapsing roof. For an instant, my aura was blasted away from him. It wasn''t free. The section of the floor he had turned shifted back into carpet. And from the corner of my eye, I saw the werewolf straighten slightly. Niall had been forced to let up on the werewolf to push my aura away.


    But for an instant, Niall was free from my restriction.


    A heavy noose formed in one hand. And just as my aura started to flood back in, Niall blurred towards me. He hit, and we went rolling. My aura crashed back over him, slowing him back to human speed, but he had the noose around my neck. The noose snapped taut as Niall stood, pulling me up with him. Niall had his back pressed to mine like we were doing paired stretches, with the noose going over his shoulder.


    My fingers grasped the rope, trying to relieve some of the pressure, but it was cinched tight. I was being choked for the second time today. Absolutely ridiculous. As part of me began to panic, thrashing, and kicking, trying to do anything to relieve the pressure, another part of me focused on keeping my aura glued to Niall.


    Even as my heart pounded in my ears and my thrashing started to slow. As my vision began to waver, I kept my aura on the ghost. And just as I began to reach out for my shroud, getting ready to permanently burn some of my magic for a burst of power, the link finished forging.

 Memories

    I- I... I rose from my crouch, tucking the cutters under one arm as I grabbed the bag of clippings. Taking a few steps back, I gave the hedges a long once over. The sun was setting at my back, casting the hedges, and the manner behind them, in a golden glow. I nodded in satisfaction. Perfect. "You finished yet? I thought I was going to finish tomorrow''s chores before you were through with that hedge."


    I smiled at Margo. The short woman wore a rough dress, with grass stains on the knees that would never come out. Her dark hair was bursting out of a bun, wild strands covering the broad smile on her face. "I trimmed it in record time, Margo. Master Bram assigns me with this task instead of you for a reason, after all." Margo narrowed her eyes at me and reached down to a bucket at her feet. "You see this paintbrush?" She shook said instrument, presumably in case I somehow failed to see it. "You see this freshly painted wall?" She gestured to the Manor wall, which was indeed freshly painted. "Do you want to match said wall?"


    I took a step back. Margo had followed through with her paint-based threats before, and I didn''t doubt for a moment that she would do so again. Her eyes gleamed, and she laughed. "I''m not going to ruin your coat, Niall. I know how much a gift from master Bram means to you." She shifted her stance, her foot brushing against a package wrapped in heavy rope. She glanced down at it with a frown. "I was meaning to get this into town today, but it''s getting dark. Oh well," she shrugged. "I''ll get it done tomorrow. Do you think it''ll rain? I hope- oh, someone''s here."


    I followed Margo''s eyes and saw a man walking up the drive, his build nothing more than a silhouette with the setting sun behind his back. Said silhouette was bulky, with a large pack and a rifle sticking over one shoulder. For a moment, with the man''s features nothing more than shadow, I felt a sense of dread settled over me. A feeling that quickly dispersed as he drew closer and the shadows shifted, bringing his face into view. The man looked much like the other trappers and hunters I had seen, rough features, a large beard, and honed eyes that took in his surroundings with careful consideration. He was intimidating, but his friendly smile quickly set me at ease.


    Before the man spoke, I knew how the conversation would play out. The Bram Manor was several miles out from the rest of the town and was often the first building hunters and trappers saw when heading back toward civilization. This man wouldn''t be the first to want a room for the night, and he certainly wouldn''t be the last.


    Master Bram had a straightforward policy toward strangers. There''s enough wrong and dark in the world, a bed and a warm meal may not be much, but it certainly makes someone''s day a little brighter. The conversation went exactly as I expected. The man was a hunter looking for a place to stay the night before heading the last couple of miles into the town proper. "The guest housing is over there, and dinner will be out in around an hour." The hunter, who said his name was Jamison, headed off in the direction I had pointed. The guest housing wasn''t connected to the main Manor. Trust your neighbors but lock your doors.


    ~<>~


    The loud crack of a gunshot tore through the silence of the night. I scrambled out of bed and into the hall before the sleep had finished clearing for my eyes. The usual quiet of the night felt oppressive after that crack.


    A second crash, quieter than the gunshot, broke the silence.


    My bare feet slapped against the dark wood as I ran for everything I was worth. I was almost to the noise when I realized it was coming from Margo''s room. Panic grew alongside the dread. I ran harder. Pushing myself faster than I thought possible. I rushed into Margo''s room and barely managed to process that she was on the ground before a rifle butt took me in the face.


    The next thing I knew, I was staring at the ceiling through tear-stained eyes. I tried to think, but an intense, pounding pain in my forehead made it almost impossible. Finally, after a minute that felt like an hour, my head cleared slightly. The pain was still intense, but the cloud that had formed over my thoughts lifted somewhat. Enough for me to look around.


    The first thing I saw was Margo''s lifeless eyes. I did not comprehend it at first. My mind could not connect the glassy, emotionless orbs in front of me with Margo.


    They were... Wrong. They were not filled with mischievous humor. No smile twinkled in their reflection. I couldn''t see the joke just waiting to be told. They had no¨C no life.


    I turned my head, forcing my eyes away from Margo''s. They settled on Jamison. His back was to me as he loudly searched through Margo''s closet. He grumbled as he did, complaining about the lack of valuables.


    My gaze drifted back to Margo, then settled on a package at the foot of her bed. That package, she was going to take it into town tomorrow. She was not taking it anywhere now.


    As I glared at Jamison''s back, my vision started to turn red. Some of that red stuck to my hand. No, no. That was blood. Margo''s blood.


    That package. The package that Margo had decided to bind with almost comically thick rope.


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    The clatter Jamison was making masked what sound I made while unwrapping the package. And his focus on his task let me climb to my feet and take a few clumsy steps forward.


    Maybe his hearing was still recovering from the gunshot. Perhaps he thought he had knocked me out and wasn''t paying attention. Whatever the reason for it, Jamison didn''t realize I was up until the rope wrapped around his throat. He fought me. Tried to twist away, but I was glued to his back, and the rope was wrapped securely around my hands as I pulled hard against his neck.


    I did not release the pressure. Not when he started elbowing me in the ribs, not when he slammed me into the wall, not when I rode him to the ground, and Jamison lay there, unmoving. Even as I stared at Margo''s corpse, my vision blurred with tears, I still kept up the pressure.


    I was still laying on top of him, the rope clutched tightly in my hands when master Bram found me in the morning.


    ~<>~


    The chair creaked as I leaned my weight back, not caring if the wood gave. The sweltering heat made the shack feel like an oven. I wiped my sweat-soaked brow then pulled my bottle up for a swig, only for it to give me a few drops. I stood, the chair groaning again, then threw the bottle against the wall.


    "Dammit!"


    The bottle shattered, sending shards of broken glass all over my bed. Said bed was rumpled, the sheets stained and¨C and¨C ...when was the last time I had clean this place? I could not stand how messy it was, so why had I just... why did it matter how messy it was? Why did it matter at all?


    But... Keeping the grounds clean, that was my job. Master Bram was counting on me, and I. I couldn''t let him down.


    "Hello?"


    I looked up to see a man waving at me. He stood outside my shack, just a few steps off the main road to the Manor. His voice was deep, gruff, but friendly. It reminded me of Jamison. I looked down at my nightstand. At the heavy rope that laid there, tied into a noose. A noose that I considered using almost every day since that night.


    "Hello? I''ve heard there''s always a bed and a meal here for travelers. Unfortunately, I haven''t talked to anyone for a week, so I apologize if my social skills are a tad lacking."


    Maybe it was time to put that rope to use. But, first, I needed to keep the grounds clean. So, keeping my body between the nightstand and the door, I slid the noose behind my back. Then I turned and smiled at the trespasser.


    "Of course, follow me. I''ll show you the way."


    ~<>~


    I crouched under a massive tree, its heavy branches groaning in the evening wind. The tree was a few miles away from the Manor but still on master Bram''s property. I wasn''t just idling under the tree, however. I was doing work. The noose practically tied itself, my hands moving in patterns that had long since become second nature.


    Thump.


    That did not mean I allowed my attention to wander. On the contrary, I was making something with a purpose, and that demanded my full attention. Even if I could get it done in my sleep.


    Thump.


    The knot finished. I rose to my feet and nodded in satisfaction. Perfect.


    Thump thump thump.


    I had a few other nooses readied, but it never hurt to plan ahead. Above me, the woman''s heels finally quit drumming against the tree trunk.


    The world seemed to be getting worse. The number of invaders, trespassers, and thieves trying to take advantage of master Bram''s generosity felt endless at times. But, so was my resolve. I smiled as I walked away from the tree and the dozens of nooses that swayed from its branches.


    ~<>~


    I hung from a tree, my tree, and pain flowed out from my neck. The rough rope biting into my flesh had been tied by my own hand. Though I certainly had not intended it to be used for me. The crowd screamed, their faces twisted into red masks of hate. There was only one reason they were not throwing rocks or worse at me. They respected the man standing at their front. The man whose familiar, faded blue eyes I was staring into. Master Bram was crying as he met my desperate gaze, but he did not look away. He did not flinch.


    I found no anger in his stare, no hate or rage. Only sadness. Sadness and an emotion that hurt more than the rope, and filled my mind with more panic than my lack of air.


    Disappointment.


    Why? I had done everything to keep him and the Manor safe. I had been dedicated. I had been tireless. I had done nothing wrong. So why was he crying? Where had I failed? As my heels drummed against tree bark, as my vision started to waver and fade, I reached out with bound hands towards him. He did not reach back, but the tears fell more freely.


    Do not cry, please. If you tell me what I did wrong, I can fix it. Please do not be disappointed in me. Master Bram''s eyes stayed locked with mine, even as the darkness took me.


    I gasped awake, pain and confusion hitting me like a runaway truck. Why was my throat burning with pain? And where was I? Master Bram had been crying, I hadn''t meant for that, never that, I ¨C I tumbled out of bed, the sheets tangled around my limbs, and hit the ground hard. Master Bram was dead, had died long, long ago. He died in his sleep, years after reporting me to the rest of the town. No, after reporting Niall. Not me! But I had been Niall, I had¨C I¨C


    I tried to shove the memories down, tried to sort them away with the others, but they were too fresh. Two vivid. Despite my attempts to fight it, the image of a young girl''s feet thumping against a tree pushed itself into my mind. Her weight against the rope as I pulled, the sound of her struggle.


    It was a miracle that I managed, while still wrapped in bedding, to crawl to a trashcan before puking.


    It wasn''t quick. It went on and on, every time I thought I''d regained control, another face with a noose around their neck would force its way in, and I''d be puking again. The room filled with the sour stench of bile, adding another layer of awful to the moment.


    The cycle repeated until I came up empty, regardless of how hard I heaved. Then, finally, the puking over, I collapsed. Then it got worse. As awful as it was, the vomiting was some kind of release.


    Now, I just had the memories and the familiar hardwood floor taking up my attention. I tried to control my thoughts, to wrangle the memories, but pain and exhaustion made a lifetime of practice moot. But, fatigue, it turned out, was there to help me as much as hurt me, since unconsciousness started to seep in. Mercifully taking all my thoughts with it.


    But just before it fully took me, a door opened, spilling warm light into the room. I felt myself being lifted from the floor a moment later and got the vague impression of blond hair in my eyes, then I was back to the black.

 Vouchers

    Cornelius wrapped his knuckles on the faded green door with a dull thud. It was the fourth time he''d done so in the last ten minutes.


    Dalton, who Cornelius had to admit had been very patient, finally broke. "Why are we standing here?" The visible effort it took him to not whine the question made it come out sounding pained.


    He nodded to him but kept his attention on the door. "Good job for lasting that long. You earned some points. Unfortunately, you lose those points since I told you this morning why we''re here."


    Dalton gave him a pleading look. "Does it really count as telling me if you do it when you know I won''t be awake enough to remember?"


    Cornelius sighed. "Fine." He turned away from the door slightly to face his apprentice. "They''re probably going to make us wait a few more minutes anyway. We are here to collect vouchers, my apprentice." Dalton gave him a blank look. "How do you not know what those are? You should''ve learned about those in middle school!"


    Cornelius held up a hand to stop Dalton''s reply. "You know what, never mind. This is partially my fault anyway. I am your master; it''s my job to teach you things." Cornelius did some quick mental math. "Plus, I think World War II was the last time a summit of this scale was called. Have you read about the Hollow-Port incident?"


    Dalton nodded. "That was a small city in South America that got screwed over, right? A werewolf warlord tried to take it over, and everything went to hell."


    Cornelius waggled his hand. "That''s partly right. A werewolf and a vampire warlord couple that tried to take it over, and they had already conquered several other small pieces of territory, including a few small covens and packs, none of the older houses or packs, of course. But they were making a splash. Enough of one that several factions, including the mage clans, decided to stop them in Hollow Port. The problem was, none of the factions there had any holdings or dealings in Hollow-Port. In short, none of them cared about it. That was partly why the warlords decided to try and take the city over."


    Cornelius''s expression fell as he continued. "Dalton, you''ve read some of the history books, you''ve seen a couple duels. You''ve heard the stories. But you''ve never really seen the kind of power that the factions can bring to bear. It''s terrifying. And that power combined with a lack of restraint... Half the city was destroyed. Thousands of civilians dead. After that, some of the factions were fine with the destruction. But plenty were not, and plenty of smaller powers were very unhappy. So now we have the vouchers. If a faction wants to vote on something that affects a community, they need to have vouchers from that community, or their votes will be worthless." Dalton nodded. His expression had fallen as Cornelius talked, all his annoyance at the wait gone.


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    "How long did it take?" He asked. "The fight? A couple of hours. Max." Dalton shuddered. The door opened, revealing a tall, thin woman in her early sixties. She was clad in a sundress and glared out at them from over a pair of heavy glasses. "Great history lesson. Did you have to give it on my doorstep?"


    Dalton had jumped when the door opened, but Cornelius had kept his senses on the hedge mage since they''d gotten to the door. He smiled at the old woman. "Thank you, I''m not the best speaker, but I do think my lessons are getting better. And I''m afraid your doorstep just happened to be convenient for said lesson." The woman snorted. "You''re coming to get a voucher? You''re a mage; I can tell that much. What clan?"


    "The Knull." Bespectacled eyes narrowed. "Met a lot of assholes in the Knull."


    Cornelius nodded easily. "Bet you''ve met a lot of decent folk in the Knull as well." The woman nodded. "Fair." Her frown deepened. "I''m not even going to consider giving a voucher to someone whose name I don''t know." Cornelius extended his hand. "Cornelius." She took it and gave a single firm shake. "Sicily," she said.


    Cornelius released her hand and took a step back. After that, they just stared at each other. While this was technically Cornelius''s first outing as a diplomat, he had plenty of experience in reading people. Sure, most of that was reading people in combat, but nevertheless, those instincts were telling him to be patient.


    After a minute of slightly awkward staring, Sicily spoke in a considering tone. Patience rewarded. "You''ve certainly been more polite than those werewolves that came through earlier." Cornelius arched a brow. "Small pack of thugs, trying to prove their tough in a new town."


    The old woman spit. Cornelius saw the woman''s aura shift slightly as she used a whisper of wind to guide the spittle into the dirt instead of her doorstep. "They made a few threats before going on their way." Cornelius almost asked if she knew where the werewolves were staying. But he stopped himself.


    That isn''t your job anymore.


    "You said your name was Cornelius, and you''re from the Knull clan. You that Cornelius?" He hesitated before answering. "I have... changed jobs in the clan, as you can see. But yes, I am that Cornelius."


    Nothing changed in the woman''s expression, but she nodded sharply. "You can count me as a voucher then. Now get, I have plants to attend to." Cornelius thanked her and started to turn, but he couldn''t stop himself from asking a parting question.


    "Why?"


    The woman looked at Cornelius, her dark eyes inscrutable. "My daughter and grandkids live in Green Veil." Cornelius nodded, then finished his turn. Sicily closed the door as he gestured for Dalton to follow. "Well, that''s one down." His apprentice said.


    "But why did her family living in Green Veil get us a voucher?" Cornelius eyed his apprentice, an odd mix of nostalgia and old fear settling over him. He hadn''t thought of Green Veil years. "I haven''t given you any study work since we got to Silver Spruce, have I? Why don''t you start working on a report on Green Veil? I''ll expect it after the summit."


    Dalton sighed. "We are at a summit for supernatural nations to discuss war against a vampire warlord. And that''s still not enough to get me out of homework."

 An Old Grandma, A Hag, And a Witch

    Blunder cruised through the streets of Silver Spruce, the night air rustling her coat and chilling her face as she sliced through it. It would''ve been a simple thing to shield herself from the wind, but where would be the fun in that?


    A light fog had rolled in with the evening, blanketing the town in a drifting curtain of white and gray. The old woman passed homes and shops, their silhouettes strange, almost alien, in the fog. Part of that was a simple trick of the light, but it was mostly due to how... unique the housing market was in Silver Spruce. She passed by a trio of castles, an ordinary house that had partially sunken into the earth at an angle, and many more. Most of them held magic. Either crafted into their walls or shaping it in their environment. And magic was thick in this environment, covering the entire region like a dense gel.


    It was a wonder no factions had made this place one of their territories. Well, a wonder to some. Blunder knew perfectly well why no one had tried to claim this place till now. It had been a few centuries, but she had met some of the ancient things that lived in the deep woods. Things that didn''t take kindly to others trying to move in on their turf.


    What little noise that remained on the foggy evening vanished as she reached the North Road. Well, almost all the noise. Her broomstick still rumbled beneath her, its engine letting out a steady growl into the night air. Blunder''s aura was relatively contained, only stretching out a few dozen yards around her. But that was still plenty of warning when it came to potholes. With a quick effort of will, she shaped the air around her broomstick, letting the old bike''s wheels go right over the little pitfalls as if they were flat ground.


    She considered fixing the road since the part of her aura attuned to earth was telling her the entire road that she could sense was just as pockmarked. But she decided against it.


    There would be other mages coming through here soon, leaving it presented an opportunity. Maybe one would walk by and fix the whole road while no one was looking. Maybe they''d only do it when they had an audience. Maybe no one would bother to fix it at all, in which case Blunder would do it. But leaving it would give her a chance to learn. The old witch had long ago realized that knowledge was as potent as any magic.


    On the first couple of bends in the road, she passed by ordinary houses and decrepit mansions, then things got weirder. An abandoned quarry that, for some reason, was shifting the ambient magic around it to dark and water.


    A rundown carnival with a massive Ferris wheel spinning silently at its center.


    An empty lot that had a house-sized pit at its center. She passed by more and more oddities, and a decent chunk of them were occupied.


    She felt them, her finely tunned senses picking up the emotions and magic of the residents without conscious effort. Some were filled with indifference or even welcoming, while others pushed out into the road with open malice. Though they didn''t do that for long. The instant the feelers of their awareness slid across Blunder''s aura, they frantically pulled them back. She chuckled to herself. Many of the things were old and very, very strong. But most of them hadn''t survived for as long as they had by being stupid.


    That pattern repeated itself as she went, anything that cared to scan her quickly pulling back and tucking themselves away in their domains. But, the pattern changed when she reached a lonely bend in the road. For at least a mile around the bend, there was nothing. No houses, no spooky buildings, or strange anomalies. Just the thick, ancient forest. And the weight.


    It pushed down on Blunder''s aura like a blanket stuffed with rocks, trying to crush her down. The sounds from her broomstick became muffled, and the wet scent of the forest grew stronger.


    Some would''ve mistaken it for an attack, but Blunder knew what it was. The heavy, malice-filled weight pressing down on her was the world itself responding to something''s gaze.


    She pulled her brakes, her broomstick coming to a stop with a spray of loose dirt and gravel. The thing that was watching her was old. But not in the way that people were old, not in the way that countries were old. It was old in the same way the mountains were old. Something that had sat there and watched as dynasties rose and fell, as cataclysms rocked the land and peoples were hunted to extinction. It was old, but that didn''t make Blunder any less annoyed.


    She was not some punk mage of a few centuries to be pushed around by something''s attention falling on her.


    She gathered her aura and Will, then pushed back against the weight, shoving it off the road and into the tree line. "Don''t just glower at me. If you have something to say to me, then you come out here and damn well say it!"


    The things full attention slammed against her aura like an avalanche.


    Blunder didn''t know what the thing was precisely. Maybe she could whip it with one hand tied behind her back. Maybe it could kill her with one swipe and tear a line across the entire state as a byproduct. But she wasn''t trying to throw up a wind barrier to hold it back or blocking its path with a wall of stone. Instead, it was pushing against her with its Will while she did the same to it.


    Blunder didn''t care if the thing was a forgotten god that had decided to settle in this neck of the woods. She wasn''t going to give a single god damned step in a battle of Will.


    Holding back the things Will was the hardest thing she''d done this century, but she did it. Refusing to let it shove her aura back a single inch. As the pressure mounted, the world began to react to their clash. The fog started to spin and twist in on itself, the ground cracked, and the illumination coming from her broomstick''s headlight began to warp. The thing pushed harder, and the muffled sounds of her engine started to echo strangely.


    Then everything stopped.


    The thing stopped pushing, and Blunder relaxed her Will, then shook out her aura. The creature sighed, the force of it setting the fog back to spinning and the pines to rustle as if caught in a breeze. It didn''t speak, instead projecting its intent.


    Blunder chuckled. "I''m not staying to cause you trouble. The only reason I stopped in the first place was because of your little half ass-ed flexing show. I won''t be pushed around by anything less than someone''s best." It sighed again, blowing away some fog in the process. Blunder grinned then revved her broomstick. "I''ll stick to just a wave on my way back," she said before tearing off in another spray of dirt and gravel. Cackling as she went.


    ~<>~


    Blunder focused on the magic in the air, using its feel like a GPS signal. She knew she was close, so any minute now, she should feel ¨C ah, there it is. The sensation that had grabbed her from across town. It was cold yet soothing, like a patch of shade on a hot summer''s day. She doubted anyone else had noticed it. Even with her senses, the blasts of magic had felt contained, despite their potency. But she had felt the ripples of it in the ambient magic. It was a little like throwing a rock into a pond. Even if you don''t feel the rock itself, you could still feel the effects of its impact.


    Now she was following those ripples of impact to their source.


    She cruised her way up a long drive that led to an imposing mansion silhouetted against the dark fog. Blunder stared for a second but couldn''t really get a sense of whether or not she should be appreciating the thing''s beauty. What with it being too dark for her to really see it. The only light source aside from her headlight was the warm glow pouring from a few windows.


    With a thought, Blunder covered the entire building in her aura.


    Five people. Any mage or Telss would be able to sense her aura on them, but she didn''t feel any of the lives inside suddenly scrambling in a panic. Probably not mages, then. She killed the engine then hopped off her broomstick. Strolling right up to the massive double doors, she gave them precisely three sharp knocks. The magic in the air trembled ever so slightly. It''d been centuries since the Fay, but the world still remembered certain rituals.


    Three of the forms had been moving towards the door before she even knocked. Two of them stopped about ten feet from the door while one continued forward.


    There was the quick scrape of a wooden beam being moved then the doors swung inward. A woman stood in the doorway, she was tall, blond, and buff and Blunder recognized her. She was the Northwoods kid,


    it''d been the better part of twenty years since she''d last seen the girl, but when you were as old as she was, you got pretty good at recognizing someone across the odd decade or two. The girl looked straight over Blunder at first, her blond brows knitting in confusion. "Down here, girl," Blunder said with a sigh. Damn werewolves and their height. The young werewolf''s attention snapped down, her dark blues taking in the old woman. She had a good poker face for someone so young, but she couldn''t stop her eyes from widening just a hair as she took in the old witch''s appearance.


    She supposed that was fair. Blunder wore a red bandanna over her white hair, a heavy, worn work coat several sizes too large, and a pleated skirt.


    The Northwoods girl stared at Blunder for several long seconds without saying a word. She frowned. "Well, girl, are you going to invite me and or not?" The werewolf arched a brow. "Are you going to turn me into a beast if I send you away? Because I''ll warn you right now, I''m already quite beastly." The old woman let out a quick bark of laughter. Humor, good. In her experience, that was one of the most important traits for the semi-ageless spooks. Those without it were far more likely to go mad. "I''m not gonna curse you. That''s a tricky business, especially if you want to make it untraceable. Far too much effort. Now let me in." The small smile that had formed on the werewolf''s lips vanished as she shifted her weight. "Why exactly should I let you inside my home?"


    Blunder signed internally. She had let more of her aura shift to a fiery red. Despite the spreading aspect, the temperature didn''t rise so much as a single degree. She wouldn''t let herself be so sloppy. But, her little contest of wills with the Old Thing had put her in a confrontational mindset, allowing her fire-split to gain a bit more control than intended.


    Diplomacy, old girl, you haven''t forgotten the skill.


    "Because I mean you and yours no harm. Quite the opposite, I''m here to check up on the two that are out cold. And because if you call emergency number seven, you''ll reach me." The young Northwoods relaxed slightly. It was absurdly tough to lie to a werewolf, so telling them you meant no harm was actually helpful, assuming you actually meant no harm.


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    When she mentioned the emergency number, the girl tensed right back up. The Northwoods were big on plans of all kinds. After they had done her a favor a few decades back, she''d agreed to be one of their backup plans. "You won''t take offense if I double-check that, will you?"


    "Of course not. I''d question your judgment if you didn''t." Without taking her eyes off the old woman, the werewolf quickly pulled out her phone. A few taps later, the phone in Blunder''s pocket began to ring. I put a spell on you, started to blast into the quiet room. She pulled out the ringing phone and pressed decline. "Satisfied?" Blunder asked. At the same time, she squeezed slightly with her aura. She''d already been covering the entire mansion, but she had kept her magic from actually touching the inhabitants, save for tiny brushes against their own auras. Now she let the inhabitants feel just a touch of her unrestrained aura.


    Sure, her phone had rung with the emergency number, but she wanted to make sure that she felt like someone who could take care of emergencies. Blunder didn''t change her stance or anything else about her demeanor aside from that slight shift in her aura, but it was enough.


    She saw the look in the werewolf''s eyes, saw the moment she registered the old woman in front of her as something dangerous. To her credit, the girl didn''t swallow, shift or do anything to display nervousness. Instead, she nodded to Blunder.


    "Follow me."


    She led Blunder through twisting halls that seemed to intersect at random. Said walls were adorned with beautiful paintings. Some regal portraits of the Manors past owners, others depicting scenes of nature. Blunder didn''t really pay attention to the rich surroundings aside from sparing them a quick glance. She appreciated some good art, but her focus was taken up by the magic in the air.


    Scratch that, not just in the air, but the walls, the floors, in everything. The house had soaked up pools full of magic, and it was oddly neutral. She could hardly sense any personality coming from the old walls, despite their age and the abundance of power.


    That was strange. Ambient magic soaked up emotions and thoughts like a sponge. A place like this should be drowning in character, but instead, it felt...scrubbed. Paying close attention, Blunder could pick up faint, faint traces of something, like an echo of an echo. And even that was fading.


    Those fading traces felt hostile, full of focused, uncomplicated rage. And there was another source of magic clinging to the traces, scrubbing at them as she watched. A power that was cold and soothing.


    So that''s how it is?


    They stopped at the last door in the hall, and the younger Northwoods turned to face her.


    "Say it again. Please."


    Blunder cocked her head. She knew of the girl''s problem. She had one hell of a bond, strong enough that Blunder could sense the magic coursing through the girl. Usually, she couldn''t feel it that clearly until the werewolf had been kicking for a few centuries, so being deferential couldn''t have been easy for her. That, or the little pressure Blunder had put out, was enough to convince the werewolf that she was the bigger dog between them.


    Regardless, Blunder understood what she was asking. "I''m here to help. And I won''t harm anyone here."


    The werewolf nodded, then opened the door. Blunder ignored the room as she focused on the sleeping form on a large four-poster bed. She reached out with her senses, running them over the sleeping werewolf. A non-mages aura tended to hug the body like a second skin, but this one had been stretched in places and twisted in others. Like an orange someone had started to messily peel. It would heal on its own, but she could help the process along.


    Blunder cleared her mind, dropping her splits until she was one whole. She took a deep breath. It had been a while.


    She emptied herself of emotions but didn''t try and blank her thoughts. She was getting her aura as close to pure as she could, not void calling. She technically didn''t need to purify her aura to do this, but aspected magic wanted to act, to affect the world and those in it. And stopping it from doing that took effort. She didn''t need anything jostling her elbows while performing spiritual surgery.


    She broke a section of her now mostly colorless aura into strands, then attached to them to the twisted sections of the werewolf''s aura. With a bit of finagling and a few gentle tugs, she managed to straighten it out. She had to be careful not to damage it any further. Normally, hurting someone''s aura directly took some doing, but this poor lad''s had already been put through the wringer. And she could bring quite a bit more force than most.


    She couldn''t do much for the loose sections, but it would heal far faster than the twisted bits would''ve if left unattended.


    She gave the young man a pat on the head and turned to the young Northwoods.


    Plenty of things could rip you up, but a direct attack on the aura tended to come from those with Talent or spiritual entities. Blunder was pretty sure this was the latter, but it wouldn''t hurt to confirm. Far too many old mages died because they would rather starve in the forest than ask for directions.


    "He''ll be fine, dear. He just needs a bit of sleep and some time. Now, about what happen to him." As Blunder spoke, she started remaking her splits. She didn''t bring all of them back, she wasn''t in an active war zone after all, but a bit of prudence and a whole lot of firepower had helped keep her alive all these years. "It was a ghost, yes?"


    A grimace flashed across the werewolf''s features as she nodded. "Yes. A ghost stronger than any I''ve ever heard of. It took control of everything in this house, and it managed to keep up the assault while possessing Bobby."


    "Ghosts can be terrors, more than most people know. The church comes down on demons, and some specialist mages focus on ghosts. But for the most part, it''s easier to just avoid their Haunts than to get rid of them."


    Blunder frowned. "Means that the occasional dumb teenager or overly inquisitive hiker still meets a grisly fate every so often, but we don''t have many other options." Strong ghosts and spirits, while sometimes easy to trap, are very hard to dispel."


    The Northwoods frowned. "We werewolves can''t hurt spirits, but I thought mages handled them relatively often."


    Blunder waggled her hand. "We can take on spirits and partial spirits, but unless one is very skilled or very unstable, it''s hard to do it on the fly. We need time to plan and prep."


    The werewolf''s face dropped into a neutral mask at Blunder''s words.


    Hmm, not sure what that reactions about. Blunder gave a mental shrug. That''s something to think about later.


    The old woman started towards the door.


    "Now, deary. Why don''t we check up on the other one."


    Blunder could have found her own way, but she didn''t want to be rude to a host, not at the moment anyway. So she let the young Northwoods, whose name she was trying to remember, lead her to the next room. Her host stopped in a room a few doors down from the last. "He''s... A lot worse off than Bobby." She said. She opened her mouth to continue but then just shook her head and opened the door.


    The room was similar to the last, dark and full of other details that Blunder promptly ignored as her attention settled on a bed in the corner. Lying in said bed was a battered boy, probably somewhere in his early twenties. She couldn''t make out his features clearly in the dark, but there was just enough moonlight pouring in from the window that the dark bruises around his throat stood out clear as day.


    Blunder eyed the marks. Strangling was a nasty business. It could kill you days after the fact, even if there were wasn''t bruising. Though that was less likely to happen to a mage. They didn''t heal like Were-Kin, not even close, but they did heal from injuries in the long term far better than vanilla humans...But now that she was right in front of him, she wasn''t actually sure this kid was a mage.


    She''d sensed more of the cold power as they had gotten closer, but his aura didn''t feel like a mages. Depending on their strength, a mage usually kept their aura around a couple to a couple dozen feet around them. It was a bit like breathing. When you weren''t focused on doing it a certain way, you defaulted to the most comfortable. But the boy''s aura wasn''t stretching into the room in a loose cloud like a mages. Instead, it was pulled just as tight against him as the werewolves, maybe even tighter.


    ...Wait.


    Blunder focused her senses, scanning the boy''s aura closely. The ambient magic around him wasn''t tinted with cold more than the rest of the house, but as she felt along his aura, she sensed more of the icy magic. It was distant, like an ice pack felt through a towel, but it was there.


    "Well, I''ll be damned. He''s got an unconscious veil on. And a good one too."


    "Is that unusual?" The Northwoods asked. Blunder was pretty sure her name started with a B, but she couldn''t quite place it.


    "A veil as tight as this one is uncomfortable, and getting it to stick through sleep is tricky. You don''t usually see mages under a hundred with the skill unless they grew up in an environment like Salem."


    Blunder probed deeper. A veil disguised a mage''s aura, suppressing its magical ''noise'' by keeping it wrapped tight against the mage''s body. You couldn''t perform any magic while veiled, and it limited your senses, but a good one could make a mage almost undetectable. But it did that by making the veiled mage blend in with more normal auras. It didn''t actually stop someone from scanning you. It made it harder, sure, but not impossible. And if the person doing the scan was good enough...


    Blunder finally got a clear sense of the boy''s aura. It had taken her a remarkably long time to feel her way through the veil; she''d met archmages who hadn''t bothered to refine their veils to such a degree. But now she was feeling his aura directly. Or at least as directly she could while he was still veiled.


    The cold sensation washed over her.


    Blunder closed her eyes and nodded. She hadn''t felt this exact mix of sensations, but that didn''t surprise her. Two mages using fire magic would have their own unique, if similar, feel. But she recognized the general vibe the boy''s aura gave off.


    "He got rid of the ghost, specifically with magic?"


    "Yeah. While the ghost was in Bobby, he did something that made them both collapse. A little while later, the house stopped trying to kill us."


    Blunder whistled as she pulled her senses back. "Sheesh! This one''s a crazy bastard then, considering the price."


    "Price?"


    The old witch shook her bandanna-clad head. "That''s not my info to share."


    The girl obviously didn''t like that answer, but she didn''t push Blunder. She wouldn''t be surprised if the girl contacted her parents while Blunder was busy. The Northwoods could be stubborn and headstrong fools at times, but they were also aggressively practical. If she''d told them that emergency line number seven had sown up at her door, they''d tell her to listen to Blunder.


    Blunder''s gaze moved back to the sleeping form.


    What to do now.


    She almost certainly had a Telss on her hands here. It was possible he was merely a hedge-mage, one that had figured out how to reliably perform one of the rarest and most specialized shifts known. And had mastered it so well that he could make a mental split that he maintained through sleep. Possible, but so unlikely that Blunder would feel more confident in her chances of winning the lottery six times back to back.


    All evidence pointed to him being a Telss. Few mages weaker than an arch-mage could make their aura feel so mono-aspected during sleep. The aura shifted with one''s mind and emotions, and those things shifted like a drug dealer in an interrogation room during sleep.


    She could tip off one of the mage clans. Handing one of them a Telss would put them massively in her debt. That could be incredibly useful as the Pact was on the verge of declaring war.


    But this boy''s aura could be invaluable against the Barrow King, and whatever clan she handed him off to wouldn''t risk him in combat. Her wrinkled face dropped into a scowl. She had forced the mage clans to denounce taking Telss against their wills, and she had enforced that edict when she could. But not even she could be everywhere at once. She was sure there were still plenty of Telss slaves. The clans were just sneaky about it now.


    But despite her personal distaste for how the clans treated Telss, was handing him over her best option?


    ...No. No. It was possible the boy could be recruited to help them counter spirits, but that wasn''t a possibility once one of the clans got their hooks in.


    Plus, she had a feeling the young Northwoods would object, and while her parents were practical, all talk of practicality went out the window for werewolves when it came to debts. Handing him off would likely stir up too much tension at a time when they needed to be united.


    And the less...scheming side of Blunder just didn''t want to give the boy over to the clans.


    Magic had risks. It had costs, sometimes it was just a simple drain on your energy, but sometimes you risked getting locked into a single set of emotions or worse.


    Blunder knew what the cost to the boy''s magic was. She didn''t want to screw over someone willing to pay that.


    You''ve gone soft, old girl.


    Maybe she had, but there was still the practical reasons not to hand him over as well.


    "Bah, I can be as hard or soft as I want!"


    The young Northwoods blinked at her sudden outburst.


    "Don''t worry about it." Blunder waved towards the bed. "He''ll be fine as well. Physically, at least."


    Before the werewolf could ask for clarification, Blunder bustled towards the door. "I''m sorry, dearie, but I need to leave. I''m a busy woman, and other things need my attention tonight as well."


    She waited for the girl to take the lead before following.


    Blunder climbed onto her broomstick, then turned to face the mansion. She knew the werewolves could still hear her. "I''ll see you at the summit!"


    Then she pulled the throttle and rumbled off into the night.

 Uncomfortable Requests

    The sounds of birds chirping and the rustle of pines dragged me out of sleep.


    My throat was parched, and more importantly, burned with pain. Getting strangled would do that to you. And it was far from the only thing that hurt. My shoulder smarted something fierce, and I could feel plenty of other aches and pains making their presence known.


    I took a deep breath, testing if it would hurt my throat. The pain stayed consistent. Time for a voice check. "Ow." My voice came out scratchy and dry, but I felt like that was from the dryness of my throat, not the fact that I had been through an attempted lynching. That was good. Despite the pain, it seemed I''d gotten out without serious damage.


    A memory tried to surface, but I managed to shove it down. I''d gotten out with no serious physical damage, at least.


    I started to get up, but my body convinced me to stay in bed for a few minutes longer. I took another deep breath. The room smelled pleasant, some kind of fabric softener that I couldn''t place but liked.


    "Where am I?"


    "Do you need a reality check?" Agatha asked.


    "No, I''ve got a lid on it for now. But I would like to know where I am." Wincing at the pain it caused, I turned my head to look at the old ghost.


    Agatha had died in her 60''s. She was thin, all long limbs, with skin stretched over bone with little in the way of muscle or fat in between. She sat, floating in the air near an open window, her iron-gray hair drifting about her like it was caught in an invisible current.


    She met my eyes. Her usually sour expression replaced with one of concern. "You''re in the Hanging Manor; you''ve been out since yesterday."


    I blinked and looked up at the ceiling. Now that I was paying attention, I recognized my surroundings. This had been a guest room.


    A night and a day weren''t as bad as they could have been. I didn''t even have any broken bones. The last time I had dealt with a possession, I''d gotten half my ribs broken.


    "What happened after I passed out?"


    Rodgers answered instead of Agatha. He was sitting in a chair next to the same window, his blue eyes peeping out at me from over a book.


    "The young Alpha put you and Bobby, that''s the lad you saved, in beds and has spent the past two days rotating between looking over you two. Which then switched to just watching over you when Bobby woke up this morning."


    I grunted and closed my eyes. "Is he alright?"


    "He seems to be taking it as well as any, uses humor as a shield, that one."


    Well, that was good. Going by the burning house that was his mental scape, the guy probably didn''t need any extra traumas in his life. I was glad he was taking it well.


    I thought back over yesterday''s events and cracked my eyes back open. "How is Matthews doing?"


    "He''s doing swell," Ben said.


    I looked over and saw the short boxer had appeared in a prone position behind Agatha, flicking at her wavering hair like a bored cat.


    "He asked about you. Seems like a decent fellow."


    "He is. He''s taking the whole ghost and supernatural thing quite well. And he has decent taste in music too."


    I closed my eyes again and laid my head back, my neck sending out a pulse of pain in the process. I immediately opened my eyes again when I remembered waking up the first time.


    My concern wasn''t for all the puking I had done. Well, that was definitely unpleasant; it was hardly my first rodeo. I hadn''t been wearing basketball shorts and a white T yesterday. Great, someone saw my bony ass naked.


    "Were any of you here when I woke up the first time?"


    Rodgers nodded, lowering the book to reveal his bushy red beard. "I came as soon as Niall''s presence vanished. I don''t need to tell you how worried I was when Matthews told us where you''d gone."


    I nodded slightly, then grimaced. I needed to stop moving my head around so much.


    "Sorry, we were kinda in a time crunch, and it would have been pointless for you to come. Niall had that place locked down tighter than Alcatraz. I don''t know if I''ve ever seen a ghost as deeply merged with their Haunt as he was."


    Rodgers made a grunt of understanding. "I know, and you did well, helping them. But an old man still worries."


    "You were only in your fifties when you died. That''s not that old."


    "I died in the seventies, boy. That makes me an old man now."


    "So what happened after I woke up the first time?" I asked, completely ignoring Rodgers words.


    "The hunky blond cleaned you up and put you in here. And an old lady showed up for a bit, said some cryptic things, then left." Agatha said before smacking Ben''s hand away.


    "Which hunky blond?"


    "The girl. And have you considered getting some more sun? You are really pale."


    I groaned as I sat up and hauled myself out of bed. "Ben, remind me to un-alphabetize the library''s fourth floor."


    Ben gave me a thumbs up before dodging a swat from Agatha.


    "There''s more," Rodgers said as I searched for a glass of water. I found one. It had been on the nightstand, just barely out of my view. Damn, ghosts could have told me.


    "Hit me," I said as I started to drink, fighting the urge to chug it.


    "I did a bit of digging around while you were out. You know the vampire that''s been on the warpath? The Barrow King, I believe, is his title. He''s the reason why two new packs of Weres¡ªand plenty of spooks you haven''t seen yet¡ªare moving into Silver Spruce. The factions are holding a summit, and they''ve decided to hold it here. And from the sound of things, they''re going to make it their home base in America when they inevitably declare war on him."


    I paused mid-gulp, swallowed, then set down the glass. "Shit." Everyone nodded.


    ~<>~


    "Why do you not have a single voucher yet?" Blair took a deep breath, attempting to gather her thoughts before answering. This was the first time she had talked to her mother since arriving in Silver Spruce. It was going about as well as she had expected.


    Her mother''s first words when Blair had called were not "how are you?" Or maybe asking after Bobby''s health. Blair had sent her parents an email covering what had happened in the short time they had been in the town. And what her mother had decided to focus on was that they didn''t have any vouchers yet.


    "Because," Blair said, managing to keep most of the anger out of her words. "After we were almost killed by the house you bought, iron fang''s son has gone around threatening and attempting to extort all the locals he can! It hasn''t made them well disposed toward werewolves right now!" There was several long seconds of silence before her mother spoke.


    "I see. If it was anyone else, I would think they were trying to sabotage us, but George is stupid enough to alienate himself from a new town like it was a race." Her mother sighed. "Part of this is my fault. I underestimated how strong the ghost was."


    Blair considered it a victory that she didn''t crush the phone in her hand. Her mother had known the manor was haunted. She had known and hadn''t told them. And due to her blighted ''tests,'' Bobby had almost died. Blair didn''t bother asking her mother what she''d been thinking. She knew the woman''s thought process well enough to guess. Like she''d said, she had underestimated the ghosts strength. She''d expected it to give them a bit of trouble, make Blair think on her feet, call a contact or get a local to help.


    Even though they were weeks away from formal war, that didn''t stop her mother from playing these games.


    "When are you and father arriving," she asked. Blair had lost control of her anger, but she wasn''t one to yell often. The total neutrality in her voice made her emotions clear. "A few days before the summit, we need those vouchers by the time it starts. And Blair," her mother paused, and for a second, Blair thought she detected some emotion aside from annoyance in her voice. But then she continued, and Blair knew it was just her imagination.


    "Silver-Spruce is going to be the staging ground for this front. We need those vouchers." Blair had to struggle again not to break her phone. Finally, she managed to control her grip, and her voice came out just as neutral as before. "I understand." She hung up first, technically rude since her Alpha hadn''t dismissed her, but she was too angry to really care.


    Blair was considering punching a hole in the wall and maybe killing that idiot George before she took a deep breath and centered herself. Control.


    Now was not the time to go on a rampage, even if it would be cathartic. Blair pocketed her phone. Best to take the risk of shattering it away. Blair cocked her head. Now that she wasn''t focused on her conversation, she could hear a voice. It was muffled, with several walls between Blair and its source, but the others were in town trying to get vouchers, which meant the Grave Keeper was awake.


    She marched down the halls, trying to take the quickest route to the guest room. But, so far, taking the fastest route was as much guesswork as anything. The halls intersected at random, branching off with no rhyme or reason. It was strange, Blair felt she should be on edge in the house, but she wasn''t. She could still vividly remember waves of knives, chairs, and every other loose piece of furniture flinging itself at her in an unrelenting storm.


    She could remember her vision fading as the noose dug into her flesh. She rubbed her throat, then paused. Grave injuries didn''t usually faze her. When you could recover from almost any wound under the moon, mental trauma from taking a knife in your gut didn''t really exist. But that had been different, that had almost killed her, and Blair had been helpless to stop it. She closed her eyes for a moment, then kept walking.


    Even with all that, she still wasn''t unsettled by the house as she walked down the confusing halls. There was a presence to the place that had left. An undeniable air of hostility that had prickled against her skin and set her instincts wild. Whatever the Grave Keeper had done, however he had performed the exorcism, that feeling was gone. So now, even as she walked down the same halls, it felt like a completely different house. It even smelled different. Now it smelled like, well, a house.


    As Blair neared the guest room, she could make out words. "Of course, I can keep my head down. I''m great at not getting involved in things! Quit laughing!" Blair slowed as she approached the door. Was he talking to himself? She focused on her hearing... Nothing. Not only was there just one voice, but there was also just one heartbeat.


    Just before Blair knocked, she heard his footsteps heading for the door. She lowered her hand and took a step back. The door opened, and the Grave Keeper walked out, looking behind him and shouting. "You''re exaggerating. I''m not that bad!" He turned his head just in time to walk straight into Blair.


    He, of course, bounced off. Blair swore she could hear faint laughter from the empty guest room. The Grave Keeper looked up at her. "Oh, sorry about that." Blair looked down at him. Through her haze of panic and rage, she hadn''t really taken in his appearance yesterday, but he was not what she had expected when she heard the title Grave Keeper.


    She doubted he was a hair over five foot for starters, and he was almost painfully thin, though she knew her standards were skewed slightly since a werewolf had to work to not have a six-pack. He had gaunt features, messy black hair that spilled over his ears, and sunken green eyes.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    But despite his height and the clothes that currently made him look like a child in hand-me-downs. He looked up at her with a confidence that belonged on someone a foot and a half taller and at least a hundred pounds heavier.


    Blair''s gaze slipped to the raised, purple bruises around his throat.


    She had caught him when he''d passed out. She''d kept the storm of household objects out of the closet. But once they had stopped, Blair had nothing to do but stand there, hoping the two of them would wake up.


    She had been helpless to do anything as she saw wounds form and heal on Bobby. Helpless to do anything when the bruises formed around the Grave Keeper''s throat.


    The old woman''s words echoed in Blair''s mind. "Shesh, this one''s a crazy bastard, considering the price."


    Damn hag, and damn Blair for being so helpless. She realized she was glaring down at the Grave Keeper and shook herself.


    "If you''re thinking I''m crazy because I was talking to an empty room, then don''t worry. I was just talking to the people you can''t see," The Grave Keeper said. He scowled, shook his head, winced in pain, and then looked back up at her. "Wait, that came out wrong." Blair considered what to say, then decided to just ignore that statement altogether.


    They had a more pressing matter. "We need to discuss payment."


    ~<>~


    "We need to discuss payment," the werewolf said after I did a terrible job at not acting crazy.


    Crap, I hated this part, especially with werewolves. Their pride and honor were all tangled up together in a confusing knot that I could never decipher.


    I held up a hand to stop the woman. "No."


    She raised a blond brow. "No?"


    I nodded and winced internally. I probably could have been more diplomatic about that.


    "I don''t take payment when it comes to ghosts."


    She stared at me, confusion with a hint of annoyance written plain on her face.


    "Why?"


    "It''s not because I hate money or anything like that. If you asked me to dig you a hole or install a fence, I am quite handy with a shovel, then I''d expect some cash. but this was a ghost problem, so you don''t owe me anything."


    The werewolf''s face slowly lost all expression until it was a blue-eyed mask staring down at me.


    "Why."


    I grimaced. "How did you know to come to me for help? You just got into town."


    "I overheard some townsfolk talking about you. Said that you come into town to clear out the fiends."


    I nodded. I needed to go do that. Actually, it was almost the end of the month.


    "When somethings wrong, when a shade tries to stab Don''s pig. When a mad ghost starts attacking hikers, or the town hall is filled with sourceless screams, they come to me." I met her eyes, which wasn''t a great idea, but while I was doing a lot better than when I''d first woken up, I was still far from mentally whole.


    "They come to me, and they come to me without hesitation because they know that I''ll help them. It doesn''t matter if they''re a rich family from the overlook or only have a few dollars to their name. I''ll help. And if I didn''t have that policy, some people would hesitate, and that hesitation might get them or someone else killed. That''s why I don''t take payment for ghost problems."


    The tension started to build, an almost physical pressure coming off the woman. It filled the hall and pushed against me. It, combined with her gaze, told me I was in the presence of a predator, one far higher up the food chain than me. Of course, I already knew the intellectually, but that pressure made me feel it as a sense of danger and dread pushed against my senses, like a thousand tiny needles gently bruising my skin.


    Then the mask cracked, and the pressure vanished. A slight, almost nonexistent smile formed on her lips.


    "Fine. I can accept and respect that policy. But that doesn''t mean we''re square."


    Dammit. I was afraid I''d read her right. I''d helped another werewolf with a possession, and while she had accepted that I wouldn''t take payment¡ª "I owe a debt." She had said that.


    I scowled at the woman. "A debt, huh."


    "Yes. And aside from that," she paused, and the pressure returned in full force. "I name you a friend of the Pack. You will have our protection and find a safe haven anytime you meet with one of the Northwoods pack." She spoke with formal gravity, like a queen making a decree.


    I blinked, a little taken off guard. That second part was pretty hardcore for werewolves.


    Cagle, the werewolf I''d helped before, had claimed to owe me a debt and that they''d have my back, but naming me a friend of the Pack was something more formal. I wasn''t even sure of what all it entailed, but I knew it was a big deal to them.


    "I- ahh, thank you," I said. Eloquence and grace, your name is Alder.


    Part of me wanted to immediately call in the debt and just ask for a ride home. Having a werewolf Alpha owe you a debt, which was pretty much like having the whole Pack owe you a debt, was incredibly valuable. However, it was also annoying since it was cheating my no payment rule.


    I wasn''t going to try and argue with the woman since debating with a werewolf about something related to their honor or pride was like bashing your head against a steel wall.


    But it still irked me. But well, the thought of using the debt on something stupid like a car ride was kind of funny; she would probably take insult to it and wouldn''t consider the debt fulfilled.


    So all that would accomplish was getting her mad at me.


    No aggravating the werewolf that can rip you in half, Alder.


    "Can I have my clothes back, and could you give me a ride back to the graveyard?"


    Her lips split into a genuine smile, the coldness of her face vanishing like a ghost.


    "Gladly, ah-" she paused. "I don''t actually know your name."


    I extended my hand. "Alder."


    She took it and shook, her grip firm but not crushing. "Blair Northwood." I pulled back, and had to hold back a shudder. Her hand was so... warm.


    A few minutes later, Blair came back with a familiar stack of clothes with a small pocket notebook on top. Said notebook had been in my jeans pocket. You never knew when a ghost who couldn''t speak might float around.


    I was lost in thought as we walked, my focus on trying to sort through the memories that sat just beneath the surface of my mind.


    We were almost to the front door when Blair spoke up, shaking me from my reverie.


    "How do you know this place so well?"


    I looked back at her and only then realized that I had taken the lead. I had guided us along the quickest route through the manor, taking all the servant halls and shortcuts we had come across.


    To be more accurate, Niall''s memories had guided us.


    I turned a shudder into a shrug. "I have a good memory for pathways."


    From the look Blair gave me, I must have failed to properly hide the shudder. That or she could smell my partial lie.


    I knew werewolves could smell emotions, but I was never sure exactly how it worked. Could they smell partial lies?


    Blair stared for a second before shrugging and walking past me.


    Oof. I had walked in front of her as well. She could definitely take that as an insult. Or maybe she''d take it as a sign of trust that she wouldn''t attack me while my back was turned?


    It was hard to tell what was safe and what wasn''t when dealing with a Were you didn''t know.


    I followed Blair outside. "I didn''t see anyone else inside, is the rest of your pack in town?"


    A blond head nodded, but she didn''t turn towards me. She was too busy glaring at a section of the vans'' artwork. A picture of a blond wolf with an apron scolding three smaller wolves wearing school uniforms.


    "They didn''t take the van?"


    "They can run into town a lot faster, especially with these roads."


    Right, werewolves.


    Blair opened the passenger door for me, quite gallant of her, and I climbed in.


    Blair slid into the driver seat, then paused.


    She turned to face me, and she looked...awkward, maybe?


    So looked like she had just bit into a lemon, and a hint of red was forming on her pale cheeks.


    "I have a favor to ask." Every word was deliberate, and I could almost feel her desire to hesitate.


    "Would you be a voucher for the Northwoods pack. I wouldn''t ask you, especially after what you just did for us, but the son of another major pack has gone around ruining our chances at getting vouchers."


    I raised a brow. "Tall, leather jacket, with an attitude in desperate need of punching?" her eyes narrowed, and she nodded.


    "He came by my graveyard right before you did, which was partly why I was so quick to pull the shotgun, that and the whole van thing. Sucker tried to hit me with a protection racket on his first day in town. I could almost respect the audacity if he weren''t so insufferable."


    A hot flash of rage lit up Blair''s face for a moment before cooling into something harder. "That dumbass. If it were anyone else, I''d think he was trying to deliberately sabotage us."


    "Hey, he still could be. It''s always the ones you don''t expect, after all."


    I buckled my seatbelt, then stared straight ahead. "Give me a minute to think about the voucher. I''ll have an answer by the time we''re at the yard."


    Blair nodded and turned the key.


    Asking for the voucher had cost the werewolf something.


    If it was a risk-free thing, I''d consider it, but if I gave my voucher, that would give the factions at large reason to pay attention to me. They took vouchers very seriously. Everyone who wasn''t stupid did. Since giving out your voucher to the wrong group could get your town razed.


    You couldn''t buy a voucher. All of the factions had voted that one needed to gain them in good faith, and they enforced that law and looked into the vouchers with more gusto than the IRS.


    So if I gave the Northwoods mine, I would be scrutinized by the factions. While most wouldn''t care about a supposed hedge-mage giving out his voucher aside from checking to make sure my bank account hadn''t suddenly tripled in size, the Mage clans would be one of those factions.


    If they found out I was a Telss... my life would be over. A Telss, especially a male one, was worth more than their weight in 24 karat gold.


    It wasn''t because I was so mighty or my magic so rare. Though my magic was pretty rare, they''d take me to be a breeding slave.


    Roughly one in seven mage children would be mages in turn.


    While not all would be full mages, Telss children always had Talent. So a male Telss represented what all the Mage clans craved. Long-term power.


    Over the span of centuries, a Telss could sire a lot of kids, a large number of which would directly bolster a clan''s ranks.


    So being a voucher directly was out. I wasn''t going to take that risk.


    But that didn''t mean I couldn''t get the Northwoods vouchers. So long as they were sentient and met the other requirements for being part of a community, Ghosts could give a valid voucher.


    But just because I could give the Northwoods vouchers didn''t necessarily mean I should. I didn''t know them. While Blair had shown great care for her Pack and kindness towards me after the whole ''get in the van thing,'' I still didn''t know her or her Pack.


    So, I called in someone who probably did.


    I unveiled my aura but kept it tightly contained, barely letting it leave my seat.


    I formed a quick mental image of Rogers.


    I started with his feet and went up from there. My speed at this had increased over the years. A process that used to take long minutes passed in less than thirty seconds.


    Brown boots, worn from use but kept clean. Hairy legs clad in dark green shorts, a large barrel chest with thick arms, covered by a forest service jacket. A great bushy red beard that covered a stern face. A stern face that couldn''t hide the kindness in his robin''s egg blue eyes.


    Top it all off with an extremely shinny and extremely bald head.


    I held the image, then I tore off a tiny piece of my Shroud. It was less than an hour''s worth of power, but it was still an hour I would have to spend just to get back to where I was now.


    I pushed the image into the section of Shroud, willing it to stick, then I sent it out.


    The piece of purple and green power zipped away, leaving my sight almost instantly.


    A few seconds later, Rodgers appeared in the back seat. "What is it?"


    I opened my notepad and started writing. Rodgers immediately started reading over my shoulder.


    The Northwood pack, what do you know about them?


    "Northwoods, they are arguably the strongest werewolf pack in Europe, maybe even the world. Why are you asking? Ah, gotcha. I thought I recognized this young lady."


    You''ve met her before?


    "No, but I met the Alphas of the Northwood pack when I was alive."


    She said her last name was Northwood.


    "That her pack was Northwood or her actual last name."


    last name


    "She does bear a striking resemblance to her parents."


    Rodgers floated in front of Blair, his lower body phasing through the van''s engine.


    "Hmm, what exactly do you want to know about them."


    Numb as I was to ghostly shenanigans, it was more than a little unnerving to see Rodgers seemingly block Blair''s view of the road, even if I knew she couldn''t see him.


    She asked me to be a voucher. Obviously, I can''t do it myself, but that doesn''t mean I couldn''t still get them vouchers


    Rodgers hummed as he looked Blair over. She was focused on the road, trying her best to keep the car from getting air.


    "The Northwoods...can be ruthless, brutal even. And Mrs. Northwoods hates humans. Not dislikes, mind you, hates."


    Rodgers leaned back slightly, crossing his arms as he used the hood he was sticking out of like a backrest. "But they are also fair, even to humans. You never want them as your enemies, but there are few better allies. I had some...adventures with them back in my day, and they never turned their back on me, even if they didn''t trust me. If they give their word, they''ll keep it. End of story."


    Thanks.


    "Use punctuation consistently or do not use it at all."


    I smiled as I closed the notebook. Rodgers had always been something of a grammar hound.


    I mulled over his words as the van bucked and shook. It was honestly a little impressive the thing hadn''t come apart at the seams under the onslaught that was the north road.


    I had never researched the major werewolf packs. So, while I had heard the name Northwood a few times, I didn''t know anything about them personally.


    But if Rodgers said they were trustworthy, then they were trustworthy.


    But did that mean I should get them vouchers?


    It might. If I could get Blair''s word, or her parents'' word, that they''d act with the town and it''s peoples best interest in mind, that could be huge.


    I didn''t know all the factions that were coming, but if they genuinely believed that the Burrow King was a legitimate threat to all of them, and their grips on power, then a lot of groups were going to show up.


    And a lot of them weren''t going to give a shit about Silver-Spruce.


    Sure, the voucher system was supposed to curtail factions who didn''t give a shit about a place being able to just wreck it without backlash. But no system was perfect.


    And much of said backlash would depend on which factions got their vouchers.


    There were big differences between supernatural politics and human ones.


    Even the worst dictators usually tried to frame what they were doing as a good thing. Even while committing wholesale slaughter.


    Some of the factions...human concepts of morality didn''t even register to them. If they needed to level a city to get to their goal, the morality of it wouldn''t enter the conversation, only how to get it done.


    While werewolves could differ drastically from humans, they weren''t that alien to us. And in most cases, they were just people.


    Either out of pure luck or my knowing my decision-making process way better than I thought I did, we arrived at the graveyard just as I made up my mind.


    I turned to Blair as she pulled the van to a stop.


    "Can you give me your word that your votes will have the best interest of Silver-Spruce and its people in mind?"


    She met my eyes and spoke without an ounce of hesitation.


    "Yes."


    I looked into those eyes, and I knew that I didn''t know them well enough.


    If I stood up for her to the ghosts, they would back me. And well, the pressure of that kind of decision made me queasy. The ghosts respected me. I had the authority to make that call.


    But there was another ghost who could make that call, and the time it would take to bring Blair to her would let me get a better read for the imposing werewolf.


    There is a more direct method you could use. You would know her character for sure.


    I frantically shoved that thought aside. I couldn''t take the risk of backlash, not right now, not after, Niall.


    Which left the long way.


    I was no saint, but if I got vouchers for a faction that actually cared about the town and its people, that could make a world of difference. I nodded to myself without looking away from the werewolf.


    "How long until the summit."


    "two weeks."


    I nodded again. We had enough time.


    "I''ll take you to someone who can get you all vouchers you need."


    I smiled. "I hope you like hiking."


    End of part one.

 Interlude: Schemes

    The night air was cool and had been refreshingly crisp. Had been, before it was filled with smoke and ash.


    Solomon checked his cards, humming softly as he did. He found the quiet sound useful for distracting him from the screams.


    "Do you have any twos," he asked the vampire sitting across from him. Benjamin shook his head; his dark eyes focused on his own hand. "Go fish." Solomon sighed and drew a card. In the distance, one of his gorger packs screamed. A moment later, some of Solomon''s magic flooded back into him, the cold power drifting through his veins before settling around his heart.


    "Pillar of Fire at the west side," Benjamin said. "Do you have any sevens?" Solomon sighed as he handed over his seven. At the same time, he reached out along one of the threads of dark green magic that sprung from his chest. He focused on the strand, sending a squad of zombies towards the other side of the compound.


    He had at least one ember corpse in that squad, and the lone mage stationed in Good-View had shown a decent amount of skill in fire magic, but so far, only in fire magic. The squad should be enough.


    He tried to focus on his cards but found his mind drifting. Good-View had been owned by a branch family of the Laurota.


    Said branch family, their pack of Were-Kin allies, and the lone battle mage hadn''t been enough to stop Solomon. They had fought well, but now... Another scream tore into the night air.


    He had offered to take them prisoner. They had refused. He hadn''t wanted to give them such messy deaths, but the undead were far easier to replace than his own people.


    The spark of a much younger Solomon felt guilt at the deaths. But that spark was from a Solomon who hadn''t experienced centuries of life, of war.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Of death.


    Now, Solomon found it far easier to push down the guilt, but he didn''t try to crush it completely. He needed that guilt, needed something to remind him that what he did, while necessary, was something that should eat at him.


    But he did worry how it would affect him when he destroyed something more innocent than one of the Laurota''s outposts.


    This was a base filled with trained spooks, not civilians. How long would it be until¨C "Solomon! Do you have any fives?"


    "What? Oh, sorry, Benjamin. My thoughts had run away with me."


    Benjamin didn''t say anything but stared pointedly at Solomon''s hand. He sighed and started handing over his five when his phone began to ring.


    The loud, blaring tone echoed off the walls of the ruined building they sat in. Solomon stopped himself from jumping at the sudden noise, but it was close. He read the number, then froze as all thoughts of cards left his mind. He quickly answered the phone.


    "Speak," he said, his voice cold.


    "They''re holding the summit in Silver Spruce, a small town in Oregon." The voice on the other end of the line was rough but had an odd smoothness to it, like gravel covered in grease. "I''m sending you a map now."


    "What day is the summit?"


    "Three weeks from today. Now that I''ve told you when and where the damn thing is, when can I expect my payment?" The voice dripped with impatience.


    "You will get your payment. You know my track record of repaying debts. Be patient. They will die."


    Solomon hung up before the voice could respond. "Well, well. He actually came through," Benjamin said. He could have overheard the phone speaker from across the street, much less from across the table. "That he did," Solomon said. "And we wouldn''t have found the place without him."


    They had found at least seven other potential summit locations so far. The factions of the Pact had made a strong effort to hide the summit location. Each faction sending important members to the dummy locations to throw Solomon off. "What''s the plan?" Benjamin asked.


    Solomon set down his cards. He didn''t want to raze a town just to kill a few powerful players, but...


    "Planning is the plan. I have several prepared already. But we have three whole weeks. Let''s see if we can come up with some that don''t involve killing swaths of civilians."

 Packs And Packing

    ¡°Socks?¡±


    ¡°Check.¡±


    ¡°Underwear?¡±


    ¡°Check.¡±


    ¡°Tent?¡±


    ¡°Check.¡±


    ¡°Books?¡±


    ¡°I got two.¡±


    ¡°Food?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got a whole zip-lock of expired granola bars.¡±


    Ben paused from reading over his list. ¡°Why expired?¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s what I had. I do have other food, too. I¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    ¡°But you''re still taking the expired granola bars?¡±


    ¡°Can granola even go bad? I feel like it would just get stale.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re asking the dead man about food?¡±


    ¡°You weren¡¯t always dead!¡±


    A spectral hand passed through my front door.


    ¡°Come in, Matthews!¡± I yelled. A second later, the new ghost walked through the door.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, knocking seems to be beyond me.¡± Ben waved him off. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. It¡¯s tricky to figure these things out.¡± He made a fist over my coffee table. ¡°You gotta¡­ gather yourself, so that there¡¯s more of you in your fist, then spend a bit of magic. Makes it more solid.¡± Ben knocked on the table, his fist contacting with a thud instead of passing through.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Matthews said. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what gathering myself into my fist means, but I¡¯ll try it out.¡±


    I turned to Matthews. We were sitting in my living room, which doubled as my kitchen and entryway. My house wasn¡¯t exactly large, but it was more than enough for one guy.


    ¡°So, you sticking around?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t know for how long. You¡¯ve helped me, and I¡­ I don¡¯t want to just vanish before understanding what¡¯s going on. Or at least knowing that you''re going to be alright.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t know how much I understand myself but ask, and I¡¯ll answer.¡±


    Matthews took a seat across from me. I noticed that he didn¡¯t sink through the chair, but I didn¡¯t mention it. If he noticed, he might end up falling through it.


    I started going over the clothes I needed. Matthews would ask his questions when he was ready.


    It turned out Matthews was ready right then.


    ¡°Why exactly are you going on a trip?¡±


    ¡°To see if I should give the Northwoods vouchers.¡±


    ¡°Which are?¡±


    ¡°It lets factions of the Pact vote on what to do in an area they don¡¯t have any holdings in.¡±


    ¡°Umm. I¡¯m just going to assume the Pact is some kind of alliance of nations,¡±


    ¡°Pretty much.¡±


    ¡°So, why do they need vouchers to do anything? That seems-¡°


    ¡°Sorry, I explained it wrong. They don¡¯t need them to do anything,¡± I cut in.


    ¡°If a clan of Werebears decided to go take a swing at somebody, they don¡¯t need vouchers. Hell, even if they wanted to come attack Silver Spruce, they wouldn¡¯t need any vouchers. But all of that would be done on their own, without any involvement from the Pact.¡±


    I stuffed a sweatshirt into the bag.


    ¡°Getting vouchers and having a vote means that you can get factions you aren¡¯t involved with to act. Assuming they get outvoted.¡±


    I looked around, and Ben pointed to the shirt I was looking for.


    ¡°And as for why the vouchers exist in the first place, it¡¯s to stop factions from committing atrocities against a community they don¡¯t have any stakes in.¡±


    Matthews nodded slowly. ¡°So, what stops someone getting a voucher and then turning around and screwing over the person who gave it to them. ¡°


    I threw on a dark gray jacket before turning back to the ghost.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s. A lot of these spooks, the supernaturals, they have very intense cultural views on debts. For some of them, it¡¯s literally unthinkable to go back on debt. Taking a voucher from someone is a form of debt, and going back on that would smear their own sense of honor and ruin their reputation.¡±


    ¡°And you''re getting the werewolf who threatened you a voucher?¡±


    I waggled my hand. ¡°Maybe. We¡¯re going on a trip partially so someone a lot smarter and wiser than me can decide. And so that I can get a better sense of her.¡±


    ¡°And the whole, threatened you part?¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°Spooks are different. They have different morals and social customs. For some, a tap on the shoulder is enough reason for a duel to the death. For others, breaking their nose is like raising your voice. It¡¯s still frustrating when I get strong-armed, but you have to move past some things in the supernatural world that you wouldn¡¯t normally. At least, people like me have to.¡±


    Ben slapped a game board on the table.


    ¡°This conversation has gotten a little heavy. Alder is about to go on a dangerous trip. Time for a bit of levity before you go.¡±


    ¡°Levity, that¡¯s a big word, Ben. You been reading more lately?¡±


    Ben flipped me off, then started setting up the board.


    ¡°Well, I told Blair to meet me here at 10:00, so we have some time to kill. Matthews can go to Rogers with more questions. He loves explaining things,¡± I said with a shrug. We might as well relax for a bit.


    I had a feeling I was going to get precious little of that in the near future.


    ~<>~<>~


    The moon was creeping closer to full. Blair could sense it in the back of her mind. It was like the reverse of feeling the sun on your back. Cold instead of warm, but still comforting.


    Sometimes, she felt strange not hating the moon. Despite all the problems her bond to it had caused, she still loved it. It sat there, a constant, comforting presence of strength and safety. One that could envelop her if she just reached out for it.


    ¡°Are you sure about this?¡± Bobby¡¯s question snapped Blair¡¯s attention back to her surroundings. She was sitting on a couch in the Manor''s main hall. A towering backpack in front of her. A pack she was currently filling with neat stacks of food.


    ¡°Not entirely. But I think this is our best shot at getting vouchers. George has tried to intimidate too many of the locals. They¡¯re a little sour on werewolves right now.¡±


    ¡°Blight and bone!¡± Laurel swore. ¡°Why the hell is Gorge being such a prick?¡±


    ¡°Umm, isn¡¯t that normal?¡± Simon asked. He was huddled on the far end of the couch from Blair; his knees tucked to his chest.


    Laurel flopped in her chair and stretched. ¡°Yes, but he¡¯s normally a small prick. Right now, he¡¯s being a massive prick.¡±


    ¡°Ah, maybe he¡¯s compensating?¡±


    Laurel snorted.


    ¡°As much as I appreciate Simon being in a bantering mood, we need to steer this conversation back on course,¡± Bobby cut in.


    They all straightened and turned towards Blair.


    She looked up from her pack, a can of beans in hand. ¡°I think this is the best course. What do you all think? Is there a better play here?¡±


    They were quiet for several long minutes as Blair continued to pack.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like it,¡± Simon finally said. ¡°With you out there on your own with a stranger. Did he say why we can¡¯t go with you?¡±


    ¡°The trip is dangerous. He said the more people, the more danger.¡±


    Laurel frowned. ¡°Well, at least that a good reason. But I¡¯m still not thrilled about you going off on your own where we can¡¯t protect you.¡±


    Blair smiled at her pack, a pulse of warmth going through her. ¡°It¡¯s my job to protect you lot, not the other way around.¡±


    They all frowned at her.


    ¡°And besides, Alder is a small human, he couldn¡¯t hurt me if he wanted to, and I don¡¯t think he does.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t he a mage?¡± Bobby asked. ¡°He might break his hand if he punches you, but he could set you on fire with his mind.¡±


    Blair paused. Was Alder a mage? He had magic. She had felt it. Had seen the ripples of green and purple hanging around him. But¡­he had only affected ghosts and what the old woman had said.


    ¡°I think Alder¡¯s a Telss.¡±


    Everyone stiffened. ¡°What? Why?¡± Laurel asked.


    ¡°The old woman,¡± ¡°The one you think might be the adjudicator?¡± Bobby cut in.


    ¡°Yes, Bobby, that old woman. She said some things about mages and ghosts. And about Alder.¡±


    She reached for a shirt and carefully rolled it before placing it in her pack.


    ¡°Did anyone see him use any magic? Aside from destroying the barrier and taking care of the ghost.¡±


    Laurel and Simon shook their heads, but Bobby hesitated. ¡°Bobby?¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°When he was fighting the ghost, he didn¡¯t use anything except that purple and green aura.¡±


    They all turned to him.


    Simon adjusted his glasses. ¡°Elaborate?¡±


    Bobby had been light on the details of his possession, and none of them had pushed.


    ¡°I¡­¡± Bobby¡¯s usual smile faltered. ¡°While it was happening, I was losing the fight. He was strong, even by our standards. Then Alder burst in and dropkicked him. And while they were fighting, his aura covered the ghost in a blanket of purple and green. I could see it clear as day.¡± He sighed and reached into his pocket.


    He brought out his pipe and idly turned it in his hands.


    ¡°That aura never changed to anything else. It didn¡¯t even flicker.¡± He frowned.


    ¡°Not even when Nail had a noose around his neck.¡±


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    They were all silent as they took that in. The sight of those bruises came to Blair¡¯s mind, and she shook her head.


    A Telss¡­


    ¡°Wow. What are the chances of getting saved by an errant Telss? Do you have a rabbit''s foot we don¡¯t know about?¡±


    Bobby threw a pillow at Laurel. ¡°My luck is balanced if anything. It had to be pretty crap to get possessed in the first place!¡±


    ¡°Fair enough.¡±


    Simon ignored the others and turned to face Blair.


    ¡°If he is an errant Telss¡­¡±


    Blair met his gaze, a hint of blood red spilling into her own. ¡°We aren¡¯t selling him.¡±


    Simon frowned. ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant.¡±


    She took a deep breath, forcing the spike of anger down. ¡°Your parents. When they find out, what are they going to do.¡±


    Her parents. They weren¡¯t necessarily cruel, but they were very, very old. And being alive, and being a leader, for that long tended to shift one¡¯s view towards the long term.


    If they had found out about Alder before she named him a friend of the Pack¡­ ¡°Nothing. They won¡¯t sell him out to the clans, not after I named him a friend of the pack. They won¡¯t betray that.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± Simon said. ¡°I can¡¯t think of a better option.¡±


    ¡°Neither can I,¡± Laurel called out. ¡°I don¡¯t like you being alone, but I¡¯m coming up blank on anything better.¡±


    Bobby pocketed his pipe and strolled over to her pack. ¡°I too am satisfied with the ships course captain!¡± He said in a terrible pirate accent.


    He snatched a can of spam from the coffee table and tossed it in the air. He straightened an imaginary hat then caught the can without looking.


    ¡°Now, how do you want us to store this booty?¡±


    ~<>~<>~


    I¡¯ve played a lot of board games. From zero skill dice rollers to games you need a manual, a week, and a personal assistant to make sense of.


    Plenty of ghosts had the strength to move cards or shove pieces along aboard, and even if they didn¡¯t, I could always move the piece for them or hold up their hand of cards. I didn¡¯t have much else in the form of entertainment, just books and an ancient box TV that might be indestructible. I once tripped and spilled an entire mug of coffee on the thing, another time, I dropped it while redecorating. Both times the screen hadn¡¯t so much as flickered.


    That¡¯s beside the point, though. The point is that Ben and I know our way around a game board. But Matthews, Matthews made us look like amateurs.


    Even with games the man had never played before, it only took him a few rounds before he was back to wiping the floor with us. Finally, after many losses and only a handful of victories, we decided to call it a day.


    The clock was ticking, and Blair would be arriving soon. So I asked Ben to show Matthews around town and the two headed out.


    I walked over to my small kitchenette and poured myself a cup of coffee. It was strong, dark, and cheap. I savored the smell for a moment, then took a sip. It wasn¡¯t great coffee, I wouldn¡¯t even hazard to call it good, but it was my favorite.


    ¡°Are you sure about this?¡± I took another sip, ignoring how it burned my tongue, then turned to face Rogers.


    He¡¯d slipped in through the back wall while we were playing a game of kings and peasants. He had elected not to join us, instead grabbing a tattered old paperback from my shelf. Now he¡¯d set the book down and was staring at me from his seat.


    ¡°About this trip? Yeah, I- actually, let¡¯s have this talk outside. I¡¯m feeling a little cramped.¡±


    I walked out the door while Rogers opted for floating.


    I stepped off my porch and walked over the dead ring where anything refused to grow around my house. Another step, and I was on the fresh green grass of the graveyard.


    A gentle mist had rolled in, drifting between the graves in a lazy tide.


    Rogers stood next to me, taking in the quiet atmosphere.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t talking about your reasoning for the trip if that¡¯s what you were thinking. It''s¡­¡±


    He trailed off, then started absently drumming his fingers over William''s grave. The old ghost had moved on years ago and wouldn¡¯t mind.


    ¡°Six days alone with the Northwoods. That¡¯s the longest you¡¯ve ever been alone with another living person. I¡¯m worried about you.¡±


    I scowled around my cup. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine. And what does her being alive have to do with it?¡±


    Rogers gave me a flat look. ¡°Alder, you don¡¯t like to touch the living. I just want to make certain you''re okay with going on this trip.¡±


    My scowl deepened. ¡°I do not! I gave Ben a hug like ten minutes ago!¡±


    ¡°Ben¡¯s dead. I didn¡¯t say you had a problem touching the dead. And there is nothing wrong with not liking to be touched. Plenty of people don¡¯t like it.¡±


    ¡°I know that! But I¡¯m not one of them. I- look, Rogers, I''ll be fine. I appreciate your concern, but I will be fine.¡±


    Rogers hesitated, then nodded.


    ¡°If you''re sure.¡±


    ¡°I-¡± a soft meow cut me off.


    I glanced at Rogers. ¡°Yeah, I heard it.¡±


    It sounded again, but I couldn¡¯t pinpoint it through the mist.


    I started walking around, and guided by the occasional meow, found its source.


    A small, black cat was huddled against a wet gravestone, shaking from the cold.


    I stopped a few feet away and crouched low, not wanting to scare the little guy.


    Luminous green eyes bilked up at me, and that cat let out a questioning meow.


    The little guy was right to question. Silver Spruce had an interesting history with black cats.


    While we hadn¡¯t had a witch-burning since the ¡¯70s, the town still had a few members who hated anything related to witches, and that hatred went generations back.


    Those people had always been outliers in the town, considering just how much of it was spooks, but there used to be quite a few more.


    They used to hunt black cats since they were often witches'' familiars. It had created a strange dichotomy in the eighteen hundreds when a black cat around Silver Spruce had an equal chance of being killed on the spot or scooped up by a passing mage.


    While cat crusades had largely died out in town, a few citizens occasionally started one up after getting into a particularly nasty rivalry with a mage neighbor.


    But, thankfully, nobody had gotten to this guy yet.


    The cat was small and malnourished, but he didn¡¯t look like a kitten. ¡°You¡¯re a bit of a runt, huh?¡±


    ¡°Meow?¡±


    I sighed and made sure to blink slowly. I¡¯d read that doing that showed that you weren¡¯t planning on attacking since you were breaking your line of sight. I didn¡¯t know if that was true, but it couldn¡¯t hurt.


    ¡°How does some fish and a bowl of water sound?


    The cat cocked its head. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back. Rogers, keep an eye on the little guy?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°Of course.¡±


    The cat''s gaze turned to the ghost, and he let out another questioning meow.


    Most animals could see the supernatural better than humans. I¡¯d never met a cat who couldn¡¯t see ghosts. Which was one of the reasons they made good familiars since their mages could tap into their senses.


    I marched back to my house and quickly scoured my fridge for something a cat could eat. Finally, I found a can of tuna and snatched a bowl.


    I walked back to the grave to find the cat rubbing against Rogers legs, purring softly.


    ¡°Friendly fella,¡± Rogers said with a smile.


    I set the water down next to the cat, who immediately started drinking.


    I set the tuna can down next then stared at it.


    ¡°¡­Hmm.¡±


    ¡°You forgot a can opener, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be right back.¡±


    One can of freshly opened tuna later, and the cat was happily chowing down.


    We watched him getting tuna on himself for a minute before Rogers broke the silence.


    ¡°I¡¯m proud of you.¡±


    I glanced up at him. ¡°It''s just helping a cat; it''s not that much work.¡±


    He cackled. ¡°Not the cat, Alder. Though I¡¯m glad, we found him before something else did.¡±


    He turned to face me. ¡°This trip, while I¡¯m still worried, I¡¯m also proud. You don¡¯t have to be doing it, but I¡¯m proud that you are.¡±


    I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat.


    Rogers wasn¡¯t someone who never threw out compliments, but he never gave them if he didn¡¯t mean it.


    ¡°¡­Thanks.¡±


    ~<>~<>~


    Blair marched up the graveyard¡¯s gravel drive fifteen minutes early, lugging a massive pack with her. It dwarfed her large frame, making the werewolf look like a turtle.


    I whistled. ¡°Damn, I¡¯d say you brought everything except the kitchen sink, but I¡¯m not at all sure you don¡¯t have that stuffed in there as well.¡± She was still a solid twenty feet away, but I knew she could hear me.


    Once she had closed most of the distance, she shrugged. ¡°I couldn¡¯t find a small enough sink. Maybe next time.¡± Her voice and expression were utterly deadpan. I chuckled, reasonably sure she was joking. Probably.


    ¡°Before we head out, I need some more details.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Fair, I was pretty light on those yesterday. Come inside, and we¡¯ll go over the basics.¡±


    She gestured for me to move, so I assumed she wouldn¡¯t get thwacky if I turned my back to her. She followed me inside, and for one worrying moment, I thought my door frame was going to break before her pack fit through. But after a quick pull and some shifting, she managed to get it inside without breaking my house.


    ¡°Coffee?¡±


    She nodded. I gestured to the couch, and the werewolf set down her pack with an alarmingly loud thud before taking a seat.


    ¡°Milk or sugar?¡± I asked while pouring.


    ¡°Lots of both.¡±


    I gave her some side-eye.


    ¡°What?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°Nothing, nothing. I didn¡¯t take you for a milk drinker.¡±


    She arched a brow. ¡°A werewolf has to like their coffee black? Can¡¯t have frilly things like cream and sugar?¡±


    ¡°Fair enough, fair enough. Consider my assumptions corrected.¡± I poured in a splash of milk and a few spoonfuls of sugar. Then, at Blair¡¯s prompting, I added a few more.


    ¡°I assumed you¡¯d have good taste,¡± I muttered under my breath.


    Blair narrowed her eyes at me as I handed her a cup.


    I took a seat in the armchair across from Blair with a sigh. ¡°Alright, first things first. We are going to be hiking along Old Tom¡¯s Pass. The woman who can get you your vouchers is at the end of the pass. Unfortunately, it''s gonna be a little tricky to reach her since the pass is filled with a variety of nasty creatures and other dangers. And they¡¯re not the kind you can punch, shoot or claw your way through.¡±


    I paused to take a sip of coffee, Blair mirroring me. ¡°What is she?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°The woman, what type of spook is she?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s a ghost.¡± Blair stopped mid-sip. She set her cup down and was quiet for a few seconds, then her lips spread into a smile. ¡°Oh, ghosts qualify, don¡¯t they? So long as they can think and live¡ªor at least reside in their case¡ª in Silver Spruce, then they can give vouchers.¡±


    The werewolf studied me, her blue eyes narrowed. ¡°Yesterday, in the graveyard, then at the Manor, when you spoke to empty air. You were talking to ghosts.¡±


    I nodded. My talking to ghosts wasn¡¯t exactly a secret. And Blair already had the pieces to put it together. ¡°Are there any in the room right now?¡± I shook my head. ¡°No, and there won¡¯t be any coming on the trip with us either. They could meet us at our destination, but the pass itself has creatures that can and will attack them.¡±


    Blair leaned forward. ¡°So, the pass is dangerous, I got that. What, specifically, do we need to watch for?¡±


    ¡°A lot of stuff.¡±


    She frowned.


    ¡°Yeah, I know that¡¯s an annoying answer, but it¡¯s accurate. There¡¯ll be areas of the pass where we can¡¯t speak, areas where we have to speak. At some points, we will have to worry about wandering monsters jumping out at us, and at others, we won¡¯t be able to trust our senses. There¡¯s a lot of weird crap on the pass, and what we need to do will change depending on where we are.¡±


    I finished off my coffee and sighed. ¡°In short, be ready for just about anything. And I¡¯ll give you the breakdown on the different regions of the pass before we get to them.¡±


    Blair finished her own cup, then stood. ¡°I¡¯m starting to feel that everything in this town is dangerous, strange, or both.¡±


    I waggled my hand. ¡°Well, not everything in town falls into one of those. Just most of it.¡±


    She snorted, then slung on her pack. I eyed my door frame. It could take another round¡­ probably.


    Once Blair had managed to leave without breaking anything, I followed her out. We¡¯d barely taken a step off my porch when a gust of frigid wind smacked into us. It cut right through my coat, making me shiver immediately.


    Leaves hadn¡¯t started falling just yet, but they were well on their way to orange. I really hoped the weather didn¡¯t turn on us. Hiking through the pass in a storm would not be my idea of fun. Well, none of this was my idea of fun. But hiking through a storm would put this even further away from that concept.


    I walked over to where I¡¯d set my pack and pulled it on with a grunt. It was nowhere near the behemoth that Blair had, but six days of food, my clothes, tent, and other camping gear wasn¡¯t light.


    Blair glanced at me as she pulled her blond hair back into a ponytail. ¡°If you want, you can put some things in my pack. I left a few sections empty just in case.¡±


    I eyed her. Trying to tell if she was being serious or mocking me. As far as I understood it, werewolves didn¡¯t have masculine pride. They had werewolf pride. And while an insecure werewolf might get offended if someone questioned their strength, it wouldn¡¯t matter if it were a man or a woman questioning them. Just that somebody was questioning them.


    But that was usually for the touchy or insecure werewolves. In the healthy Packs, I had seen the Alpha looking out for the weaker members was the norm. And well, the two of us weren¡¯t a pack; we were traveling together, so it sort of fit.


    If it were a human offering, I¡¯d say no, not out of offended pride but because I wouldn¡¯t want to inconvenience them. But she was a freaking werewolf. If I managed to stuff my entire pack into hers, she¡¯d hardly notice.


    ¡°I¡¯m offended you would even ask!¡± I cried. ¡°The sheer nerve!¡± Her expression grew alarmed, and she started to open her mouth, then paused as I slung my pack off. ¡°To think that you when you look at me you don¡¯t see a paragon of strength, that wounds me.¡± Blair let me walk around her to get at her pack. After a second, I found the empty sections she was talking about.


    ¡°I have my pride, you know, and for you to so callously stomp on it?¡± I stuffed my tent into one large pocket along with my tarp then cinched my sleeping pad to the bottom next to hers.


    ¡°Cruelty, true cruelty.¡±


    Satisfied with my significantly lighter bag, I zipped up both packs before throwing mine back on.


    Blair gave me a bemused look as we started walking. ¡°I thought I really had offended you for a second there. Humans can be touchy about odd things.¡±


    I looked at the werewolf. The werewolf. For several long seconds, then laughed.

 Grumpy Trails

    The beast feels like nothing I have ever encountered before.  Such overwhelming malice that I fear it may stop my heart in my chest.


    It presses down on us like a great weight, and even the rain seems to be sluggish as it falls.


    I reach into my pocket at David¡¯s prompting.


    The glittering gem hums with an arcane power I have only recently begun to understand.


    It is warm in my hand, a comfort against the cold and the weight.


    I offer the gem to the tree line.


    ¡°In exchange for passage, Great One!¡±


    The world stilled for a heartbeat, even the rain hanging frozen in the air.


    Then the gem cracked and the light vanished.


    ¡°Did it work?¡±  William asked, his voice trembling.


    The malice receded and the trees parted to reveal a narrow path.


    Soon boys.  I¡¯ll save you soon.


    ~<>~<>~


    The air was filled with the scent of pine and rain as we walked along the north road.


    The sky was a dark gray, though the rain was thankfully light, and the wind had settled down.


    Fortunately for us, the trailhead was only a fifteen-minute walk from the graveyard. Less fortunately, we had to walk through Grumpy¡¯s domain to get there.


    Grumpy was¡­ I didn¡¯t have any idea what the hell he was. Other than old, powerful, and grumpy.


    He gave off a presence like few things I¡¯ve ever felt, and he generally disliked everything that came across him. However, I¡¯d long ago struck an agreement with the ancient thing, and while he didn¡¯t like me, he also wasn¡¯t going to kill me for talking to him.


    The problem was going through his domain twice in one year wasn¡¯t part of that agreement. I was ready to bargain with him, but I wasn¡¯t sure how high his price would be.


    The rain picked up, and I started walking faster. I had absolutely no desire to be on the north road during heavy rainfall. It would turn into a swamp, and I didn¡¯t want to start this journey covered in mud.


    Blair glanced down after we had to step around a particularly massive pothole. ¡°How do you get around with a road like this?  I feel like the damn thing wants to kill me.¡±


    I chuckled. ¡°To be honest, I don¡¯t deal with the road. Not having a car is a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, I don¡¯t have to worry about dying because I dared to drive over 15. On the other hand, I don¡¯t have a car.¡±


    Blair grunted in agreement.


    I stopped as we approached the edge of Grumpy¡¯s territory.


    From the sharp glances Blair was giving our surroundings, I guessed they had driven past Grumpy on their way in. Bad luck that. The north road was one giant loop, so it had been a coin toss for whether or not they would have to experience his foul mood.


    ¡°Blair, before we go any further, I need to make sure we¡¯re clear on a few points.¡±


    She¡¯d stopped when I had and now turned to look down at me, her expression a neutral mask. When I say that, I really do mean a mask. It wasn¡¯t just hard to read. It was utterly blank of any emotion.


    It was a little unnerving, if I was being honest.


    ¡°I know werewolves aren¡¯t huge on taking orders from people who aren¡¯t their alphas. But I also don¡¯t want to insult you by suggesting you won¡¯t listen to me just because I can¡¯t benchpress a truck. I just wanna make sure we¡¯re clear crystal clear on this because some of the things on this Pass will kill us if we do something even slightly wrong. So while we¡¯re on this trip, if I tell you we need to hop on one foot through twenty feet of trail, then we hop on one foot.  Cause if we don¡¯t, we might get pulled limb from limb.¡°


    Blair was silent for several uncomfortable seconds. Was she angry?  Thinking?  Curious about the weather?  Her poker face was good enough that it could be any of those or none of them.


    I didn¡¯t really expect her to have a problem; she had listened to me in the Manor, after all.  But some of the Pass¡¯s rules were weird even by spook standards, and I really didn¡¯t want to get torn apart because she hesitated at the wrong moment.


    ¡°Understood.¡±  Blair¡¯s mask cracked as she broke a small smile. ¡°I share your disinterest in dying, and I get the need to clear the air.  Some werewolves wouldn¡¯t listen to you since you can¡¯t bench a truck.¡±


    She shuffled slightly, then reached up to scratch her chin.


    ¡°And understanding werewolf society when you¡¯re not part of it can be a little confusing, to put it lightly.¡±


    I sagged in relief.  Traveling through Old Tom¡¯s Pass with a stranger was going to be difficult, but it was infinitely better than traveling with an unreasonable stranger.


    Blair glanced towards the road, then back to me. ¡°Unless the thing just moved in, you know what¡¯s down the road.  Right?¡±


    I nodded. ¡°That thing is our destination.¡±


    Blair frowned. ¡°Are you a warlock?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m not a warlock!  Where did that come from?¡± Blair pointed towards the road. ¡°Whatever the hell that thing is, it isn¡¯t normal.  I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s a demon or an elemental or what.  But it is exactly the type of thing a warlock would pact with.¡±


    Well, I couldn¡¯t really argue that point. ¡°Yeah, fair enough.  Grumpy feels¡­ Like Grumpy.¡±


    Blair blinked, then gave me an incredulous stare. ¡°Grumpy?¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°Well, he always feels grumpy, so¡­¡± I said, my tone defensive.  The name made sense!  Though I had been pretty young when I came up with it.


    Blair sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. ¡°Fine, fine.  Is¡­ Grumpy, really going to let us walk up to them without killing us?  And what do you mean he¡¯s our destination?¡±


    ¡°The trailhead is part of his turf, so we have to go through him to get to the Pass.  And he probably won¡¯t kill us. I have a deal with him.¡±


    Her eyes narrowed.


    ¡°Not that kind of deal! I¡¯m not a warlock!¡± I scowled. ¡°I paid him with some of my magic a while back. I get safe passage through his territory once a year in exchange.¡±


    ¡°You said he probably won¡¯t kill us,¡± Blair noted.


    I winced and scratched the back of my head. ¡°That¡¯s the thing. I¡¯ve already gone through the Pass once this year.  So I¡¯m going to have to renegotiate.¡±


    Blair looked between me and the road several times.  Then, she took a deep breath, and her mask was back up. ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s go talk to Grumpy.¡±


    The werewolf certainly wasn¡¯t a coward.


    You didn¡¯t stand in the presence of something like Grumpy without feeling the utter certainty that it could kill you if it wanted to. And that there wasn¡¯t a damn thing you could do to stop it.


    But Blair was walking towards it regardless.  That either spoke to bravery or that she was as stupid as I was. I¡¯d give her the benefit of the doubt and say it was bravery.


    We took a few steps forward, and Grumpy¡¯s aura hit us like a truck.  Blair stumbled before catching herself, and the only reason I wasn¡¯t mirroring her was because of how many times I¡¯d felt it before.


    The air was heavy like gravity had suddenly grown stronger, and there were other things subtly off, but they were drowned out by the sheer malice that pressed against us from every angle.


    Finally, after about a hundred miserable feet, I stopped and shouted into the tree line. ¡°Grumpy! It¡¯s me!  Quit being a dick and lay off a bit!¡±


    Blair looked at me like I was insane, which was fair.


    The malice in the air shifted.  It gathered up until it wrapped around me like a cloak. Grumpy¡¯s thoughts came through a moment later.  Well, not thoughts exactly, but emotion and intent flowed into me.


    Annoyance, exasperation, recognition, question.


    ¡°I need to go to the Pass again.¡±


    Payment.


    ¡°Yeah, I expected as much.  How much do you want?¡± A confusing stream of signals poured into me.  Things like Grumpy didn¡¯t do great with concepts like the minute or the year.  They tended to look at things in terms of centuries or millennia.  But, eventually, Grumpy managed to send the amount he wanted.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    It was disconcerting since I felt the passage of time in my mind. I saw the sun rise and fall over and over, saw leaves drop only to be covered by snow, then for that snow to melt.


    A year.  That was ridiculous.


    ¡°I¡¯m not giving you an entire year.¡±


    Anger. Demanding. ¡°No, a year is way too much. I¡¯m not asking you to give me anything other than passage. You literally just have to stand aside for the two of us.¡±


    Insistence.


    ¡°Our first bargain leaned heavily in your favor. Three months.¡±


    The sense of malice grew stronger until it itched along my skin and pressed against my scalp. ¡°Three months isn¡¯t enough? Fine, four and a half months. And you know that most mages wouldn¡¯t give you half that.¡±


    The next string of emotions came fast and layered, but it evened out into something like grudging acceptance.


    I shifted my focus away from Grumpy and towards my aura. As I did, I noticed that Blair had grabbed ahold of my pack at some point.  Her body was tensed, and I had a feeling she was ready to sprint away the second things turned south. And judging by her grip on my pack, she was going to drag me with her.


    I shook off the thought and unveiled my aura. I didn¡¯t bother with trying to keep it close to my body, while in Grumpy¡¯s presence, I didn¡¯t really need to worry about attracting the attention of anything nasty. No predator would even come within a mile of Grumpy¡¯s territory. Instead, I focused on my shroud, feeling along the condensed loop of power.


    Four and a half months. It wasn¡¯t chump change.


    Due to the nature of my magic, I didn¡¯t often need to use my shroud, so I had a healthy amount of power to spare. But giving up this much still irked me.


    A day''s worth of power represented an entire day spent draining and then refilling my magic directly into my shroud to increase its size.


    I would have to spend the same amount of time focused on growing my shroud to get back to where I was right now.


    I sighed, then got to work. I felt along my shroud until I had a mental grip on a section roughly the length of my arm span. Then I twisted,  gathering it up like a ball of dough.


    I needed to think of that section as something different than the rest of my shroud. Visualization was important. If I wasn¡¯t careful, I could end up tearing away more power than I intended.


    Once I was sure I wasn¡¯t going to tear away too little or too much, I pulled on the ball of power until it broke away from the rest of my aura.


    It wasn¡¯t a pleasant feeling, but it wasn¡¯t quite painful either. Instead, it was a nebulous, ripping sensation that came from everywhere on my body at once.


    I gave the now free section of my shroud a gentle push, and it started to drift away from me. It made it a few feet before it suddenly jerked and zipped into the tree line.


    A moment later, Grumpy¡¯s presence surged.  The sense of discomfort grew. My teeth started to itch, and every hair on my body stood on end.  Then it settled back down to a more reasonable level.


    The trees rustled as a deep sigh blew through them. Then the underbrush directly in front of us parted as Grumpy¡¯s presence split to form a narrow path.


    I turned to Blair and smiled. ¡°See! He didn¡¯t kill us.¡±


    ~<>~<>~


    The path was narrow, the forest around it barely held at bay. Roots slithered across it, just waiting to catch an ankle. And the brush and trees seemed to stretch out towards the path, trying to block it with creeping branches and drooping leaves.


    We were only a couple hundred feet down the trail, but the forest had already changed. The trees were older and¡­ Maybe meaner? I wasn¡¯t sure what the right word was. But they gave off a presence that I could feel not just with my aura but in the air itself. A heavy weight of age and awareness.


    The forest recognized me in a sense. There weren¡¯t any dryads in this area, none that I knew of, at least. But the forest was still very much alive and aware as we crept through it.


    I say it felt old, but the word wasn¡¯t enough to describe it. It was a primordial feeling and almost as crotchety as Grumpy.


    A gust of wind swept across the trail, rustling the trees and causing a few of the low-hanging branches to swing closer to Blair. She sidestepped them but then had to dodge again as more swung near her. We both noticed that none of the branches had moved towards me.


    ¡°It was like that towards me at first, too,¡± I said as she was forced to jump over a root that had been a foot lower just a moment ago.


    ¡°The forest will warm up to you. Probably.¡±


    The werewolf glanced around as the branches slowly settled. ¡°Any tips for speeding up that process?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say anything bad about the forest. Words don¡¯t translate one to one, but it can pick up your intentions loud and clear. These trees aren¡¯t dumb.¡±


    A root slithered closer to the dirt ahead of me only to pop back in time to force Blair to step a little higher.


    ¡°It took me several years to get this place to warm up to me. You¡¯ll probably have an easier time.¡±


    Blair hopped over several roots in quick succession. ¡°Why is that?¡°


    I glanced at her in surprise.


    I expected her to know why the forest would warm up to a werewolf faster than a human, but then again, there¡¯s a decent chance she¡¯d never been in a grumpier version of the enchanted forest.


    Just because I was a human didn¡¯t mean I knew how every supernatural thing would interact with me.


    ¡°This place appreciates those¡­ primal aspects that werewolves are known for. Resonates would probably be the word for it. ¡°


    Blair nodded as she scanned the surroundings. ¡°There is something about this place that feels¡­familiar. ¡°


    We continued on in silence, save for the rustling branches and the odd call from some animal or another.


    In that silence, the weight of the forest really started to press in.  The feeling was inescapable. I could still remember how much it had scared me my first couple of trips through the Pass. It was still a little overwhelming, but I¡¯d found some comfort in it.


    The feeling was vast and really hammered in just how insignificant a lone Telss was compared to the slumbering behemoths of the supernatural world.


    This place held a power, one that I could feel in my bones. A power that dwarfed me so many times over that I was little more than an insect in comparison.


    But despite all that, it wasn¡¯t overtly hostile towards me, not anymore. I might just be an ant crawling across the forest floor, but at least that ant was part of the forest.


    After a half-hour of walking and the forest making at least a dozen attempts to trip Blair, we came upon a small clearing. And at the center of it sat a towering, twisted tree. The gnarled trunk was easily a dozen feet around, and the top stretched into the sky.


    Its branches were patchy with mis-matched leaves that ranged in color and shape with no discernible pattern tying them together.


    While one branch was covered with brown maple leaves, another was a mix of half a dozen different types of leaves.  And the branch next to that held jagged pink leaves that looked like they¡¯d been pulled straight from a Doctor Seuss book.


    The clearing smelled faintly of lilac, roses, and some other flower I couldn¡¯t place.


    I groaned. Blair glanced between me and the tree, then she noticed its residents.


    Grouped among the branches in a dozen clusters of threes and fours were ravens and crows that ranged in size from a little bigger than my head to alarmingly big.  And all of them had turned to face us as we approached. Or, more specifically, to face me.


    ¡°Goddammit. I was hoping it wouldn¡¯t be here this time.¡±


    A cluster on a branch with purple leaves cawed at me and began to parrot my words.


    ¡°Dammit. Dammit. God. Be here.¡±


    I groaned louder.


    Blair took a wary step forward to put herself in front of me. ¡°Are they dangerous? ¡°


    I scowled. ¡°A dangerous pain in my ass. ¡°


    Several flocks cawed. ¡°Pain in ass!¡± In unison.  I rubbed at my eyes as the cawing continued.


    ¡°All these years and you stupid Corvids still think this is funny!¡±


    ¡°Funny, funny, funny!¡± They cawed back.


    Well, what was I expecting?


    Blair glanced between me and the tree several times before speaking. ¡°You don¡¯t seem to be treating them with much respect.  I thought the forest didn¡¯t like backtalk.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t in general, but The Wandering Tree is the only one that puts up with these birds.  When I call them annoying assholes, I might as well be the Lorax because I speak for the trees.¡±


    Blair chuckled as she swept her eyes over the tree. ¡°The Wandering Tree?  And you said you hoped it wouldn¡¯t be here, so I¡¯m guessing it moves.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it well, it wanders. But, as annoying as the birds are, they aren¡¯t outright malicious since the Tree never appears in areas where noise could get me killed.¡±


    ¡°A moving, multicolored tree covered in ravens and crows...¡± Blair paused for a breath as she ran a hand through her hair. ¡°I¡¯ve seen weirder, but I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve seen so much weird packed into one town.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I nodded. ¡°Silver Spruce is¡­Silver Spruce.¡±


    Turning my attention back to the tree and the stupid birds that were cawing ¡°spruce¡± over and over, I pulled off my pack.


    ¡°There isn¡¯t any big trick to getting past the Wandering Tree. Obviously, you don¡¯t want to attack it or the birds, but you can just walk around it.¡± I opened up my pack and started digging through its insides. ¡°But if you do that too quickly or without offering something, it¡¯s likely to show up again to annoy the hell out of you.  So I came prepared.¡±


    ¡°Do you know why it¡¯s covered in birds?¡±


    I glanced up at Blair then paused.  Her question had been filled with dry amusement, but what took me off guard was that the woman¡¯s face wasn¡¯t set into a cold mask or tight with nerves.  She was smiling. The expression bright and honest as she listened to the raven''s parrot and remix her words.


    Finding the can I was looking for, at the very bottom of the pack, of course, I pulled it out before throwing the pack back on.


    ¡°A teleporting, multicolored tree is weird on its own, but the birds are what¡¯s really throwing me.  Are they magic ravens and crows? How did they end up here in the first place?¡±


    The werewolf cocked her head, her smile widening as she continued to stare at the tree.


    ¡°Honestly, I haven¡¯t got a clue.  I wondered about it the first couple of times through the Pass,  but now it¡¯s just one of those mysteries of the universe that I ignore or risk bringing on a headache.¡±


    Blair laughed. ¡°Something tells me you have to chalk a lot of things up to mysteries of the universe when living in this town.¡±


    I nodded at the point. ¡°True.¡±


    I took a few steps back then cupped my hands around my mouth. ¡°Martin! Get your feathers down here unless you want your spoils to go to a different bird!¡±


    A raven immediately launched from the tree.  He was one of the biggest of the lot and had a smug air about him.


    He landed in front of us with a caw. ¡°Huh,¡± Blair grunted. ¡°Never seen a raven with a white tail feather.¡±


    Martin spread his wings out and puffed out his chest. Looking up at us with a haughty tilt to his head. ¡°Yeah yeah, you¡¯re a good-looking bird. Now take your prize.¡±


    Martin scoffed at me, then hopped over to the can. It was a literal can of worms.  I had no idea where Barry even got them from, but they made for a good bribe.


    The raven picked up the can and let out a smug caw.  He flew over to me, obscuring my vision with his flapping wings before landing on my shoulder with one leg, the other still grasping his prize.


    ¡°What¡¯s gotten into you? Just so excited to see me twice in one year?¡±


    The bird hopped several times in quick secession before giving me exactly one nuzzle with the side of his head.  Then he cawed again, painfully close to my ear, and took off back to the tree. ¡°Ow! You dick!¡±


    Blair, the traitor, started laughing, and a heartbeat later, all the flocks mimicked her.


    I scowled as I rubbed at my ear. ¡°Not helping!¡±


    She laughed harder.

 Old Tom鈥檚 Pass

    The air was cold as we crested the hill.  It bit at us, digging through our coats to strike at our hearts as if to reprimand us for circumventing the guardians.


    The two eyes stared at us in the distance, their snowy peaks seeming to pierce into heaven itself.  And between them, where the earth rose only to dip down like a falling man.


    The pass.


    We are so close.  Hold on boys, just a little longer.


    ~<>~<>~


    Blair was not welcome in the forest.  It made that very clear, from the roots that twisted up to trip her to the branches that swayed away from Alder but always seemed to go right for her head.


    Even the smell of the rock and soil was somehow foreboding.


    But most of all, its hostility was felt in the air.  It was a dark, ominous feeling that pushed against the edge of her awareness.  Old, dark, and familiar.


    It resonated with a part of her, a part that was just as primal, just as old and savage as the forest itself.   She had a gut feeling that if she let her control slip, let her instincts take over, then the forest would warm up to her in a hurry.


    She wasn¡¯t going to do that, of course.  Not having to dodge the odd root wasn¡¯t worth the potential fallout.  But it was strange that it resonated at all.  Were-Kin magic was ancient, and it wasn¡¯t often that she came upon an area that resonated with the Bond that she didn¡¯t already know about.


    ¡°Just a few more minutes until we enter a new section.  This one¡¯s fun, though. It¡¯s both friendly and mercifully lacking in ravens.¡±


    Blair glanced at the Grave Keeper.  He was walking a few feet ahead of her, his posture slumped in what Blair would call weary determination.


    He was odd. He¡¯d stood his ground against the thing he called Grumpy,  and he¡¯d rushed into the mansion despite knowing how bad it was going to be.  Blair would have thought he was fearless or insane, except she had smelled the fear rolling off him both times.  Insane was still on the table, though.  But crazy or not, she owed him a debt.


    She frowned.  A debt that¡¯s growing.


    But as much as she loathed being in others¡¯ debt, and especially asking more from someone she already owed, gaining her pack vouchers was worth it.


    A pang of worry shot through her as she thought of her pack.


    Leaving them on their own in a new territory, especially one that had proven to be dangerous, ate at her.  It was a constant discomfort as her mind and instincts both recoiled at the idea, but her discomfort was irrelevant.  What the pack needed was what mattered.  And right now, they needed the vouchers more than they needed her there.


    They passed a crooked old tree.  It¡¯s gnarled branches reaching out into the surrounding forest like stretched fingers.


    Alder glanced at it, then froze. A moment later, a boiling cloud of emotions rolled off him.


    Fear so strong it made Blair wrinkle her nose hit first, followed by rage.


    Then his emotion switched on a dime. Almost immediately, the rage was replaced with disgust and revulsion. Finally, the anger started to replace the disgust but was overwhelmed.


    The scents switched so quickly that it gave Blair whiplash. People didn¡¯t change between emotions that fast, not stable people, at least.


    The scent of disgust and revulsion hung about Alder as he turned from the tree and continued down the trail, his posture straight and his movements stiff as he made a show of forced calm.


    Blair looked back at the tree. There was nothing strange about it, no scent of magic hanging around its branches or in its roots. It was just a tree.


    Blair followed the man before he could get too far ahead of her.


    She considered staying silent, but something was clearly wrong.  She couldn¡¯t just ignore that.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡±


    He stopped, then glanced back at her.


    ¡°Yeah?¡± He hesitated, then his eyes widened. ¡°Oh, right.  You can smell emotions, can¡¯t you.¡±


    She nodded but stayed quiet.  She didn¡¯t want to push too hard after he had a¡­whatever he just had.


    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m fine.  Thanks for asking, though.¡±


    Blair decided not to call him on the lie.


    ~<>~<>~


    After another mile of walking, the trees parted to reveal a rocky hill. It wasn¡¯t particularly tall, maybe a hundred feet at most, but it was steep. Alder stopped at the base of the hill, then turned to Blair.


    ¡°All right, this area is rather simple. You don¡¯t have to punch, kick or bite anything, and nothing will try and do any of those to us. However, there is a trail guardian here. I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s their official title or if it¡¯s just in the nature of some of these creatures to guard paths.¡± He waved his hand as if dismissing the topic. ¡°Either way, all we have to do to pass safely is beat a little guy in a race.¡±


    Blair looked from the man to the hill then back to the man. ¡°Beat who in a race? ¡°


    He smiled. ¡°Elementals! Specifically, earth elementals.¡±


    As if his words had summoned them, several rocks at the bottom of the hill broke off and rolled towards them. Alder had said they were safe, but Blair couldn¡¯t help but stiffen as the pile of rocks rolled towards them.


    She¡¯d been on high alert ever since Grumpy, but she hadn¡¯t sensed a single thing out of the ordinary. If those rocks had meant to harm them, she wouldn¡¯t have known there was anything off until they started moving.


    The pile of rocks rolled over towards them, stopping only a few feet away. Then they started to bounce. Softly at first, but they quickly sped up until they got several feet of air with every bounce. Then, after a final large hop, the rocks snapped together, forming a short humanoid figure.


    They were like a mannequin made out of rock. The outline of a human, but without the fine detail. They had four limbs, a torso, and a head. But their rocky hands lacked digits, and the larger rock that served as their head was blank and featureless. Well, almost featureless. It had a faded line of blue down the middle of its head.


    ¡°Pebbles! You¡¯ve grown.¡± Alder closed the few feet between them and extended his hand to the elemental.


    It vibrated the rocks that made up its body, clacking them together to make a sound like rattling shingles.


    It returned his fist bump then excitedly pointed towards Alder¡¯s pack.


    Elementals were ancient creatures, extremely difficult to kill, and as far as Blair knew, they lived forever. Even this small one that barely came up to Alder¡¯s waist was likely several thousand years old.


    Of course, they weren¡¯t acting like it as they excitedly hopped up and down.


    An elemental being here was shocking, the friendly way it acted towards Alder equally so. The things usually showed mortals neutral disinterested at best.  And surly hostility at worst. That was all strange, but she couldn¡¯t let the ¡®Pebbles¡¯ comment go.


    ¡°Pebbles? ¡°Alder paused, his pack halfway off his shoulders. ¡°Ah¡­ Yeah, he used to be smaller and I was pretty young the first time I came here, so¡­¡±


    ¡°So you named him Pebbles,¡± Blair said, her voice flat.


    Alder blushed. ¡°I didn¡¯t always have the most creative naming sense, OK! I¡¯ve gotten better now.¡°


    She looked towards the elemental and asked, ¡°Does he actually like that name?¡°


    Pebbles turned to her and nodded emphatically, then he started bouncing around Alder. The thunk he made each time he hit the ground reminded Blair that even an elemental this small was dangerous.  Just the rock that made up his chest likely weighed over a hundred pounds.


    Alder finished pulling his pack off and quickly rummaged through it. Pebbles leaned over his shoulder to watch him work. The little rock elemental didn¡¯t have eyes, so she wasn¡¯t sure why that would help him get a better look. But it was kind of cute¡­


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    Alder cried out, ¡°found it! ¡°As he pulled a can of blue spray paint from his pack. He held it aloft like some grand treasure.


    Pebbles seemed to agree with him as he started to hop again.


    ¡°Same as last time, buddy? ¡°Alder asked.


    The Elemental nodded but didn¡¯t stop jumping.


    Alder sighed. ¡°We both know that I can¡¯t do this while you¡¯re jumping.¡°  He said as he shook the can.


    Pebbles stopped, but his body still vibrated with excitement. Alder uncapped the spray paint and carefully drew a line of blue down the Elemental''s head. Blair held her breath, not wanting to breathe in the foul scent. Once Alder was done, the Elemental had a blue mohawk sprayed onto his head.


    It wouldn¡¯t be mistaken for professional work, but it wasn¡¯t bad either.


    ¡°All right. You¡¯re all set. ¡°Pebbles exchange another fist bump with Alder before racing back over to the hill.


    Blair stared after the little elemental, who was now running figure eights around a few of the other rock piles. ¡°Well, he¡¯s certainly enthusiastic.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s a great little guy, ¡°Alder said, staring fondly at the elemental. ¡°Though I don¡¯t know how long he¡¯s going to stay little, he¡¯s grown nearly six inches since the last time I saw him. I¡¯m pretty sure that¡¯s rapid growth for an elemental. ¡°


    Blair shrugged. She only knew the bare basics about elementals.


    ¡°Well, the next step is simple. We have to race him to the top. It¡¯ll likely take a few tries before he lets us win, but once we beat him, we¡¯re free to pass through. ¡°


    They had to race the elemental?  Strange, but there were plenty of old races that enjoyed games.  But something else was starting to bother her.


    ¡°How did you even figure this out your first time through?  Not just this, but with how to get past The Wandering Tree as well.  And I assume there¡¯s plenty of other weird rules to the Pass. ¡°


    He shrugged. ¡°With Pebbles? A game of charades mostly, once he¡¯d run up the hill and gestured for me to follow enough times, I figured out the gist of what he wanted. Then once he let me beat him, the elementals let me pass through. And they do have to let you beat them, they¡¯re earth elementals, and this is a hill. They could zip up to the top faster than a car if they wanted. As for the rest of the Pass¡­ a mix.  Some things change, but the most dangerous sections stay the same for the most part. ¡°


    ¡°And how did you figure out how to get through them the first time? Did you have a guide?¡±


    He stared at the hill, his eyes unfocused. ¡°No. No guide.  But a ghost who traveled the Pass in life told me about the worst areas. The rest I had to figure out on the fly.¡±


    ¡°How old were you?¡±


    ¡°¡­Twelve.¡±


    Blair closed her eyes as she thought of Grumpy.  Having to face something like that as a child¡­


    She tried to think of something to say but came up blank, so instead turned her attention back to the problem at hand.


    ¡°Why do they want to race? ¡°


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I think he¡¯s just bored. He¡¯s the youngest of the elementals here, and I think he¡¯s less prone to thousand-year naps than the rest of them are.  Maybe they appreciate someone playing with him, so they let us through?¡±


    Alder stood and carried his pack over to the base of the hill. ¡°Mind taking this to the top for me? I don¡¯t really want to run with it on. ¡°


    Pebbles waved towards the pack, and the earth rippled. Rocks and grass moved in a wave, carrying the pack up the hill like nature¡¯s own escalator.


    Blair watched Alder as he joked with the elemental.


    She wasn¡¯t in a great position to judge what counted as a normal childhood. Her parents were ancient, and like every child in her pack, she¡¯d been trained since she could walk to fight, hunt, and survive. But while she¡¯d had less free time than most children, it hadn¡¯t taken up the entirety of her life. She¡¯d had friends, gone on trips with her parents, and gotten to have a childhood¡­ for a while, at least.


    She had a feeling the Grave Keeper hadn¡¯t gotten that. Not if he¡¯d been dealing with things like Grumpy since he was young enough to name it something as stupid as Grumpy.


    ¡°Time to race, ¡°Alder called to her. He punctuated his words by turning and sprinting up the hill, evidently trying to catch Pebbles off guard.


    He scrambled up the hill, using his hands as necessary as he raced towards the top. Pebbles did a double-take then bolted after him. The Elemental, despite his stumpy legs, quickly caught up. Every step the creature took propelled him upwards as the earth shifted to lift him.


    In a heartbeat, he passed Alder and reached the top well ahead of the short human. As soon as Pebbles crossed to the top of the hill, the earth shifted, gathering around Alder and pulling him down. He started to tumble down the hill, and Blair tensed, ready to grab him before he bashed his head in or broke his neck, but she relaxed an instant later.


    Despite how fast Alder was falling, he never struck his head or landed at an awkward angle. Rocks shifted away from his skull before they could strike him, and the hill moved around him to ensure he always tumbled at just the right angle to avoid injury. A few seconds later he rolled from the hill and came to a stop at her feet.


    He looked up at her, his green eyes spinning.


    ¡°When did you multiply? I never heard of a werewolf that can clone themselves.¡° Blair snorted, then pulled him to his feet.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t help but notice that you lost that race. Got any special strategies for your next attempt?¡°


    He took a deep breath and rested his hands on his knees. She noticed that they were trembling slightly.


    ¡°Once things stop spinning so much, I¡¯m gonna go up and try again. Then I¡¯ll rinse and repeat that and pray that Pebbles is feeling merciful. ¡°


    ¡°Hmm.¡±


    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t sound too amused. You¡¯re going to have to run up this thing too.¡±


    Blair¡¯s smile faltered.


    ~<>~<>~


    Pebbles decided to take mercy on Alder¡¯s fourth attempt up the hill. The Elemental ran slower, allowing Alder, gasping and wheezing, to crawl his way to the top. Once there, he stumbled over to his pack and collapsed against it with a gasp.


    Pebbles strolled down the hill and stood in front of Blair. His body language eager and confident as he stared up at her. She pulled her pack off and set it down. ¡°Could you take that up for me as well? ¡°


    It wouldn¡¯t really slow her down, but she didn¡¯t wanna risk breaking something. The elemental quickly complied, and her pack rolled up the hill to join Alder¡¯s. The man glanced at her pack, which was bigger than his torso, and promptly used it as a cushion.


    She turned her attention back to Pebbles. ¡°Start on three. ¡°She counted down, and on three, she blasted up the hill.


    Her legs pumped, and she pushed herself hard, sailing upward faster than an Olympic sprinter could move on flat ground.


    It still wasn¡¯t fast enough.


    Pebbles raced past her, reaching the top before she could. She felt a surge of annoyance at how easily the Elemental passed her. And an instant later, the hill drug her back down. She had to force herself to relax and not fight it.


    The second time up, she pushed even harder, moving as fast as she could without shifting or reaching out to her Bond for more power. She still lost, and she felt her annoyance shift into frustration. It was even harder to stop herself from struggling as the earth pulled her back.


    When she reached the base of the hill, she paused to take a deep breath.


    Pebbles reached her and clattered eagerly.  The dust they had kicked up stung her nose, adding to her irritation.


    The third time up, the elemental took the lead immediately. Blair¡¯s frustration surged, and she pulled on her Bond.  Cold power flooded through her as she tried to close the distance.


    The knowledge that the Elemental would have to let her win, this was just a game to get through, all of it faded from her mind.


    This thing was outdoing her, stopping her from going where she needed, from getting the resources her pack needed.


    It was challenging her.


    She almost closed the gap, but the Elemental won. This time she did fight back as the earth grabbed her. She snarled, ripping her legs free as it tried to guide her back down.


    She caught herself before she could start to tumble. She wouldn¡¯t be thrown down, not if she didn¡¯t want to be.  For a brief moment, she considered throwing herself at the elemental, at the challenger.


    She glanced up at Alder, she would need to make sure the battle would spill over to him.


    He was staring at her, a slight frown on his face.


    She clenched her fists until her nails pierced her palms.


    CONTROL.


    She gasped in a breath.  This was a game. She needed to get a grip. The earth stopped trying to shift under Blair, changing instead to form a path back down.


    That felt more like an invitation to walk back down instead of a command, and Blair felt herself calming. Her mind cleared as she stopped pulling power from her Bond.


    In the next round, Pebbles let her win. She walked to the top of the hill and collapsed next to her pack, which Alder had moved away from.


    She closed her eyes and breathed deep.


    She¡¯d started to lose herself over what was essentially a game with a child.


    A note of shame joined the anger and frustration in the back of her mind as she gripped her backpack.


    She had always been competitive, and she didn¡¯t inherently dislike that fact. She liked to win, which was fine, but her competitiveness easily blended with her instincts, which could spiral out of control quickly.


    And they were getting worse. They had been for years, and her control wasn¡¯t keeping up with them.


    She hated how she had almost lashed out, hated that she had wanted to at all.  But just disliking a part of yourself didn¡¯t mean you could change it on a dime.  Especially not when you had magic and your own mind working against you.


    But that knowledge just made her feel worse.


    Alder shifted to stare at her, and after a moment of hesitation, asked, ¡°You okay?¡°  There was genuine concern in his words.


    She took one more deep breath, then nodded. ¡°Fine, just needed to gather myself.¡±


    Alder grunted. ¡°Take your time.  From now on is when things start to get really dangerous.¡±


    She followed his gaze and finally took in the view from the hilltop. The other side of said hill immediately dropped back down, the ground growing so steep that they would almost be climbing more than hiking.


    The trees were still massive, but she had enough of a vantage to see two mountains in the distance.  They were close together, both rising into the sky-high enough that their peaks were dusted with snow.


    One had a large hole cut out of its peak, and the other looked as if some giant had tilted it.


    The ground closer to the mountains rose up before dipping sharply at the narrow gap between them.


    The Grave Keeper spoke, his voice somber. ¡°The Eyes and the Echo.  And that little gap. That¡¯s Old Tom¡¯s Pass.¡±

 Shifting Looks

    We shouldered our packs a few minutes later, waved to pebbles, then started down the hill. It was obnoxiously steep, every step threatening to send me tumbling down. Pebbles had worn me out, and I¡¯d been tired before we even started this trip.


    I¡­ I didn¡¯t get much sleep, but it was even worse after an exorcism. And it affected more than just my sleep. Just glancing at a random object could trigger a memory. And worse, I was traveling with a stranger who could smell when something was wrong with my head. She likely thought I was insane.


    My foot slipped, and I started to tumble. Blair¡¯s hands clamped down my arm and pack, stopping me cold. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said as I fixed my footing. Once she was sure I wouldn¡¯t do a Princess bride impression, she let go. Though I could feel her hovering, ready to react if I tripped again.


    I fought the urge to shudder, the feeling of her hand on my arm fresh in my mind.


    Damn Rogers! I didn¡¯t have a problem.


    We continued down, and I found myself struggling. I didn¡¯t usually have so much trouble with this hill, but not only was I exhausted, I was in pain, and it was distracting as hell.


    Racing Pebbles and tumbling down had reminded me just how beat up my body was. And while those tumbles had been guided by the elementals, it was still a lot of jostling.


    My shoulder ached from the weight of the pack, and my neck throbbed with every heartbeat, which, combined with my other aches and pains, distracted me enough that I almost fell three more times before we reached the bottom.


    I breathed a sigh of relief as the ground evened out. I readjusted my pack then started walking. The trail widened and Blair started to walk beside me.


    I studied the werewolf out of the corner of my eye. I was starting to get a little worried. Each round against Pebbles, she¡¯d grown angrier and angrier. At the end, I thought she was going to attack the little elemental. She¡¯d controlled herself, but the look in her eyes had been savage.


    I was definitely chalking that up as a red flag. But I didn¡¯t know if that was a her problem or a werewolf problem. She had been reasonable in actual conversation, but when the situation turned high stress and involved confrontation, she had been decidedly less reasonable.


    Which left me circling back around to whether or not that was a werewolf problem. I didn¡¯t have a ton of experience with Were-Kin, but more than half the werewolves I had met were quick to turn to violence. That wasn¡¯t uncommon among spooks. You didn¡¯t survive long if you weren¡¯t ready to defend yourself.


    And did Blair¡¯s aggression matter when it came to the vouchers? I didn¡¯t need her to be perfect; I just needed her and her family to have Silver Spruce¡¯s back.


    I wasn¡¯t sure yet. It was going to depend on just how aggressive she was, and where she directed it.


    It didn¡¯t matter how good her decision-making was when calm, if she was going to attack the people around her when things got tense.


    Well, the point of this trip was to help me get a read on her. So, I just had to get reading.


    ~<>~<>~


    We reached the Pass half an hour later.


    The mountains loomed above us, and the Pass stretched ahead.


    It didn¡¯t seem too different from the forest around us, not at first. We exchanged a glance, and Blair gestured towards the Pass with her chin. ¡°Anything weird about the entrance?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°Naw, it¡¯ll feel a little different, but there¡¯s never anything hostile in the first region. The next ones are a different story, though. When the trees change color, don¡¯t talk. Under any circumstances. Even if you see a monster about to crash down on us, don¡¯t say a word.¡±


    Blair stared at the path. ¡°When the trees change color, huh? How far in is that?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to walk for the better part of an hour to get to the Silent Straits.¡±


    ¡°And if we do talk?¡±


    ¡°We die.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Any chance you going to surprise me and say that one of the regions is pleasant and non-murderous?¡±


    I chuckled. ¡°There are at least three nice areas. It¡¯s where we sleep. Aside from those¡­ maybe? Some of the regions move around.¡±


    Blair turned to fully face me. ¡°Move around? The pass isn¡¯t the same every time?¡±


    I waggled my hand. ¡°Kinda. All the key regions stay the same, but a few switch around. Luckily for us, I¡¯ve seen them all at this point. Probably.¡±


    She pursed her lips, then shrugged. ¡°Well, that¡¯s not any weirder than The Wandering Tree.¡±


    ¡°Fair.¡±


    I started walking, and Blair fell into step beside me.


    Walking into the Pass was an odd sensation. Everything didn¡¯t change all at once. It was wide enough that the mountains didn¡¯t totally block our view of the sky, but they were definitely butting in. And the trees were mostly the same, ancient pines and spruce that stretched endlessly ahead of us on either side.


    But the sensations from the forest shifted. Old and grumpy as the forest may be, it wasn¡¯t actively malicious. But as we walked, an undercurrent of smithing darker slipped in.


    The forest was overwhelming, but not overly interested in two ants crawling around its roots. But Old Tom¡¯s Pass took note as we stepped across its boundary. And while its attention wasn¡¯t stronger than the forests, it was curler, hungrier.


    Blair shivered and took a step closer to me. Her gaze scoured the trees, and she even spared a few glances for the sky as if expecting something to attack us from above.


    ¡°We¡¯re safe for now. But I¡¯m not going to fault you for the caution. Old Tom¡¯s Pass isn¡¯t the most welcoming of places.


    Blair stayed silent, and her eyes never stopped scanning.


    ~<>~<>~


    The path dipped lower as we hiked, not enough to cause a problem, but we were definitely losing altitude.


    Blair had relaxed slightly. But only slightly.


    She still scanned our surroundings with impressive diligence, but she wasn¡¯t twitching at every rustling branch or disturbed bush.


    It was a little comforting, actually. True, most of the dangers here couldn¡¯t be punched into submission, but it was the thought that counted.


    Every time Blair thought there might be danger, she moved to protect me. That wasn¡¯t something I was used to from the living. Everyone I was close to was dead. The few people in town I talked to regularly were more acquaintances than friends, except for Barry. So having someone I barely know lookout for me was¡­nice, if strange.


    I¡¯d considered that she might just be protecting her own interests since I was her guide, both to this pass and to the vouchers.


    But I¡¯d seen people who calculated every action.


    I could remember being them.


    That wasn¡¯t Blair. She acted instinctively, and had been the same way in the- ¡­In the Manor.


    She¡¯d thrown herself in front of every object that she could and fought with an almost insane fervor when one of her pack got hit.


    I might have been reading her wrong, but I didn¡¯t think so. When you meet enough people from all across time, when you¡­understand how they think, you become a pretty good judge of character.


    So far, Blair was a bit of a contradiction. Comforting and worrying at the same time.


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    Something cold brushed over my senses. I stopped, and Blair matched me.


    ¡°We¡¯re close.¡±


    My senses were muted with my aura veiled, but I almost always had my aura veiled, so I had learned to pay a lot of attention to what my magical senses did manage to tell me.


    ¡°I think now is a good time for some more details,¡± she said.


    I nodded. ¡°This region is called the Silent Straits, and while it¡¯s dangerous, it¡¯s also simple. Don¡¯t speak, and we make it. Talk, and we die.¡±


    I stared straight ahead. I couldn¡¯t see any oddly colored trees yet, but they had to be just up ahead for me to feel something.


    ¡°The area itself is a shallow stream we walk along. It¡¯s a little slippery, but nothing too bad. The real danger comes from¡­well, the region. It doesn¡¯t like people very much.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not a Strait. A strait is a narrow channel connecting two large bodies of water.¡±


    I scoffed. ¡°Nerd.¡± She frowned. ¡°And I didn¡¯t come up with its name, Old Tom did.¡±


    ¡°Old Tom? I¡¯m assuming he¡¯s the namesake of this place?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. He rolled in here in the 1800s. I found his journal on my first time through the Pass.¡±


    ¡°Okay, so how does this place actually kill us?¡±


    ¡°¡­ It¡¯s not something we can fight. Let¡¯s leave it at that, please.¡±


    Blair frowned but didn¡¯t push. ¡°Is it any noise we make or just talking?¡±


    ¡°Just talking. It doesn¡¯t care if a squirrel or deer makes some noise. Just people.¡±


    She nodded, took off her pack, then began to strip.


    I blushed and turned around.


    God, I was lucky Ben wasn¡¯t here to see that. He¡¯d never let me live it down.


    ¡°Why?¡± I asked. Barely managing to avoid squeaking the question.


    ¡°Huh? Why are you- oh. Humans have nudity taboos, I forgot.¡± I heard one last rustle of clothing punctuate Blair¡¯s words.


    ¡°You said the Straits respond to human speech. You¡¯ve made it through before just fine, but I haven¡¯t. I think I would make it, but I can make that a certainty. Can¡¯t talk if I¡¯m not human.¡±


    Ah, that was pretty clever, actually. She had just taken me off guard with the impromptu stripping.


    ¡°Sound reasoning, but ah, can¡¯t you still talk while shifted?¡±


    ¡°In some forms. With werewolves, it¡¯s like¡­ we have a slider from most humanoid to most wolfish. If I push that slider as far as it can go, I won¡¯t be able to talk at all. Won¡¯t have the right parts.¡±


    ¡°Quick thinking.¡±


    She grunted, then something popped. Then, a moment later, something snapped.


    I turned to look, my curiosity getting the better of me.


    I had seen werewolves in their shifted forms and seen someone performing a partial shift, but I had never witnessed a full transformation.


    And with the partial shift, I¡¯d been too distracted with said werewolf trying to kill me to take in the finer details.


    Plus, Blair clearly didn¡¯t care if I looked.


    Though it wouldn¡¯t hurt to double check.


    ¡°Do you mind? I¡¯ve never seen a shift before.¡±


    ¡°Knock yourself out.¡±


    The embarrassment from seeing someone naked quickly faded when they, one, clearly didn¡¯t care about being naked, and two, were turning into something from a horror movie.


    The snapping sounds had been her knees, which were now bending backward. That was unsettling, so was realizing that Blair was staring at me as she shifted.


    She wasn¡¯t saying anything, just staring.


    ¡°¡­Does it hurt?¡± I had to say something. The silent stare was making me freaking uncomfortable.


    She grunted as her muscles writhed beneath her skin, rearranging themselves as I watched.


    Blair stayed quiet for long enough that I thought she wasn¡¯t going to answer, but after something in her spine cracked, she spoke.


    ¡°Not exactly. Not when I do it like this. Be a different story if I was rushing. But this way is-¡°. she paused as her hands started to lengthen and black claws sprouted from her fingertips.


    ¡°¡­Imagine an intense stretch that isn¡¯t quite painful, and popping your neck hard at the same time, but it¡¯s your entire body all at once. It¡¯s like that.¡±


    She stopped talking as her head began to stretch and elongate.


    The sight was borderline nightmare fuel, if I was being honest. ¡­But it was a skin-deep nightmare.


    Blair wasn¡¯t in some terrible situation or in pain. A monster wasn¡¯t trying to kill us this second. She was just changing forms.


    So while it disturbed me on principle, seeing a human body contort and snap, it didn¡¯t go any deeper than that.


    Besides, I felt like it would be rude to act all horrified. This was a normal part of being a werewolf she was showing me. I didn¡¯t want to respond to that with disgust.


    So I kept quiet and watched.


    It took the better part of twenty minutes, but in the end, a dirty blond wolf stood in Blair¡¯s place.


    Sort of.


    She had the general shape of a wolf, but nobody was going to mistake her for a normal animal. For starters, she was six foot at the shoulder and more heavily muscled than any wolf I had seen.


    But the differences didn¡¯t end there. Her shoulders were broader, and her front limbs were somewhere between human and wolf in shape, though they leaned more towards wolf, with front paws that looked more flexible than they should.


    She swung her head towards me, and I saw that deep blue had shifted to blood red. I glanced away, reminding myself that eye contact was to be avoided.


    I studied her head as I avoided eye contact. Following the trend, her head looked like a wolfs but bigger. The proportions were slightly off as well, with her snout being broader than a wolf¡¯s.


    She yawned and stretched. Heavy muscles shifted, and I caught sight of massive, gleaming white teeth.


    The sight reminded me just how lucky I was that the few werewolves I had fought in the past hadn¡¯t shifted. They¡¯d have torn me to shreds. Werewolves were killing machines. In her current form, Blair could outrun a horse and keep up that pace for hours, had senses better than a real wolf, and enough strength to kill a human in one swipe.


    And that was assuming that she was a young werewolf. I¡¯d never seen it personally, but the stories about what the older Were-Kin could do were insane.


    Blair finished stretching and padded over to her pack. She had, somehow, managed to put away her clothes in the handful of seconds my back had been turned and was now nudging the pack with her nose.


    ¡°Oh. Uum, Blair, I don¡¯t think I can carry that thing. It probably weighs more than I do.¡± The thing looked like she¡¯d pulled it from a damn cartoon.


    Her ears pulled back, and she sneezed.


    Whoa, that was really dog-like. I don¡¯t know what I expected since she was literally a giant wolf creature, but still¡­


    She leaned down and nudged the bag again, then twisted and used her nose to point at her back.


    ¡°Oh! You want me to put the pack on you! That makes way more sense.¡±


    She nodded and gave me an exasperated look.


    I brushed past her and squatted down.


    Wait. I took my own pack off. Trying to lift hers with extra weight seemed like an excellent way to throw my back out.


    I got a good grip and heaved.


    Now, I don¡¯t want to give off the wrong impression here. I am a paragon of manly strength and prowess, and I don¡¯t want anyone saying different. Sure, all five feet of me was made up of skin and bones with some wires holding everything together, but it was manly skin and bones.


    So, you can imagine my shock when the pack was not impressed with my prowess.


    I turned to the werewolf, who was watching over my shoulder. When did she get that close? Jesus, no one that large should be able to move that quietly.


    ¡°I thought you said you couldn¡¯t fit the kitchen sink? This feels like you managed to fit it and a few dozen bricks to boot.¡±


    Blair looked at me and flicked her ears.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that, you fury jock! I''m not Schwarzenegger!¡±


    Blair grunted, then brushed past me. She went to the pack and laid down next to it. Then she grabbed a strap with her mouth and effortlessly pulled the pack onto her back. But it sat at an awkward angle, and part of it was hanging off completely.


    Which was where I came in. As I stepped up to help adjust the pack, I realized that it was made to fit around her current form, with straps that worked more like a harness built-in.


    After a bit of finagling, we get the pack situated. It was strapped along her midsection and front legs; it wasn¡¯t going anywhere.


    It had been surprisingly easy once Blair had taken care of the weight. Her limbs were more flexible than a normal dog¡¯s, so getting them through the right loops had been a breeze.


    I walked over to my pack and took a drink of water. The time spent without my pack had helped me recover, but I was still exhausted.


    That was dangerous. I needed to be sharp in this place.


    Of course, telling your tiredness that it was being a real bummer didn¡¯t make it go away.


    I rubbed at my eyes, then did a few stretches, trying to wake myself up.


    Once I was as alert as I was getting, I pulled my pack on and turned to Blair.


    The sight was¡­ well, she was a six-foot-tall, easily five hundred pound wolf monster with a giant backpack.


    Strange? Definitely. Oddly cute? Definitely. It was the same energy as a malamute or other big dog carrying a beer keg or doggy pack.


    Blair¡¯s red eyes narrowed, and I realized I was smiling at her.


    I coughed. ¡°I think it¡¯s time to head out.¡± I started walking, and while Blair continued to squint at me, she matched my pace.


    I considered making a joke since this was the last chance I had to speak until we were through the Straits, but Blair might just respond by biting me.


    ¡­Baw, worth the risk.


    ¡°Say, how do you feel about dog jokes?¡±


    She growled at me.


    ¡°Noted.¡±

 Not So Open Hostilities

    Sweat dripped down Dalton¡¯s brow, slowly inching closer to his eyes.


    Cornelius could tell his apprentice was struggling not to wipe it, but he was keeping his cool so far.


    Cornelius¡¯s instructions had been very clear. Dalton was not to move a muscle until he ran out of magic or lost his balance.


    So far, he was doing surprisingly well on the balance front. The teenager was currently standing with one foot on a narrow stone pillar. Said stone pillar was slightly smaller than the boy''s foot, making balancing a tricky proposition.


    On top of balancing, Dalton had to keep the stone pillar up with his aura. Usually, when you raised a spike or pillar from below, you''d fill the ground beneath it. Dalton wasn¡¯t allowed such an easy task. Instead, he had to keep the earth from filling back in beneath his pillar while keeping it raised and supporting his own weight. Which was constantly draining his magic.


    It was important for the boy to learn channeled tasks. Far too many young mages spent their time focusing on making one fireball or one blast of wind. Often ignoring channeled effects until it was too late.


    ¡°Why,¡± Dalton started to ask, only to cut off as his balance wavered. Then, after a few seconds, he started again. ¡°Why do I need to be doing this on one leg? I understand learning to keep up a constant effect, it¡¯s freaking hard, and I need the practice, but on one foot?¡±


    Cornelius smiled. When they trained in magic, his apprentice would complain and bicker, but he did it while doing exactly as he was told.


    ¡°Why do you think I¡¯m making you do it on one foot?¡± Cornelius asked.


    Dalton glared. ¡°Because you like to make things more difficult and seeing me suffer.¡±


    ¡°While that¡¯s not untrue, it¡¯s also not the right answer.¡±


    Dalton sighed, then grew quiet as he thought it over. "Because it splits my focus? It''s distracting me since I have to focus on balance and keeping the pillar up, not to mention the muscle pain."


    Cornelius smiled. "Exactly. In a fight, you have to keep track of a lot of things if you want to survive. Using a channeled effect will be very distracting until you get enough practice. Eventually, it''s going to become second nature, like lifting your arm. But you''re not there yet."


    Cornelius paused. ¡°All of that is true, but there is a more important reason I''m making you train like this.¡± He started walking circles around the pillar. ¡°What is the most fundamental skill a mage needs?¡±


    Dalton grunted. "Control."


    "Why?"


    Dalton had the correct answer. Cornelius had drilled the importance of control into the boy''s head before he''d taught him anything else. But he wanted to make sure his apprentice understood why it was important instead of just knowing that it was.


    "We can''t do any magic without control. At least, not reliably." Cornelius nodded. "That''s true. But that isn''t all of it. It''s deeper than that.¡±


    He stopped. ¡°Control is everything, Dalton. It''s the reason why I don''t light the room on fire when I''m angry or freeze it over when I''m meditating. It''s the reason I can defend myself when a slavering monster is bearing down on me, and everything is going to hell. Control is the difference between someone who has magic and a mage.¡±


    He stopped and met his apprentice''s eyes. ¡°I''m making you do all of this now because one day you''re going to have to do something similar while your life is in danger. And if you can''t control your emotions when the time comes, you''re as good as dead.¡±


    Dalton took a deep breath, then nodded. ¡°Got it. I- ah. I need to keep a clear head, regardless of how uncomfortable I am.¡±


    Cornelius smiled.


    He waited for Dalton''s leg to start trembling before telling him to switch feet. The young man began to lower the pillar when Cornelius stopped him. ¡°I didn''t tell you to drop the pillar.¡± Dalton sighed but nodded.


    Cornelius''s phone rang as Dalton tried to switch feet. Cornelius answered the phone just as Dalton, predictably, fell from the pillar.


    Cornelius already had a wind split running, and he quickly used his aura to push against his falling apprentice. He softened the boy''s fall enough to spare him from anything worse than a light bruise. He wasn¡¯t in the mood to go looking for a new apprentice.


    The familiar voice of his clan''s patriarch blasted into his ear. "Cornelius! How are you doing!" He winced and moved the phone slightly further away from his ear. Alexander had always been aggressively cheerful. "Hello Alexander, what brings someone as mighty as you to call me?"


    The patriarch chuckled. "Maybe I just wanted to talk to an old friend. I mean, we do have clan business to discuss, but that doesn''t mean the first part can''t be true as well." Cornelius snorted. "We can get a drink when you get here, assuming this town has a good bar. Now, what do you need?"


    Alexander gave a nervous chuckle. "About that."


    Cornelius frowned. "About what?"


    "I won''t be arriving in Silver Spruce, not until after the summit. I¡¯m going to one of the decoy sites. So Jacks will be representing me for ¨C" Cornelius cut him off with a groan.


    "You''re going to make me deal with Jacks?"


    ¡°I''m not making you deal with Jacks. You are the one who asked to be a diplomat.¡±


    ¡°I thought that would involve dealing with people outside the clan!¡±


    ¡°You are! You''re just going to be doing it with Jacks.¡± He wanted to complain more, but Dalton was watching. He didn''t want to set an example of talking back to your boss. Dalton did that enough already.


    ¡°Fine. What am I going to be doing exactly?¡±


    ¡°I knew you''d come around. It''s simple, you and Jacks are to meet with house Larouta. They want to discuss a potential deal.¡±


    ¡°House Larouta? I''m assuming we are to meet with Oriana?¡±


    ¡°Yep.¡±


    ¡°¡­I see.¡±


    ¡°Hey, you can always pick a different job. You can go be a librarian for all I care.¡±


    ¡°I don''t think the heads would be okay with me taking such a passive role, especially right before a war. It was already a fight to get this one.¡±


    ¡°The Branch heads can come to me if they have a problem.¡±


    Cornelius smiled. ¡°No. As much as I appreciate the thought, I''m not comfortable taking too passive a role either. I picked this one because I can still help, even if I''m not fighting.¡±


    Alexander sighed. ¡°Very well. Jacks will give you the details, the meeting is at 6 o''clock tonight. And Cornelius¡­¡± the patriarch paused, a note of tension clear in his voice.


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Be careful. Oriana has been making some big moves lately, and I don''t need to tell you what she¡¯s capable of.¡±


    Cornelius closed his eyes, the memory of cold, dank stone pressing against his skin.


    ¡°No. You don''t.¡±


    ~<>~<>~


    Cornelius wasn''t taking Dalton to the meeting. He¡¯d considered it since it was important to let a young mage make connections with the other factions. And sitting in on a somewhat high-level meeting would be useful for his education.


    But the Larouta was not a connection he wanted the boy to have.


    And giving Oriana information on his apprentice was something he wanted to avoid until the boy could adequately defend himself, magically and socially.


    Cornelius stepped into the driveway at the sound of a car horn.


    Jacks was driving a tiny red car that looked more like an expensive toy than a vehicle.


    He raised a brow at Jacks. ¡°It was not my first choice, alright!¡±


    Cornelius shook his head as he squeezed into the toy box on wheels.


    ¡°Are we even allowed to drive on the roads with this thing?¡±


    ¡°Har har!¡± Jacks scowled as he put the thing in reverse.


    Cornelius noticed a spider waving goodbye in a second-story window. He waved back. ¡°Alright, Jacks. Debrief me.¡±


    Jacks was a short, slim man with close-cut brown hair and a permanent scowl. Though the scowl may have just been because he was around Cornelius.


    ¡°They want to discuss a potential deal before the summit. And you were asked for specifically. I do not have any more details. Oriana was rather stingy with those.¡±


    She probably didn''t want to give them time to prepare. That was just like her.


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    They sat in uncomfortable silence as Jacks navigated the confusing mess of cul de sacs.


    As they left Biggin Drive, Cornelius broke the silence.


    ¡°Got any tips?¡±


    Jacks stared at him, taking his eyes completely off the road. They drove straight through a stop sign.


    ¡°The road, Jacks.¡±


    The mage snapped his eyes back to the road with a yelp.


    ¡°You are asking me for advice? Seriously?¡±


    Cornelius nodded. ¡°Yes, seriously. You''re an experienced diplomat, and I''m not. I could use some advice.¡±


    ¡°Well. I did not think this day would ever come. The great Switch Shot asking me for advice!¡± He glanced up, then shook his head.


    ¡°Just had to make certain the sky was not falling down.¡±


    Cornelius scowled. ¡°Don''t call me the Switch Shot, dammit! Are you going to give me some advice or not?¡±


    ¡°Do not begrudge me a little fun, Cornelius. As for my advice¡­be the opposite of yourself.¡±


    ¡°Wow. Thanks.¡±


    ¡°I mean it. Think before you speak, listen to what others are saying, and try to grasp what is behind their words. As for this meeting in particular, just follow my lead and stick to your role.¡±


    ¡°Which is?¡±


    ¡°The brute,¡± he said plainly.


    ¡°My, this little talk is reminding me why I don''t like you.¡±


    ¡°I mean it,¡± Jacks said. And some of the arrogance faded from his voice.


    ¡°They expect you to be the Switch Shot, and they have a very specific view of how the Switch Shot is going to act. So I want you to lean into it.¡±


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Cornelius paused, another barb dying on his tongue. Jacks had solid reasoning that was actually free of insults.


    After a few minutes of thought, he spoke up. ¡°Oriana knows me. Not well, but enough that my reputation alone isn''t going to fool her.¡±


    ¡°True, but she will not be the only one there. It may not work on her, but her opinion is not the only one that matters.¡±


    Cornelius wasn''t sure he agreed with Jacks on that. Oriana was the head of the house and was responsible for most of their recent success. If she made a decision, few in the house could stand against her, much less choose to.


    But Cornelius would take the man''s advice. Lean into their assumptions? That was nothing new to him. And despite Jacks being¡­himself, Cornelius was glad to have someone experienced with him. And at the very least, he didn''t have to face Oriana by himself.


    ~<>~<>~


    The meeting was taking place at a property the Larouta had just bought. Said property was a modern mansion in the Overlook, the wealthiest neighborhood in town.


    The road up here had been freshly paved and painted, and even the trees lining the road looked prettier. Though not even the obviously rich could escape the blanket of strangeness that hung over the town.


    Roads that lead to nowhere split off from the main drive, and while most of the mansions seemed relatively tame, a black sheep would rear its head every now and then.


    Cornelius took special note of one house that was just a giant stone tower, painted brown and green to blend in with the trees.


    It looked like a mage tower of old dressed up in camouflage.


    They pulled into the Larouta¡¯s drive, and Cornelius took in their newest mansion.


    It was a little worrying. While an obvious display of wealth was hardly out of character for them, buying that mansion was a clear signal that they intended to stick their claws into the town.


    Jacks pulled to a stop, and Cornelius unfolded himself out of the car.


    The mansion was a sleek mix of glass, wood, and stone that stretched up at least four stories. It was capped with an arched roof that cast the front steps in shadow.


    It was a little modern for Cornelius¡¯s taste, but he couldn¡¯t deny its beauty.


    And it gave off the exact kind of casual wealth he expected from the Larouta. The front door was made from a rich black wood that looked like it had been freshly painted, and an ornate iron knocker that sat in a fox¡¯s mouth hung in the center of the door.


    Cornelius knocked three times. The ambient magic trembled ever so slightly.


    Odd.


    The door opened immediately. A tan man stood on the other side, his black hair slicked black and his butler¡¯s uniform spotless.


    Of course, they had a butler.


    ¡°Please come this way.¡± The man''s voice was quiet, and Cornelius had to strain to hear him. Nevertheless, he followed the butler inside. The entryway led to a long hallway dotted with expensive-looking paintings. There were no side doors or intersections, but he noticed a few slits in the ceiling.


    This hallway¡­ Oriana couldn¡¯t have been in town for more than a handful of days, but she had already made defensive alterations to the house. This hallway was designed to funnel attackers, limiting their effective numbers and giving the defending mages a clear line of fire.


    He¡¯d bet the walls were reinforced with something stronger than plain wood, and those slits in the ceiling probably hid a steel portcullis.


    A team of spooks could work fast, but this was still impressive.


    The walls and floor were the same mix of dark wood and grey stone as the exterior, and there were plenty of tasteful design choices that Cornelius promptly ignored.


    Instead, he scanned for danger while trying his best to appear relaxed.


    He didn¡¯t think they¡¯d attack them. Two emissaries of the Knull clan arriving in good faith? If the Laurota attacked them now, with war looming on the horizon, not only would the other factions not want to have dealings with them, but they might take up arms against the house.


    If that happened, their own clan would be forced to hand them over or risk war.


    No, he knew they weren¡¯t going to attack them. But he knew Oriana. And that meant he was never going to feel comfortable around the woman. Especially not with his aura veiled.


    Having it pulled so close to his skin was suffocating. It felt like walking around with a bag over his head. And the discomfort would only grow worse the longer he was veiled, like a cramp that just kept building.


    He¡¯d been told that the discomfort did eventually level out, but he had never left himself veiled for long enough to find out. He hated how vulnerable it made him feel.


    They exited the hallway into an intersection. He noted that each branching hallway was an identical copy of the others. Yet another design to confuse attackers. He wasn''t surprised, but he was impressed.


    The butler turned left, and the two of them followed a few steps behind. Jacks sped up till he was walking beside Cornelius. ¡°Remember, let me do the talking when you can,¡± he whispered. ¡°You''re the intimidating muscle today.¡±


    Cornelius nodded. ¡°I remember, Jacks. Just make sure she doesn''t get you to agree to something you shouldn''t.¡± The man''s scowl deepened. ¡°I know what I''m doing, Cornelius.¡±


    Cornelius looked at the shorter man. The other mage was over a hundred, though he only looked forty. He had decades of experience as a diplomat and negotiator. He wasn''t going to be manipulated into a lousy deal¡­hopefully.


    He wanted to tell himself that he was too on edge, but he couldn''t make himself relax.


    The butler eventually led them to a small study. It was darker than the rest of the house he¡¯d seen so far. A small fireplace crackled in the corner, and a row of lit candles lined its mantle.


    There was a desk on the wall opposite the fire, its surface shadowed as the window behind it was smothered by dark red curtains.


    The only light source in the room came from the candles and the fireplace, and sitting next to it in a brown leather armchair was Oriana.


    She was a striking woman who looked to be somewhere in her thirties, though Cornelius didn''t actually know her actual age.


    She wore a sleek black dress and had her long black hair spilling over her shoulders, blending in with the dress. She raised a wine glass to them and gestured to the couch across from her.


    ¡°Cornelius, Jacks, please, sit.¡± Her voice was smooth and practiced, like a radio host, and touched with a faint Italian accent.


    They sat, Cornelius never taking his eyes off the woman.


    She took a sip of wine and met his eyes over the glass.


    Her eyes were not human. There was no iris or pupil, not even a white. Instead, he stared into two black, faceted gemstones.


    It was her family''s bloodline. All main house members had eyes like hers, though they varied in color. Aside from their striking appearance, they gave the Laurotas incredible sight. Not only could they see the mortal world better than normal humans, but their vision of magic was unrivaled amongst the clans.


    Lips marked with dark lipstick quirked into a smile as she lowered her glass. ¡°Cornelius. It''s been too long.¡±


    He gave his best fake smile. It wasn''t very good. He could go the rest of his life without seeing her again, and it still wouldn''t be long enough.


    She laughed, the sound rich and full. ¡°I see you''re still not much of an actor.¡±


    She turned her faceted gaze to Jacks. ¡°Jacks, it has not been nearly as long since I saw you last, but it is a pleasure all the same.¡±


    Jacks inclined his head. ¡°The pleasure is ours, Oriana.¡±


    She swirled her wine, gaze drifting between them. ¡°Can I offer either of you refreshments? Drinks, perhaps?¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± Jacks said. Her black eyes shifted to Cornelius, and her smile grew, a hint of white teeth showing through. ¡°I¡¯d offer you one as well, but I don''t think you¡¯d drink anything I gave you.¡±


    For a moment, the floral scent of the candles was replaced with mildew, moss, and blood.


    ¡°No. I wouldn''t.¡±


    Jacks cleared his throat. ¡°I was under the impression that there would be other members of your house here?¡±


    So much for putting on an act, Oriana knew him well enough to see through any ruse he tried to put up.


    ¡°Something came up, and we decided that I would have to take this meeting by myself. I apologize for not informing you of the change earlier.¡±


    Jacks fake smile was much, much better than Cornelius¡¯s. ¡°It is no trouble.¡± He crossed a leg. ¡°But let us get down to business. Why did you ask for this meeting?¡±


    ¡°I am on something of a time constraint, so I will get to the point.¡±


    Her eyes settled on Cornelius. ¡°I want you to duel a member of my house at the summit. Before we get to the matter of the Barrow King, of course.¡±


    It was a struggle to stay quiet and let Jacks speak.


    ¡°Why would we agree to that? And why do you want a duel in the first place.¡±


    Her smile didn''t waver. ¡°I will not be dueling personally. It will be my cousin, Alex. Cornelius insulted him a few years back at a gala. This will be the stated reason for the duel.¡±


    Cornelius had to fight to avoid clenching his fists. This was what he hated about the clans and the factions in general. They were two weeks away from declaring open war, but that didn''t stop any of them from jockeying for any advantage they could get their hands on.


    They treated it like a game. And used the people under them as pieces.


    He took a deep breath and reminded himself that this was exactly why he had wanted this position. So he could try and make sure the Knull made the right choices.


    And despite how much he hated this jockeying, he couldn''t just say no out of hand, especially when he hadn''t heard what Oriana was offering.


    ¡°So, you want a duel for your cousin,¡± Jacks said. ¡°What do you have to gain? You know Cornelius will not lose on purpose.¡±


    She nodded. ¡°I am aware. But I do not need my cousin to beat Cornelius or even draw. You see, my house has not put on any great showing of magical might recently, and it is starting to hurt our reputation.¡± She shifted and took another sip. ¡°We are known as schemers. Plenty will listen to us when we propose a plan, but other factions do not have much confidence in our ability to protect shared assets.¡±


    ¡°So having one of your members put up a good fight against the Switch Shot will look good for your house as a whole.¡±


    ¡°Just so.¡±


    ¡°And what would we gain from this proposal?¡± Jacks asked.


    She held up a hand and raised three black-coated fingernails. ¡°Three. In the next three dealings with your clan, we will ensure they lean in your favor, so long as that does not incur any reputation loss to us. We will also free up some of our main house members to help the Knull when you need our sight, free of charge. And lastly,¡± she dropped her hand, letting it rest against the armchair.


    ¡°I will give my personal advice once, and only once, on any matter, your clan asks of me. And I am willing to swear a Shrouded Oath that I will answer with the best interests of your clan in mind.¡±


    The room was silent save for the soft crackling of the fire.


    That was¡­a lot to offer. And that last point¡­ Oriana had pulled house Laurota out of their downward spiral with a mix of careful planning, calculated ruthlessness, and startling insight. If she was offering advice, mages centuries her senior would listen.


    ¡°That is¡­ quite a lot you are offering,¡± Jacks said, mirroring Cornelius¡¯s thoughts.


    Oriana set her glass down and straightened. ¡°I am simply offering what I consider to be a fair trade. And like I said, I am rather pressed for time, so I would skip the haggling.¡±


    ¡°Gentlemen, do we have a deal?¡±


    Cornelius stared at her, a numb feeling settling over him.


    Agree? Or tell Oriana to go to hell?


    He wanted to tell her to go to hell, wanted it so badly that he was shocked he had held himself back so far. But was that what was best for the clan?


    While storming out of here and telling Oriana that he wouldn''t play games with war looming would be gratifying, what would that actually achieve? Aside from his own satisfaction.


    It would hurt the Larouta. He was sure of that. She would never have asked for this meeting in the first place unless they really needed the reputation bump.


    But was he really okay with agreeing to this? A petty fake duel before the factions discussed the largest threat this century?


    Was he okay with playing games before war if it benefited his clan?


    He hated this. Calculating what his own values were worth to him, weighing the scale, seeing when it tipped far enough for him to discard what he believed for the greater good.


    But how many terrible things had been done because they were for the greater good.


    Sure, this wasn''t so bad, as such things went. Just a duel at an inappropriate time. But that meant he was sliding. Maybe just a step. But sliding all the same.


    Sure, it might not be too bad this time. But how far would it be next time? Or the time after that? How many steps would he move the line before he forgot where it was?


    He took a deep breath. He was spiraling. Being near her was making him lose control, and a mage couldn''t lose that.


    Deep, smooth breaths. Water took what came, it adapted, and while it might roll and froth, eventually, it settled back to a state of balance.


    As his mind settled into a water shift, he thought over the options in front of him.


    After a minute of far calmer pondering, Cornelius made his choice.


    Jacks had opened his mouth. ¡°We will gladly¡ª¡±


    ¡°We need more time,¡± Cornelius cut him off.


    Jacks glared at Cornelius, but he ignored the man. He was the one who would be dueling, and they now had the same rank in the clan. They couldn''t do this if Cornelius said no.


    ¡°You need time to think it over? What, exactly, do you need to think on? I believe my terms are more than reasonable.¡±


    Cornelius met those coal eyes without flinching.


    ¡°I need time. To think if accepting will gain the clan more than it costs.¡±


    Black gems studied Cornelius. For what he couldn''t say.


    After a few tense seconds, Oriana smiled. ¡°Very well. I¡¯ll be expecting an answer before the summit starts.¡±


    She crossed a leg, and her smile grew sharper.


    The two diplomats rose from the couch and nodded to Oriana.


    ¡°And I apologize for the lack of drinks. Our talks moved faster than Margo could.¡±


    ¡°It is no trouble at all.¡±


    Jacks was managing to avoid glaring at Cornelius though he could tell the man was struggling.


    As they said their goodbyes and turned away, Oriana spoke, ¡°And Cornelius.¡±


    He turned back to look at her. Her smile had lost any semblance of reserve or control. If it had been sharp before, now it was a drawn knife.


    ¡°Don''t be a stranger. You''re welcome to stop by whenever you like.¡±


    Thanks to his water shift, his face didn''t change, even when her words sent a wave of cold rage coursing through him.


    He gave her a polite smile and inclined his head. ¡°I will keep that in mind.¡±


    Her eyes reflected the firelight like cracked glass, and he imagined they reflected the heat too, as the miniature fires danced in black crystal.


    He felt that heat linger on his back as he walked out the door.

 The Silent Straits

    David, you fool!  We were warned what would happen if you spoke so much as a word in the Straits!


    But you did not listen. Not even the witch¡¯s most dire warning were enough to still your wagging tongue.


    Now our party of five is two fewer.


    ¡­But despite your folly and lack of body, I will still honor you with a grave. The local graveyard will do as well as any.  You deserve that much, at least.


    And not all is lost¡­two is still enough. It has to be.


    ~<>~<>~


    The trees changed, and my day got worse.


    Brown and green shifted, patches of ash gray beginning to appear in the bark and needles.


    The temperature plummeted until my breath came out in puffs of fog.  Then the ground leveled out, and we came fully into the Straits.


    A narrow stream bubbled up from the ground, stretching out ahead of us like a red carpet.  The trees had changed completely.  The pines were now ash white, and the needles a sickly violet that occasionally pulsed with light.


    I took a deep breath, nodded to Blair, then stepped into the Straits.  Not being able to talk is a strange experience.  And I don¡¯t mean not talking, that¡¯s easy.  But when you feel like staying quiet or just don¡¯t have anything to say, that¡¯s a choice.


    You could still talk if you wanted to.  Not being able to speak at all is a very different beast.


    The most instinctual form of communication is cut off from you.  Something so fundamental to our day-to-day lives that most of us don¡¯t even think about it is suddenly something that will get you killed.


    I hated this region.


    Going through the Pass at all was hard. I didn¡¯t handle being alone well.  Sure, I liked to have some time to myself, but six days of isolation?


    It brought back memories from before Rogers found me.  Before I had a family.


    The rest of the Pass made me feel alone, but I couldn¡¯t even talk to myself in the Straits.


    Blair bumped me, snapping my attention back to our surroundings.  Fog had risen around us, adding to the eerie atmosphere. And I could see a few maple trees lining the stream, their ashen bark pulsing with violet light.


    The air smelled like¡­ nothing. And I don¡¯t mean scrubbed clean like a hospital. That still smelled like disinfectant.  The Straits literally had no smell to it. Once you crossed a certain point, the water, the trees, the dirt and leaves, none of it existed as far as my nose was concerned.


    It was disorienting for me, but it had to be so much worse for Blair.


    Humans used their noses plenty, but we practically didn¡¯t have them compared to werewolves.


    Many normal animals had senses dozens to hundreds of times stronger than ours, but werewolves¡¯ senses of smell were literally supernatural.  My brain couldn¡¯t even process all of the sensory information their noses gave them.


    Which was something I probably should have thought about when giving Blair the down-low about the Straights.


    I winced as she stumbled.  I had to fight the urge to apologize.  She looked around and sneezed, then glared down at me.  This probably isn¡¯t surprising, but having a giant, red-eyed wolf glare at you is a little unnerving.


    I gave an apologetic look, not wanting to risk even mouthing the words.  Blair shook her head slightly, then turned back to the Straits.  I felt terrible about not warning her, and I couldn¡¯t help dwelling on it.


    That had been so stupid of me!  How could I have overlooked the lack of smells?  Stupid!  Stupid!


    It would have been like suddenly going blind for her! I should apologize again.


    I turned to Blair and opened my mouth, then froze.


    Something was very wrong.


    I shook my head, trying to step back from the direction my thoughts had been going.


    It was only then that I felt it. Tendrils of magic brushing about my head.  They felt cold and barren against my senses, and when I squinted my eyes, they appeared as streams of pink and violet mixing amongst the fog.


    An icy pit that had nothing to do with the chill formed in my stomach.


    The Straits had just tried to affect my mind.  It had never done that before.


    The region had an oppressive, cold weight to it, but it¡¯d never attempted to touch my mind directly.


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    Now that I was thinking about it, I hadn¡¯t felt that weight yet.


    I shuddered.


    The Straits had been laying low while trying to sink its tendrils into me¡­


    I barely had time to realize just how close I had come to speaking before a cold weight slammed down on us.


    I staggered and had to grab onto Blair just to avoid falling in the stream.  Said stream began to flow faster, and the pulsing purple light spread into the water.


    The weight pressing down on us was immense, and it reminded me of Grumpy¡¯s aura if all of the malicious, irritable energy was replaced with unfeeling, unending cold.


    The temperature dropped further, and I saw ice form on the ground.


    Holy shit!  What triggered this?  The only thing I could think of was Blair; I¡¯d never gone through the Pass with another person before.  And I had only seen the aftermath from Old Tom.


    The pulsing light started coming faster and faster until it reminded me of a pounding heart.  The stream roared around us, and while my hiking boots were waterproof, I could feel the cold seeping into me regardless.


    Blair started to move again, and I followed.  But after only a few steps, I stumbled and almost fell.  The stream had grown, and the current was strong enough to make walking tricky.


    Blair stopped, then twisted to look at me.  I met her eyes and didn¡¯t see any of the panic I was beginning to feel, only calm focus.  She twisted further to point at her back and then back to me.


    I got the message.


    I flung myself onto her back and wrapped my arms through several straps.  Water sprayed, and the fog blurred as Blair took off like a rocket.


    I immediately realized that I¡¯d made a mistake.


    My arms were thoroughly secured to the pack, and I had a death grip on two of the handles ...But I hadn¡¯t clamped down with my knees.


    My legs flew out from the sudden acceleration, and I was left flapping like a flag as Blair tore down the stream.


    Pain lanced through my shoulder as I flailed, desperately trying to get my legs around Blair.  Try as I might, I couldn¡¯t get a grip as I was flung about. But, despite the pain, I wasn¡¯t about to complain. I¡¯d take just about any punishment over being left in the Straits right now.


    The fog lit up with a sickly purple light, and I felt pressure slam against my mind.  My head started to pound, and Blair staggered.  She caught herself, but her gait was off, almost drunken.


    The force was like having a psychic building fall on me, and it kept coming.


    My mental defenses started to crack, and the pain in my head grew worse.


    Blair stumbled again, and her pace slowed.


    We weren¡¯t going to get out in time. It was going to crush us first.


    I pulled my attention inward, ignoring the pain from my shoulder and head, ignored the strain in my hands and the bitter cold against my skin.  I shut out everything as I focused on the mental boulder that was beginning to crush us.


    It was overwhelming, but I was no stranger to mental attacks.  Ghosts attacked your mind as often as your body.  Whether it was a murder victim wails of grief or a murderer''s bloodlust, a psychic attack from a ghost was no joke.


    There was a lot of variation in mind magic; some forms required magic to counter, while others could only be fought off with raw grit.


    The attack from the Straits was both.  It pushed against my magic along with my will, and I could feel myself giving ground.  The pain in my head was a distant thing, but I felt it grow worse as I was pushed back.  Pretty soon, I would run out of ground to give, and then we would die.


    No.  I wasn¡¯t going down because of an eldritch sucker punch.  I couldn¡¯t outmuscle a werewolf or burn down a mage, but this place was attacking my mind.


    It had picked a battle that I could fight, and by God was I going to fight.


    I shoved against the mental weight.  It was strong, stronger than any ghost I¡¯d ever fought.  But not that much stronger.


    I stopped giving ground.


    An outside emotion cut through the cold.  Surprise.  Then the force grew stronger.


    It felt like gravity had doubled in strength and the pain in my head spiked with it.  I started to slide back again, and Blair slowed to a stumbling crawl.


    I reached deep, deeper inside than I ever had before.  Then I pushed.  The force stopped.  But that wasn¡¯t enough!


    We needed to get out of here, and that wasn¡¯t happening if Blair couldn¡¯t move faster than a walk.


    I kept pushing as I unveiled my aura.  It barely left my body, the mental assault pressing down on my magic as much as my mind.  So I pushed with that too.


    My body spasmed as the pain grew worse, but that didn¡¯t matter. All that mattered was the cold, the weight, and the struggle.


    Straining until I felt like something was going to burst, I took everything I had. Every ounce of will, every trick I had learned from a lifetime fighting ghosts and hurled it against the freezing wall.


    My aura surged, purple and green ballooning out against the mist, and the mental weight was blown back.


    Blair stumbled again as the weight lifted, but a moment later, her unsteadiness vanished.  The weight came crashing back, but I held it back as Blair took off at highway speeds.  The weight continued to press down, and I continued to fight.


    Finally, just when I thought I would pass out from the strain, the weight vanished.  I gasped, then I did pass out.


    It couldn¡¯t have been for long because when I blinked awake, Blair was still sprinting like hell was leaning over our shoulders.


    I glanced around at the maple trees that surrounded us.  I could see the mountains looming above us, but I focused back in on the blessedly normal maple trees.  Not a speck of purple to be seen.  Perfection.


    I shook myself. I needed to get Blair to stop.  If she kept this up, we would be in the next region before we knew it.


    ¡°Blair, stop! We¡¯re safe! We¡¯re safe!¡± She didn¡¯t slow down or give any sign she¡¯d heard me.  I leaned as close to her ear as I could get, then shouted. ¡°We are safe!¡± She flinched but slowed, then stopped.


    We stayed like that for several minutes before Blair finally relaxed.


    I sighed and repeated myself, though I couldn¡¯t say if the words were for Blair or me.


    ¡°We¡¯re safe.¡±

 The Whispering Wraiths

    I laid on my back, a mix of exhaustion and jitters washing over me.


    My head pounded, and the rest of my body wasn¡¯t doing much better, but at least I was alive.


    That had been stressful, to say the least. The Silent Straits had always been one of my least favorite parts of the Pass, but it had never felt so hungry before. It had always been a passive observer waiting for someone to make a mistake. But there hadn¡¯t been anything passive about that.


    Blair, who had been laying beside me, rolled to her feet. Not bothering to turn my head, I followed her with my eyes.


    She turned and stared me down. I wasn¡¯t an expert in wolf expressions, but there weren¡¯t too many things she¡¯d be asking about right now.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what the hell that was about. It¡¯s never done anything even remotely close to that before. It was always oppressive but not¡­not that.¡±


    Blair narrowed her eyes slightly but nodded.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to have to change back. The next region needs constant talking. And while I¡¯m more than capable of doing that the whole time, I doubt you want me to talk at you for an hour.¡±


    Blair had started to turn away when I continued. ¡°And, Blair.¡± She glanced back at me. Her ears perked forward. ¡°Thank you. If you hadn¡¯t kept your head back there, I wouldn¡¯t have made it out.¡±


    She nodded, then gave me a wolfish grin.


    ~<>~<>~


    A half-hour later, she had changed back and quickly got dressed in the same pair of jeans and plain white tee. She started digging through her pack, paused to pull out a bomber jacket, then resumed searching.


    ¡°Let¡¯s have lunch before we move on. Shifting takes a lot of calories.¡±


    My stomach rumbled at the thought of lunch, and I slowly started pulling myself to my feet.


    Blair noticed my struggle and paused, a can of spam in one hand. She was staring at me as I¡¯d just grown an extra head.


    ¡°What? Is it my face? I don¡¯t remember hitting it, but that might be a bad sign now that I¡¯m thinking about it.¡±


    She shook her head, her ponytail bouncing with the motion.


    ¡°No, your face is fine, I- you¡¯re hurt.¡±


    I blinked. Slowly. ¡°¡­Yeah. I- ah. You mean I¡¯m still hurt.¡± She frowned and nodded.


    ¡°Haven¡¯t spent too much time around humans, I¡¯m guessing?¡±


    ¡°No. I haven¡¯t. I knew intellectually that you don¡¯t heal like we do. I suppose it didn¡¯t sink in.¡±


    I grunted. ¡°Yeah, we recover like little bitches compared to you. You get used to it.¡± I winced as my now battered legs protested all this moving around business. ¡°Or not. But hey, them¡¯s the brakes.¡±


    Blair continued to frown as I hobbled over to my pack.


    She was worrying over nothing. While I was hurting, nothing was seriously damaged. Well, my head felt like I had taken a sledgehammer to the temple. But aside from that, nothing was seriously damaged.


    I just needed to do a few stretches, and I would be fine. Or at least good enough to keep going.


    Before I could start the slow process of leaning down, Blair cut me off. She knelt next to my pack and opened it up. ¡°I got it. You want food, right?¡±


    I frowned, but I didn¡¯t have the energy to argue with her. If she wanted to help me, I¡¯d let her.


    ¡°Yeah. Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Which section is foodstuffs¡­¡± She trailed off as she saw the unorganized mess inside. I had been concerned with making sure I had everything in the pack. I¡¯d shown far less care for how things were in the pack.


    ¡°It¡¯s in there¡­somewhere.¡±


    Blair looked up at me like I¡¯d stabbed her.


    ¡°It¡¯s not that bad!¡±


    She gave my pack another pained look then started digging for food.


    ¡°Oh, come on! You didn¡¯t react to Grumpy with this much emotion!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m starting to think Grumpy wasn¡¯t that bad after seeing this shit,¡± she grumbled.


    I laughed. ¡°I see! Malicious beings of vast power are one thing, but messy bags are a step too far?¡±


    She held her hand out flat. ¡°Grumpy.¡± She moved her hand up as far as she could. ¡°Messy bags.¡±


    We chuckled. Blair found the sandwich I had packed faster than I could have. Probably sniffed it out.


    Sandwich in hand, I settled down on a nearby stump.


    I unwrapped my food and took a bite. Tension rolled off me as I sagged in relief. It wasn¡¯t gone, but the meaty food and a bit of joking around did wonders.


    Blair pulled out enough food for three people and started going to town.


    Cans of soup, an overstuffed sandwich, a block of cheese, she descended on all of it with gusto.


    I took another bite of my sandwich as I watched her eat like the food was going to run away.


    I knew that werewolves ate more than humans, but I hadn¡¯t realized just how much more food they needed.


    Well, all that canned food explained why her pack was so unreasonably heavy.


    A few minutes later, we finished our food and got ready to head out.


    ¡°Alright, so normally we would actually sleep here since the Straits usually take a lot longer to walk through. But-uh, we made good time. So I guess we¡¯ll just keep going.¡±


    I glanced at the trail. The next region wasn¡¯t going to have any awful surprises. While I had never traveled the Pass with someone before, I had the memories of several people who had. The Whispering Wraiths responded the same to two people as they did to one.


    Part of me really wanted to just rest, but the following regions were relatively simple, and thanks to the werewolf express, we had plenty of daylight left.


    ¡°We¡¯re heading into The Whispering Wraths. This region is also simple. Talk, and don¡¯t stop. As long as we keep talking, we¡¯ll be fine. However, if we let the conversation drop for more than a handful of seconds, the wraiths start to creep in.¡±


    ¡°Can your magic affect these wraiths?¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°Maybe, but I¡¯m in no hurry to find out.¡±


    Blair stretched, her pack jingling with the sound of cans. She frowned, then took off her pack and started rearranging things.


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°It would drive me insane, the sound might annoy you, but it¡¯s a lot worse on my ears.¡±


    ¡°Fair.¡± I eyed her. ¡°And it¡¯s unorganized.¡±


    She nodded. ¡°And it¡¯s unorganized.¡±


    After a minute of rearranging, we started walking again.


    The trail continued to slope down, and the trees thickened, the maples gradually shifting back to dark pines. The massive things stretched overhead, darkening the Pass and adding a sinister atmosphere. A wet mist rose, snaking between the trees and drifting over the trail.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t this a little odd?¡± Blair asked as a streamer of mist twisted between us. ¡°First, we can¡¯t talk at all. Now we need to talk?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s a little strange. The two neighboring regions are polar opposites to one another. Maybe it¡¯s some kind of magical balance thingy.¡±


    She quirked a brow. ¡°Magical balance thingy?¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Precisely. I didn¡¯t mean to flex with the technical jargon.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I see,¡± she laughed.


    A branch cracked, and Blair¡¯s gaze snapped to the trees. A moment later, her nose flared.


    I didn¡¯t know if she could smell magic, but the Pass probably smelled really weird if she could.


    ¡°So, what does the next zone look like?¡±


    I pursed my lips. ¡°Pretty much like this, just a little eerier. You¡¯re gonna see things out of the corner of your eyes. Ignore them. So long as we keep talking, the wraiths can¡¯t close in.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re sure nothing is going to go wrong this time?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d never seen two people go through the Straits before. I have seen a group go through the Wraiths.¡±


    ¡°Seen? You haven¡¯t traveled with a group yourself?¡±


    I shut up. I had memories, but they weren¡¯t me. Even if I saw them in the first person, they weren¡¯t me.


    But I had never explained the cost of my magic to any living person, and I didn¡¯t want to start now.


    How did I dodge the question? I couldn¡¯t think of a way to avoid it without being obvious.


    Well, just be obvious then.


    ¡°I have seen a group travel through parts of the Pass. This information is one hundred percent reliable. You can smell that I¡¯m being honest. I would prefer not to elaborate further.¡±


    Would she accept that or push harder?


    Blair¡¯s mask rose, and dark blue eyes settled on me. We walked in silence as she studied me but didn¡¯t press.


    The path darkened further as the mist thickened. Shallow whispers started up at the edge of my hearing, and out of the corner of my eye, I caught dark shapes moving through the mist.


    I took a drink from my water bottle then broke the silence.


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    ¡°Alright, quiet time is over.¡±


    I tried to crack my knuckles but only got a few measly pops. ¡°What are your feelings on Furbies?¡±


    The forms that had begun to circle paused at the sound of my voice.


    Blair gave me a look. ¡°Why Furbies?¡±


    ¡°We have to talk about something. Why not Furbies?¡±


    ¡°Because they¡¯re creepy little monsters.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°And now I know that you¡¯re not a psychopath, see? Useful question.¡±


    She snorted. ¡°Alright, I guess I¡¯ll ask something. Hmm, coffee or tea.¡±


    ¡°Coffee,¡± I answered immediately. ¡°But I¡¯m not opposed to leaf juice. You?¡±


    ¡°Fifty-fifty.¡±


    The forest had continued to thicken around us until the canopy blocked out the sun, casting the trail into twilight.


    More wraiths drifted at the edges of sight; their subtle whispers drowned out by our voices.


    ¡°Favorite type of food?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Uh, top three?¡±


    ¡°Thai, Italian, and seafood.¡±


    ¡°Just seafood in general?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°Pretty much, yeah.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. I guess¡­ Japanese, Korean, and fries.¡±


    ¡°Fries? That doesn¡¯t count as a food type.¡±


    ¡°You picked seafood!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a much broader type than fries.¡±


    ¡°Bah!¡±


    The mist thickened, brushing against our legs as it completely covered the path.


    I needed to find another topic. More than five seconds of quiet was dangerous.


    More food-related things? Animals maybe? No time, talk.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been wondering about something werewolf-related.¡±


    Blair glanced at me. ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°You use the word alpha. Why? I read that the study that coined the term was done on captive wolves that didn¡¯t act like they do in the wild. And that the guy who did the study doesn¡¯t agree with it anymore. He¡¯s spent his time trying to debunk all the alpha stuff. But werewolves still use it.¡±


    Blair paused, realized she couldn¡¯t take her time, then spoke. ¡°Irony.¡±


    ¡°Irony?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, irony. When people started using the term to refer to wolves, some packs started using it ironically. They found it funny. However, It pissed some werewolves off. It made one pack so angry that they started telling other werewolves that they couldn¡¯t call themselves alphas.¡±


    I laughed.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m sure you can guess how a bunch of prideful werewolves responded to being told they couldn¡¯t do something. Made the name stick like glue.¡±


    We stepped over a small stream that cut right through the trail.


    ¡°Plus, we are not wolves. The whole alpha thing doesn¡¯t apply to real wolves, but it¡¯s a decent enough fit for us. The most trusted and capable member of a pack leads. Leader, alpha, president. Plenty of terms are used. Alpha¡¯s just the most common one right now.¡±


    ¡°Huh, well, the more you know. Kinda great that you adopted a term out of spite, though. I respect that kind of commitment.¡±


    She laughed. ¡°I¡¯ve been wondering about something myself.¡±


    ¡°Shoot.¡±


    ¡°How did you scare George off? I highly doubt you submitted to his bullying, and as isolated as that graveyard is, I wouldn¡¯t put it past him to kill you.¡±


    I smiled. ¡°Oh, he wanted to. But I put him in something of a lose-lose situation. He was going to lose some face regardless of what he did, and then we hit ¡¯em with the ghostly hoard routine.¡±


    ¡°Ghostly hoard?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, we have a couple of moves in the playbook, but that one¡¯s a favorite. All the ghosts in the area come together and start doing some real creepy shit. A ghost child making ominous threats really gets to most people.¡±


    ¡°And a werewolf can¡¯t handle ghostly witnesses. The whole town would know. Though he barely seems to care about that.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Though he cared enough to back off. But the promises that they would never get a full night¡¯s sleep again certainly helped.¡±


    My smile faltered. ¡°But it wouldn¡¯t work on healthier packs. He was worried about getting shot and looking weak. He would have still killed me, of course. But if he wasn¡¯t worried about his appearance, I might not have lived long enough for ghosts to arrive.¡±


    I gave Blair some side-eye. ¡°Plus, if the spook is fast enough, they don¡¯t even need to worry about getting shot.¡±


    She blushed.


    I blinked. I hadn¡¯t been expecting that.


    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m sorry about that.¡±


    She froze. I stopped as well. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    She stared at me like I was an alien creature. ¡°That was easy.¡±


    ¡°¡­Okay? Apology accepted.¡±


    Blair shook her head. ¡°No, that was easy! It¡¯s never easy!¡± Her hands clenched into fists, and she looked like she was on the verge of shouting.


    I was clearly missing something here, but I wasn¡¯t sure what.


    ¡°Apologizing isn¡¯t easy for you?¡±


    Blair opened her mouth, then hesitated.


    ¡°Take your time. I¡¯ll blather to keep the wraiths away.¡±


    I started saying random crap, with no rhyme or reason to connect the words.


    Blair was obviously upset, and I was starting to think this was a werewolf problem.


    I had been considering asking about why she seemed to flip flop between aggressive and reasonable. It would have been awkward, but I couldn''t avoid awkward questions with the potential power I could be giving them.


    But now, maybe I wouldn¡¯t need to ask. I felt shitty, having such a calculating view of her emotional distress, but I couldn¡¯t afford to be squeamish about this.


    If I gave them vouchers and they abused that power, or just made the wrong call, then I would have blood on my hands.


    ¡°What is your aura?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± The question caught me totally off guard, and it took my brain a few seconds to catch up. Dark, wispy forms had closed in from the mists by the time it did.


    The wraiths were indistinct, vaguely humanoid figures that cut through the mist like eels. A frantic whispering tore at us from every direction. The words were impossible to make out, but they grated at my ears.


    ¡°Why are you asking?¡± my brain was running at overdrive. We¡¯d stayed silent for too long, so I couldn¡¯t take my time to gather my thoughts. The wraiths froze at my words, and, thankfully, Blair started talking before I had to blather some more.


    ¡°I know you¡¯re a Telss.¡±


    Her talking gave me a few seconds to gather my thoughts. Questions about my aura were dangerous, that was heading in a direction I didn¡¯t like¡ª her words registered, and I stiffened up.


    SHIT!


    How did she find out? Did she know enough about mage magic to understand how rare spirit auras were? Was it something else?


    Blair began to blather to keep the wraiths at bay.


    ¡°I¡ª ah, are you going to sell me to the clans?¡±


    Well, there went my chances of trying to deny it. Not that it would have worked anyway.


    She gave me a cool look. ¡°No. Did you think I was joking when I named you a friend of the pack?¡±


    Her eyes narrowed, and she took a step closer, looming over me. ¡°I mean what I say, Alder.¡±


    I wanted to believe her, and when I gave it a moment of thought, I realized that I did. If she had wanted to sell me out, she could have done it before we left. A mage clan would have given them their vote in trade for a Telss.


    But she hadn¡¯t.


    ¡°I- ah, I suppose you would have done that already if that was your plan. Thanks, then. For not selling me out.¡±


    A ring of red pulsed across her eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t go back on my word. So, please, tell me what your aura is.¡±


    Her frown deepened at the word please, as if it caught her off guard.


    When you keep something a secret for long enough, the thought of revealing it feels instinctively wrong. But the cat was already out of the bag. She knew I was a Telss, and this was obviously important to her. But why was it important to her?


    ¡°Trade offer. I tell you about my aura, and you tell me why you want to know¡­and why you almost attacked Pebbles.¡±


    Another pulse of red went through her eyes, and if I thought she was looming before, now she was really looming.


    It occurred to me¡ªnot for the first time this trip¡ªthat I was traveling with someone who could kill with a single punch. I didn¡¯t think she would, but it was a uniquely terrifying kind of helplessness.


    It was like being a child again. Everyone around you can hurt you, but you can¡¯t return the favor. You lived because the giants around you allowed it.


    ¡°Fine,¡± Blair said after a minute of extremely uncomfortable chattering on my part.


    I shifted, causing a bolt of pain to shoot through me. It hadn¡¯t been too bad while we were walking, but we¡¯d stopped long enough for my body to realize just how battered it was.


    I figured not to push my luck and go first.


    Talking about my aura still felt wrong, but I forced the feeling down. ¡°I can affect ghosts and spirits, obviously. I can weigh them down. And interrupt their magic if I hit them fast enough. They also can¡¯t hide from me.¡±


    ¡°Any other effects? She cut in. ¡°Auras affect emotions. What does yours do?¡±


    ¡°Mainly cause me trouble,¡± I grumbled. ¡°I have to keep it veiled, partly to avoid attracting a mage¡¯s attention, but also It gives off a certain vibe, which tends to pull in predators. Once had a bear amble up to my front porch, only to lay down and take a nap. But another time, I woke up to a different bear trying to break down my door.


    It¡¯s a bit of coin toss as for whether or not my aura will make a predator want to attack me or protect me.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡±


    ¡°No. Just give me a second. I¡¯m not used to talking about this.¡± I took a deep breath. This was harder than I thought it was going to be.


    ¡°Its main emotional effect is why it draws predators. It¡¯s¡­ balancing. It just feels kinda cool to me, but for others, it¡¯s like an emotional safe space. It turns someone towards an emotional neutral. Gives them a clear head. But I guess it makes me look like a tempting target to predators.¡±


    I shuffled awkwardly. Blair wasn¡¯t looming anymore, but she was still uncomfortably close.


    She didn¡¯t seem to notice.


    ¡°It can still be overpowered, though. Someone angry or scared enough is just going to ignore it. But if they were trying to regain control, it would help.¡±


    Blair had never stopped staring at me, but when I mentioned control, her gaze grew so intense that I thought she was trying to stare right through me.


    ¡°I¡­see.¡±


    Her hands clenched and unclenched several times before she found her voice.


    ¡°What do you know of werewolf magic?¡±


    ¡°Uh, just the basics. The shift obviously. Increased strength, toughness, and speed. Crazy healing. Oh, and that you get stronger the closer it is to the full moon.¡±


    She nodded. ¡°Our abilities are not the only things that get stronger closer to the full moon. Our instincts increase in proportion to our other strengths. Which is why-¡± she cut off and shook her head.


    ¡°I need to back up a few steps. We have a bond to the moon. It¡¯s in every werewolf from the moment we¡¯re born, and it¡¯s impossible to remove. Not even tearing our soul out would do it.¡±


    I blinked. That was an oddly specific example.


    ¡°This Bond grows over time, thickening, deepening. A hundred-year-old werewolf is a very different beast than a twenty-year-old. And the truly ancient of our race are closer to demigods than they are to their younger kin.¡±


    She took a deep breath and forcefully unclenched her hands. It seemed she had as much trouble talking about this as I did about my aura.


    ¡°But the Bond isn¡¯t always helpful¡ªthe stronger the Bond, the stronger the instincts. Werewolves can¡­ out-pace themselves. In times of war or similar situations where a Were has to fight and draw on their Bond constantly, it grows too fast for our Willpower to keep up.¡±


    My eyes widened as I understood.


    ¡°I was born with a Bond comparable to a century-old Were. But not the trained Will to match. Keeping myself from¡­ acting on those instincts. It¡¯s a constant fight.¡±


    ¡°Which is why you almost attacked Pebbles. He was a challenge.¡±


    She clenched her jaw and nodded.


    I started blathering as I thought over what she¡¯d told me.


    The fact that she was constantly fighting against an unwanted influence and that she might not always win that fight was worrying.


    But that was coming from me? I had best be careful not to break any walls in this nice glasshouse.


    It was also damn impressive if she was keeping herself¡­herself and managing to lead her small pack at the same time.


    ¡°So apologizing is hard because foreign instincts are screaming at you?¡± I concluded.


    Her gaze sharpened as she snapped, ¡°they are not foreign!¡±


    I leaned back at the force in her words.


    ¡°They can be monstrous, but they aren¡¯t some outside force. They¡¯re part of me. The problem isn¡¯t that they exist. It¡¯s that they are out of balance.¡±


    She growled, the sound so deep that it shook the mist. ¡°They change at times, but parts of them are as unchangeable as your body¡¯s response to drowning. It¡¯s hardwired into you. Even if it¡¯s something you don¡¯t like, you can¡¯t just turn it off.


    Admitting fault, admitting weakness, it feels wrong around almost everyone.¡±


    She met my eyes. ¡°But you. I was able to apologize, ask instead of demand, and it was easy.¡±


    ¡°My aura.¡±


    ¡°Your aura,¡± she nodded. ¡°It seems that we got lucky on that coin toss.¡±


    I swallowed as I imagined what Blair would be like if I hadn¡¯t gotten lucky.


    ¡°Yeah. Really lucky.¡±

 Grocery Store Showdown

    ¡°So, why a grocery store?¡± Dalton asked as he climbed out of the car.


    Cornelius walked towards said grocery store, a brown and green building with a green-trimmed roof. ¡°Because, my young apprentice, we need groceries.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Damn, we¡¯ve been doing so much clan stuff that it¡¯s melted my brain.¡±


    ¡°It happens to the best of us. You get so caught up in the chaos of the paranormal that you forget that things like grocery stores still exist.¡± Cornelius glanced up at the sign over the building. Barry¡¯s Guns and Groceries.


    ¡°¡­Or a grocery and gun store in this case.¡±


    He paused at the shop¡¯s front door. A wooden sign hung in front of it with ¡°WIPE YOUR FEET¡± written out in all caps.


    He and Dalton obliged the sign and wiped their feet on the doormat.


    The small doorbell announced their entrance. Cornelius was immediately struck by how¡­clean the place was. Not just the appearance, which was spotless, but even the smell. It wasn¡¯t an antiseptic smell like a hospital either, instead, it was¡­ clean. That was the only word he could think of.


    The store interior was split in two, with one half a normal grocery store, while the other was the aforementioned gun shop.


    It was a little odd, but that seemed to be the theme in this town.


    They split off, and Cornelius headed for the deli section.


    The spiders had expressed a desire for meatballs, and Cornelius had agreed to make some.


    He was fairly certain that normal spiders couldn¡¯t eat meat without liquefying it first. But normal spiders couldn¡¯t grow to human size or speak in your head either.


    He grabbed a pound of beef and turkey then paused. There were a lot of spiders.


    ¡­quite a few pounds of meat later, he moved on with a substantially heavier cart. Dalton passed him and tossed a can of sardines into the cart.


    He gave his apprentice a pained look. ¡°Why are you this way?¡±


    Dalton glared. ¡°Hey, do I go and criticize you for wearing that stupid raincoat all the time?¡±


    ¡°You do.¡±


    ¡°I only say a fraction of the things that come to mind.¡±


    ¡°Just how strongly do you feel about my coat?¡±


    Dalton went on as if he hadn¡¯t heard him. ¡°So the least you can do is let me enjoy my food in peace.¡±


    Cornelius eyed his apprentice, then slid the can further away from the rest of the food.


    Dalton rolled his eyes and walked off. No doubt searching for another awful item to add to the cart.


    Cornelius wandered with no particular destination in mind as he idly browsed the shelves.


    Something as mundane as shopping had an oddly relaxing quality to it. It was simple. No doubts about whether he was wasting his time as a diplomat. No questioning if he was letting the clan down by not spending every spare moment as a good little soldier.


    Or if he should agree to have a petty fight before they discuss open war.


    He sighed and rested his head against the pickle aisle.  The metal was cool against his scalp, comforting.


    What kind of store even had a pickle aisle?


    He straightened, then snatched a bottle of dill pickles.


    The door rang, and Cornelius glanced up.


    It spoke to just how clean the shop was that the first thing he noticed about the newcomers was their muddy shoes.


    That mud stood out like red ink on a newspaper as they trounced in.


    The second thing that struck him was that the strangers were werewolves. He recognized the signs; the muscled builds, effortless grace, and the way they walked in an unconscious formation. It screamed Were¡¯s.


    He turned his attention back to shopping but shaped his aura to follow them. He didn¡¯t fully envelop them since if any of them could sense that, it would be a clear sign of aggression on his part. He just wanted to keep track of them.


    Best not to leave your back exposed to unfamiliar spooks.


    They made their way straight to the back counter, ignoring the two of them as they passed.


    He made a whisper-soft ¡°Tss¡± sound as the group passed. One of their gazes flicked to him at the noise¡ªdefinitely a Were. A human couldn¡¯t have picked up on a sound that soft from over ten feet away.


    He kept magical tabs on the group of five, but aside from that, he put them from his mind.


    This town had a lot of spooks already, and every day closer to the summit would cause that number to jump. A small pack in the grocery store was nothing to get worried over.


    Fate immediately conspired to prove Cornelius wrong. As soon as the pack reached the back counter, they started yelling.


    ¡°Hey! Whoever owns this dump, come out here!¡±


    Their words and tone made his back stiffen. He knew what someone spoiling for a fight sounded like.


    Leaving his cart in the pickle aisle, he started moving closer to the group.


    Their Alpha was a tall blond man built like a bear. He wore an expensive leather jacket. The rest of the pack wore matching pairs.


    It wasn¡¯t a bad coat per se, but he didn¡¯t think the man, or any of the others, pulled it off.


    After a few seconds of yelling, a shaggy man walked out from the back.


    He was tall, probably around 6¡¯1, with wide shoulders and a barrel chest. His hair was jet black and completely untamed, jutting out as if he¡¯d just been struck by lightning.


    His clothes were clean but mismatched as if he¡¯d just grabbed the first things he saw.


    Cornelius couldn¡¯t make out his face behind his equally wild beard, but he was clearly unimpressed by the Were¡¯s.


    ¡°What do you want,¡± he said, his words brusk.


    The Alpha sneered. ¡°Your voucher.¡±


    The man blinked. ¡°What?¡±


    Cornelius stared at the werewolves. What indeed?


    Who tried to get vouchers by being an ass? Were they that dumb, or were they doing it on purpose? And judging by his reaction, the man wasn¡¯t even a spook.


    ¡°Don¡¯t play dumb. I can smell the magic in this place.¡±


    Both the shaggy man¡¯s and Cornelius¡¯s eyes widened at the Alpha¡¯s words.


    Magic? He hadn¡¯t felt anything different in the store. Sure, the ambient magic was thick here, but it was like that in the whole town. He cast his senses along the shelves and walls but felt nothing.


    If there was magic here, it was too subtle for him to pick up with a deeper scan.


    But if the werewolf had the knack for it, he would be able to sniff out magic. Not every werewolf could do it, but those who could were incredibly useful to have around.


    ¡°Magic?¡± The man leaned against the counter. ¡°I¡¯m not from that side of the street. Look elsewhere if that¡¯s the kind of things you want to buy.¡±


    The werewolves growled. The sound was deep and bestial. And coming from so many chests at once, it caused the nearby shelves to rattle.


    The man¡¯s hand slipped under the counter. Cornelius got ready to step in.


    The doorbell chimed.


    Everyone turned to see a group of three walk in.


    On the left was a tall, willowy woman in her early twenties. She had long black hair that fell over one shoulder in an intricate braid and wore a long brown coat over a black cotton blouse and long pink skirt. ¡°Oh,¡± she said as they entered. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯re getting those chips.¡±


    Even in this tense situation, Cornelius noticed how strikingly beautiful the woman was, even for a werewolf. She could have passed for a model.


    To her right was a tall blond man around her age, maybe a year or two younger. He had a square jaw and bright blue eyes that sparkled with mirth. He had on a simple black t-shirt and jeans, which he stuck his hands in as he nodded.


    ¡°I think you¡¯re right, sadly.¡±


    The third was a slightly shorter man with short brown hair and large rimmed glasses. He clutched a bag in his arms as if he were holding it for comfort, and he said nothing as his dark brown eyes scanned the room.


    And as they stopped in unison a few steps past the door, Cornelius realized they were also Were¡¯s.


    The muscled builds, the coordination. And the way the first pack stiffened at the sound of the newcomers¡¯ voices made it clear.


    ¡°You!¡± The first Alpha said, spinning.


    So the packs knew each other.


    ¡°George!¡± The smiling blond man said. ¡°Why does it look like you¡¯re harassing the locals! That doesn¡¯t seem very neighborly to me!¡± His voice was aggressively cheerful, and Cornelius couldn¡¯t hear an ounce of sarcasm in it. But the first Alpha¡ª George¡ª darkened at the man¡¯s words.


    He stalked closer, his muddy footsteps silent despite his bulk.


    ¡°Watch your tone, Bobby. That bitch isn¡¯t here to keep you all safe, so don¡¯t push your luck!¡±


    The woman glared at George, the glasses-wearing werewolf stiffened, and Bobby¡¯s smile gained a sharp edge.


    ¡°George, that¡¯s so hostile!¡± Cornelius stiffened. Something in the man¡¯s voice had shifted, and Cornelius felt a shiver of danger across his spine.


    None of them were old as Were-kin went. He would have been able to feel the magic coursing through them if they were. But that didn¡¯t mean they weren¡¯t dangerous.


    And there was something about Bobby that made Cornelius¡¯s instincts scream for him to pay attention.


    ¡°Hostile?¡± George spat. ¡°You haven¡¯t seen hostile yet!¡±


    Bobby held up a hand. ¡°Let¡¯s slow down now!¡±


    The woman spoke up. ¡°The way it looks, George, we have two options.¡± She held up a pink nail. ¡°We ignore your insulting Blair¡­for now. And continue with our shopping. Or,¡± she raised a second finger. ¡°We take this outside and stop bothering the locals with our little spat.¡±


    George¡¯s gaze flicked between them, and specks of yellow began to swirl in his eyes.


    ¡°Those are the two options, huh?¡±


    He reached over to a nearby shelf and snatched a can. ¡°I think I¡¯m going to make my own option.¡± He squeezed, and metal crumpled.


    ¡°We settle this ¡®spat¡¯ right here, right now.¡±


    The pump of a shotgun echoed through the store, grabbing everyone¡¯s attention as surely as someone shouting fire in a theater.


    The store owner held a beast of a gun. Its massive barrel pointed at the first pack of Were¡¯s.


    They had advanced with their Alpha, and while they spun at the sound, they were too far from the counter to stop the man before he got shots off.


    Now that a gun had entered the equation, Cornelius began to worry. While a fight between werewolves was dangerous, he was confident in his ability to keep Dalton safe.


    A gun made that far trickier.


    While he had several ways to stop gunfire, it was far harder to keep track of stray bullets than stray bodies.


    He would need to keep Dalton close. He pulsed his aura, gathering a dense section of magic around his body then releasing it. He repeated that three more times before Dalton got the message.


    Those pulses didn¡¯t leave his aura and didn¡¯t have any specific effect, but the quick fluxes of magic were eye-catching to anyone who could sense it.


    Dalton stopped at Cornelius¡¯s side. The boy looked frightened. Sweat beaded his brow, and his hands were balled into fists at his sides.


    ¡°I agree with them,¡± the store owner¡ª who Cornelius assumed was Barry¡ª said. ¡°Why don¡¯t you take this outside.¡±


    While Cornelius respected the man¡¯s balls, he wished he would just keep his head down. He highly doubted the man was packing silver bullets, and without them, the gun was a minor inconvenience to the werewolves.


    Tension grew as the threat of violence hung in the air. Any second now, someone would act, and it would all go to shit.


    I need to get ahead of this. Either throw the first punch or prevent it from being thrown.


    ¡°Are you okay!?¡± Dalton whispered.


    He glanced at his apprentice. ¡°What? Of course. Why-¡±


    Dalton pointed at Cornelius¡¯s hands.


    They were trembling. He tried to make it stop. He wasn¡¯t hyperventilating. Hell, he wasn¡¯t even breathing hard. But no matter what he tried, he couldn¡¯t get them to stop shaking.


    Memories hung at the edge of his mind, pressing in like wraiths in the dark.


    There was a reason he had wanted to become a diplomat.


    He took several deep breaths as he tried to slip into a water shift. It took him over five seconds.


    Jesus, it hasn¡¯t taken me that long in decades.


    His mind stilled, and the shaking stopped. But he had taken too long. George made the first move.


    Snarling, his eyes gleaming yellow, he threw himself at Bobby, his own pack right on his heels.


    ¡°Stay behind me!¡± he snapped to Dalton.


    George crashed into Bobby like a speeding car, and the two of them went tumbling.


    The other four crashed into the other two.


    Thankfully, Barry held off on firing since he didn¡¯t have anything close to a clean shot.


    The Were¡¯s had descended into a mass of claws and limbs, which meant Cornelius didn¡¯t have a clean shot either.


    Luckily for him, he was a mage.


    Deep in his water shift, Cornelius let fear, anger, and determination roll into him. He embraced them as they came and let them leave without trying to stop them.


    He reached out with his aura, and the now azure blue cloud of power spread through the entire store.


    He wasn¡¯t an arch Flood, but he had trained under one.


    He felt every source of water his aura touched, and after a second of searching, he found the drink aisle.


    I hope this place has insurance.


    He gartered his magic, packing the aisle until it was dense with deep blue power, then he pulled.


    A thundering crash sounded through the store as the shelves between them and the drinks collapsed under a wave of water and plastic.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Plenty of the bottles had remained sealed, but the thin layer of plastic did nothing to stop Cornelius from commanding the liquid within.


    The small wave hit the rolling ball of Were¡¯s first, sweeping them towards the doors.


    The plan was to send them right out of the store and hopefully avoid destroying the store further. But if werewolves were that easy to beat, they wouldn¡¯t be part of the Pact.


    The groups split apart, pushing against the ground and each other to hurl themselves away from the small wave. Two of them slammed into shelves, which promptly collapsed from the force.


    The rest of them landed on their feet, skidding back several steps on the wet tiles.


    Bobby¡¯s pack had wanted to take this outside, and they hadn¡¯t thrown the first punch, so Cornelius focused his attention on the others.


    He pushed his magic, shifting it so that most of his aura was gathered around him in a roughly thirty-foot cloud.


    He diverted some of that cloud to steer what was left of his wave at the two who hadn¡¯t hit the shelves.


    With the rest of his magic, he began to gather the water bottles to hang around his head.


    A snarl sounded from across the store, and Bobby skidded into sight, his feet struggling for traction on the slick tiles.


    George rounded the corner a moment later. His leather jacket had been ripped in several places, and his hands had shifted into black claws, their tips stained with red.


    Bobby gave up on trying to stop, instead going with a slide. He reached a shelf and jumped, kicking off it and flying back at George. His spinning kick took the man in the head, and his feet flew out from under him.


    One of the Werewolves that had hit a shelf sprang up. Whatever damage they had taken healed.


    The woman pushed dripping red hair from her eyes and flung herself at Cornelius.


    He rolled his eyes.


    Without even lifting a hand, he sent a dozen water bottles hurtling at the idiot.


    She had gone and put herself in the air where she couldn¡¯t use her speed.


    She tried to twist out of the way and moved an impressive amount for someone without any leverage.


    But it wasn¡¯t enough.


    The water bottles slammed into her, and Cornelius kept pushing, throwing her straight through the store¡¯s large windows.


    It wouldn¡¯t kill her, of course. Nothing short of decapitation or immolation would do that without silver. And even that wasn¡¯t a sure shot.


    But it would take her out of the fight for a few seconds.


    The other shelved werewolf hadn¡¯t gotten up yet, and the other two were fighting Bobby¡¯s pack.


    Dalton was still behind him, and Barry hadn¡¯t moved.


    Cornelius turned his attention to Bobby and George.


    The smiling blond man seemed to be handling the situation fine.


    Even at a glance, he could tell that Bobby was more skilled.


    The man slipped past George¡¯s furious blows like it was a rehearsed dance.


    And the most impressive thing was that Bobby made it look accidental.


    Bobby overextended with a punch that George sidestepped. The massive werewolf spun on his heel to deliver a backhand that whistled through the air.


    Bobby slipped on the tile at just the right moment to duck under the swing. As he fell to the ground, he tried to catch himself, his feet scrambling for purchase, and he just happened to nail George in the knee hard enough to send a crack echoing out.


    Yeah, he didn¡¯t need the help.


    He turned to help the other two.


    The shorter Were fought defensively, dodging attacks where he could and blocking what he couldn¡¯t. He only struck out when he had a certain opening, so he wasn¡¯t swinging much, but it didn¡¯t look like he¡¯d taken any hits himself.


    The woman moved like water, flowing past attacks and striking in the same motion.


    On their own, they both outmatched their opponents, who were trying to make up for a lack of skill with ferocity. But the difference was really showing through with them fighting together.


    They moved with an instinctive knowledge of each other, switching opponents and blocking attacks aimed at the other without saying a word.


    While he was confident they would win, he decided to speed that up before the others joined.


    He started shooting water bottles like bullets.


    They zipped through the air and slammed into knees and feet with enough force to stagger.


    With the targets on the ground, he couldn¡¯t just throw them through the air nearly as easily. It would take more time to prepare something like that than the heartbeat it took him to launch a bottle.


    The two didn¡¯t hesitate to take the opening he¡¯d given them, launching at the leather jackets before they could regain their balance.


    The woman he had tossed through the window came flying back in. At the same time, the other leather jacket that had stuck a shelf sprang to their feet and took off.


    But instead of joining the fight, they ran straight at Barry.


    Cornelius shouted a warning and started shooting bottles. But this Were was slippery, and they weaved between the bottles, barely slowing down.


    The man with glasses took off after the leather jacket.


    Seeing help on the way, Cornelius switched tactics as he backed up. He was slightly to the side of the main walkway, but the Were could easily turn and go for him instead.


    He reached out to the water on the floor and began to gather it up. Not having the time for any big effects, Cornelius pulled just a few cups of water to him.


    He gathered it into a swirling ball in front of him, his power compressing in that area to keep the water-packed tight.


    Once the ball was shaking against his control, he let it go. It rocketed at the leather jacket, screaming as it cut through the air. The man had seen the attack building and sidestepped it, only for Cornelius to clench his fist, detonating the ball right in front of the man''s face.


    The spray didn¡¯t do much damage, but it went right into his eyes.


    At the same time, Cornelius launched a volley of bottles at his legs. The blinded werewolf stumbled, then Glasses was on him.


    They rolled past Cornelius to slam into the back counter.


    He turned his focus back to the woman, who was outnumbered three to one.


    She was doing well, considering the odds. She slipped attacks where she could and even found time to slip a few hits of her own in. But she was still losing.


    Cornelius needed to step it up. Hopefully without destroying even more of the store.


    He gathered the remaining water bottles around his head. They spun in a slowly accelerating circle as he pushed harder and harder.


    While keeping the bottles spinning, he gathered a sizable chunk of his magic and shoved it in front of his face.


    While in a water shift, his aura ignored everything physical that wasn¡¯t water, but the exact way it affected water could change.


    He pushed his will into the magic. His desires. He wanted water away from him.


    It was difficult, less the act of magic on its own, but keeping the water shift up through it.


    The water shift was a state of balance, to Cornelius at least.


    And pushing so hard was threatening to break his shift.


    The woman took a glancing kick to her hip and stumbled. She dodged the next punch aimed at her head only to take another kick to the side.


    Cornelius firmed his will and set the spell into motion. The clump of power stretched, elongating into a barrel of blue light.


    The first bottle slammed against the gathered magic, and the water inside was ripped forward, blasting away from Cornelius like a ballista bolt.


    The air cracked from the force, and the bottle exploded against a leather jacket, knocking them clear off their feet.


    The next bottle reached his improvised cannon, and another werewolf went down.


    The remaining leather jacket hesitated. The woman didn¡¯t.


    Her boot lashed up, slamming into the remaining werewolf¡¯s chin and throwing him back.


    Cornelius focused on the downed werewolves, slamming bottle after bottle into them.


    Bones broke, skin tore, and blood flow. But that was all temporary. If he let up, they would be back up in less than a minute.


    From behind him, he heard Barry bark, ¡°Toss him!¡± An instant later, the shotgun roared.


    He couldn¡¯t spare the second it would take to look back, but hopefully, that shot had gone into a leather jacket.


    The last bottle blasted into the pile of broken werewolf, and Cornelius sighed. The bottles had been the least destructive method he had for dealing with the werewolves.


    Bobby shouted from across the store and flew into sight a moment later. Hitting the tiles and bouncing, George was on him a moment later, slashing and tearing.


    The woman took off towards the two.


    Cornelius grabbed the water from the floor with his aura and started building a wave.


    His instincts screamed at him that something was wrong.


    He scanned the store, both with his eyes and his aura. The leather jacket that had taken a kick to the jaw, where had they gone?


    He felt their presence with his aura a moment before the shelf next to them toppled over.


    A wall of metal and pickle jars toppled towards them.


    Cornelius pulled on his magic.


    The wave he had started to gather slammed into him as he spun and wrapped his arms around Dalton.


    The self dropped with a crash, barely missing the two of them. His back stung. He had spread the impact out over as large of an area as he could, but he¡¯d needed to move the water fast.


    He brought the water to a stop and quickly rolled to his feet, ignoring the sting in his back. Dalton stared at the ceiling, shocked.


    The werewolf had paused at the sudden wave, but they had already recovered. Cornelius could feel them closing in with his aura.


    A spark of anger entered his shift, and Cornelius didn¡¯t stop it.


    He was angry. Angry at himself for losing track of an enemy like that. Angry at the werewolf for endangering his apprentice. Angry at the werewolves for starting a fight here.


    He took hold of that anger and used it. A pure water shift was a state of balance to Cornelius, but a pure water shift wasn¡¯t the only one he could do.


    He fed that anger to the calm pool of his shift. The waters weren¡¯t always calm and peaceful. They could rage.


    The blue of his aura tinted darker, and the water in his aura began to heat up. He focused on the effect, leaving everything alone except the water behind him.


    Aspecting a shift like this was a skill that took years to master. If Dalton tried it, his shift would fall apart or blow up in his face. Just doing it once took countless hours of dedication, much less holding it during combat.


    But there was a reason battle mages spent those hours trying to master it.


    Cornelius felt the Werewolf leap at his back, like watching a dot move closer on a radar, only he could feel it.


    He moved his hand, and his aura moved with him.


    The water behind him surged up. The several dozen bottles worth of water compacted it into a narrow pillar. One that the werewolf crashed straight through. If it had been normal water, the werewolf would have been slowed, ruining their pounce, but nothing more.


    But Cornelius hadn¡¯t Aspected his shift for nothing.


    The werewolf screamed as they crashed headfirst into the scalding hot water.


    They passed through the pillar completely and collapsed as they hit the floor. Blisters formed on their face and hands, only to heal seconds later.


    That was fine. The goal wasn¡¯t to kill here. The goal was to end this fight.


    Cornelius stared down at the werewolf, who was glaring at him with murder in their eyes.


    He pitted the poor bastard. ¡°Sorry. It looks like you drew the short straw.¡±


    The werewolf lunged up at Cornelius.


    He brought the pillar down.


    Scalding water pounded onto the Were as Cornelius slammed it down faster than gravity alone would allow.


    The werewolf was swept back down the aisle, thrashing and screaming but unable to escape the wave.


    If they had been thinking clearly, they would have tried to push off the ground or grabbed onto a shelf, anything that would have forced Cornelius to put his magic against their insane strength.


    But agonizing pain and rational thought weren¡¯t often found in the same room.


    Cornelius walked behind the wave and reached the main walkway a few steps behind it.


    He didn¡¯t want to make a wind split to enhance his voice, so he let the leather jacket get everyone¡¯s attention for him.


    He pulled the water away, leaving them in a dry section of floor surrounded by a ring of steaming water.


    The man caught his breath, then let out an agonized scream powered by superhuman lungs.


    Everyone froze, their attention drawn to the horrible sight.


    The man¡¯s countless burns were starting to heal before everyone¡¯s eyes, but his soft sobs told the room that healing or no, it wasn¡¯t a pleasant experience.


    Cornelius took in the room.


    The man with glasses and Barry had one leather jacket pinned to the floor, with what looked like a gunshot in his leg.


    The two leather jackets he had unloaded the bottles on were looking much better but hadn¡¯t fully recovered yet.


    And the last three fighters had all frozen in the middle of circling each other. Bobby looked rough, with his shirt torn and a bloody wound slowly healing on his face, but George looked like he¡¯d gotten as good as he gave.


    The tall woman had stopped with a frozen turkey raised to strike George.


    He supposed you used the tools you had.


    ¡°I believe that is enough,¡± Cornelius said, his voice echoing through the store, which was silent save for the burned Were¡¯s whimpering.


    He met George¡¯s eyes and spoke with all the authority and pomp he could muster. ¡°You have instigated violence before a summit meeting, in open violation of the laws of the Pact. As a representative of the Knull, I demand you cease or have the weight of the Clans fall on your head.¡±


    He paused and returned to his normal speaking voice. ¡°Certain¡­scuffles are to be expected. But starting a brawl in a local grocery store? You have to know you can¡¯t get away with that.¡±


    He moved the water closer to the prone Were, who had started to get up. They got the message and went still.


    ¡°If you leave now and don¡¯t cause any more trouble you¡¯ll get treated like a troublemaker getting in fights when they shouldn¡¯t.¡±


    A flash of something hot and ugly went over George¡¯s face, and he spat, ¡°And if I don¡¯t leave now?¡±


    Cornelius stared at him, his eyes hard.


    ¡°I imagine being cooked alive is a very unpleasant way to go. So is drowning. And they only get worse if you¡¯re a werewolf since you take so damn long to die. Do you want to find out if the scalding water or the lack of air would kill you first?¡±


    The man tensed, and Cornelius could see the war going on inside him. Pride fought against his desire for self-preservation. It took a few long seconds, but self-preservation won out.


    ¡°We¡¯re leaving.¡± He spat on the floor then turned to the door.


    The rest of his pack limped after him, shooting hostile looks over their shoulders.


    Cornelius let the hot water drop, and the werewolf slowly climbed to his feet, eying Cornelius with open fear.


    ¡°Go join your pack.¡±


    He ran.


    Once the hostile Were¡¯s had all cleared out, Cornelius turned his attention to the store.


    ¡­it wasn¡¯t great. Half a dozen shelves had been completely wrecked, and cans and shards of broken glass littered the floor.


    His cart had somehow survived. It must have rolled away at the start of the fight.


    He turned to Barry, or at least he assumed the man was Barry, and tried to give a reassuring smile.


    ¡°My company will cover all of the damages and any lost revenue. I¡¯m sorry about all this. It was¡­¡±


    Cornelius couldn¡¯t really think up a good lie. The man had seen blatant magic during the fight.


    ¡°Thanks. But you didn¡¯t start it.¡± The man¡¯s robin¡¯s egg blues looked over his store, and he sighed.


    He didn¡¯t look nearly as upset as Cornelius felt he should. He seemed more¡­put out than anything else.


    The three remaining werewolves walked over.


    ¡°Thanks for the save!¡± Bobby said. His face was still stained with drying blood and grime, but the cuts had already healed.


    ¡°That would have gotten even dicier if you hadn¡¯t been here.¡± The man paused, then gestured to the others.


    ¡°I¡¯m Bobby. If you didn¡¯t catch that before, this lovely specimen is Simon,¡± the man with glasses nodded. ¡°And this is Laurel,¡± the woman extended her hand for a shake, and Cornelius accepted. ¡°Cornelius,¡± he waved to his apprentice. ¡°And this is Dalton.¡±


    The boy waved but stayed quiet. Cornelius frowned. He was taking it well, but most normal, well-adjusted people were shaken after sudden violence


    ¡°Barry.¡± The shaggy man grunted.


    Speaking of being unaffected by violence, the man looked like the brawl that had wrecked half his store was a mild inconvenience.


    He turned to the werewolves and nodded. ¡°Thanks. You wanted to take it outside.¡±


    He scanned the piles of broken glass and the twisted shelves.


    ¡°And it looks like I was outgunned too.¡±


    Laurel scratched her head. ¡°Sorry, we didn¡¯t actually manage to take it outside.¡±


    Simon pointed at the shotgun, which was resting on the counter.


    ¡°Get silver bullets.¡±


    Barry looked at him, then back to the bent metal shelves.


    He sighed. ¡°I swear, every time something from that side of the street comes here, my store gets wrecked.¡±


    Cornelius quirked a brow. And while his curiosity quickly fled from the pool, he asked anyway. ¡°This isn¡¯t the first time?¡±


    Barry shook his head. ¡°Less water last time, though.¡±


    Cornelius waved a hand. ¡°I can take care of that.¡±


    He moved his magic over the floor and started sweeping the water towards the broken window.


    He wasn¡¯t concerned with speed, so it took relatively little power. Dalton followed the magic with his eyes, so Cornelius slowed his motions, even more, making sure his apprentice could keep up.


    He had spread his magic thin to gather the water, and once he was sure he¡¯d gotten most of it, he started to narrow it into a stream.


    The water followed suit, gathering itself into a stream. With slightly more effort, Cornelius lifted the stream and guided it out the window.


    Barry watched with what looked like mild curiosity. It was hard to tell through the beard.


    Cornelius was chalking the man''s attitude up to the general strangeness of the town.


    He was fairly certain the man wasn¡¯t a spook, but he was obviously aware of the supernatural, considering his lack of reaction and mentioning the ¡®other side of the street.¡¯


    ¡°Thanks,¡± the shaggy man said.


    Cornelius dropped the shift with the water taken care of, letting his aura return to normal.


    He sighed in relief, a water shift was one of the easier shifts to maintain, but its locked state terrified him more than the others.


    Bobby whistled. ¡°Man, magic sure is handy. I¡¯m jealous of the cleaning potential.¡±


    Dalton spoke for the first time since the fight started. ¡°You can eat anything and never gain weight. That beats cleaning powers.¡±


    Bobby pointed and inclined his head. ¡°True! The food is a pretty nice perk. I won¡¯t lie.¡±


    Barry spoke up. ¡°About the costs.¡±


    They all turned to face him.


    ¡°I¡¯m not comfortable with your lot covering the damage. You stepped in to help. I¡¯m not going to take advantage.¡±


    The werewolves exchanged a look with Cornelius, and he stepped forward.


    ¡°This is¡­a matter of pride for my company, and it isn¡¯t a burden on us, in the same way, it wouldn¡¯t hurt Amazon to cover these costs.¡±


    Barry raised a dark brow.


    ¡°And while we aren¡¯t responsible for George¡¯s group, him trashing this place makes all of us look bad. Plus, a decent amount of the damage was on me.¡±


    Pulling all those bottles to him hadn¡¯t been kind to the nearby selves.


    Laurel stepped in. ¡°And as for George, well, he isn¡¯t going to get away scot-free. Starting a fight in public while¡­things are happening on our side of the street. Cornelius said what he did to get them to leave, but there will be consequences.¡±


    Barry looked them over, his face unreadable behind the curtain of black hair.


    After almost a minute of silence, he nodded. ¡°If you insist.¡±


    Cornelius relaxed.


    Simon glanced at him, then looked down. ¡°Why do you have a jar of pickles?¡±


    Cornelius looked down and realized he hadn¡¯t dropped the pickles.


    ¡°Well, I was shopping. And speaking of shopping,¡± he turned back to Barry. ¡°Can I still check out? I need these groceries for dinner.¡±


    He stared at Cornelius, his face blank. He looked around his wrecked store, from the broken and wrapped shelves to the shattered pickle jars.


    His face started to twitch. Then he let out a deep, rolling laugh. It echoed through the store, and Cornelius found himself laughing with him. It felt good, and some of the tension from the fight slid off him.


    Barry¡¯s laughter died down, but traces of it filled his voice. ¡°Go grab your cart.¡±

 Weep, And Remember

    The cave mouth loomed like the maw of a great beast, its stony teeth poised to claim us.


    I had seen this in the vision¡ªthe Remembering Place.


    A group of phantoms stood before us, their eyes desperate and their faces pale from blood loss.


    No! They had died, I had made certain!


    William collapsed, broken sobs tearing themselves free of him as he curled in on himself.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± he wept. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to! I had no choice!¡±


    The man¡¯s screams broke me from my own trance, and I snapped at Joshua, ¡°help me grab him. We are leaving!¡±


    Together, we dragged him, and the phantoms followed.


    ~<>~<>~


    After the Wraiths, we entered The Paths¡ªa section of the Pass completely overgrown with trees.


    The trail split in the trees, and if you weren¡¯t careful, you could end up wandering forever.


    This was one of the reasons we couldn¡¯t bring too many into the Pass. The more people in your group, the more the trail split.


    Even with just two, I was worried.


    It took some time, especially with how cautious I was being, but we eventually made it through.


    Since we had decided to push ahead earlier, we had to keep going until we reached the next rest stop.


    After The Paths, I relaxed.


    Well, mostly. Part of me was still having a panic attack about Blair knowing I was a Telss.


    With how I dealt with ghosts, there was always a risk of someone connecting the dots, but I usually helped vanilla humans or spooks that weren¡¯t with a major faction. So that risk was low.


    I didn¡¯t think Blair would sell me out, but just the idea that a living person knew was alien to me.


    I looked around. Large rocks had begun to crop up, dark grey things that were slick with moss and rain.


    I saw things moving between some of the larger boulders, but I ignored them.


    I glanced at Blair. ¡°We hit the jackpot today; we get a non-murderous region. The way through here is the simplest so far. Just tell him to screw off.¡±


    ¡°Him?¡±


    ¡°Him,¡± I said, pointing straight ahead.


    The path was blocked by the largest boulder yet. It was double my height, and unlike the others, there wasn¡¯t a speck of moss or moisture anywhere in sight.


    Sitting on the boulder, his arms crossed and bushy white eyebrows scrunched into a frown, was a gnome.


    He wore the classic get-up and everything, long red hat, blue overalls, long white beard¡ªthe works.


    In a nasally, grandiose voice, he called out, ¡°Answer me these questions three!¡±


    Blair looked at me, her eyebrows raised.


    ¡°Oh, yeah. He¡¯s serious.¡±


    Despite the boulder, I didn¡¯t slow down.


    ¡°What can pass through the green glass door! An egg can pass through, but a chicken can not!¡±


    ¡°Piss off, Clearance.¡±


    His frown deepened, and he turned to Blair, a glint of hope in his beady blue eyes.


    She hesitated and looked a little guilty but still told him to ¡°Shove off.¡±


    He sighed and walked to the side of the boulder. He gave it a kick, and it rolled out of the way with a deep rumble.


    I stopped on the other side and turned to face the dejected gnome.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright, man, we¡¯re just pressed for time, is all. We can talk riddles later.¡±


    He hung his head. ¡°You said that last time.¡±


    ¡°I was fighting off a curse last time!¡±


    His wrinkled face scrunched up.


    Blair spoke up, her voice surprisingly gentle. ¡°A tree can pass through the green glass door. But a plant cannot.¡±


    Clarence beamed. ¡°You know the answer!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you a riddle on our way back,¡± she said with a smile.


    I eyed the werewolf.


    ¡°What?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°Nothing just surprised me, is all. Let¡¯s go. Don¡¯t want to be hiking the Pass in the dark.¡±


    We waved to Clarence and kept going.


    ~<>~<>~


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    Our brief stint of luck immediately ran out.


    This section of the Pass switched between three different region. One was a little troubling, one was wholesome, and the last one¡ªthe one we got¡ª was sadistic.


    I slowed to a stop as I saw glimpses of a cave through the trees.


    ¡°We¡¯re out of luck.¡±


    Blair glanced at me and adjusted her pack.


    ¡°This region is¡­predatory. In a psychic sense, specifically.¡±


    ¡°¡­which means?¡±


    It¡¯s going to bring up illusions of your past. Traumatic parts of your past. They¡¯ll walk up from that cave and start giving you shit. It wants a reaction, some strong emotion. If you give it that, it will keep coming until you either get a grip or go catatonic.¡±


    Blair was looking more alarmed by the word, which was fair.


    ¡°So, here¡¯s what we do. Face the illusion for several seconds and don¡¯t give a strong reaction. then we turn and start walking.¡±


    ¡°Whatever lives in that cave doesn¡¯t have a lot of time to troll your thoughts, so the trauma it brings up doesn¡¯t always land. Sometimes it pulls something that you moved past years ago.¡±


    I rubbed a hand across my face, and some dirt came off. When did that get there? I shook my head and went on.


    ¡°The idea is that we convince it that whatever it¡¯s pulled up is a dud, which is why we can¡¯t move too fast. If it thinks we¡¯re running, it will hound us with illusions in some extremely¡­unpleasant ways. Clear?¡±


    Blair had put her mask back up and was staring at the cave with cold determination.


    ¡°Yeah. Keep control, don¡¯t give it anything to work with.¡±


    ¡°This is another reason we can¡¯t take too many people. This thing gets stronger the larger the group. Don¡¯t know if it feeds off all those minds or what, but it summons another illusion for each person in the group. So, we get two each.¡±


    ¡°Can we see each other¡¯s illusions?¡±


    I nodded.


    Blair eyed the cave, something dark passing over her mask.


    ¡°Alright. Anything else?¡±


    I paused. It would be safer if I covered her in my aura since it would help her keep a cool head. But that came with risks of its own.


    ¡°But I saw signs of Roamer before the Straits, so it should be safe,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± I glanced up at Blair. ¡°Right, werewolf. I¡¯m debating if I should unveil my aura to help you through. It would definitely help¡­¡±


    ¡°But?¡±


    ¡°But there are risks to unavailing my aura in the Pass.¡±


    ¡°Roamer?¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Yeah. He¡¯s big, dark, and he, well, he roams. And he desperately wants to eat me.¡±


    Blair stiffened.


    ¡°He¡¯s not here, though!¡± I added. ¡°I saw a few signs of his passing in the Straits, and he is confined to certain sections of the Pass. All of the rest stops serve as barriers to him. He can only get past them when the regions shift around.¡±


    Blair eyed me. ¡°And you¡¯re certain he can¡¯t cross and chase you?¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°It hasn¡¯t happened yet. And¡­¡±


    Images of those flashing teeth, the glowing white eyes, and the desperate, starving look sprang to my mind.


    ¡°He would cross if he could. He really wants to eat me.¡±


    She scowled. ¡°Alright. But, hypothetically, if he could cross, is he something I could fight?¡±


    I looked Blair up and down. ¡°How old are you?¡±


    She wasn¡¯t phased by the question at all. ¡°Twenty-four. But my Bond is closer to a hundred and twenty-year-olds in strength.¡±


    I blinked. Holy shit. She wasn¡¯t exaggerating when she said she was born with a strong bond.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be honest, my knowledge on werewolf strength kinda caps out at around a hundred. But from what I understand, no. You can¡¯t take him. Just by the pressure he gives my magical senses¡­ if he did somehow make it here, which he won¡¯t, we run.¡±


    Blair paused but eventually nodded.  ¡°And how old are you?¡±  Well, that was fair, I had just asked her.  ¡°Twenty three.¡±


    And with that, we walked towards the cave.


    ¡°Do you know what Old Tom called this region? The remembering place. It¡¯s kind of a quaint name for such a shit region. Guess the old man was losing his good naming sense by then.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s less cliche than naming it the ¡®The Cave Of Despair¡¯ or something like that.¡±


    I gave a nervous chuckle as we broke the tree line. ¡°I suppose there¡¯s a bright side to everything, eh?¡±


    We came to a stop twenty feet from the cave mouth and stared into the black pit, waiting.


    Dank, cold air blew over us, rustling our clothes and setting the trees to shaking.


    I took a deep breath and unveiled my aura. I still kept it contained, extending it to barely cover Blair.


    Another deep breath. You can do this. It¡¯s hardly the first time.


    Breathe. But you¡¯ve never taken the Pass right after fighting a ghost.


    Shut up me! You¡¯re not helping.


    The air sucked back towards the cave mouth, and then there were four people standing in front of us.


    In front of Blair stood a teenager, probably 14 or 15 at the oldest. He had close-cut dark hair and a handsome face¡­ or at least, it probably had been, before it was brutalized.


    The kid had been beat to hell, both eyes were swollen, and his face was lumpy with bruises weeping wounds.


    One arm was dangling limp, the four-arm bent, and a pale bone sticking through. And his mouth moved in silent whimpers as he shook.


    The other was a tall, striking woman that looked very similar to Blair. She had a thinner face¡ªwhite-blond hair and ice-blue eyes that held all the warmth of compassion of the arctic in December.


    On my side stood Ronald. The thing really did pluck them straight from your memory since this Ronald hadn¡¯t aged a day since last I saw him. He was his same stocky, beer-bellied, red-nosed self that he had been all those years ago.


    His narrowed green eyes took me in with a sneer on his face, and I could see his balding head redden in anger.


    The detail really was incredible, but unfortunately for them, I had moved past Roland years ago. Seeing him now only filled me with mild contempt, nothing more. He wasn¡¯t worth anything more.


    The following illusion was¡ª my mind stuttered to a stop. Master Bram stared at me, his eyes wet and full of grief.


    Not that look again. I couldn¡¯t face it twice.


    Memories started to rise, and my breathing hitched. Something in the cave stirred, and a dark, insatiable intent settled over me.


    I desperately tried to still my thoughts, but the bubbling memories threatened to overwhelm me.


    It hadn¡¯t ever pulled from the ghost memories before. Why now? What had changed? Was I slipping? Were the memories gaining a hold over me? What¡ª


    Blair placed a hand on my shoulder, snapping me out of the spiral.


    Breathe. I closed my eyes and imagined my graveyard, but there was a pile of large bricks instead of the small iron gate.


    The thing in the cave was still leaning over my mind, practically drooling at the shock I had let through.


    I walked over to the pile and lifted the first brick. I imagined the course feeling against my hands, the weight of it as I lifted.


    I imagined up as much detail as I could, pouring every ounce of focus I had into the task, leaving nothing for fear or panic.


    I laid the brick down then marched for the next.


    I repeated that, over and over, adding detail as I went. I pictured the ache in my back, the sting in my palms, the relief as each brick was laid¡ªthe smell of the dirt and grass, everything.


    By the time I felt the thing back off, I had laid down thirteen bricks. Not a bad start for a wall.


    I slowly opened my eyes and saw that the illusions had vanished.


    Blair was looking at me, her face blank.


    I nodded to her. ¡°Thanks. If the illusions are gone, we¡¯re good to go.¡±


    She slowly removed her hand, and I realized I hadn¡¯t reacted to the touch, which immediately made me react to the touch. I held in a shudder as the warmth lingered.


    ¡°Goodby, you bastard. I hope you choke on the memories.¡±


    We marched away from the gaping cave, the both of us struggling not to run.

 Rest, Oh Weary

    The beauty of the clearing was a shock after the cave¡ªan Idyllic place after the horrors of this pass.


    But I find my mind wandering back to the cave.  It pulled our memories, bringing them to life before our eyes.  If I go back, could I see them again?


    It is a greedy thought to indulge when we are this close to the end.  But I do not know if I can help myself from visiting that remembering place once more.


    ~<>~<>~


    Blair gasped as they broke through the trees.  A small clearing straight out of a fairy tale stretchered out before them.


    The grass rippled as a gentle breeze swept past. She followed its tack through the clearing, and it was almost as if it were trying to show the place off.


    It swept over to a crystal clear stream burbling through the center of the clearing, then past it to the handful of trees that provided shade for a set of stone chairs and a table. It kept going, circling a gentle hill covered in purple and green flowers, a tiny valley, and a small circle of stones before settling down.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Alder said.  ¡°It never gets old.  And it stays like this year-round.¡±


    Blair stepped onto the grass and gasped as her foot sunk in slightly.


    She took another step just as springy as the first. The ground didn''t give enough to throw off her balance, but it was far more than normal.


    Alder took a few steps in, let out a deep sigh, dropped his pack, then collapsed into the grass.


    Blair laughed and joined him, dropping her pack to sprawl out on the almost pillowy ground.


    She sighed, letting herself relax for the first time since they got to the pass.


    She wasn''t sure if she had really believed Alder when he said there was a completely safe region. But now that they were here, she could feel something different.


    Blair had a strong sense of smell, even for a werewolf, but her sense for magic was below average at best. Even so, she could feel something¡ªan inexplicable sense of safety and comfort.


    Blair breathed in the smells around her, relaxing further.


    Even the dirt felt clean and comforting to her senses.  At that moment, Blair finally let some of her worries go.   She didn¡¯t know if it was the influence of Alder¡¯s presence, something about this region, or a mixture of the two.


    But for a few wonderful minutes, Blair rested.  No plans for the future, no Bond growing out of her control, no tests.


    It was just her, the grass on her back, and the wind on his skin.


    The moment ended as Alder climbed to his feet, swearing softly under his breath.


    He hauled his pack up and carried it to the stone table, his motions stiff and awkward.


    Blair climbed to her feet as a new, unfamiliar worry sunk its teeth in.


    Fear for someone¡¯s physical health.


    It was her job to look out for her Pack''s physical and mental health.  But the physical side of that was almost always kept to fights.


    She needed to make sure Laurel or Simon didn¡¯t catch a silver bullet in the side or something similar.  But that was contained.  Once a fight was over, Blair didn¡¯t have to think about the hits her Pack took since they would heal from almost anything.


    But with Alder, she could smell his pain.  It hung around him like a cloud, one that had grown worse as the day went on.


    It was¡­alien, seeing his injuries linger.  Blair knew, on an intellectual level, that humans healed slowly. But she had barely spent time around humans for much of life, and it had never sunk in.


    She was no healer, and this wasn''t a problem she could punch.


    She was¡­helpless.


    Blair shook the thought away and snatched her pack. Marching over to the table she claimed the seat across from Alder and started pulling food from her pack.  She decided to grab a few travel board games while she was at it.


    Alder looked over the games as she continued to pull out food. He tapped the small chessboard before digging into his own pack.  She quickly set up the board while refusing to look at the disorganized mess that was his pack.


    ¡°You really brought board games?¡± Alder asked around a sandwich.


    She nodded. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°But you had just gotten into town. And you only had a day to pack.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°¡­So you just had all this stuff ready to go in the off chance you needed it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    Alder snorted. ¡°Christ Blair, you''re built different.¡±


    She eyed him. ¡°Is that a compliment or an insult?¡±


    ¡°A compliment since I¡¯m befitting from your slightly unhinged level of preparedness.¡±


    Blair raised a finger. ¡°It''s not unhinged if it turns out useful.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough.¡± He reached into his bag and grabbed a ziplock filled with granola bars.


    Blair¡¯s nose wrinkled before he even opened the bag. ¡°Those are expired.¡±


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    Alder raised a finger as he unwrapped a bar. ¡°True! But these are merely stale as apposed to spoiled.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see why that matter-¡° Blair started, only to cut off with a wince as he took a bite.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    He shrugged and took another bite. ¡°I paid for these. So I really don¡¯t want ¡®em to go to waste. Don¡¯t get me wrong. I wouldn''t be taking this gamble with something like milk that could get me sick. But granola bars?¡± he took a third bite. ¡°I figure, why not?¡±


    Blair reached into her bag and threw the man her own zip-lock of trail bars. ¡°Are you sure you can¡¯t get sick from expired granola?¡±


    He shrugged. ¡°Pretty sure?¡± Thankfully, he switched to the new bag of bars. Alder smiled and leaned back in his seat.


    ¡°You know I¡¯ve never been the best at preparing. When I was, oh, twelve or thirteen, I went on a camping trip with Ben.¡± His smile grew wistful.  ¡°You see, Ben is a city boy from the fifties.  He doesn¡¯t know squat about camping.  And I didn¡¯t either.  So we hiked out into the woods a few miles behind the graveyard.¡±


    He grabbed another bar before continuing.


    ¡°Of course, since we both had no clue what we were doing, we panicked when it started raining. When Ben started panicking, I asked him, ¡®what do you have to worry about? Your dead!¡¯ He turned to me, his face completely serious for once.¡±


    Alder chuckled.


    ¡°Told me, ¡®I might be dead, but Rogers will kill me again if I bring you back with hypothermia.¡¯ So we started digging through my bag, trying to see if anything could help us.  Being the little idiot that I was, I had packed a sleeping bag, a tent with no rain fly, a pack of playing cards, a small sack of candy, and a flashlight.¡±


    Blair laughed.


    ¡°I admit, not my finest moment.  Well, we dug and dug, and just before we admitted defeat and headed back in shame, we found a package at the bottom of my pack with a letter taped to it.¡±  Alder sat up and squared his shoulders.  ¡°Ben reached for it like he expected a boobytrap, then read the letter.¡±


    Alder¡¯s voice shifted to a Brooklyn accent. And while Blair was hardly an expert, she didn¡¯t think it was half bad.


    ¡°I saw what you packed, Alder.  And, Ben, I know you didn¡¯t double-check his pack like I told you.  So here¡¯s the rest of what you¡¯ll need.  Plan better next time.¡±


    Blair smiled.  ¡°He put it at the bottom so that the two of you would sweat a little before you saw it.¡±


    Alder nodded.  That wistful smile back in place.  ¡°Ben was equal parts relieved and embarrassed, but our little adventure was saved.  And that¡¯s Rogers for you.  He could have made me double-check my pack ahead of time.  But¡­¡±


    ¡°But then the lesson wouldn¡¯t have sunk in.¡±


    He nodded.  ¡°It wouldn¡¯t have sunk in.  There are a lot of times like that, looking back.  And I can¡¯t help but be impressed by the tree-hugger.  He always managed to find that perfect balance.  Getting something through my thick skull without ruining whatever I had going on.¡±


    Blair draped her arms over her chair as she thought on Alder''s story.


    Her mother had not found that balance.  But she had certainly gotten her lessons to stick.


    ¡°The yoke falls to you,¡± Alder said with a yawn.  ¡°Story for a story. Seems only fair to me.¡±


    Blair considered for a minute.  A story¡­ while not quite as positive as Alder¡¯s, she thought she had a match.


    ¡°My father shared that knack. Always managed to get something to stick without letting me be hurt.  At least, whenever he could. But he had to be creative about it. He¡¯s mute.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± Alder blushed.  ¡°Sorry, didn¡¯t mean to sound insensitive. I-¡°


    Blair shrugged.  ¡°It¡¯s fine. We¡¯re known for healing from almost anything. I get why you¡¯d be surprised.  Silver knife in the throat.  It was a miracle he survived at all.¡± Blair frowned.  That scar was just a white line after so many years, but the trauma remained.


    When she had asked about the injury as a child¡­that had been one of the first times she could remember seeing pure hate on her mother''s face.  The woman¡¯s hands had shook as she retold the story as if she were looking for a throat to grasp.


    ¡°He healed in time, but his voice box never did. I¡¯m good with languages, but I had a lot of trouble picking up signs as a kid.  So my father had to get creative to get those lessons across.¡±


    Blair shifted in her seat, idly grabbing for another snack.


    ¡°We also went camping a few miles from home.  I was¡­ten, maybe eleven.  Winter had come early and angry.  Feet of snow piled higher than the doors.  So, my father and I, we went camping.  The cold wasn¡¯t a problem, but my father didn¡¯t want to just camp.  He wanted to teach me how to hunt in the cold.¡±


    Blair smiled at the memory.


    ¡°I was a spitfire when I was little, running circles around my father while carrying a pack nearly the size of the one I have now. He¡¯d tried to get me to take a smaller one, but his was big, so I wouldn''t settle for anything less.¡±


    Alder grinned. ¡°I would have paid to see little Blair running around.¡±


    She rolled her eyes.


    ¡°Anyway, the two of us hiked out into the woods, past where any roads or trails lead. After we set up camp, we shifted forms and went hunting. We had everything we needed to set up camp, of course, since we had planned ahead.¡±


    ¡°Rub it in, why don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°The snow was so deep I had to follow in the trail my father left, though that didn''t stop me from trying to run past him a few times.¡±


    The breeze picked up, dancing over the table and threatening to steal some of the bags away.


    Alder snatched them before they could be carried off.


    Blair went on. ¡°It took two hours, but we found our prey.  A great elk, nearly seven feet at the shoulder with a rack that must have added another two feet of height. Looking back, it was probably a magical creature, given its size, but I didn''t think about that at the time. I was too busy rushing after the elk, ignoring my father''s warning growl.¡±


    Blair¡¯s smile turned sad. ¡°It bolted, but even through the snow, it wasn''t fast enough to avoid me all together. I tore into its leg, but it kicked me off and vanished into the trees. My father could have caught up to it in an instant, but he didn''t. He stood over me instead. I could tell he was angry, but I didn''t understand why at the time.¡±


    She sighed.


    ¡°Werewolves aren¡¯t wolves, but we¡¯re not really humans either. To a wolf chasing down an elk and nipping at its heels. Driving it to exhaustion before moving in for the kill... it''s natural. And it can be to werewolves as well.


    Ancient humans were the same way, running their prey to exhaustion or death. But now that you have better methods? It''s barbaric to let the creature suffer more than needed. You go for the head or the heart when you can. Clean kills.¡±


    Blair played with the queen piece, absently rolling it between her fingers.


    ¡°Werewolves have those methods. We can go for the throat or the back of the neck kill them before they even have a chance to feel pain. But in my excitement at finally finding the prey, I ignored that. I made it suffer.


    We tracked it through the forest, following the trail of blood and disturbed snow. And when we finally found it again, it was barely managing to limp along. My father gave me a look as the elk collapsed. No snarling, just that one look as he walked over to the animal. I understood then, seeing the elk struggling to breathe, why he hadn''t chased it down immediately.¡±


    ¡°It wouldn''t have sunk in,¡± Alder said, his voice solemn.


    She nodded. ¡°If I hadn¡¯t seen the consequences, I would have done it again.¡± Blair sighed.


    ¡°We put it down, and my father never mentioned it again. He never needed to. He always could tell when a point got across.¡±


    Alder sat up and reached to the chessboard, pushing his pawn forward. ¡°Your dad sounds interesting.¡±


    Blair chuckled. ¡°He¡¯d like you. He enjoys bad jokes.¡±


    ¡°Hey! My humor is fantastic!¡±


    Blair set her queen back down. ¡°You know how to play chess?¡± she confirmed. Alder sneered at her.


    ¡°I¡¯m practically a grandmaster! Albeit one who¡¯s lost more of his games than he¡¯s won.¡±


    Blair smiled. ¡°Let''s see what you''re made of.¡±

 Campfire

    Alder played like a drunk man, which worked surprisingly well for him.


    Blair still won the majority of the chess matches, but not all. And a few of her victories were close things. Alder certainly wasn¡¯t a better strategist or planner than her, but he was obnoxiously hard to predict.


    Bobby was similar, but with Bobby, there was a pattern underneath his madness. He simply played the fool.


    Alder¡­


    After seven matches, she still wasn¡¯t sure if Alder actually planned things out or flew entirely by the seat of his pants.


    He would make a seemingly random choice that would lose him games, only for a similar move in a later match to be a planned feint.


    It had been far more entertaining than she¡¯d expected.


    After the last game, they had decided to call it, and Alder suggested setting up tents before it got too dark. And while the darkness wouldn¡¯t bother her much, she agreed.


    Blair paused as Alder opened his tent bag. She had been expecting another mess like his pack, only to see a perfectly organized bag.


    ¡°What? You can organize a tent bag but not your pack?¡±


    Alder shrugged. ¡°Packs harder. Plus, I never want to spend more time than I have to setting this thing up. Shelter is important for us frail humans.¡±


    She glared at the man, who hadn¡¯t even looked up from his task.


    ¡°And that logic doesn¡¯t apply to your pack?¡±


    He waggled a hand before laying his ground tarp out. ¡°It does, but only to the important bits. I know where my med-kit is, as well as some other emergency stuff. The rest fills what space it wishes.¡±


    Blair groaned. ¡°Organized chaos might be worse than just chaos. It¡¯s like I¡¯m being mocked with glimpses of beauty.¡±


    Alder laughed. ¡°Feel free to organize it if it bothers you that much.¡±


    Blair snorted as she bent down to help him lay out the tent. ¡°I will after we¡¯re set up.¡±


    Ten minutes later and both their tents were standing tall, though Alder¡¯s was sagging slightly from dented poles.


    He looked over his tent with a frown. ¡°Stupid vampiric asshole,¡± he grumbled.


    ¡°A vampire attacked your tent?¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°Attacked'''' is too strong a word. Harassed is more like. Bastard stuck around for an entire week.¡±


    Blair had several questions but settled for, ¡°Why?¡±


    He shrugged. ¡°Guy wasn¡¯t totally there upstairs and somehow got it in his head that I was the lord of the town. Wanted to battle me for my title. When I told him to take a hike, I expected to get jumped. Instead, he just got¡­annoying. Very, very annoying.¡± He scowled and slowly walked around his tent.


    ¡°Stole a quarter of my socks. Just a quarter! So I had a bunch of single socks lying around, their partners snatched away. Bastard really put effort into being a nuisance.¡±


    Blair burst out laughing. ¡°It could have been worse! He could have really been trying to take over the town.¡±


    Alder scowled harder. ¡°The Markov twins tried that. One of the most stressful summers of my life.¡±


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    She blinked. ¡°I was under the impression hedge mages in small towns lead quiet lives.¡±


    ¡°You know, I¡¯ve heard that too. I feel kinda ripped off. Maybe being a Telss brings bad luck.¡±


    ¡°You have any crazy incidents? You¡¯re from a major pack. You¡¯ve had to have seen your own share of weirdness.¡±


    Blair pursed her lips. She had been in plenty of fights but that wasn¡¯t strange by Were-Kin standards. She needed something weirder. ¡°Hmm¡­I solved a murder one time.¡±


    Alder stopped in his tracks. ¡°You solved a murder? I don¡¯t suppose you want to elaborate?¡±


    Blair smiled. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think I will.¡±


    Alder squawked, ¡°Why!?¡±


    Blair grinned as she laid out her sleeping bag. ¡°Because it¡¯s funnier to keep you guessing. I¡¯ll tell you more later. One day.¡±


    ¡°Damn. You got a cruel streak. You know that?¡°


    She smiled.


    Wind whipped across the clearing, carrying the scent of lilac and wet pine. It caused the open rain flies to flap wildly.


    Alder shivered and rubbed his arms.


    ¡°How does a fire sound? Cause I think it sounds nice.¡±


    Blair¡¯s smile faded. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Marring this place feels¡­wrong. Sacrilegious.¡±


    Alder quickly raised his hands. ¡°Woah now, I¡¯m in full agreement there. I¡¯m not cutting down any trees here. But the clearing provides in this case.¡±


    He walked towards the ring of stone she had noticed earlier. She had thought it was a relic or art project some earlier travelers had left, but when Alder walked up to the small stone bowl in the center, she realized it was a fire pit. Sort of.


    It was too small for one, with the grey stone bowl in the center being a little over a foot around, and there was absolutely no lingering smell of smoke or soot stains anywhere on the bowl.


    Alder stopped in front of it, raised his hands, then mouthed something so that Blair couldn¡¯t overhear.


    The bowl lit up with a whoosh of purple and green flames. Blair felt the sudden heat from ten feet away, but Alder didn¡¯t flinch back or give any signs of discomfort.


    He warmed his hands over the flames before taking a seat on the nearest ring of benches.


    ¡°It won¡¯t hurt you. Feel free to come closer.¡±


    Blair sat down next to Alder, marveling at the comforting heat. It didn¡¯t grow hotter as she walked, staying the same toasty temperature regardless of how close she was to the spinning flames.


    They hovered a foot in the air, the purple and green twisting in on themselves in constantly changing patterns.


    She studied the flames for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth and the view.


    ¡°The flames are the same color as your magic,¡± she noted.


    Alder nodded. ¡°Yeah. I think this place has¡­attuned to me over the years. The flames were green and black at first. But they started to morph after a bit.¡± He gave her a conspiratorial look and leaned over slightly. ¡°It¡¯s my infectious personality at work. That¡¯s my leading theory anyway.¡±


    Blair snorted. ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡±


    Her thoughts drifted to his magic, then, following along that path, to the Manor.


    At the cave¡­his second illusion had been the man in the paintings. The one Niall had gone berserk over.


    Blair had tried to think of why a dead man from several centuries ago was a traumatic memory for Alder, and she didn¡¯t like most of the answers she thought of.


    One possibility was that Alder was older than he appeared. Mages¡ª and Telss¡ª could live very, very long lives, and they didn¡¯t always show it. Though, she wasn¡¯t certain why some ancient mages looked older than others.


    That would be the best outcome. Maybe Alder had known the man and simply hadn¡¯t elaborated. That would explain how he had known the path to the exit.


    But Alder didn¡¯t usually feel old to her. Not like her parents did. There was a weight to people who had been around for centuries, as if they created their own gravity simply by existing.


    Alder didn¡¯t have that, plus he hadn¡¯t been lying when he said his age.


    So, either he could lie to her senses, which was extremely unlikely, or there was some other reason for the illusion.


    She considered asking Alder outright. He knew that she had seen the illusion. And some things about Alder worried her. Those brief flashes when his scent and emotions changed on a dime, combined with that illusion¡­


    But she owed the debt, not the other way around. Pushing this could be an overstep. If Alder called this off her Pack was up shit creek without a paddle.


    So Blair would leave it alone for now. She would wait¡­and hope that she wasn¡¯t making a mistake.

 Oh Quiet Night

    The night air was crisp, tingling in Blair¡¯s lungs as she sat in her tent.  Alder had insisted that setting a watch wasn¡¯t necessary, but Blair had pointed out that he¡¯d thought the Straits wouldn¡¯t be a problem either.


    He had relented but wouldn¡¯t let her take both shifts. She hadn¡¯t tried to argue.  While she could stay up longer than a human, it would take a toll on her mind more than her body, which was too dangerous to allow.


    Her legs were crossed, with her hands resting palm down on her knees.


    She closed her eyes and breathed deep.  Sucking in the cool, pine-scented air.  She focused all of her attention on her hearing and smell, not blocking anything out.


    The clearing was still peaceful on the surface, but the forest was far from still.  Fifty yards behind her, a fox searched a rabbit burrow that was twenty feet to its right.  Much further away, a bear turned in its sleep, cozy in its little cave.


    The forest teemed with life, from the worms in the dirt to the squirrels sleeping above, and Blair observed it all.


    The scream that tore through the night was so loud that it sounded inhuman.  And it was coming from Alder¡¯s tent.


    Blair flew out of her tent before the sound started to die.  The clearing, lit only by the fight moonlight, was empty, but she could smell something off in Alder¡¯s tent.


    She tore through the tent wall like wet paper, not bothering with the door.  ¡­And found no one but Alder inside.  Alder¡¯s scream finally died out, only for another to take its place.  He thrashed in his sleeping bag like he was having a seizure, and he smelled wrong.


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    He usually smelled like coffee and wet soil, but now he reeked of cheap perfume and /terror/.  Not fear, that word wasn¡¯t strong enough for the cloud that was rolling off him.


    It made her nose itch and almost caused her eyes to water.


    Alder thrashed harder, partially curling in on himself.


    Blair lunged for him just before he slammed back down. Catching the back of his head with one hand and holding her weight up with the other.


    Alder managed to slip his arms free of the bag, and he grabbed onto her planted arm so hard that his knuckles instantly turned white.


    His eyes snapped open, and he stared up at her with open, desperate terror.  ¡°Please! Alex! Please, please, please!¡± He gasped, not giving himself time to breathe.  ¡°I won¡¯t try to run again! I promise! I promise I promise, I promise! ¡° His words drew out into a whisper.


    That look hit Blair like a punch to the gut.  She wasn¡¯t sure what was happening, but Alder obviously didn¡¯t know where he was.  She focused on keeping her voice calm and soothing.  ¡°Alder, you¡¯re safe.  It¡¯s Blair.  We¡¯re in the Clearing.¡±


    Slowly, the fog cleared from Alder¡¯s eyes.  As it did, his scent slowly faded back to normal.


    He blinked up at her, then sagged back in her grip.  ¡°¡­my bad.  I should have warned you this could happen.  But¡­kinda an awkward subject to breach.¡±


    Blair stared down at the Grave Keeper and desperately wanted to ask what was happening.  ¡°¡­Are you okay.¡±


    He closed his eyes.  ¡°I will be.  Thank you.  ¡­I just- I need a minute. Then I¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Blair wanted to ask what the hell was going on, wanted to so badly that she opened her mouth.  ¡°¡­¡± But the words wouldn¡¯t come.  The reasons she hadn¡¯t pressed earlier were still there.  Nothing had really changed, aside from increasing her worry. That, and confirming that magic was involved.  Not only had his emotions changed, but his actual scent.  Perfume didn''t just vanish on its own.


    So, despite her curiosity, and her worry, she stayed quiet. And once again hoped she wasn¡¯t making a terrible mistake.

 Old Tom鈥檚 Fall

    My fingers tremble, and I am scarcely able to write. But I must, for I am to die here, and there must be a record of my failure. To warn others who may be fooled as I was.


    My desperation, my pride has doomed us. I pray it dooms us alone.


    The visions, the tomes, all lies. I performed the sacrifices, convinced the others to give some of their blood. I performed the ritual with perfection¡­but my boys did not come through the fell portal.


    The Demon draws near. I hear his voice, as deep and smooth as a crooner. It wears William like a cloak, his body moving despite the fact I know him to be dead.


    I did not expect this, but I still made plans in case of ambush or some form of  treachery. It will not be enough to save me, but if I can trap it here, maybe I can spare the town from the brunt of my failure.


    God, I know I have no right to ask, but please let me spare them. Let this be enough.


    To whoever finds this journal, pay heed to these words above all, do not cross the circle. No matter what it promises you. Do. Not. Cross. It.


    It comes. I am out of time.


    ~<>~<>~


    I stared at my pack, a numb sense of dread sitting in my gut. My eyes stung from lack of sleep, and my body ached even worse than yesterday. And Blair¡­ my hands tightened on my water bottle.


    I had avoided talking about it, but after last night¡­ She knew something was wrong.


    I¡­ I didn¡¯t know how to deal with that. So right now, my strategy was to not think about it, which was the same one I had for what came next.


    I had already put away my tent. I had been in no mood for sleep after that episode.


    Which was¡­well, it was normal.


    But now I was running out of time, and my shameless procrastinating was about to end.


    I tucked my knees close and grabbed hold of my pack. The heavy weight a comfort, even if it wouldn¡¯t protect from anything.


    Blair settled next to me, her eyes focused on the stream.


    ¡°You ready?¡±


    I wasn¡¯t. ¡°Yeah. The next region¡­¡±


    I paused to clear my throat. ¡°The next region is called Old Tom¡¯s Fall. And it is the most dangerous place in this Pass.¡±


    Blair straightened. ¡°Worse than the Straits?¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Its recent mental attack notwithstanding, the Straits is usually a bear-trap that will snap closed if you step wrong.


    Old Tom¡¯s Fall tries to lure you into that trap. And its prisoner is very good at getting you to take that step.¡±


    Blair raised a brow. ¡°Prisoner?¡±


    I nodded, the sick feeling growing.


    ¡°A Demon.¡±


    Blair froze. ¡°By Demon, do you mean a type of devil, like an imp or¡ª¡°


    ¡°I mean Demon. A capital D, biblical Demon. Something ancient even by supernatural standards, with intimate knowledge of mortals and how to tempt them. And it will be doing everything in its power to lure us into its claws.¡±


    Blair pursed her lips. ¡°I suppose that¡¯s why you smell sick.¡±


    I swallowed. ¡°¡­Yeah.¡±


    Blair took a deep breath, ¡°I am assuming it''s contained if the church hasn¡¯t sent one of their squads.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°It is, but it''s not perfect. A summoning circle keeps it in place, but it doesn¡¯t stop us from crossing it. And if we cross over¡­ even if the Demon possessed something we could fight, nothing would stop it from jumping into one of us.¡±


    Blair stared at the path, a healthy dose of caution in her expression.


    ¡°So¡­we don¡¯t cross the circle. Anything else?¡±


    I climbed to my feet and slowly dragged my pack up with me.


    My shoulder throbbed as I slid the pack on. If Niall had hit me even just a little harder, my shoulder would have cracked, at the very least.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have any rules that will kill us if we break them, aside from staying outside the circle. But I cannot stress that one enough, do not cross it. No matter what it says or does, we can¡¯t put a single foot over that circle.¡±


    She nodded.


    ¡°That¡¯s the only hard rule. But I¡¯ve come up with a few more over the years. Mainly, don¡¯t talk to it. Don¡¯t respond to its barbs or taunts, or promises.


    It will do everything it can to get you to cross over, and it¡¯ll use anything you say against you. A Demon is very, very good at talking, better than anyone or anything else I¡¯ve seen.¡±


    Blair rose to her feet. ¡°Don¡¯t talk, and don¡¯t cross the circle.¡± She paused, a thoughtful look on her face.


    ¡°Have you tried earplugs? They won¡¯t work for me, but you could shut its voice out.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°It¡¯s a good idea, but it won¡¯t work. I tried it when I was thirteen. The asshole hid until I walked by then jumped out at me. He screamed into my mind like he had a megaphone. I prefer to hear his voice in my ears rather than my head.¡±


    I started walking towards the trail.


    ¡°We can¡¯t go around either. I¡¯ve tried. Not only does the trail lead into a narrow valley that¡¯s impossible to go around, the few times I tried to do it anyway¡­ there are things outside the Pass. These forests are old, and so are the things that live in them. At least here, there are some rules.¡±


    Blair stared ahead before giving me an odd look.


    ¡°Thirteen? Blight and bone Alder, your childhood sounds awful.¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°It wasn¡¯t so bad. I had the ghosts.¡± I stared at the trail, and the sick feeling grew worse. ¡°Though there are certainly some things I¡¯d forget, given the chance.¡±


    ~<>~<>~


    The path dropped down until we were practically climbing down.


    It narrowed at the same time, the forest pushing close as if trying to crush us¡­or get us to turn back.


    The sky had darkened to an ugly gray, and the pleasant breeze was nowhere in sight.


    My heart hammered in my chest, and it was taking everything I had to keep my breathing steady.


    I could do this. I had done this. Just walk around the circle. You could do this in your sleep.


    My pep talk wasn¡¯t effective, but I didn¡¯t stop walking, so I¡¯ll count that as a win.


    By the time we reached the valley floor, the trees had thickened until we walked through a narrow tunnel between the towering giants.


    What few choked rays of light made it through cast the trail into an eerie twilight.


    ¡°You like horror movies?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± I stared at Blair.


    ¡°You know? Horror movies? Monsters, scares, screams, another adjective that starts with s?¡±


    I snorted. ¡°I know what they are, but where did that come from?¡±


    She shrugged before ducking under a branch. ¡°This whole place is like a horror movie, so I had them on my mind.¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­ I guess I like them. Depends on the movie. Not a fan of how many of them look like they¡¯ve had a gray filter over every shot.¡±


    ¡°Plenty of generic junk,¡± she agreed. ¡°But they are my guilty pleasure, even the bad ones.¡±


    ¡°The bad ones are always good for a laugh.¡±


    Blair smiled. ¡°They used to scare the hell out of me, even the bad ones.¡±


    I stared at her. ¡°Really? You were scared of horror movies?¡±


    She nodded, a slight flush tinting her cheeks. ¡°You know how I stopped being scared by them?¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°¡­I used them to prepare.¡±


    I groaned.


    ¡°I¡¯m serious!¡± she laughed. ¡°I didn¡¯t like how much they scared me as a kid, so I started taking notes. I would keep a journal of what I would do if I was in the movie. How I would keep my Pack safe. It didn¡¯t take me long to realize that I could actually beat a lot of movie monsters, which made me feel better.¡±


    Blair ducked a drooping branch, which I walked under.


    ¡°Now, their kind of comfort films for me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re an odd duck, Blair.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡±


    ¡°But I get what you''re saying. And it makes sense to me, at least. But what do you write down when the monster isn¡¯t something you can punch to death?¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°I look up what spook could take care of them and figure out how I could get a hold of them.¡±


    The hill leveled out, and my next words died on my tongue. Ahead of us, still partially covered by the thick foliage, was a stone pillar. It was dark and worn with age, but I knew what I would see as we grew closer. Runes and sigils carved across it in an unintelligible script that itched at the eyes.


    And on the ground around the pillar was a chaotic mass of white lines that stretched out of view.


    The circle.


    Blair sensed my tension and slipped in front of me. That wouldn¡¯t protect me from what came next, but I appreciated the gesture.


    As we closed in on the first pillar, the Demon spoke.


    ¡°Ahhhh, The Grave Keeper shadows my doorstep once more. A little early, aren¡¯t you?¡± The voice was deep, and every word dripped with a silk-smooth charm that would have put radio hosts to shame.


    I closed my eyes. Just don¡¯t cross the circle, and anything he says is pointless.


    I heard an exaggerated sniffing noise from the Pillar.


    ¡°Oh? A traveling companion? Have you come with another sacrifice? I will reward you even more handsomely this time.¡±


    I clenched my jaw. That slimy shit!


    Sowing distrust in seconds. I hadn¡¯t thought of the mad warlock angle, but I should have. First, we go past Grumpy, and then I lead Blair through a dangerous magical wood to a trapped demon. That did look awfully suspicious.


    Blair glanced at me, her eyes narrowed.


    My heart fell. Only to turn that fall into a stumble when she rolled her eyes a moment later.


    Her trust gave me a burst of warmth, and I clung to it.


    ¡°I joke, of course. I would never suggest that the dear Grave Keeper would do something so horrible. That¡¯s so unlike him. Well¡­¡±


    The rest of the circle was almost in view now, just a little further.


    ¡°It¡¯s unlike him now. But he is prone to¡­ episodes. Maybe the kind, foolish Grave Keeper did not lead you here, stranger, so that he could sacrifice you to a vile creature like myself.¡±


    The sniffing noise repeated, and the Demon went on, his voice still smoother than a -door-to-door salesman and kinder than a priest.


    ¡°But who¡¯s to say one of the others in his head did not make such plans for him?¡±


    I stopped. He knew. He knew, and he had never said a damn thing to hint at it before.


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    The ball of dread in my gut grew.


    How long had he known? Since the start? Had this creature been holding onto that knowledge for over a decade, just waiting on the off chance he could use it?


    That kind of patience scared me shitless.


    Blair turned to me, her face blank. ¡°Keep going,¡± she mouthed.


    I nodded. She was right. I couldn¡¯t let it get in my head. He knew, so what? This was fine.


    The underbrush was so thick it nearly blocked off the path, forcing us to fight to stay away from the rapidly approaching circle.


    We passed by the first stone, and the inside of the circle came into view.


    Nothing was there. He was hiding. Dammit. When I was thirteen, he¡¯d done this. Skulking like something out of a horror movie. And the worst part was that he was just doing it to be a dick.


    Oh, I¡¯m sure there was an angle somewhere in this little hiding strat. Maybe he hoped to scare me into losing my balance or punch out reflexively and cross the circle.


    But I would bet money that the real reason was simple enjoyment on his part.


    This asshole liked pain. He liked to scare people.


    We passed by the next stone, still nothing.


    I tried to avoid looking at the circle at all and just kept marching forward. But that left my mind to offer up images of the demon inches away, his teeth coming for my throat, held at bay by nothing but lines in the dirt-


    I looked up, my heart pounding.


    Black pits filled with uneven, spiraling lines of chalk white stared at me from less than an inch away.


    I sucked in a breath as I bit down on a scream.


    The Demon chuckled, the sound rich and unconstrained.


    ¡°My apologies, it is rather boring here. I have to take what entertainment I can get.¡±


    I scowled at the Demon. The expression froze on my face a moment later.


    I had been so surprised by those nightmarish eyes that I hadn¡¯t taken in the rest of the Demon.


    He had found a new vessel¡ªa werewolf.


    Blair stopped and stared at the Demon, and her expression was¡­ horrified. She looked on as if staring at her parents¡¯ graves.


    Seeing that look startled me enough that I didn¡¯t follow my own advice.


    ¡°Blair?¡±


    She said nothing, her gaze locked with the demons. Her hands were shaking.


    The Demon wasn¡¯t in the wolf form Blair had been in earlier. Instead, it was something in between human and beast, but wrong.


    His body was a hunched, hulking thing that dwarfed me. Halfway up his torso, the gray fur split, a dark brown gash stretching from his stomach all the way to his neck. The wound dripped a steady stream of dark, almost black blood, and it was just one injury among many.


    One arm dangled limply at his side, jagged points of bone pressing up against the skin, and one leg was halfway between forms, thinner and reverse-jointed like a wolf''s, while the other was like a humans, only larger and covered in stained gray fur.


    ¡°Ah! You brought me another werewolf!¡±


    The Demon sounded gleeful, which put me on guard even more.


    ¡°Why so confused, Grave Keeper? Do you not know? Werewolves revere their dead. Specific burial practices vary with region, but their respect for the fallen does not.¡± He chuckled, only for it to turn into rich, booming laughter.


    ¡°They punish desecrating the dead as harshly as rape and murder!¡±


    He laughed harder, leaning over to slap his humanoid knee with a massive, claw-tipped hand.


    Blair¡¯s eyes had turned into red pools, and the shaking had moved to the rest of her body. She looked like she was barely holding back from hurling herself at the Demon.


    Which was exactly what it wanted.


    ¡°Blair, don¡¯t.¡±


    The laughter cut off as those spiraled eyes locked onto me.


    ¡°What? Did you have a change of heart? You don¡¯t want to sacrifice her now?¡±


    He laughed again.


    ¡°Don¡¯t want her to throw herself into a fight she can¡¯t hope to win?¡±


    Blair took a step forward. The stone beneath her foot cracked.


    ¡°Blair, stop! He¡¯s baiting you!¡±


    The Demon recoiled as if slapped, clutching a gnarled hand to his chest. ¡°How could you say such things, Grave Keeper? That state of my current body is not a cruel attempt at manipulation. It¡¯s an unintended side effect.¡±


    He dropped his hand down and smiled, showing off a mouth packed with gleaming white teeth.


    ¡°You see, the fellow who owned this body previously wandered in here, then we had a little talk, and he ended up leaving me his body. But there are some problems with occupying a werewolf¡¯s body when their soul is absent.¡±


    Blair started to growl, the sound so low that I felt it more than heard it, a base vibration that rattled my bones.


    ¡°Oh, there is no need for such aggression! I am about to explain why, exactly, this body is in such a sorry state.¡±


    He gestured down at his chest before dragging a claw along one of the open wounds. He sniffed the almost black blood staining his claw.


    ¡°Hmm. Smells almost stale. Not rotting, mind you, I am not occupying an undead. But stale. You see, werewolves and their precious Bonds have a rather¡­pronounced effect on their bodies.¡±


    He glanced at Blair, the chalk-white lines in his eyes seeming to wobble and spin.


    ¡°The Bond is an old thing. Almost as old as I am, and as I have recently found out, not even I can tamper with it.¡±


    I licked my lips. When had they gotten so dry?


    ¡°So, while this body is that of a dashing werewolf, the problem lies with me. Demons don¡¯t have the Bond. So this vessel is¡­displeased.¡±


    Blair took another step, putting her dangerously close to the circle.


    I had no clue that werewolves had such a taboo with their dead, but I couldn¡¯t have guessed that the Demon would be possessing a werewolf even if I had known.


    No one came to the Pass. I only knew of two others who had traveled it in the eleven years I had known about it. And both of them had come to try and make a deal with the Demon. The werewolf had probably been hoping for that, too, before getting conned out of his body.


    But what did I do now? I needed to calm Blair down, but how was I supposed to do that?


    ¡°There is no need for such anger!¡± the Demon laughed. ¡°I am not the one who has brought you here. I¡¯m sure you trust the Grave Keeper, at least, enough to follow him here. But I might be able to shine some light on a few details.¡±


    ¡°Do you know what his magic does? Ah, it looks like you do.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know how the Demon was reading that from Blair¡¯s face, but it seemed sure of the answer.


    ¡°Ghosts are not what many think them to be. They are not echo¡¯s or memories imprinted in magic; that¡¯s what a shade is. Instead, a ghost is a soul not moving on. And a soul is a powerful thing, my wayward sacrifice.¡±


    ¡°So, magic that forces a soul to move on comes with consequences. Permanent, unforgettable consequences.¡±


    I felt nauseous, so nauseous that it was getting hard to think.


    ¡°While I didn¡¯t get all of a werewolves¡¯ senses from this body, demons have some wondrous senses of our own, one of them being our sense for sin and another for soul. It¡¯s quite on brand when you think about it, tempters being able to pick up on such things.¡±


    He smirked, the expression nightmarish on his twisted face.


    ¡°Some of my fellows see it differently than I, but for me, sin appears as a black cloud over one¡¯s soul. All are somewhat tainted. You have a few marks yourself. But most souls look¡­smudged.¡±


    Oh shit.


    The Demons¡¯ swirling orbs dug into me as he laughed. ¡°The Grave Keeper, though, his soul is black as coal! The acts he has bared witness to, the things his hands have done. Well, I suspect I will see him in the bottom of my home one day.¡±


    Blair glanced at me before turning back to the Demon.


    No, no.


    ¡°Do you know why ghosts stay behind? Unfinished business. So, when our Grave Keeper works his magic, he is taking a load off the ghost¡¯s shoulders. He gets what they hang onto. The memories of their unfinished business, their greatest regrets, their greatest sins.¡±


    When Blair spoke, her voice was rougher and slightly garbled. ¡°Liar.¡±


    The Demon threw his snout back and laughed. ¡°Oh, I am a liar, and much, much worse. But I am not lying now. Can you smell the truth? If so, then you know I am an honest demon at the moment.¡±


    It turned to me and took a step to the side. The motion was graceful, almost eel-like despite its mismatched legs.


    One clawed, gnarled hand pressed against the edge of the circle, freezing as if against a wall of glass. ¡°I could scarcely believe it when a mere child stumbled into my little valley, his soul already tainted worse than most murders and rapists I have known.¡±


    I collapsed onto my ass as bile filled my mouth.


    It turned its head to look at Blair. The angle was off, almost boneless.


    ¡°Now, ten or so years later¡­ That''s quite a few memories. Quite a few monsters permanently etched into his mind.¡±


    Blair¡¯s jaw worked, but no words came. She snarled, and something in her throat shifted. A second later, her words came out clearer than before.


    ¡°Shut up.¡± Her glare held the promise of violence, and she took another step closer, her nose mere inches from the circle.


    ¡°Can smell when he changes. Would know if someone else was in control.¡±


    The Demon went still. The guise of life dropping as it stared at us. Its chest didn¡¯t rise. It didn¡¯t blink.


    Its eyes slowly drifted to me, Blair, and then me. The wobbly white lines spun like slowly turning gears.


    It started to smile again, but something had changed. There had always been a mocking edge to its every motion, but now something darker lurked in its monstrous face.


    ¡°Well. Isn¡¯t this a shame. You¡¯re strong, but your soul is young. I was hoping you¡¯d be a little easier to goad.¡±


    It chuckled. ¡°It would have been so entertaining if I got his guest to kill themselves. And who knows? Maybe he¡¯s attached to you. He might have just followed you into the circle.¡±


    His smile grew, and it kept growing, moving past what should have been possible. The change wasn¡¯t huge, the wolffish face shifting slightly as the rictus grin stretched further. But it was a slow, clunky change. Like a rusty lever slowly being cranked up.


    After a few awful seconds, the Demon¡¯s smile went nearly ear to ear.


    ¡°You should go now. If I can¡¯t convince you to cross the circle, that is. Unless you want to talk, I have quite a lot of time on my hands, and I¡¯m well versed in most topics you could think of.¡±


    ¡°Shut. Up,¡± Blair snarled.


    It shrugged. ¡°You don¡¯t want to talk then? Well, that¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll just get back to entertaining myself with this new body. I admit I wasn¡¯t being entirely honest with you earlier when I told you I hadn¡¯t injured it.¡±


    Something in Blair¡¯s shoulder cracked.


    ¡°Now, what I said about the Bonds wasn¡¯t a lie, sweetheart. This body really doesn¡¯t want me in it. But I can¡¯t say that all of these injuries were caused by that reaction.¡± It stretched out its broken arm, showing nothing but a grin, despite the grizzly injury.


    ¡°I had to do something to pass the time, you understand.¡± Its voice was a perfect balance between earnestness and cruelty. If I hadn¡¯t known him, I wouldn¡¯t have been able to point out if he was mocking us or being completely honest.


    Blair¡¯s hands lengthened, and fur started to burst from her skin. She took a deep breath, and the change receded.


    ¡°Oh? Why hold back? Change. Throw yourself at me and give me a reprieve from my endless boredom.¡±


    The Demon glanced at me. ¡°What are you doing on the ground, Grave Keeper? Have I upset you somehow? Shared some knowledge you rather have kept hidden?¡±


    Bile in my throat, nausea in my gut, they overwhelmed my senses. I had to do something, had to stop this.


    I- I- A noose appeared in my hand. I could feel its weight, smell the old rope, even through the bile. But when I made a fist, it was gone.


    No, NO! Not now!


    ¡°SHUT. UP,¡± Blair roared.


    The Demon¡¯s too wide smile never faltered. ¡°Make me.¡±


    Blair didn¡¯t move, but the shaking in her hands stilled. I didn¡¯t think that was a good sign.


    ¡°Still not coming in? Well, I find your conversation to be rather lacking. So I think I¡¯ll find my own way to pass the time.¡±


    The Demon reached up to his broken arm, never taking his eyes away from Blair.


    Blair flinched. ¡°Don¡¯t!¡±


    The Demon wrenched, and a sick crack sounded from the arm.


    ¡°Hmm. Five breaks. Werewolf bodies are tough, even if the healing isn¡¯t working. I wonder how many breaks it will take before the arm falls off. Care to make a guess?¡±


    Something in Blair changed. I couldn¡¯t place what exactly, but I knew, I knew she was going to attack.


    She was going to attack. And the Demon would leave its current host and take her instead. Blair couldn¡¯t stop that.


    But I could. I¡¯d have to. But I couldn¡¯t. Not so soon after Niall. If I used my magic on the Demon, if I banished it, it would be worse than any ghost. I- I couldn¡¯t!


    But you can¡¯t leave her to die.


    My breaths started coming faster and faster as my panic built. I couldn¡¯t leave Blair to die, but- but!


    Do something, Alder!


    Blair shifted her weight.


    I moved.


    Blair stopped, then slowly looked down at her hand. I held it as tightly as I could, my knuckles already turning white from the force.


    She met my eyes. ¡°Blair. Please! I-¡± my voice broke. ¡°I can¡¯t!¡±


    She froze. The Demon kept taunting us, but I tuned him out.


    Blair¡¯s hand was burning hot. That heat brought memories bubbling up.


    Johnathan¡¯s hands tightening around my throat. Wayne¡¯s side slick with warm blood. Margret¡¯s fists as they pounded down.


    My hand shook, and my gut churned. No! No! This wasn¡¯t any of those situations. This was Blair!


    There was a reason I hadn¡¯t wanted to accept Rogers words.


    I wasn¡¯t someone who didn¡¯t like to be touched, or at least, I hadn¡¯t been. But I barely ever touched the living. Almost all my memories of it were beatings, torture¡­ or worse. It made my fear of touch feel alien as if it were someone else¡¯s reaction being forced on me.


    Even now, as I told myself this was different, my body screamed at me to let go. I had to fight through the sense of revulsion, but I tightened my grip.


    Blair¡¯s blood-red eyes bored into mine. She was furious, so furious that I could practically feel the anger rolling off her in waves.


    I prayed that her control won over her rage.


    I couldn¡¯t do anything else. If Blair decided to step forward, my grip wasn¡¯t stopping her.


    But she didn¡¯t take that step. She just kept staring. Her eyes didn¡¯t bleed back to blue, her anger didn¡¯t recede, but her hand turned in my grip as she clasped my wrist, then pulled me to my feet.


    ¡°NO!¡± The Demon roared.


    Blair kept staring at me as if she didn¡¯t trust herself to look at the Demon.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I whispered.


    We slowly started walking again, keeping as far from the circle as we could, Blair gaze never leaving me.


    ¡°NO, NO, NO!¡± The demon composure hadn¡¯t vanished completely, but the monster couldn¡¯t hide its desperation. It slammed its shoulder into the circle, again and again, frantically trying to break through.


    ¡°This cage will not hold me forever, Grave Keeper! Even if it takes a thousand years, I¡¯ll break free! And if you¡¯re dead by the time I do, i''ll see you in hell!¡±


    It abruptly went still, and the rage left its face, replaced by a far more frightening calm.


    ¡°But before that¡­ I¡¯ll find your family, your kin, your blood.¡± pure hatred danced in its eyes, so intense I could feel it like fire on my skin.


    ¡°I will do unto them such horror¡¯s that Yahweh would weep to look upon them.¡±


    I tried to think of some witty come back to show that I wasn¡¯t scared, but I was scared, both of the Demon, and that any pause would cause Blair to throw herself at him.


    And after a second of thought, I looked away.


    Walking away, free, from the Prisoner of the Pass was the best comeback I had.

 The Silver Spruce

    Every step we took away from Old Tom¡¯s Fall, the worse I felt. Which was stupid. We had made it past the Demon. I should be relieved, ecstatic.


    ¡­But now¡­she knew. And I hadn¡¯t been able to look at her face since we started up the far side of the valley.


    What would I see there? Fear? Well, that one wasn¡¯t likely. But disgust? Revulsion? I hadn¡¯t had the balls to look.


    We walked in silence until the forest lightened again, the canopy becoming slightly less oppressive.


    It was only then that I realized I had never let go of Blair¡¯s hand. That almost pulled a dark chuckle out of me. Great timing, overcoming, at least for a moment, my distaste for touch only for the person I was touching to likely be disgusted with me.


    You don¡¯t know that. That¡¯s your fear talking, and it¡¯s often full of shit.


    My common sense wasn¡¯t necessarily wrong, but it was fighting against a fear I¡¯d had for most of my life. It was losing.


    Blair stopped as I let go of her hand, and I mirrored her.


    She turned to me, and while I considered looking away, I resisted the urge and met her stare.


    The red hadn¡¯t finished bleeding from her eyes, and swirls of it still danced in her irises.


    Her expression was¡­blank, her poker face completely up.


    My mind immediately started coming up with the worst things that mask could be hiding, but Blair spoke before it could really get into gear.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    I blinked, my brain stuttering to a stop. ¡°Huh?¡±


    Blair met my eyes, and her mask cracked. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. If I hadn¡¯t stopped, he might not have had time to talk so much. To share all that. It wasn¡¯t his to share. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    My mouth worked, but no sound came out. ¡°Ah- I-¡° I laughed, the sound equal part relieved and crazed. Blair raised a concerned brow. I held up a hand as my laughter died out. ¡°I was, I was psyching myself out with how you would react. Imaging the worst scenarios.¡±


    Blair frowned. ¡°How did you think I¡¯d react?¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°Disgust mostly.¡±


    Blair¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°Learning that helping my Pack cost you more than I knew makes my debt greater. I would have to be a fool to feel different.¡±


    Though I winced as she mentioned debt, her words still warmed my heart. I looked up at her and felt my eyes begin to well with tears. I quickly looked down. This whole thing felt¡­ surreal. Like an out of place dream that would shatter if I acknowledged it.


    Someone knew, and they didn¡¯t turn away? It felt too good to be true, and I found myself instinctively waiting for the other shoe to drop.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± Blair asked.


    I rubbed my eyes, then glared up at her. ¡°No. Since as far as I¡¯m concerned, your debt is paid. I would have died in the Straits if not for you. So I think that makes us even.¡±


    Blair shook her head, her hair bouncing with the motion. ¡°No. I wouldn¡¯t have made it out either if you hadn¡¯t stopped¡­whatever it was doing to our heads. And we¡¯re only there because you are doing my Pack a favor.¡±


    I scowled. ¡°If we¡¯ve saved each other¡¯s lives, then I don¡¯t think we should be keeping score.¡±


    Blair was silent for several seconds, shook her head again, then turned back to the trail.


    ¡°I always keep track of my debts. Especially for my friends.¡± She started walking, but I was frozen in place.


    ¡­Friends.


    I wiped at my eyes again, smiled, then followed after her.


    ~<>~<>~


    I caught up to Blair but didn¡¯t say anything. My emotions were all over the place, and I wasn¡¯t sure what would come out if I opened my mouth.


    Blair, it seemed, wasn¡¯t so tongue-tied. ¡°I¡¯m going to have to go back eventually. I need to recover the body.¡±


    I swallowed and wrestled my thoughts into order. ¡°Alright¡­how.¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know yet. But it¡¯s something that is going to happen. We don¡¯t leave our dead behind.¡±


    I closed my eyes and nodded. ¡°I guess we¡¯ll need a priest. There¡¯s one in Silver Spruce, but I¡¯m not sure if he knows about the supernatural.¡±


    Blair grunted. ¡°We can go over the details later.¡±


    ¡°Okay. I-¡° I trailed off as the trees parted.


    ¡°Alder! What is¡­¡± Blair stopped talking, and we both just stared.


    I sagged in relief as, just like The Clearing, the hostile, hungry weight of the Pass was lifted from our shoulders.


    In front of us, towering hundreds of feet into the air, its silver needles casting the ground ahead in a cool shade, was the Silver-Spruce.


    ¡°Rules, Alder?¡± Blair asked, her voice filled with hushed wonder.


    I shook my head. ¡°Just be nice. This is it. We made it.¡±


    We walked forward. The Silver-Spruce was, well, a silver spruce tree of titanic proportions. Its branches stretched easily over a hundred feet out, the trunk many times that.


    The thing should have been visible from miles around, but only those standing in its presence could see it.


    Magic hung thick in the air, thicker than anywhere else I had ever been, and the fresh scent of spruce hung in the air, mixed with something cooler.


    Wind swept through its branches, causing the needles to rustle and let out a sound like tiny wind chimes.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Motes of silver glimmered in the air, a sharp contrast against the verdant grass.


    -The base of the tree, which two dozen people linking hands wouldn¡¯t have been able to encircle, was pitch black, with swirls of silver running through it like currents in a river.


    We stared for a while, neither of us saying a word.


    I couldn¡¯t say how long we stood there, reveling in the sight, but when I finally looked away, I felt like I¡¯d gotten a whole night''s sleep, and my aches and pains had the edge taken off them.


    Blair stirred a moment later. ¡°What¡­how does no one know about this?¡±


    ¡°You gotta be here to see it,¡± I said with a stretch.


    ¡°¡­Silver Spruce,¡± she said, tasting the word.


    ¡°Yeah, clearly someone knew, considering the town''s name.¡±


    Blair scanned the area around the tree, only then noticing the small cottage a few dozen feet away from the trunk.


    She blinked, obviously taken aback. The cottage was a single story with an aged wooden roof and moss-covered brick walls, with spotless windows on each side of the door. But despite the moss, the home didn¡¯t rundown, just¡­natural. As if it had been there so long that it had merged with its surroundings.


    ¡°The woman who can give you your vouchers is inside.¡±


    Blair didn¡¯t move at first, but after a second, she shook herself and started for the cottage.


    I followed behind, feeling¡­peaceful.


    Blair hesitated as we reached the stone doormat, which had the words ¡®*Something Clever¡¯* carved out in a flowing script.


    ¡°While she knows we¡¯re here, she appreciates manners.¡±


    Blair raised her fist and gave three firm knocks. The magic in the air trembled slightly. /Huh, what was that about?/


    The door immediately flew open, revealing the stout ghost on the other side. Old Gran smiled, her dark skin laced with smile lines and leathered with sun and time.


    ¡°A guest? Well, Alder. I never thought I¡¯d see the day when you brought a girl to my doorstep.¡±


    I rolled my eyes. ¡°Hi Gran, it¡¯s good to see you too.¡±


    Her smile widened, and she stepped forward to wrap me in a tight hug. I returned it, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.


    She smelled of spruce and soil and¡­nostalgia. After several long seconds, I pulled away. She stepped back but kept her hands on my shoulders. She looked me over, her dark eyes scrutinizing.


    ¡°You look, tired boy.¡±


    I chuckled. ¡°I am.¡±


    She nodded sharply, then stepped back and turned to Blair. She extended a semi-translucent hand.


    Blair shook it. She kept her face straight, but I could tell she was surprised by her hand not slipping through.


    Evidently, Old Gran could tell as well. ¡°Ghosts can touch the living, just takes a bit of doing on our part. What¡¯s your name.¡±


    ¡°Blair Northwoods.¡±


    Gran quirked a silver brow. ¡°A Northwoods? Since Alder brought you, you can call me Old Gran.¡±


    Gran stepped back and beckoned us forward. ¡°Come in!¡± We followed behind as she marched towards her small kitchenette. ¡°Can I interest you in some tea?¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± Blair said, her voice polite.


    The inside of the cottage was well organized, with everything from the spice rack to the books having a label and a proper place.


    The north wall sported a quaint fireplace that crackled merrily below a thick iron teapot.


    ¡°If you''re wondering why a ghost has tea and a kitchen, it¡¯s because she figured out how to taste.¡±


    Blair blinked. ¡°How-¡° Gran cut in with a snort. ¡°More ghosts should have figured it out. Most can smell things so long as they don¡¯t think about it too much. Taste is just a short hop from that. But most don¡¯t stick around long enough to figure it out. Or they just don¡¯t bother.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s saying she¡¯s old,¡± I whispered. A pillow floated up from a nearby chair and flung itself at me.


    I caught it with a laugh.


    ¡°I heard that, you brat!¡±


    ¡°I have no clue what you mean.¡±


    Grumbling, Old Gran pulled a set of mugs out. The teapot floated over from the fire to pour itself into the mugs.


    Gran gestured to the small wooden table in the corner. ¡°Sit while I make this.¡±


    ¡°Yes, boss.¡± I pulled off my pack and relaxed into a chair, sighing with relief.


    Blair mirrored me, minus the sighing. The jerk probably didn¡¯t even notice the weight of her pack.


    Blair glanced at me and frowned. ¡°Why are you glaring at me?¡±


    ¡°You cheat.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Lugging your pack around without a care in the world. Disgraceful.¡±


    Blair tilted her back to look down her nose at me. ¡°Sounds like you''re jealous.¡±


    ¡°Damn straight.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you could lift more if you weren¡¯t just skin and bones,¡± Gran said, not even turning to look at me.


    ¡°Hey! I don¡¯t need that from you!¡±


    The old hag just laughed.


    Blair¡¯s gaze flicked to the old ghost, a question clear on her face.


    ¡°Old Gran is¡­well, old. And I¡¯m saying that in a dignified way, Gran!¡± The woman grumbled, but the cushions didn¡¯t take aim.


    ¡°She¡¯s been here longer than any of the others. She¡¯s practically a nature spirit at this point. And all the other ghosts that aren¡¯t crazy respect her. Well, some of the crazies might respect her too. I haven¡¯t asked.¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re really¡­what¡¯s the word? Hyping me up? Is that it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s how you use that.¡±


    Old Gran gave a satisfied chuckle. ¡°That¡¯s right! I¡¯m with it.¡±


    I winced. ¡°Only people who aren¡¯t with it say they''re with it.¡±


    She snorted. ¡°That sounds like something someone who isn¡¯t with it would say.¡±


    I scowled at her as she came to the table, the mugs floating along with her.


    ¡°So,¡± she said, pulling out her chair. ¡°As happy as I am to see you again, what brings you to my doorstep so early? And with a guest?¡±


    I took a deep breath. ¡°War. A summit.¡± I nodded to Blair. ¡°And an ally for the town if her pack gets a vote.¡±


    Gran¡¯s face drained of warmth. ¡°Oh. I see.¡±


    I picked up my mug and took a sip. Jasmine. I relaxed back into my seat.


    Gran turned her attention to Blair, her dark eyes severe. ¡°So. You want vouchers.¡±


    Blair nodded.


    Gran laced her fingers together and slowly tapped her hands on the table. ¡°There are a lot of questions I could ask you-- if you¡¯ll vote with the interest of the town in mind. If you¡¯ll stand with the people here. If you¡¯ll keep Alder here safe, as fruitless as that is. But there¡¯s only one question that really matters.¡±


    She leaned forward, and a sudden pressure filled the room.


    There was a difference between beings that had been on this world for a few dozen years and a few hundred. There was a weight to that much time, a gravity that was unmistakable.


    That gravity now pulled my gaze to Old Gran with a constant tug at my mind, telling me that I was in the room with something significant.


    She met my eyes and spoke, the cottage groaning with her words. ¡°Do you trust her, Alder?¡±


    I tore my eyes away from Gran to look at Blair. Her deep blue eyes, still tinted with the faintest flecks of red, stared back.


    ¡­I didn¡¯t need to think for more then a second to realize I¡¯d already made up my mind.


    ¡°I do.¡±


    Old Gran clapped, and the tension broke. ¡°Well then! It would seem you have your voucher!¡±


    Blair spoke without looking away from me, her gaze intense. ¡°It would seem so.¡±


    The End Of Part Two

 Home

    Solomon knelt in a dark chamber, only the soft glow of moonlight shining through the windows providing illumination.


    Had he been a few centuries younger, sweat would have been dripping from his brow and soaking his dark hair.  Instead, he merely felt like he¡¯d dragged a mountain on his back.


    The dark room smelled of lavender and stone and age.  His Master had used it for centuries, though he¡¯d only used it as a focus room.  He hadn¡¯t needed the aids Solomon did to bring out all of the Barrow King¡¯s Mantle. But when it came to the Mantle, Solomon was a child playing with his father''s sword compared to his late Master.


    A cloud passed from in front of the moon, causing a stray beam to light up the stone floor.


    Runes and sigils had been painstakingly carved across its surface.


    It had been difficult finding a mage who could make the correct runes, and Solomon had been forced to deal with some truly unsavory characters.  Though the necromancers were just the start if his plan was to work.


    One more push, then I can rest.


    Solomon reached deep, pulling at the cold heart of power in his chest.


    The cold green sparked and slowly spread through the runes.  The power was small and worn out from hours of work, but it would be enough.


    It spread, lighting the runes up one by one.  As the light pushed back the dark,  the design of the circle became clear.


    Chains.


    One for shades of the past, long and thin, it stretched around the entire room.


    Three for the undead, sturdy but simple, they wrapped around the eye of the circle.


    And lastly, one for his cunning prey.  This chain belonged on a ship''s anchor, each link thicker than Solomon¡¯s hand.


    It stretched around the middle of the room, its thick links glowing the brightest of all.


    Even with this chain, he wasn¡¯t sure how much control he would have over the beast.  He might not be able to do more than point it and hope for the best.


    His pale hands clenched into fists, and his magic pulsed.


    Eight days.  He had eight days until the summit.  The thick chain would either be mastered by then,  or Solomon would have to accept hoping for the beast to go where pointed.


    No, that¡¯s not good enough.  I didn¡¯t spend this much time on control chains only to let innocents die now.


    Solomon poured all of his will into the task, forcing the chains to forge faster.


    This would work.


    And if it didn¡¯t?  If it didn¡¯t, Solomon would have another sin to add to the tally.


    ~<>~<>~


    Walking back through the Pass was easier than the first way through.


    It wasn¡¯t pleasant, mind you, but there was a shield of apathy on the way back, a sense of ¡®been there done that¡¯ that the first trip lacked.


    And there was another thing different about the trip back.  There was none of the caution and uncertainty between Blair and me.  I knew where we stood.


    And so it was actually pleasant to feel the hostile weight of Grumpy¡¯s aura, since it meant we were almost home.


    ¡°Hey, you old bastard.  I missed you too.  A little.¡±


    The malice pulsed but parted to allow us through.


    Blair had tensed up, still completely unnerved by Grumpy, which was definitely the proper reaction to his presence.


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    ¡°I would run home if I wasn¡¯t so tired,¡± I said with a smile.


    Blair laughed.  ¡°I can¡¯t wait to have a properly cooked meal.¡±


    This close to home, the distance to the graveyard felt longer than the entire Pass, but when its wrought iron fence came into view¡­ words fail to describe how welcome the sight was.


    I laughed and started to run to the gate, but quickly decided that wasn¡¯t a good idea.  I hadn¡¯t taken any more beatings on the way back, but my body still felt like a mile of bad road.


    ¡°Careful,¡± Blair said with a frown.


    ¡°I am careful.  All my bumps and bruises are from plain bad luck.¡±


    She quirked a brow.  ¡°Hmm.¡±


    ¡°Hey! I really am careful!¡±


    Blair¡¯s response was cut off by Rodgers booming voice.  ¡°Alder!¡±


    The man floated over from the house, his bushy red beard split in a wide grin.


    ¡°No splints, missing hair, or obvious blood!  A successful trip, I see.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°It was indeed. Blair here now holds the voucher of the ghosts of Silver Spruce.¡±


    Blair inclined her head towards Rodgers¡¯ general direction.


    ¡°Oh, Rodgers, you''re invisible.¡±  He started, then laughed.  A moment later, Blair blinked, then focused on Rodgers.


    ¡°My apologies, Miss Northwoods. I don¡¯t  often need to unveil myself with Alder around.¡±


    Blair shook her head.  ¡°No need for that. It¡¯s fine.  I had almost forgotten that ghosts could choose to be seen.¡±


    Rodgers nodded.  ¡°Not all of us can. But most of the sane ones figure it out after a while.  Especially if they want to stay that way.  Not being able to interact with the living at all is a quick path to oblivion.¡±


    ¡°I would imagine.¡±


    The small black cat was apparently still sticking around as it pattered down from behind a gravestone.


    He went straight to Blair, rubbing against her legs and letting out a small purr.


    The werewolf blinked, then crouched down to pet the cat.


    ¡°Jack is friendly to everyone so far.¡±


    ¡°Jack?¡±


    Rodgers shrugged.  ¡°I liked the name.¡±


    I looked down at the little black cat, who met my gaze with a ¡°Meow?¡±


    I took off my pack then crouched down to pet him with Blair.  ¡°Well, I¡¯m not opposed to having a cat.¡±


    Jack purred louder.


    Blair seemed entranced as she pet the cat.  ¡°Cats are really hit or miss with werewolves.  If they haven¡¯t been around them before, they usually hate us.¡±


    Jack backed up a few steps and seemed to size up Blair.


    Then he crouched and leaped onto her shoulder.  He moved from her shoulder to the top of her pack, then curled up into a ball.


    Blair rose to her feet, careful not to jostle the cat.


    ¡°Alright. He is pretty cute.¡±


    Blair smiled, then seemed to come to herself.  ¡°We¡¯re back in cell reception now!¡±  She pulled out her phone and quickly typed out a message, her fingers flying across the screen.


    Did they make screens more durable for werewolves and other spooks?  I¡¯d never seen those before, but it would make sense.


    ¡°I need to get back to my Pack.  We only have eight days until the summit.¡±


    Blair paused, then turned to me.  ¡°You should come celebrate with us later today.  There are still things to get in order, but we have a Vote now, so everything else is minor details in comparison.¡±


    I hesitated.  Why hesitate?  My instinctive reaction was to say no, but when I pushed past that, Blair¡¯s offer sounded¡­nice.


    You¡¯ve become too much of a recluse.


    ¡°Ahh, I¡¯d love to.  What time do you want me to stop by?¡±


    She checked her phone. ¡°How about six?¡±


    ¡°Works for me.¡±


    Blair smiled then started walking back down the drive.  She stopped, turned back, then reached behind her head.


    ¡°Don¡¯t want to kidnap your cat.¡±


    I took the offered cat, who curled himself against my chest a moment later.


    I looked down at him.  ¡°You are awfully friendly for a stray.¡±


    ¡°Meow.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough.¡±


    I waved to Blair, then turned to a smiling Rodgers.  ¡°Why the grin?¡±


    ¡°No reason at all.¡±


    I eyed him but let it drop. Instead, I turned in a slow circle, just basking in the sight of the graveyard.


    Home.  I was home.


    The damp air clung to my skin, and the dark clouds overhead promised rain¡ªfitting weather for a graveyard.  I took a deep breath, tasting the soil and pine.


    Jack purred in my arms, and Rodgers was humming softly on my left.


    Home.


    I sighed and gently set the cat down.  ¡°Alright, that¡¯s enough basking.  Time for a shower.¡±

 Familiar Tension

    The sky had decided to hold off on rain for now. Instead, the grey clouds hung above like a gloomy threat.


    I trudged along the north road, an embarrassing amount of nerves filling my gut.


    Logically that was absurd. I had just faced horrors that would scare most people for the rest of their lives. I knew Blair now. It wasn¡¯t like I was expecting a trap or something.


    But they say you fear the unknown, and things like Old Tom¡¯s Pass were familiar in comparison to this.


    I could count the number of social gatherings I had been to with the living on one hand. And half of those had been mandatory school events.


    Christ, Alder. You''re a grown-ass man. Get it together.


    I walked a few more steps. Well, my anxiety was still there. Shit, I guess I need to work on my self-pep talks.


    A tendril of something dark and greasy poked from the bushes. Was that a magical construct or physical? I went to the other side of the road. I scanned my surroundings. Oh, I was next to The Lot. So physical, then.


    The empty hole where a house should go held more than the errant tentacle, but they stayed in their lane. I glanced at the tendril. Usually.


    I walked past, and while the tendril twitched a few times, it didn¡¯t try anything.


    Ten minutes later, the manor''s drive came into view.


    A far more rational fear reared its head. This pine-lined drive held memories. Ones I was not eager to revisit.


    I stepped onto the drive, and a memory did surface, but to my surprise, it wasn¡¯t unpleasant.


    Master Bram laughs, a shovel in hand as he helps me dig. The flower beds are almost done, and as Master puts it, ¡°they will be a welcome sight to visitors weary from travel.¡± As we finish the last one, a wave of satisfaction rolls over me. A job well done.


    I blinked away the vision, but my eyes saw the same thing, minus the people.


    Bright blue flowers lined the entrance to the drive, and I had to admit, they were a welcome sight.


    He never stopped tending to them, even in the throes of his madness.


    I shook my head and kept going. I didn¡¯t look at the shack I knew would be there. I didn¡¯t think the memory that brought me would be happy.


    I made it up the drive without any more issues. There had been a presence to the manor, a hot, hateful weight that had resonated from every tree, every blade of grass.


    Now that was gone, and something warmer had taken its place.


    I thought of those flowers on the drive.


    Niall¡¯s hatred had infused this place for a long time, but it hadn¡¯t been the manor''s foundation. That had been something warm, something welcoming. And now that Niall¡¯s influence was gone, that foundation was showing through.


    And it seemed to be distancing this place from the worst of the memories, at least enough that I wasn¡¯t getting a flashback every step.


    I paused as I made it to the top of the drive¡ªmore cars were parked out front.


    There was the Pack¡¯s van, all covered in wolf iconography and bad puns.


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    But next to it, we¡¯re two other large black vans, the kind you¡¯d expect bank robbers to use in a heist film.


    Okay. Had more of the Northwoods pack arrived?


    From what I understood, Blair and her Pack were part of the greater Northwoods Pack, which was led by her parents, but separate as well.


    Kind of like a noble house where her parents were the king and queen.


    ¡­What do I do now? Blair had invited me, and I¡¯d said I would come.


    But¡­more people.


    No! Bad Alder, don¡¯t chicken out.


    Yes, I was being a chicken, but I didn¡¯t have a cell phone for Blair to call if things changed. I had a landline whose number I hadn¡¯t given her.


    I stalled at the front steps for an embarrassingly long time before reaching for the knocker.


    Anxiety still churning away, I knocked.


    One of the doors immediately swung open. An unfamiliar woman stood on the other side.


    She was average height for a werewolf, so about six foot. She had short black hair that hung past her chin, narrow features, and a black dress shirt and matching slacks.


    She stared down at me, her expression cold. ¡°This is private property.¡±


    I looked around at the mansion and did my best to look startled. ¡°This isn¡¯t the bus stop?¡±


    She frowned and took a step forward.


    I raised my hands. ¡°Hold on now. I¡¯m not looking to get beat up by a werewolf. I was invited.¡±


    She paused, her brown eyes switching from ice cold to mild curiosity. ¡°Hedge mage?¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°I can do a bit of magic, but it¡¯s not good for much.¡±


    All true, and hopefully wouldn¡¯t count as a lie to her nose or ears or however the hell that worked.


    I had spent a lot of time thinking of ways to dodge questions like that one.


    And just because Blair knew I was a Telss didn¡¯t mean the rest of her Pack did.


    ¡°Invited by who?¡±


    Footsteps sounded behind the woman, and one of Blair¡¯s Pack came into view. Her name was¡­ I wasn¡¯t sure if I¡¯d heard her name, and if I had, I didn¡¯t remember.


    ¡°Blair invited him.¡±


    The woman eyed me up and down again, a slightly disapproving look in her gaze.


    ¡°Man, you sure know how to make a guy feel welcome.¡±


    The woman ignored me and turned to the other woman. ¡°Really, Laurel? You''re having guests over now?¡±


    Laurel! That was it¡­actually, no, it didn¡¯t ring a bell. I just hadn¡¯t heard her name earlier.


    Laurel cocked a black brow and held up her hand. ¡°We have 8 days before the summit, we have the vouchers needed, and all of our other preparations have been made. Oh, and he is the reason we have vouchers. So maybe lay off, Margret.¡±


    Margret''s eyes went wide, and she took a quick step back and bowed. ¡°My apologies.¡±


    I blinked at the 180. ¡°Don¡¯t bow, please. That weirds me out. You saw a stranger at your door, and it¡¯s a stressful time in a new town. I get it.¡±


    She rose and gave me a smile. ¡°I appreciate it. I was worried I had just bent our chance at vouchers over a barrel.¡±


    I laughed and followed her and Laurel inside.


    Margret had loosened up slightly, but Laurel was wound up like a spring. What was wrong?


    The anxiety, which had actually fled at the confrontation, started seeping back in.


    Laurel led us towards the kitchen. There were a few servant¡¯s passages we could have used to get there faster, but I wasn¡¯t about to explain why I knew that.


    We stepped into a hallway.


    ¡°You hungry, Alder? Why don¡¯t we go grab some food? Blair should be out so-¡°


    A woman¡¯s yelling voice cut her off.


    ¡°NOT DANGEROUS??¡±


    Laurel tensed further as we turned the corner to see Blair and another woman stepping out from a side room.


    Blair had also cleaned up from the Pass and wore a black turtleneck with bell-bottom jeans. Her blond hair was back in a braid, and she stood with her hands clenched at her sides, her face a cold mask of fury.


    The woman across from her was¡­was the woman Blair had seen at the Remembering Place. Who was almost certainly her mother.


    I felt my anxiety bleed away.


    A hostile family environment? That¡¯s much more familiar.

 Demands

    Blair took after her mother in appearance.


    Not identical, but if I didn¡¯t know better, I could have mistaken her for Blair¡¯s older sister since she didn¡¯t look a day over thirty-five.


    Her mother was a hair taller than Blair, with hair so blond it was almost white and eyes a paler shade of blue.


    And her face looked¡­Crueler. That may have been bias on my part since my first impression was her screaming at my friend, but that was the impression I got.


    Sharp features, with high cheekbones, and her eyes¡­Blair often had a cold expression, but after spending the better part of a week around her, I knew that cold wasn¡¯t actually her default.


    Her mother, though. Her eyes held all the warmth of the Arctic in December.


    She was glaring at Blair, her own hands clenched at her sides.


    ¡°You went without permission. You didn¡¯t even bother to call me before leaving!¡±  She had rained in the volume, but her voice still crackled with cold anger.


    ¡°You sent an email before putting yourself in danger like an impatient child! Leaving your Pack alone in an unfamiliar area.¡±  Blair opened her mouth to respond, but her mother bulled over her.


    ¡°And you say it was a calculated risk?  I can sense that your Bond has grown.  Something there was dangerous enough to push you that far, and you say calculated?¡±


    Blair cut in, her voice just as cold.  ¡°Calculated like sending us to this manor was?¡±


    Her mother stopped, then a bit of red started to bleed into her eyes.  When she spoke, her voice was lower, darker.  ¡°Watch your tone, girl.  You¡¯re twenty-three.  When I was your age, I did not speak back to my Alpha or my mother.¡±


    Blair tried to speak again, but something had clearly changed between them.  Blair had shifted her stance and looked like she was struggling to keep her balance, and while her mouth moved, no words came out.


    ¡°Your lucky you didn¡¯t die, stabbed in the back by some human, away from your Pack!  Clearly, you are not as ready for leadership as I thought.¡±


    Blair¡¯s mouth was still working, but her words refused to come.


    Her mother sighed and rubbed her face. ¡°Blathering fools and arrogant children will be the death of me, especially since it seems my daughter is both!¡°


    Laurel was trembling slightly.  She was clearly furious, but she wasn¡¯t saying anything as the woman ripped into Blair.


    Margret didn¡¯t look angry but was clearly uncomfortable.


    But she¡¯s not doing anything.


    There was almost certainly a smart, peaceful option I could have taken to diffuse this.


    Could have tried to view the situation from everyone¡¯s point of view the best I could and work from there.


    I probably could have worked something out.  Even giving it just a little thought, I understood what was going through the Alpha Northwoods head.  She had been terrified that her child was in danger but was handling that fear like shit.


    I had seen it plenty of times.  I¡¯ve been that parent, unable to handle my emotions in a healthy way.


    A memory tried to surface, filling my mouth with the taste of Tobacco and jasmine.


    I shoved the memory down, my mounting anger making it easier.


    Laurel and Margret seemed content to stand by and watch her mother hurl abuse while Blair seemingly couldn¡¯t talk.


    I wasn¡¯t.


    ¡°You want to speak of calculated risks? Letting you lead was one, one your proving to me was a mistake!  You couldn¡¯t control yourself, and you didn¡¯t have the patience to take a safer route, you idiotic child!¡±


    ¡°You bitch.¡±


    Everyone in the room froze.


    The elder Northwoods slowly turned to face me.  Her face utterly blank.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a werewolf. You heard me.¡±


    I¡¯ve dealt with a lot of fast in my time. Werewolves, vampires, ghosts.  And I¡¯ve seen some of them really move. In the ghosts'' case, I often had to rely on my aura to keep track of them.


    That woman redefined what I thought was fast.


    One second she was standing ten feet away from me. The next, she was less than a foot away, looming over me like an angry god.


    I literally hadn¡¯t seen her move¡ªno blur of motion, no flickers, nothing.  As far as my eyes were concerned, she had just teleported.


    Holy shit!  Shouldn¡¯t there be a sonic boom or something? That had to have been faster than the sound barrier.


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    ¡°Who. Are. You?¡± She said, enunciating every word.


    I met her cold eyes, my gaze just as frosty.  ¡°Alder.  I¡¯d say it¡¯s nice to meet you, but your not making a great first impression.¡±


    Laurel and Margret stared at me in horror, and Blair just looked shocked.


    ¡°Do you know who I am?¡±


    ¡°The co-Alpha of the Northwoods Pack, Blair¡¯s mother, and from what I¡¯ve seen just now, a raging bitch.¡±


    The pale blue of her eyes flushed red¡ªthe color rippling from her iris outward.


    Her eyes narrowed, and a sudden weight slammed over the room.


    Margret and Laurel collapsed to their hands and knees as if struck by a falling boulder. Even Blair dropped, though she managed to catch herself partway through, only dropping to one knee.


    It felt as if something in the ballpark of the Straits had just taken a swing at me.  My mind reeled, my vision swam, and dropping to the ground seemed like a really good idea.


    But the sight of Blair on the ground and the memory of her mother''s words changed that.


    Fueled almost entirely by a cocktail of spite and anger, I shoved back against the sudden weight without looking away from the Alpha Northwoods.


    It was hard.  Really, really hard. That weight held knowledge, the information pressing against my mind as surely as the weight itself.


    The woman in front of me was old.  Old and closer to something like Grumpy than she was to me.  She was power and danger wrapped up in a fleshy shell, and I should submit.


    Whatever the hell she was doing, it pushed against my mind and my instincts.  My body screamed at me to lower my eyes and drop, that any other course of action was suicide.


    My instincts could go to hell.


    The force pressing down on me reminded me of the Straits and Grumpy, but it wasn¡¯t at their level.  It might be in the same ballpark, but they were at opposite ends of the field. When fighting against the Straits, I felt like my head would explode, just trying to stop it from pushing me back.


    This was heavy and held the promise of greater dangers, but it wasn¡¯t pushing me back.


    I shoved back, pressing against the force with my will.  It was hard with my aura veiled, but I immediately made progress.


    The woman¡¯s eyes widened.  She pushed back, but while the weight was immense, I didn¡¯t slow.


    I kept pushing.


    The air began to feel heavy, and the house creaked and groaned around us.


    What the hell was happening?


    The lights above fluctuated, darkening and brightening at random.


    The smell around us intensified until everything seemed to jump out at my nose. The wooden floorboards beneath us, the paintings lining the walls, even the specks of mud I had tracked in.


    Something broke, and the weight parted around me.


    It hadn¡¯t vanished. The others were still on the ground. If anything, they looked worse off than before.  But the weight wasn¡¯t touching me anymore.


    I had no idea why. I didn¡¯t even know how a werewolf could put out a field  like that.


    She stared at me, her blank expression replaced with shock.  ¡°A draw?  How¡­¡± she sniffed, her nostrils flaring.  ¡°You can¡¯t be older than 22.  You shouldn¡¯t be able to Clash with me.¡±


    I rolled my shoulders.  My body was aching from that struggle. Most of the weight had been mental, but some of it had felt like a physical load on my shoulders.


    ¡°I have no idea what that means.  Let the others up.¡±


    She took a step closer to me, well inside my personal space.


    ¡°You walk in here, insult me, then make a demand?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, pretty much.¡±


    She clenched a fist.  ¡°Bold.  You understand I could kill you before you blinked?¡±


    I gave her a toothy smile.  ¡°You could. And you¡¯d kill your chance at vouchers with me.¡±


    She paused. ¡°You¡¯re.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m the one who gets to make the call.  No ghost in this town will back you if you lay so much as a finger on me.  And since that jackass George has been going around threatening the locals, there¡¯s no way you get anyone else to vouch for you.¡±


    Icy fury danced in her eyes, but she didn¡¯t strike me dead on the spot. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°Just don¡¯t pull this bullshit in front of me.¡±


    A low growl bubbled up from her throat, the sound strong enough to shake the walls.  ¡°Child, I was old before this country was founded. When your grandfather''s grandfather was a babe, I had already ended nations.  I will not have my actions directed by an infant, especially not when regarding my daughter.¡±


    The anger stopped the shaking walls from fazing me.


    ¡°I walked in here to find you hurling abuse at Blair for doing her job. Then when she responded, you pulled whatever bullshit you just tried to hit me with and stopped her from speaking.¡±


    I took a step forward, getting up in her face.


    ¡°And ¡®not when regarding your daughter?¡¯ God I hate that old world bullshit. Just because you gave birth to her doesn''t mean you own her. I¡¯m not going to stand by and ignore it just because she''s your kid!¡±


    She bared her slightly too sharp teeth. ¡°You overstep.¡±


    ¡°Maybe if I had burst into a back room and butted in, this would be overstepping.  But you''re doing this in the open, in front of everyone.  I don¡¯t think asking you not to scream at my friend is so unreasonable.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes further.  ¡°Blair is the only reason you have vouchers.  Because I trust her.  I didn¡¯t know you, and now I certainly don¡¯t trust you.  If she hadn¡¯t given her word on how you would use your vote, I would have already pulled them.¡±


    The ancient werewolf''s look told me I had just made another enemy, but she slowly nodded her head.  ¡°Avoid conflict with my daughter in front of you.  And vote with the towns people''s best interests in mind.¡±


    ¡°And let them up,¡± I said with a nod to the others.


    She didn¡¯t move, but the others all sagged in relief as the invisible weight dropped.


    They climbed shakily to their feet.


    The woman¡¯s cold laugh took me off guard.  She showed me another, just as feral, smile and inclined her head ever so slightly.


    ¡°A human Clashing with me and having the spine to make demands.¡± She sighed. ¡°It¡¯s been decades since someone¡¯s been that stupid.  Thank you for the nostalgia.¡±


    I took a step back and gave her a tight smile.  ¡°Well, I think I¡¯ll be going.  Not really in a celebrating mood.¡±


    I met Blair¡¯s eyes and nodded.  ¡°I''m sorry if I overstepped.¡±


    My gaze made it very clear I was apologizing to her and not her mother.


    The elder Northwoods gaze dug into my back as I turned on my heel and stalked out, tense silence hanging in my wake.

 Aftermath

    I would¡¯ve stormed back to the graveyard, but I was tired, even more so after that shit show. So the best I managed was a slightly sullen march.


    Had I just screwed up? Had I overstepped? Should I have just kept my big mouth shut?


    ¡­No.  If Blair had been able to defend herself, if some magical bullshit hadn¡¯t silenced her, I would have kept my peace.  It would have been hard, really hard, but she could speak for herself.


    Except when someone is stopping her from speaking.


    I was still pissed about that.  Stopping your kid from defending themselves, it made my skin crawl.  And it¡­reminded me.


    Jacob ties the gag tight, its coarse edges digging into my cheeks.  The scent of jasmine and tobacco filled my mouth, overpowering everything else. ¡°Teach you some respect, girl.  One way or another.¡±


    I shook my head. No! Not now.


    I took a few deep breaths, my heart, which had kicked into overdrive, slowly calming down.


    A fat raindrop landed on my head.  I blinked up at the sky and sighed.


    I was so focused on my thoughts that I almost didn¡¯t hear the running footsteps until they were almost on me.


    I glanced over my shoulder to see Blair slow to a jog and then a walk as she fell into step beside me.


    I looked straight ahead, keeping my attention on the potholes.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry again if I overstepped.  I wouldn¡¯t have said anything if she hadn¡¯t stopped you from speaking.¡± An excuse right after an apology, classy.


    An excuse and explanation aren¡¯t the same things, me!


    Blair was silent.  The only sounds were our plodding footsteps and the gentle rain.


    ¡°I would be a hypocrite,¡± she finally said.  ¡°To be upset.  If our situations were reversed, I wouldn¡¯t have stayed quiet.¡±


    She sighed.


    ¡°I want to fight my own battles, but she¡­she took that option away.¡±  My heart clenched at the hurt in her voice.


    ¡°A Pack isn¡¯t just one person handling everything themselves.  Though I often forget that when it comes to my own problems. So thank you, Alder.¡±


    I let out a deep breath and relaxed.


    ¡°I was really scared that I had just messed up there.¡±


    Blair let out a dark chuckle.  ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong. You just made an enemy.  She would have knocked you out cold for talking to her like that if you didn¡¯t have leverage over her.¡±


    I snorted. ¡°That¡¯s better than I was expecting. I figured she¡¯d have killed me.¡±


    Blair was silent for a beat.  ¡°No.  Despite her many, many flaws, she isn¡¯t a monster.  She can be monstrous, but she wouldn¡¯t kill a stranger for disrespect.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s comforting, at least.  Though I was more afraid that I had crossed a line with you, not with her.¡±


    Blair bumped me with her shoulder.  ¡°I appreciate the concern.¡±


    ~<>~<>~


    The rain had picked up by the time we made it to the graveyard, the fat drops falling to the ground with a steady rhythm.


    As we walked through the graveyard''s small wrought iron gate, the rain was the last thing on my mind.


    Trash had been scattered everywhere.  Real nasty stuff, too.  Rotting food and worse, staining the graves near my house.


    A cold flash of rage started up in my chest, but my exhaustion killed it before it could get going.


    ¡°Who¡­¡± Blair growled, only to trail off as her gaze fell on my house.  My front window had been smashed, and a message spray-painted over my door.


    ¡°*We¡¯re not scared of ghosts. Watch your back.*¡±


    I rolled my eyes.  ¡°Would have sounded better if they had just left it at ¡®we¡¯re not scared of ghosts.¡±


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    Blair sniffed the air.  ¡°They used bleach to cover their scents.  I can pick up traces of it under the trash.¡±


    So they were covering their tracks, either because they were smart enough to think of werewolves and other spooks tracking them, or they had good noses themselves and knew to hide their scent.


    ¡°This is totally George, right?¡±


    Blair nodded.  ¡°Definitely.¡±


    I sighed.  ¡°I mean, why even bother hiding his scent?  There isn¡¯t anyone else I¡¯ve threatened with the ghostly choir recently.¡±


    Blair glared at me.  ¡°You are far too calm about this.  George isn¡¯t going to just rough you up.  Chances are he¡¯s plotting to kill you.¡±


    I shrugged, which probably wasn¡¯t the right response.  ¡°Eh.¡±


    She narrowed her eyes. ¡°Eh? That¡¯s all? Just eh!¡±


    I nodded.  ¡°Honestly, yeah. This is frustrating, but it¡¯s hardly the first time a band of spooks has wanted me dead. I¡¯m going to need some ghosts on constant watch and to get my hands on some silver bullets.¡± I sighed with more frustration in it and rubbed my face.


    The next few weeks were probably going to feature a lot of sleepless nights.


    ¡°I¡¯ll probably set up some stink traps and call the police if I catch them vandalizing the place again before they try to kill me. Spooks don¡¯t usually expect that.¡±


    Blair just stared at me, her expression flat.  ¡°No.¡±


    I blinked.  ¡°What do you mean no?¡±


    ¡°No.  None of that is happening.¡± She paused. ¡°Having ghosts keep watch and getting silver bullets is a great idea, actually, but do you really think I¡¯m just going to sit by while you¡¯re in danger?¡±


    I stared at her dumbly.  ¡°Uhh, I¡¯ll be honest, I didn¡¯t really think about that at all. I just, well¡­¡±


    I¡¯m not used to having anyone but the ghosts to count on.


    I didn¡¯t say it, but Blair read it on my face.


    ¡°You are not alone, Alder.¡±


    I swallowed, the surge of emotion those words brought, taking me off guard.


    ¡°I- Ahh¡­thanks.¡±


    She smiled and slowly reached out and patted my shoulder.  It felt¡­fine¡ªno immediate shudder or flood of memories.


    Though that could have just been because it wasn¡¯t direct, it had never been the touching itself. It had been the warmth of living flesh.


    Which sounded really edgy when phrased like that.


    ¡°We need to keep at least two of my Pack with you at all times.¡±


    I started to protest but needed to wipe my eyes.


    Stupid rain.


    I sighed, my natural desire not to be a bother clashing with my practicality.


    Practicality won.


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­reasonable.  Just one would put them in danger too.¡±


    Blair nodded.  ¡°Not only do I need to protect you for personal reasons, but the Northwoods also can¡¯t have other werewolves killing spooks in our new territory.¡±


    ¡°It would make you look weak.¡±


    She nodded.


    ¡°Plus, while the other factions won¡¯t know you¡¯re the reason the ghosts will vouch for us, we, and the ghosts, do. That¡¯s just another reason we have to keep you safe.¡±


    I blinked.  I hadn¡¯t thought about it over the last week, but I had just given the Northwoods Pack a vested interest in keeping me alive.


    Blair studied me, her brows furrowed.  ¡°You just realized it, didn¡¯t you.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°That we would need to keep you safe, even if you weren¡¯t my friend.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that just now occurred to me.  In my defense, I had a lot on my mind.¡±


    Blair threw her head back and laughed.  And I don¡¯t mean a snort or chuckle either. She howled with laughter.


    ¡°It¡¯s not that funny.¡±


    She doubled over, still howling into the rain.


    I crossed my arms but couldn¡¯t suppress a smile of my own.


    She slowly stopped laughing and straightened. She wiped a tear from her eye.


    ¡°It really isn¡¯t that funny!¡±


    ¡°Alder, I¡¯ve spent a good bit of the Pass trying to figure out your angle.  What you had to gain by vouching for us, by putting yourself through¡­everything.¡±


    That made sense. I¡¯d have been pretty freaking curious if I was in her shoes.


    ¡°I had settled on the protection from my Pack being what you were after. That was the only thing that made sense to me.  But that didn¡¯t sit right either. Someone whose first concern is personal safety doesn¡¯t volunteer for something like Old Tom¡¯s Pass.¡±


    Blair beamed down at me, the expression radiant on her usually reserved face.


    ¡°But it just hit me. You said it before agreeing in the first place. Vote with the interests of Silver Spruce and its residents in mind.  You just wanted to help.¡±


    I blushed.  ¡°It makes me sound like a dork when you put it like that,¡± I muttered.


    She smiled wider.  ¡°No, Alder, it makes you sound kind.¡±


    I blushed harder.


    Blair walked by me, gently bumping my shoulder as she passed.


    ¡°You got some trash bags, or do we need to go to a store?¡±


    I shook myself and followed her. ¡°Of course, I have trash bags!¡± I almost told her that she didn¡¯t need to help me, but the words died on my tongue.  If she wanted to help, I wouldn¡¯t push her away.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go grab ''em.¡±


    The work was, well, it was picking up garbage.  But rubber gloves and some nose clips made the process a whole lot smoother.


    As the rain continued to roll down and the sky darkened, Blair and I picked up garbage.  And I felt¡­content.

 Ward

    The next few days were odd, to say the least.  Not only did I have rotating roommates, but the town itself was changing.


    Spooks kept flooding in, houses that had been vacant for years suddenly had new occupants, and quiet understandings to not talk about certain things were being pushed.


    Like, for example, how the Grave Keeper was banishing fiends every month.  I hadn¡¯t gone and done that yet, which was a problem on its own.  People were going to start grumbling about the little spirits, and it wouldn¡¯t take long for a passing mage to put two and two together.


    One of the reasons the local hedge mages hadn¡¯t questioned my use of spirit magic was that they weren¡¯t all the most educated in what was normal or not.


    It wasn¡¯t that uncommon for a magically homeschooled hedge mage to do a difficult piece of magic because they didn¡¯t realize it was supposed to be hard.


    Magic was weird like that.


    The other reason was that the hedge mages here mostly minded their own business and expected others to do the same.


    I was taking care of the fiend problem, and no one had felt the need to look deeper than that.  The mage clans were far less likely to have such a laissez-faire approach.


    So I needed to find a way to explain how I took care of fiends fast.


    So, two days after we got back, I was sitting in my living room trying to carve an explanation for my fiend banishing.


    My werewolf guards rotated. The first day, it was Blair and Laurel.  Blair, predictably, came prepared with her own mattress and bedding.  Laurel had just opted for the couch and a blanket. However, Blair had offered her the bed.


    Tonight it was Bobby and Simon. Ben was also here, absently reading a comic book in the corner.


    I turned the crude carving over in my hands.  It was supposed to be a cat, but right now, it was more of a lumpy mass with cat ears.


    ¡°What are you trying to make?¡± Simon asked.  I waved the carving at him with a groan. ¡°A cat.  It¡¯s supposed to be a cat.  But¡­¡±


    He pursed his lips.  ¡°It¡¯s like a blob with cat ears.¡±  I smiled.  The guy was soft-spoken, but that didn¡¯t hide his sense of humor.


    ¡°May I?¡±


    I shrugged and handed it and the carving knife over.


    ¡°Simon¡¯s a wizard with the intricate stuff,¡± Bobby said.  The man was currently sprawled upside down in my armchair, looking over his phone.


    ¡°Though he usually uses those gifts for explosives.¡±


    I blinked.  ¡°What?¡±


    Bobby nodded. ¡°Yep.  That¡¯s most sane people''s reaction.¡±


    Simon frowned.  ¡°It¡¯s not that weird for werewolves,¡± he mumbled.  ¡°If I blow off a few fingers, they¡¯ll just grow back.¡±  The words were so softly mumbled that I almost didn¡¯t catch them.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, blow your fingers off?¡±  I turned to Bobby.  ¡°Is this normal for werewolves?¡±


    He waggled a hand.  ¡°Not fearing injury as much as humans? Yes.  Playing with explosives and blowing one¡¯s fingers off? No.¡±


    I looked between the two.  ¡°I didn¡¯t even realize you guys could regrow fingers.¡±


    ¡°Fingers, yes,¡± Simon said.  ¡°But if you lose a limb that won¡¯t grow back unless you''re older than a hundred, minimum. Though they are easier to reattach.¡±


    ¡°Which, to be fair,¡± Bobby cut in.  ¡°Is why Simon wears protective gear when he¡¯s mad scientisting it up.¡±


    ¡°Scientisitng isn¡¯t a word, is it?¡±  They shrugged.


    I glanced over at the carving and almost did a double-take.  The pile of shavings in the trash had doubled, and Simon was nearly done.


    The crude outline of a cat had already formed, and the man was now working on the finer details.


    ¡°Holy crap, you work fast!¡±


    Simon gave a small smile but didn¡¯t say anything.


    The inspiration for the carving lay on Bobby''s chest, purring softly. Jack had settled into life at the Graveyard immediately and was over the moon at having the werewolves over.


    The little guy was the friendliest cat I¡¯d ever seen, which was remarkable.  Black cats didn¡¯t survive as strays for long here.  Either killed by the superstitious or scooped up as a familiar.


    As if he could sense my gaze, Jack opened his luminous green eyes and stared at me.  ¡°Meow?¡±


    I snorted.  ¡°Go back to sleep. I was just thinking.¡± He blinked at me a few times, then burrowed against Bobby¡¯s chest.  The werewolf gave the cat a few absent-minded strokes.


    ¡°Is this finished enough?¡±


    I glanced at Simon and whistled long and low.  I could whistle with the best of them.  Or at least, old man Ron could.


    The carving now resembled Jack sitting on his haunches, one paw raised as if in greeting.


    ¡°That¡¯ll more than do, thank you, Simon.  This is incredible.¡±


    He blushed slightly and ducked his head.


    ¡°Why a cat,¡± Bobby asked as he examined the carving.


    ¡°Because the ancient Egyptians believed cats could scare away spirits.¡±


    Ben glanced up from his comic. ¡°Really?¡±


    I shrugged.  ¡°No clue, but it sounds believable, and that¡¯s what counts.¡±


    Ben tilted his head. ¡°Eh, it does sound believable.¡±


    Simon shifted on the couch, tucking his feet under him.  ¡°So, what now.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± They knew I was a Telss.  Blair had told me they discussed it before we left for the Pass.  But it still felt instinctively wrong to talk about my magic.


    If she were going to betray you, she would have done it before ever leaving for the Pass.


    I sighed.  I knew  that.  But I couldn¡¯t shake a lifetime of habit in a week.


    With an effort of will, I continued.  ¡°I¡¯m going to make a ward.¡± Bobby stiffened.  ¡°Isn¡¯t wardcraft supposed to be incredibly dangerous?¡±


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    I nodded. ¡°It is.¡±


    Simon cut in before I could explain further. He spoke with far more confidence than before, though still softly.  ¡°Telss are different. Wards are dangerous because the mage has to be in a specific Shift for long periods, which comes with a litany of risks.   You can stop and take a break with weak wards, but anything remotely potent has to be done in one go. Telss though¡­¡±


    Bobby nodded.  ¡°Only one Shift.  So they don¡¯t have the same risks of going insane or blowing a building up.¡±


    Simon hesitated. ¡°Going insane? No.  Blowing the building up? Depends on their magic and skill. Sloppy work can still be explosive.¡±


    Bobby eyed me.


    I held up my hands. ¡°I can¡¯t really comment on my skill, but my magic is about as explosive as a lake.¡±


    Bobby shrugged, jostling Jack slightly.  ¡°Good enough for me.¡±


    He grabbed the cat and then spun till he was upright again.  ¡°Let¡¯s see some magic!¡±


    Simon nodded, and even Ben set down his comic book.


    ¡°You¡¯ve seen me do magic plenty of times, Ben!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but that¡¯s usually while you''re about to die, so I can¡¯t appreciate it.¡±


    Well, I couldn¡¯t argue with that.  My aura was only ever unveiled for however long it took to complete the task at hand.  Training with it or doing anything that wasn¡¯t strictly necessary was a stupid risk.


    I couldn¡¯t afford to draw the attention of a passing predator.


    Now, though, I absolutely could since anything that felt my magic would have to deal with two werewolves first, which wasn¡¯t worth it to most wandering predators.


    With a thought, I unveiled my aura.


    It rolled out around me, but I contained it to my house.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t made many wards since making them leaves a magical footprint,  but I didn¡¯t have an option now.¡±


    I glanced at Bobby and saw his eyes flicking over my aura.  ¡°You can see magic?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°My grandma was a mage.¡±


    I sat back and stared. ¡°So you got some of her Talent? Can a werewolf-¡° he shook his head.


    ¡°We can¡¯t become full mages.  Werewolf magic is all mixed up in our bodies and spirits so tightly that it doesn¡¯t leave much room for anything else. But a few tricks can slip in.¡±


    I ran a hand over the carving, then paused as a thought struck me.  ¡°Do you have Sight or True-Sight?¡±


    Bobby laughed. ¡°Sight.  I doubt I would still be talking to you if I had True-Sight.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Yeah, its drawbacks aren¡¯t my favorites.¡±


    He stared at me, his blue eyes suddenly serious.  ¡°You have it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, all mages and Telss do, as far as I¡¯m aware.¡± I shrugged. ¡°They rarely use it, though.  Some don¡¯t even learn how.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t there a good reason for that?¡±


    A rotting pit gouged into the world, its bottom out of view. Strokes of black and yellow swirling together as a putrid hand reached out towards me.


    ¡°Very good reasons.  But mages have more tools than me. Sometimes you just have to work with what you have.¡±


    I put my hand on the carving¡¯s paw and focused.


    My aura constructed, bunching up until it was just a few feet around the carving and me.


    Bobby¡¯s eyes flicked to the swirling cloud of purple and green.


    Simon reached out and poked at the ripples that started to appear as I packed more magic in.


    Ben threw a tennis ball at it.  It passed through my aura without doing anything, of course.


    I glared at him.  ¡°Where did you even get that?¡±


    He shrugged.


    ¡°Don¡¯t do that once I get going. It¡¯s like smacking someone¡¯s hand while performing surgery.¡±


    The old ghost nodded, and I turned back to the carving.


    I needed to clear my mind for this. Even if I didn¡¯t have to worry about my aura shifting aspects, it still required very clear intent.


    Even with only a single aspect, there were still several wards I could make.


    Wardcraft was all about focus and intent.  You needed to know what you wanted the ward to do, then let that fill your mind completely.  Once you had it, you would imbue that focus into the ward, along with a whole lot of magic.


    I cleared my mind, years of practice using spirit calling, making the process fast.


    What did I want?


    Fiends.  I imagined a greed fiend, a bright yellow blob with cartoonish eyes and a rictus grin.  It held a coin clutched tightly to its chest as it whipped about.


    Keeping the fiend in mind, I started to compress my magic, funneling it into the cat''s paw.


    Instead of passing through the wood like usual, my magic flowed in and stuck.


    Without losing the image of the first fiend, I added a second¡ªan anger fiend.  Bright red, its body rippled like an open flame, and its snarl seemed to pop and sizzle.


    More magic into the carving, spreading through the whole thing this time instead of just the paw.


    I pictured more fiends, sadness, fear, lust, all of them crowded into my mind''s eye until it was a strain to keep it all together.


    Then I really started to pump some magic.  It flooded out of me and into the cat with enough force to actually brighten the room, purple and green ripples appearing in the air to the naked eye.


    The carving glowed green and purple, and a symbol started to take place on its paw.


    More magic! This needs to look like it could have been passed down for generations.


    I poured over half my aura into the carving before I felt something shift into place.


    I gasped and sat back.


    The carving as a whole didn¡¯t glow anymore, but its paw was like a beacon.   It pulsed with deep green light, and the symbol had taken shape.  It was a wailing ghost, the kind that looked like a bedsheet with holes cut out.


    Bobby clapped furiously.  ¡°Bravo!¡± Clap, clap, clap! ¡°That was cool!¡±


    He paused to pet Jack, who was staring with distrust at the carving.


    ¡°¡­so what does it do?¡±


    I laughed.  Ben gave me the side-eye. ¡°Really though, what does it do?¡±


    ¡°It banishes fiends.  Anyone can use it too.  You just will it to activate while holding it, and the ghost on its paw will glow brighter.  I think. This is the second time I¡¯ve ever made a ward.¡±


    Simon gestured to the carving, which was looking like some kind of pagan idol now.  I handed it over. ¡°So now you can say you found this in the graveyard or something to explain the fiend banishing.¡±  He poked at the symbol on the paw.  ¡°What was the other ward?¡±


    ¡°The other time, I was just making a repealing ward in a house a ghost was stalking.  This was way harder and used a lot more magic.¡±


    Bobby snorted. ¡°I could tell. Your aura just doesn¡¯t seem to run dry.¡±


    I laughed.  ¡°Oh, it does.  But I won¡¯t pretend I don¡¯t have a lot.¡± I sagged back on the couch, a wave of weariness crashing over me.  Holding complete focus for that long really took it out of me.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have many reasons to use my magic, much less my shroud.  And I¡¯ve lived in this magic-rich environment my whole life.  Those two things together mean I have a lot of raw magic.¡±


    Simon handed Bobby the ward.  The blond werewolf showed Jack the carving.  ¡°Look! It¡¯s you.¡±


    In the most catlike thing I had seen from him yet, Jack turned his head up at the carving, giving it a disdain-filled look before turning away to clean his paw.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Bobby said before offering the ward to Ben.  ¡°You''re still the better cat, even if this one does glow.¡±


    ¡°Meow.¡±


    Ben floated over and gave the cat a few scratches.  He poked the ward a few times, then shook out his hand. ¡°Feels weird.  Not like it¡¯s going to hurt me, but it¡¯s tingly.¡±


    He poked the ward a few more times, then turned until he lay flat on his back in mid-air.


    ¡°I¡¯m bored.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for sharing.¡±


    He flipped me off.


    ¡°We should rectify my boredom.  Anyone up for some cards?¡±


    Bobby shrugged.  ¡°Guarding Alder is our job today, so playing cards is not only acceptable but a diligent effort to fulfill our mission.¡±


    Simon eyed the other werewolf.  ¡°¡­So, yes. But with more words?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°Pretty much, but that had more flair than a simple yes.¡±


    I laughed and hauled myself up with a grunt. My body was still sore from the Pass, and my neck ringed with ugly bruises, but a few days of rest had certainly done me good.


    ¡°I have to go clear fiends later,¡± I said as I snatched a pack of cards from the counter.


    ¡°But I¡¯m up for a few rounds.¡±


    We all gathered around the coffee table, scooting seats closer as needed, or in Ben¡¯s case, sinking into the floor until he was at the right level.


    Then I started to deal.

 Dress Up

    ¡°No.¡±


    Blair didn¡¯t bat an eye.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    I scowled. ¡°Why on earth do you want me to go somewhere with a bunch of mages? That is the exact opposite of staying under the radar!¡±


    Blair crossed her arms. We were sitting in my living room. Well, living room/kitchen/entryway.


    Laurel was walking in the graveyard talking to Agatha, though she could probably still hear us.


    And the rest of the Northwoods were off doing werewolfy things, I was sure.


    ¡°The risk of you going is less than staying.¡±


    My hands clenched in my lap. ¡°Really? Less risk? Blair, if the Clans realize what I am, my life is over.¡±


    ¡°Your life could be over if you stay.¡± She paused, and her gaze softened. ¡°Alder, the factions bring locals to these events all the time. Whether it¡¯s doing them a favor and helping them get connections, making a statement about claiming the locals or giving protection, you won¡¯t stand out.¡±


    I took a deep breath. Those were good points, but¡­


    ¡°Bobby can¡¯t see any trace of magic on you through your veil. None of the others can smell it if you haven¡¯t used it recently. As far as anyone''s concerned, your a local with the sight and a totem to banish fiends.¡±


    ¡°And the supposed reason you all are taking me?¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°No need to lie. We say some spooks are after you, and we are offering protection. You¡¯ll get a few questions, but no one should pay more than a passing thought for the strange little man with the werewolves.¡±


    I laughed. ¡°It¡¯s not my fault werewolves are a bunch of towering jocks.¡± Blair quirked a brow.


    ¡°Well, Simon gets a pass. He¡¯s more of a nerd than a jock.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m a jock?¡±


    ¡°You exist on both ends of the spectrum simultaneously, jock and nerd in harmony, so I get to make fun of you for both.¡±


    She raised the other brow. ¡°Do you now?¡±


    I nodded sagely.


    She opened her mouth and then frowned.


    ¡°Stop deflecting.¡±


    Crap.


    ¡°All of the Northwoods are going to the social. We could maybe spare one or two people, but that would raise more questions than you just coming with us.¡±


    Her frown deepened.


    ¡°And since George doesn¡¯t need to attend, he might show up with his entire Pack. That¡¯d be getting three people killed instead of one.¡±


    ¡°Why doesn¡¯t he need to attend?¡±


    She eyed me. ¡°I¡¯m not deflecting. I actually want to know.¡±


    Blair rubbed her face before grabbing her mug from the coffee table.


    ¡°The Northwoods are representing the werewolf Faction for the Pact. So our vote is every werewolf''s vote.¡±


    ¡°How did you pull that off?¡±


    ¡°My parents got the other Alpha¡¯s votes and beat those who wanted to challenge for the position.¡±


    I blinked. ¡°They beat all the other top werewolves?¡±


    ¡°I told you they were strong. However, they didn¡¯t beat every other strong werewolf, just those involved in the Pact. There are Packs with some real monsters leading them that don¡¯t have anything to do with the Pact, though they still follow the rules. Mostly.¡±


    I rubbed my eyes and groaned. ¡°And George isn¡¯t the Pack with the votes. That¡¯s why he can no show this thing and take a swing at me.¡±


    She nodded.


    Panic started to claw at my gut.


    Blair wasn¡¯t wrong. George was probably going to strike then. It would be a perfect chance, with everyone who could help me at an important event on the other side of town.


    But going to this event, I couldn¡¯t let the mage clans find out about me. I- I-


    Think, Alder.


    I took a deep breath.


    The mage clans scared me. They scared the hell out of me. That was a reasonable fear, but I was letting that fear blind me.


    I wasn¡¯t deciding between dying to werewolves or potentially being a slave to the mages. I was deciding between dying to werewolves or /dying/ to mages.


    I had an understanding with several ghosts. The mages would not take me.


    The thought calmed me, as morbid as that was, and I felt my head clearing. I was risking death either way, but Blair¡¯s arguments hit home now that I had reframed it. The chances of the Clans finding out about me were less than George taking a swing at me.


    When it was a risk of death, either way, you took the lesser risk.


    ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll go.¡±


    Blair blinked. ¡°You are? I was expecting more arguments and maybe having to drag you there.¡±


    ¡°Nope, it is less of a risk then-¡°


    Wait, drag me there? I eyed Blair. I wasn¡¯t sure if she was joking or not.


    No¡­definitely not joking.


    I shook my head. ¡°My veil is strong, we have an explanation, and as you said, it¡¯s not that uncommon for Factions to take a local.¡±


    Blair slumped in relief. ¡°Thank you.¡± As she said that, she dropped her composed front.


    She was so good at projecting confidence that I hadn¡¯t realized just how tired she looked. Her blond hair was messy, and there were bags under her eyes that would give mine a run for their money.


    ¡°Weird, to thank the person you¡¯re protecting.¡±


    I reached forward and carefully patted her hand. It still felt a little alien to me, but I had spent more time around the living in the last nine days than I had in the previous five years.


    And werewolves were touchy. I realized that very quickly. Shoulder bumps, a pat on the back, and any number of casual gestures seemed second nature to them.


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    They realized my discomfort quickly, but they still slipped up on occasion. That had actually helped, kinda like exposure training, I guess.


    That probably shouldn''t have worked. I was no therapist, but trama wasn''t usually something a few casual shoulder bumps cleared. Not that it was cleared, just marginally better.


    Regardless, as I patted Blair, the shuddering revulsion didn¡¯t come.


    I could still feel a bit of it, a roiling mass of memories that told me just what a touch heralded. But I had more recent memories, friendly, open things.


    It helped.


    Blair smiled at me, then straightened. I pulled my hand back.


    ¡°You might not like this next part as much.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°This social isn¡¯t a T-shirt and jeans sort of event. We need to get you an outfit.¡±


    My front burst opened, and Laurel strode in, bits of leaves stuck in her black hair.


    Had she sprinted to the door?


    ¡°I got this!¡±


    I shifted in my seat, and had to fight a sudden urge to grab my couch gun from its taped position beneath the coffee table.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like the glint in your eye.¡±


    Her only response was a grin.


    ~<>~<>~


    When Laurel had asked me if I knew if Silver Spruce had a tailor, I almost surprised myself as much as her when I said yes.


    The man''s name was Brock, and I¡¯d helped him a few years back when his shop was haunted.


    ¡°Left here,¡± I said. Blair took the turn at a reasonable speed. Despite


    the first impression she¡¯d given, Blair was a mercifully reserved driver most of the time.


    Brock¡¯s was a little shop tucked away in a small strip mall. Said mall was nestled into the forest between downtown and the library.


    It had been an apartment complex at one point, but the first floor had been turned into shops around ten years back.


    Blair parked the moon-mobile, as I¡¯d come to think of it, and we climbed out. The motion brought a pang to my legs. My body refused to stop reminding me of the beatings I had taken, the bastard.


    Laurel looked over the strip mall. ¡°Brock¡¯s Custom Costumes. Randle¡¯s Cafe. Tilly¡¯s Salon.¡±


    I stopped next to her and nodded. ¡°A change of clothes, a meal, and a hairdo in one convenient mall.¡±


    ¡°Does he have good clothes?¡±


    I opened my mouth, but Laurel held up a hand. ¡°Wait, don¡¯t answer that.¡±


    I scowled. ¡°What are you trying to say, Laurel?¡°


    She looked away.


    ¡°Are you implying that I can¡¯t recognize drip when I see it?¡±


    ¡°¡­no.¡±


    ¡°That was an awful long pause.¡±


    She looked down at me with a compassion I found insulting. ¡°Fear not, young one. I got Blair to have a modicum of fashion. I refuse to believe you will be harder.¡±


    ¡°How old are you? And I resent that. I could be way harder than Blair!¡±


    Laurel tossed her hair back and shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t need to tell you. And Like I said, I doubt it.¡±


    Blair gave us both a light shove towards the door. ¡°Daylights burning you two. And she¡¯s twenty-one.¡±


    Laurel sputtered. ¡°Blair! Come on!¡±


    I laughed. ¡°I¡¯m twenty-two! You¡¯re practically a baby!¡±


    Blair started for the door with a sigh.


    Laurel scowled. ¡°That¡¯s one year. Hardly any time at all.¡±


    I followed Blair. ¡°That¡¯s definitely something a twenty-one-year-old would say.¡±


    ¡°I think he¡¯s right,¡± Blair said. ¡°Very twenty-one sounding of you, Laurel.¡±


    ¡°I hate it here.¡±


    Blair pushed open the door, the two of us on her heels.


    The inside was a detonation of color and fabric. Every spare surface that wasn¡¯t covered with hanging clothes had fabric rolls instead.


    It was like clothes shopping in a Joann¡¯s.


    A vaguely lemony scent hit me a moment before Brock¡¯s lazy call.


    ¡°Welcome.¡±


    He strolled from behind the counter, one of the few clear surfaces in the shop, and gave us a wave.


    He was somewhere in his earlier thirties, average height, with pinched features, an easy grin, and a textbook dad bod.


    He wore an orange turtleneck and brown pants. I don¡¯t think I could have pulled the look off, but he made it work.


    Laurel waved, her focus on the clothes.


    Blair went to a rack of clothes. She pulled out a nice-looking suit coat with one hand, then an equally high-quality pirate costume with the other.


    She raised a brow at Brock.


    He chuckled and ran a hand through his dark hair, a slightly overgrown buzz cut. ¡°You two are new, right? Well, people here are really into stuff like Halloween, and they pay well to get nice costumes.¡± He paused. ¡°And I also like making nice costumes, but they do sell!¡±


    His eyes fell on me, and he smiled. ¡°Alder! It¡¯s been a minute! You come to collect that free suit?¡±


    Free suit? Oh, right. He had offered that, hadn¡¯t he?


    ¡°Ahh, yeah! I forgot about that offer, but I do need a suit.¡±


    Brock laughed, the sound high and warm. ¡°That¡¯s fine. I didn¡¯t forget. So the offer still stands.¡±


    Laurel glanced between us. ¡°How did you get that deal?¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°Helped him with a problem.¡±


    Brock shuddered. ¡°I see you¡¯re still too casual about that shit.¡± He turned to Laurel. ¡°You all just got here, but Silver Spruce is weird, and weird can be dangerous.¡±


    Laurel set down the roll of dark orange fabric she was examining. ¡°This town¡¯s already proven that to us. Why was a ghost haunting this place?¡±


    Brock sighed. ¡°You¡¯re too casual about this too, I see. From what I understood, they had died a few years back when this first floor was still an apartment.¡±


    Brock strolled over to the counter and snatched a mug of coffee. ¡°She was a real terror. Red eyes, swirling hair that grabbed things around her,¡± he shuddered. ¡°And the screams. I still hear those sometimes.¡±


    A memory started to rise as Brock talked.


    The sense of disbelief matched the betrayal I felt as Anthony¡¯s knife slipped between my ribs. The carpet stained beneath me, and I heard his gasp as if from a mile away.


    I closed my eyes and forced the memory down.


    ¡°How¡¯d she die?¡± Laurel.


    ¡°I think she was stabbed? My memory is a bit hazy with panic and almost shitting myself with fear.¡± Brock.


    I opened my eyes and realized I was leaning on a bench for support. When has that happened?


    ¡°Her boyfriend stabbed her.¡± They turned to me. ¡°2002, Anthony Grem stabbed Kayla Adam¡¯s to death in their apartment. Motive, unknown.¡±


    Blair¡¯s hand closed on my shoulder. When had she gotten over here?


    I continued absentmindedly. ¡°She hadn¡¯t tried to kill Brock immediately, so I did as much homework as I could. Sometimes you can figure out their last request, even if they aren¡¯t all there.¡±


    Brock coughed. ¡°Yeah, Alder tried a bunch of stuff before doing¡­whatever it was he did when she tried to stab me.¡±


    He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. ¡°But enough about ghosts. What kind of suit do you need?¡±


    ¡°Talk to Laurel there about suits. She can give you the answers I don¡¯t possess.¡±


    My delivery was a little flat, but the two nodded and quickly started talking in a different language, as far as I was concerned.


    Blair squeezed my shoulder. ¡°You okay?¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Yeah. Just¡­haven¡¯t had a lot of time to catch my breath recently. It¡¯s piling up.¡±


    Blair let go of my shoulder and leaned against the bench beside me. She was silent for a while, but I took comfort from the closeness.


    She broke the stillness with a bump. ¡°Hey, you could be an elf.¡±


    I glanced at the costume she had pointed to and snorted. ¡°I¡¯m not wearing green spandex. Besides, I¡¯m trying to blend in. I hardly think a Christmas elf would be subtle.¡±


    ¡°No. But it would be funny.¡±


    I smiled. A thought struck me, and I glanced up at her. ¡°Hey, what¡¯s the plan for the social.¡±


    She grinned, and I saw a twinkle in her eye. ¡°You aren¡¯t going to make fun of me for having a plan for a social event?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°No, I¡¯m going to make fun of you. But considering this is a social with supernatural dignitaries and powerhouses, a plan is a great idea.¡±


    She snorted and ran a hand through her hair. ¡°So it¡¯s a great idea, but you¡¯re still going to make fun of me?¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    She laughed. ¡°You¡¯re lucky I can¡¯t resist a chance to plan.¡± She rubbed her hands together. ¡°So first things first, we make sure you stay with the group at all times-¡°


    Blair went on with infectious enthusiasm, and I listened, a small smile on my lips, and the memories were held at bay.


    For now.

 Socializing And Other Dangers

    ¡°I will be dead and buried before you wear that to the social.¡±


    Cornelius gave Dalton a hurt look as he pulled off his raincoat.  He¡¯d only been joking, but the look on his apprentice''s face made it clear he believed Cornelius would try to wear an oversized raincoat to a high-end social event between supernatural nations.


    ¡°I was only kidding.¡±


    Dalton''s brown eyes narrowed.


    ¡°I find your lack of faith in my dressing abilities disturbing.¡±


    ¡°Prove me wrong.¡±


    Cornelius lifted his nose.  ¡°I will.¡±


    He already had a suit ready.  He turned to his closet and pulled out the black suit.  It wasn¡¯t anything fancy, but that fit his public image better anyway.


    Dalton eyed the suit but nodded.


    ¡°It¡¯s glossy!¡± They glanced at Cookie.  The hairy spider was about the size of a corgi and was currently resting on the ceiling. His many eyes focused on the suit.


    Cornelius wasn¡¯t entirely sure why the spiders had named themselves things like Cookie.


    He understood why they chose different names since their true names were almost impossible to pronounce.  But Cookie? Or Dog?  He was starting to suspect they just named themselves after the first thing that caught their eye.


    ¡°It is very glossy, Cookie.  It was made with infused threads.  It makes it slightly easier for me to draw in magic from the environment with this on.¡±


    Cookie danced on the ceiling, his many legs tapping out a quick rhythm.  ¡°Oooh! Magic fancy clothes!¡±


    Cookie was young and had an insatiable curiosity that Cornelius appreciated.


    ¡°Magic indeed.  They make Clan headquarters out of similar materials.¡±


    The spider continued its jig.


    Dalton grinned at the spider.  ¡°Hey, Cookie.  Who wears better clothes, me or Cornelius?¡±


    ¡°Hey now,¡± Cornelius protested.  ¡°He¡¯s young and doesn¡¯t even wear clothes we can¡¯t tak-¡°


    ¡°Dalton!¡±


    His apprentice gave him a smug look.  ¡°I think he¡¯s a great judge of fashion.¡±


    Cornelius shook his head as the little traitor continued to dance on the ceiling.  ¡°Go get ready yourself. We leave in an hour.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to try and wear the raincoat?¡±


    Cornelius sighed.  ¡°No, Dalton.  I promise I¡¯m not going to take the raincoat!¡±


    The young man nodded and sauntered his way to the door.


    God help him with mouthy spiders and even mouthier apprentices


    ~<>~<>~


    The social was being held at a place called the Dome.  It was on the west side of town, tucked away by itself against the forest.


    Blair had been surprised that such a large building had been constructed in a town as small as Silver Spruce, but that was probably naive of her at this point. It was a strange thing to build here, so of course, someone had gone and done it.


    She took a left onto a lonely road.  Her mother''s van cruised ahead, and the rest of the greater Northwoods Pack were in the van behind her.


    It wasn¡¯t all of the Pack, of course.  They had nearly a dozen other members with her father attending one of the fake summits.


    Even with all the Pact''s efforts to conceal the actual summit''s location, Blair wasn¡¯t sure if it would work.  Hiding something with this many people attending was hard when so many spooks had supernatural hearing.


    Alder shifted in the passenger seat,  his green eyes flickering over the forest.


    He¡¯d looked like a cornered dog getting measurements, but he looked good in his new suit. He even had his hair lightly styled, much to his displeasure.


    Laurel had done well.


    He shifted and glanced up at her before turning back to the forest.


    The silence was a little heavy.  He had agreed to go, but¡­there was something in his eyes when he caved, a look she couldn¡¯t place but didn¡¯t like.


    ¡°So¡­what is the story behind the Dome?¡± Blair was only mildly interested. She just wanted to break the silence.


    Alder shuffled, then scratched at his collar.  Blair tried not to laugh.  He didn¡¯t take to suits easily iIt would seem.


    ¡°Some rich dude with more dosh than sense had it built as his pet project.¡±  Alder snorted.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why he picked Silver Spruce or how he thought it would make enough money to sustain itself. While a multi-use building for rent isn¡¯t a bad idea here, not one on that scale.¡±


    The setting sun played across his features, casting half his face in shadow.  He paused, gathering his thoughts.


    Blair hadn¡¯t been that interested in the Dome in particular, but she loved hearing Alder talk about the town.  The way he lit up, his hands dancing as he explained some absurd detail that could only be true in a town like Silver Spruce.


    He continued. ¡°The guy didn¡¯t even visit the build until after it was done. And when he finally visited the town¡­well, I don¡¯t know what spook scared the hell out of him.  But something here spooked him so bad that he left and didn¡¯t want anything to do with the Dome.¡±


    He chuckled.  ¡°I¡¯m not even sure who owns it now, but they rent it out for whatever.  Sports, social events, supernatural summits? Anything¡¯s game.¡±


    They took another turn, and the Dome came into view.


    When Alder had called it the Dome, she¡¯d been expecting a sports dome.  Not¡­this.


    The green and brown building stretched several stories up, its wood, and metal walls painted the same shades as the forest around it.  Instead of a sports dome, it looked like one of those hexadecimal bubble houses, only on a massive scale.  It had to be at least five stories tall.  Its base stretched further than the bubble section, making it look like a marble placed over a square box.


    ¡°Huh.¡±


    Alder nodded.  ¡°Yeah.  I have no clue, either.  But it¡¯s isolated and big, so it¡¯ll do.¡±


    They parked in the mostly full parking lot and climbed out.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Blair scowled as her dark red dress restricted her legs slightly.  It wasn¡¯t enough to impede her walking, but it would be unusable in a fight.  But Laurel had been insistent, and Blair hadn¡¯t had the heart to fight her. If something happened, she would rip it.


    Alder was staring at the cars with a bewildered look.


    ¡°You alright?¡±


    He nodded, but it took him almost ten seconds to face her.  ¡°Yeah¡­it hadn¡¯t really hit me until now, just how many spooks have moved in.¡±


    He scanned the sea of vehicles again. He looked¡­lost.


    ¡°The town¡¯s changing, and it¡¯s going to get worse before it gets better.  And with the Pact here, and so many mages- I¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m scared, Blair.¡±


    She opened her mouth, searching for the right words to say, but the others climbed out, and she snapped her mouth closed.


    Alder''s face slipped into an easy smile, but she could see the tightness around his eyes, could smell the swirl of emotions rolling off him.


    Her mother and the rest of the Pack walked by. Blair waited for them to pass before falling into step with the back half.


    Most of their older members were with her father since his fake summit was more likely to be attacked, so Blair was one of the strongest werewolves here.  Being the rearguard was her duty.


    Alder walked with her.  Good, he was sticking to the plan.  He needed to stay by their side the whole time; so long as he was with them, they could shunt off attention onto themselves.


    They reached the front door, and a man with pale grey skin and proud features greeted them.


    Blair wasn¡¯t sure what he was, maybe an undead?


    He didn¡¯t smell of death, but some could hide the smell.


    He bowed to them, then announced them to the room in a rich voice.


    ¡°The honored Northwoods.¡±


    Plenty of eyes turned to them.  She felt Alder tense next to her.


    Blair sidestepped slightly, putting herself in front of him as she studied the room.


    The room had a subtle floral scent, though she could smell fake turf beneath it.


    The floor in front of them was covered in tables with shimmering cloths and sparkling pitchers. Mage lights sparkled above them, their colors shifting as she watched.


    To the right was a long line of food tables piled high with delicacies that she could smell from the door.


    The left and right walls had a stairwell leading above and below.


    Looking past the fancy party atmosphere, she could see a sports field on the opposite side of the dome, its bright green turf standing out in sharp contrast to the opulence around them.


    A band of vampires played in one corner, their violins dancing through the air.


    And then there were the guests.  Vampires lounged around tables, werewolves, mages, ghouls, and more wandered about, chatting and drinking and dancing under the colored lights.


    It was nice, though far from the most impressive party she had been to.  If you gave mages enough time, they could really work some wonders.


    Alder gasped.  Blair glanced at him, surprised to see the man drinking in their surroundings with a look of wonder.


    Hmm. She was jaded to this, she supposed.


    ¡°Well, damn.¡±  He left it at that.


    The rest of the Pack spilled into the room, leaving her and Alder with Simon, Laurel, and Bobby.


    They all exchanged a few glances before heading for the food table.


    Blair continued to scan the room as they moved.


    She was never a fan of these things, but you could never put it past the Pact to waste time.  Even with summit days away, they were throwing a party.


    She understood that it wasn¡¯t just for fun. It was an excuse for members of the different Factions to mingle and scheme¡ªespecially members who wouldn¡¯t normally be seen together.


    But she still couldn¡¯t stand the¡­nonchalance.  The Pact was used to


    and warlords and whatnot, but an actual threat hadn¡¯t risen in nearly a century.


    They had become complacent.


    From everything she knew of the new Barrow King, he was not an enemy they should give time to plan, but that was precisely what they had done.


    Several Factions hadn¡¯t even taken note of him until he crushed both House Varl and Serein. And since they were the youngest and weakest of the great Houses, the Pact still wasn¡¯t taking him as seriously as Blair thought they should.


    He was only around five hundred years old, six hundred at the oldest.  Strong, but not on the same level as the truly ancient monsters in the Pact.


    So they viewed him as an upstart who had plundered powerful bloodline magic.


    A threat, but not so much of one that they couldn¡¯t still throw parties.


    They reached the food, and Blair quickly plated up.  She might not like how casual the Pact was about this, but she could appreciate their food.


    She didn¡¯t need to do anything here.  She was sure her mother had some plan in motion, but her Pack¡¯s duty was to get Vouchers.  Since they had already done that, they were only here out of a need to keep appearances.  As soon as Blair could leave, she would.


    Alder shifted next to her, a slice of cake balanced on his plate.


    She raised a brow at him.


    He shrugged.  ¡°Fancy cake.¡±


    Bobby grabbed a slice.  ¡°Well said. You¡¯re the weird one for not grabbing cake first, Blair.¡±  She rolled her eyes and moved on.


    They quickly found an empty table and sat down.  Alder was trying and failing to hide his tension.


    He looked relaxed enough, sitting comfortably in his seat and enjoying the food, but Blair could read his tells.  His eyes flicked to every mage who walked by before darting back to his plate, and every time one passed close to their table, his legs tensed as if he were preparing to bolt.


    She bumped his knee.  He glanced at her, and she smiled.  They couldn¡¯t speak freely here, not with so many supernatural ears about, but she could still offer some comfort.


    He relaxed slightly, but his gaze didn¡¯t stop darting about.


    After a few minutes of eating and a few more trips to the food table, a man approached.


    Blair tensed as she smelled a vampire drawing closer but relaxed when she recognized their scent.


    She rose from the table and turned to greet her old friend.


    ¡°Mark!¡±


    The vampire closed the distance, and Blair wrapped him in a hug.


    She pulled back and looked him over.  He was a little shorter than her, with dark, close-cut hair and a wide smile.


    With his wide dark eyes, tanned skin, and easygoing nature, vampiric nobility would be the last thing most people thought of when looking at him.


    ¡°Blair! It¡¯s been too long!¡±  He glanced to the others, his smile widening.  ¡°Laurel, Bobby, Simon, it¡¯s good to see you.¡±  His gaze settled on Alder.


    ¡°This is Alder,¡± Blair said. ¡°A local with the Sight.  Some spooks are trying to cause him trouble, so we offered our protection.¡±


    She waved to Mark.  ¡°Alder, this is Mark Kriv, third son of House Kriv.  Don''t let his looks fool you. He''s an egomaniac.¡±


    Mark nodded, completely ignoring the end of her sentence.  ¡°Good to meet you, Alder. You¡¯re in good hands. Though why is a group after you?¡±


    Alder nodded a greeting.  ¡°I didn¡¯t respond well to their threats.  Unfortunately for me, I don¡¯t really have any magical firepower on my side, so¡­¡±


    Mark nodded.  ¡°Vultures will circle.¡±


    He clapped his hands and stepped back.


    Laurel arched a dark brow. ¡°Leaving so soon?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d love to talk more, but my father is insistent that I be a social butterfly.  He¡¯s on a peacemaker kick.  Which I prefer over the warmonger one, so I shouldn¡¯t complain.¡±  He waved to them as he strode back into the crowd.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.  Much nicer than the last vampire I talked to,¡± Alder said.


    Simon frowned and set down his croissant sandwich.  ¡°What did the last vampire do?¡±


    ¡°Tried to eat me.¡±


    ¡°¡­You mean drink you?¡±


    Alder laughed.  ¡°You¡¯d think, but no.  He had a whole thing with eating things.  I think it was his fetish.¡±


    ¡°Okay then,¡± Laurel cut in.  ¡°Let¡¯s move past that, please.  I think we¡¯ve spent enough time eating, now it''s time for social mixing before making a graceful exit.¡±


    Bobby ate a massive bite of cake before gesturing at her with his fork.  ¡°Speak for yourself.  I¡¯m going to be as inelegant as possible.¡±


    Laurel sighed.  ¡°Okay, the rest of us will make a graceful exit, while Bobby stumbles out.¡±


    ¡°Or roll out,¡± he added.  ¡°The night is young.¡±


    They rose as a group.  Blair took a deep breath, then led them into the crowd.


    A bit of quick socializing, then they could leave.  Simple, easy, and free of danger.


    She glanced at Alder.


    ¡­Hopefully.

 Other Dangers

    I was not a fan of parties.


    Big shock, I know. The creepy guy who talks to ghosts wasn¡¯t a party animal.


    I wasn''t against them on principle, per se.  It was just that most of my experience with parties either came from the memories of ghosts¨Cneedless to say those parties hadn¡¯t ended well¨Cor the single high school party I had been to, which had ended with a mind-devouring monster trying to kill me.


    Take that weariness and add mages?


    I was not having a good time, which I needed to try and hide.  Tensing at every mage was a great way to attract attention, but it was hard.  Harder than fighting off a dozen mad ghosts. Harder than standing up to Blair¡¯s mother, harder than fighting off the Straits.


    It shouldn''t have been. All I needed to do was put on a fake smile and walk around for a bit. I barely needed to talk. I could just let Blair and the others do their thing while I stood around and looked pretty.


    But I was terrified.


    With every step, I teetered over the edge of total panic, and it was only because the various spooks were largely uninterested in me that I was keeping it together.


    Blair had been right when she said they would draw attention off me.  Being the equivalent of werewolf nobility counted for a lot, it would seem.


    Most who approached only spared me a glance or a polite introduction before ignoring me, which was perfect.


    That pattern repeated itself enough that I started to relax, only mildly tensing when mages approached.


    That was another thing that had thrown me for a loop.  The sheer density of magic in the air was insane.  I wasn''t talking about the ambient magic, either. I was used to Silver Spruce¡¯s dense field, but seeing over a dozen mage auras filling the air was an entirely foreign experience.


    They were beautiful, which I felt oddly guilty for thinking.


    They rippled through the air, patches of red and blue, and green wrapped close to the respective mages. Not full veils, but shoving your aura around was rude in mage society. At least, that''s what Rodgers had told me.


    When those auras drew close, I couldn¡¯t hide my nerves, but they never did more than brush past me.  My own veil was nothing to sneeze at.


    It helped that the others reacted instantly every time I tensed, moving in front of me slightly or drawing attention to themselves in other subtle ways.


    I was grateful, but I couldn¡¯t express it here, which was another thing I hated; how closely I had to guard my tongue.


    Half the spooks in the room could hear a pin drop from a football field away, so every word had to be spoken with the assumption that someone was listening.


    We had just left a conversation with a friendly ghoul woman when I stopped in my tracks.


    I had been scanning the crowds when I saw her. She was several dozen feet away and not even looking at me, but the second I noticed her, my brain immediately screamed danger.


    She was huge, probably in the ballpark of eight feet, with stone grey skin, delicate features, and thick black hair that tumbled past her waist.


    A middle-aged man walked beside her, his pale white suit a sharp contrast against her inky black dress.  He carried a dark wooden case under one arm, its surface covered in glowing green and black runes.  I could feel the power rolling off the case from where I stood.


    I could sense something familiar about the woman, but I couldn''t put my finger on what.


    Seeming to sense my gaze, she turned and met my eyes.  Her eyes were as inhuman as the rest of her. Inky black pools instead of whites, filled in with glowing green irises and even brighter pupils.  She smiled, showing off a mouth full of pointed teeth.


    Every sense, every instinct, and hunch that had kept me alive all these years went into overdrive.  They screamed at me to run, to hide, and pray that the thing in front of me was too preoccupied or too bored to give chase.


    My breath hitched, and I backed up a step.


    The woman''s smile widened, and my mouth filled with the taste of brine and cold, salty water.


    I backed up another step.  Blair must have smelled my terror since she spun towards me, then followed my gaze.


    Blair tensed a moment later, reacting almost as strongly as I had. The others mirrored us.


    The woman, or at least woman-shaped thing, gave us the slightest nod, then turned away, leaning down to whisper something to the man beside her.


    The overwhelming sense of danger left with her attention, along with the taste of briny water.


    I sucked in a deep breath and looked at the others.  ¡°Who the hell was that?¡±


    Bobby shook his head, his face pale. ¡°Not a clue. I¡¯ve never seen her before.¡±


    ¡°Neither have I,¡± Blair said. ¡°But we should stay the hell away from her.¡±


    After that, we had another stretch of perfectly normal, non terrifying encounters.  The others exchanged pleasantries, and I did my best to be boring.  We had been keeping up this routine for fifteen minutes.  How long, exactly, did we need to socialize before making our escape?


    I was studying the crowd when another attendee made their way over. I saw Blair tense slightly out of the corner of my eye.


    I turned to see the newcomers and barely managed to stop myself from freezing.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Two mages.  One was a tall, middle-aged man with pale skin, broad shoulders, and a short salt and pepper beard.  His dark suit seemed to ripple in the mage lights, and his aura was dense with power.


    Standing beside him was a shorter teenager, probably around sixteen or seventeen.  He had dark skin, soft features, and a much smaller aura.  He was sporting a dark blue suit with octopus cufflinks.


    Huh, stylish.


    The thought distracted me enough that I avoided panicking at the mage''s presence.


    Bobby grinned. ¡°Cornelius, Dalton! It''s good to see you again.¡±  The mages returned Bobby¡¯s smile.


    ¡°It''s good to see you as well, especially under less violent circumstances.¡±


    Cornelius and Dalton?  Laurel had filled me in on their fight with George¡¯s Pack at Barry¡¯s and the mage who had helped them.


    I relaxed slightly.  Someone willing to help a stranger from werewolves was alright in my book.  Of course, that didn¡¯t mean he wouldn¡¯t cart me off to his clan if he found out what I was.


    Blair stepped forward, a genuine smile on her lips.  ¡°My Pack told me you helped them deal with George.¡± Blair inclined her head. ¡°You have my thanks.¡±


    Cornelius waved her off. ¡°Think nothing of it. I wasn¡¯t about to stand by while he tried to exploit a local.  I don¡¯t think the man was even a spook!¡±


    ¡°Barry?¡± I asked, surprising myself.  Talking is drawing attention!


    I  reminded myself that staying silent and tense was far more attention drawing than a casual conversation.


    ¡°He¡¯s not a spook, though he has some bad luck when it comes to spooks and his store.  That thing has been destroyed at least four times.¡±


    Two of those had been partially my fault, but I wasn¡¯t about to volunteer that information.


    Dalton blinked. ¡°Four times? Is he cursed?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°Just good old-fashioned bad luck on his part, as far as I can tell.¡±


    Cornelius''s gaze flicked to me, and I saw a spark of interest in his eyes.


    Uh oh.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe I caught your name? I¡¯m guessing you¡¯re a local?¡±


    Blair swept an arm towards me. ¡°Alder. He¡¯s near our new territory, and some spooks are making trouble for him. So we thought he might enjoy this party atmosphere.¡±


    The mage nodded, not at all surprised by that. Blair hadn¡¯t been exaggerating when she said it was common for the Factions to offer some protections to locals.


    Though I noticed she hadn¡¯t said it was George making trouble for me.  It would probably make the Northwoods look bad if they admitted to the mage, and anyone listening in, that it was other werewolves threatening me.


    Cornelius nodded. ¡°I see.¡± He paused and gave me another look.  ¡° Are you the Grave Keeper? I think I heard a few people throw out your name along with the title.¡±


    I hid a wince and nodded¡ªstupid gossiping townsfolk.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard you take care of fiends for the town.¡±


    I nodded again and immediately jumped into my practiced answer.


    ¡°Yeah, I use a warded idol. The old man who owned the graveyard before me had it, so it came bundled with the deal.¡±


    He grinned. ¡°A genuine spirit artifact? Remarkable.¡±  Cornelius rubbed his short beard in thought. ¡°I¡¯ve noticed how dense the ambient magic is here.  It makes sense that someone would have found a way to combat the spirits that came from that.¡±


    I started to respond when another aura drew close.


    It hung tightly around the mage in a dark sheen and felt controlled, dangerous, and hungry.


    What shift is that?


    The mage it belonged to was a striking woman in her late twenties or early thirties.  She wore an elaborate red dress that looked like it belonged in the¡­I don¡¯t know, Victorian era?  It was old and fancy, and that was what mattered.


    I didn¡¯t spare much attention to the rest of her, as my focus was drawn to her eyes.


    Two faceted gemstones, black as night and just as menacing, studied our group as she approached.


    ¡°Miss Northwoods,¡± she greeted Blair with a slight curtsy.  ¡°And company.¡±


    Blair gave a slight bow.  ¡°Lady Larouta.¡±


    Lady Larouta¡¯s black eyes scanned us, and I had to hold back a shiver.


    I didn¡¯t know gemstones could be so piercing.


    I glanced at Blair. She did not trust this woman.  Oh, her face was a perfectly polite smile, but I could read the subtle tension in her stance.


    ¡°I hate to be so rude,¡± the mage said with a small smile. ¡°But I need to borrow Cornelius for a moment.¡±


    Blair gave a smile that didn¡¯t touch her eyes.  ¡°Please, don¡¯t let us stop you.¡±


    Cornelius gave a far less convincing fake smile before glancing at Dalton.  ¡°Mind keeping an eye on my apprentice for a minute?¡±  Blair gave him a more genuine smile.


    Seeing that, Cornelius turned and walked off with the mage.


    Laurel watched them go, a black brow arched.  ¡°Okay then¡­¡±


    Dalton shuffled slightly as he watched the other mages leave.  ¡°Man, I feel like my mom just left me at the grocery store checkout. And asked strangers to babysit me to boot.¡±


    Bobby patted him on the shoulder and beamed.  ¡°We were in a fight together. That makes us more than strangers!¡±


    Dalton snorted.  ¡°I just cowered while you all fought.¡±


    Simon shrugged.  ¡°Being in the room is still technically being in the fight.¡±


    Bobby nodded.  ¡°Exactly.  It¡¯s all about the little details.¡±


    ~<>~<>~


    Oriana led Cornelius to the party''s edge, stopping at the railing that overlooked the sports field.


    This was wrong.  He¡¯d expected to have this talk with aura code.  They could actually do that covertly.  But approaching him directly and dragging him out here?  People would notice, and this conversation would be far from private.


    One of them could make a windshield to block out their voices, but that wouldn¡¯t be any less obvious.


    This was wrong, Cornelius didn¡¯t know what Oriana was playing at, and that made him nervous.


    She stared out over the field, red nails clicking against the railing.


    ¡°Your answer, Cornelius?¡±


    Once again, blunt, not even an attempt at subtly. While this whole situation was off, at least he had an answer for her.


    ¡°No.¡±


    Her offer was good, and a duel was hardly the end of the world.  But the message it would send to the other factions was unacceptable.


    They were on the brink of war.  Now was not the time for petty duels, and if the Pact didn¡¯t realize that, it would cost them.


    She quirked a brow, but the slight smile on her lips told him she¡¯d expected this.


    His unease grew.


    ¡°Very well.¡± She turned and strolled back into the party.


    That was it? No attempt at negotiating, no surprise, no anger? Nothing?


    Cornelius watched the woman go, a sinking fear that he¡¯d played right into her hands growing in his gut.

 The Summit

    I was going to the summit.


    It hadn¡¯t been my first, second, or third choice, but the same reasoning that made me attend the social applied here.


    While we were at the social, George¡¯s Pack had come around and trashed my place again.


    It was obvious that they weren''t about to leave me alone.  I guess I really hurt the prick''s pride.


    I sighed and rubbed my face.  Jack jumped onto my kitchen counter and nudged my arm.


    ¡°Demanding your due, huh?¡± Jack purred as I scratched his head.


    Laurel glanced up from her phone.  ¡°He is a demanding landlord.¡±


    I scoffed. ¡°Landlord? I¡¯m his landlord.¡±


    The werewolf shook her head. ¡°He¡¯s a cat.  That automatically makes this his turf.  At least in cat logic.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a werewolf expert on cats, huh?¡±


    She nodded primly. ¡°Yes.  I love cats!¡± She looked at Jack and sighed.  ¡°Though most cats don¡¯t return the feeling.¡±


    Satisfied with my scratches, Jack hopped off the counter and slinked to Laurel.


    She scooped him up and cooed at him.  ¡°You do, though, you little sweetie.¡±


    The cat purred.


    I laughed, the warm feeling a pleasant distraction from what was coming.


    I glanced at my clock.  It was almost 4:00.  The summit was at 6:00.


    Shit, so much for a distraction.


    I walked over to my armchair and plopped down.  Simon set down the book he was reading.  He¡¯d probably finished it. The man was a machine when it came to reading.  He¡¯d finished like five books in the time I¡¯d known him.


    He started to get up, but Laurel had stretched her legs across the whole couch.


    Simon sighed and lifted her legs out of the way.  He was more patient than Bobby.  He¡¯d just thrown Laurel off the couch.


    Simon grabbed another book from my shelf after carefully slotting the previous one in its place like a properly polite guest.


    My bookshelf didn¡¯t have any kind of alphabetical sorting, much to Blair¡¯s dismay, but all the series were grouped together.  I wasn¡¯t an animal.


    I rubbed my face.  Thoughts of bookshelf organizing pushed aside by monsters and politics.


    ¡°You okay?¡± Simon asked.


    ¡°No.¡±


    He nodded and ran a finger over the book''s cover.  ¡°Fair.  I don¡¯t think I would be either.¡±


    I leaned back, letting a fading sunbeam hit my head.  Jack took that as a summons and jumped onto my lap.  I stroked his fur, relaxing as he let out a steady purr.   ¡°Why can¡¯t you all just beat the hell out of George?¡±


    Laurel shifted, pulling her legs back so Simon could sit.  ¡°Politics.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a nasty word.¡±


    ¡°Indeed.  George isn¡¯t much on his own, but his daddy is an old and powerful Alpha with significant sway in the northwest states. So if we just wacked George, it would create a political shit storm.¡±


    I scowled.  ¡°But if George wacks me, it¡¯s fine?¡±


    Laurel¡¯s smile dropped.  ¡°Before we took an active role in protecting you?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°I know the factions wouldn¡¯t care if they killed me before you guys took an interest.  I¡¯m just a random local.¡±


    Laurel looked like she¡¯d bit a lemon but nodded.  ¡°Yes.  Most wouldn¡¯t care at all.  But now that we¡¯re involved, it would be a slight against us.  Problem is Iron Tooth would publicly reprimand George and say he moved without his blessing, then just help his son in secret.¡±


    Simon spoke up, setting down his second book.  ¡°Plus, I¡¯m sure George is betting that we can¡¯t spare that much attention for him while all this madness is going on.¡±


    I nodded.  ¡°Which is true enough, I suppose.  You all have better things to worry about than avenging one local.¡±


    Both of them frowned at me.  Laurel straightened and met my eyes with a hard stare.  ¡°Make no mistake, Alder.  If George killed you, we would kill him.  Even if he ran and hid, we would track him down.¡±  She scowled.  ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m a little surprised you thought we would just take that lying down after a week of knowing us.¡±


    Simon nodded.  ¡°Especially Blair.  Can you really see her responding to your death with anything less?¡±


    I paused, the force in their words taking me off guard.


    ¡°Aw shucks, you¡¯re making me feel all warm and fuzzy while discussing murder.  I¡¯m not sure if that¡¯s healthy or not.¡±


    Despite my joking tone, their words really did fill me with warmth.


    ~<>~<>~


    The moon mobile was more packed than usual, its spacious interior filled with ghosts.


    Blair was driving like usual, with Bobby riding shotgun.  Ben lounged next to me, his hands laced behind his head, while Laurel sat to his right.  In the very back, Simon sat between Rodgers and Agatha.


    More ghosts flew outside the van, trailing us to the summit.


    The van bumped and bounced along the north road, its suspension struggling under the assault.


    I stared out into the forest, a queasy sort of calm settling over me.


    I¡¯d already gone through several rounds of panic attacks, which had left me feeling drained and numb.  I knew, intellectually, that I was less likely to be noticed at the summit than I¡¯d been at the social.  But sitting in a room with the Pact leaders? With the mages?


    I fought off a shudder.


    Ben noticed but didn¡¯t say anything.


    We hit a particularly large pothole as we left the north road, and we all breathed a sigh of relief.


    ¡°We need to patch this road when we get a chance,¡± Blair muttered.


    I chuckled. ¡°Now that would be a blessing. Though it¡¯s a tricky process.¡±


    Laurel frowned.  ¡°Why hasn¡¯t it been done alrea- oh.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, monsters and whatnot.¡±  I shrugged. ¡°Most crews don¡¯t want to step foot anywhere near Grumpy¡¯s domain.  And he¡¯s hardly the only strange thing on the Northside.¡±


    Simon chuckled from the back.  ¡°I still can¡¯t believe you call it that.¡±


    Agatha snorted.  ¡°He used to come up with the most outrageous names.  Like that feral werebear, you named Jo.  Or Cheryl?¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± I snapped.  ¡°Cheryl wasn¡¯t me! That was that jackass, Trenton.¡±


    ¡°Cheryl?¡± Blair asked.


    ¡°A giant nightmare octopus, don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


    ¡°That sounds pretty worrying.¡±


    ¡°She got torn apart by giant crabs, so that¡¯s taken care of.¡±


    They turned and gave me a look.


    I waved my hand at their stares. ¡°We¡¯re getting off track.  The reason the road isn¡¯t fixed is a mixture of government incompetence and monsters. There, see? At no point did we need to bring up my perfectly valid and normal naming habits, Agatha!¡±


    The old hag cackled, then completely ignored me. ¡°There was this one time-¡°


    We continued to banter and argue all the way to the Dome.


    It was enough of a distraction that my nervousness faded as we drove.  That was until the Dome actually came into view.


    My nerves crashed back into place as we stopped.  From the worried looks the werewolves gave, they could tell.  Or, well, smell.


    The Pact, the Clans.  Their leaders- well, actually not many leaders.  Blair¡¯s mother was one of the only faction leaders coming.


    Most of the others had gone to fake summits, though I wasn¡¯t sure why they had put so much effort into hiding the summit.  Was the Barrow King really so powerful that he could threaten all the leaders at once?


    Why don¡¯t you ask the people around you who know far more about this situation?


    Feeling stupid, I turned to Laurel as we climbed out.


    ¡°Why is the Pact bothering with fake summits and whatnot?  Is the Barrow King really that big of a threat?¡±


    She shook her head, braid bouncing with the motion.  ¡°The secretiveness of this one is a little unusual, but only having a few faction leaders attending is normal.  It¡¯s standard practice after the Pact was almost wiped out around a thousand years ago.¡±


    Rodgers spoke as he floated out of the van.  ¡°It was an insane mage getting ahold of a magical super-weapon, specifically.  We attribute the blast site to a meteor strike today, but it was just one madman with a grudge.¡±


    Laurel raised her brows. ¡°Huh, I didn¡¯t know that, just that the Pact was almost destroyed.¡±


    She shook her head again.


    ¡°Point being, if they need to meet, they either do it in a few heavily defended locations or just send a few leaders and have the others send delegates so they can¡¯t be wiped out in one fell swoop. The heavily defended spots weren¡¯t an option right now; I don¡¯t know why, so¡­¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Thanks. I had been wondering why all this caution for one vampire.¡±


    Blair cut in. ¡°He is dangerous on his own, but he isn¡¯t just one vampire.  He has his house behind him and several other minor houses that aren¡¯t affiliated with the Pact.  And he¡¯s been rapidly gathering other allies.¡±


    Blair paused.  ¡°Not to mention his magic.  His ability to command the undead is dangerous, but the spirits are the real problem. The Pact doesn¡¯t have a truly powerful spirit mage.  It¡¯s a vulnerability  the Barrow King is almost uniquely suited to take advantage of.¡±


    Blair¡¯s mother, whose name I had never bothered to learn, stepped out of her own van and started walking.


    ¡°Follow.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t a request, but not quite an order either.  She said it in the same tone of voice you used when saying ¡®sky¡¯ or ¡®cold.¡¯ You weren¡¯t debating or commanding¡ªjust¡­stating a fact.


    We fell into line behind her.


    I pulled at my collar as we approached the door¡ªstupid suit.  I glanced at Blair.  The woman was wearing her own suit, and she was better at it than me¡ªthe bastard.


    Blair eyed me and raised a brow.  I shook my head.


    ¡°It¡¯s strange to see her again.¡±  I glanced at Rodgers.  No one else had reacted to his words, so he must not have made them audible to the living.


    Who the hell was he talking about? Apparently, he could read the thought on my face.


    ¡°Adela.¡±


    I blinked.


    Rodgers sighed.  ¡°Did you really never learn her name?  Blair¡¯s mother.¡±


    Ahh, so that was her name.


    The old ghost snorted.  ¡°I swear, sometimes, Alder¡­¡± He shook his head.


    ¡°I was in my thirties when I met the Northwoods.  It''s been decades since I last saw her.  I don¡¯t think she¡¯s realized I¡¯m here.¡± He rubbed his beard and grinned.


    ¡°I might get her attention when the summit starts.  Throw her for a loop when she really needs to keep composure.  I did tell her that humans would annoy her beyond the grave.¡±


    Well, I never need to wonder where I got my petty streak from.


    We reached the door, but there was no announcer this time. The first room wasn¡¯t party central anymore either.  No fancy mage lights or five-star meals, just a bare stone floor.


    That threw me for a loop until I realized we were heading for the sports field.  The factions had gathered at a large table in the middle of it.


    By the look of the table, we weren¡¯t the first or last to arrive.  I glanced around.  There wasn¡¯t enough room at the table for everyone, so¡­ ah.  The bleachers were filled with the faction members while their leaders or delegates sat at the table.


    Blair¡¯s moth¡ªAdela, went straight for the table while Blair led us to an empty section of bleacher.


    I followed Blair like a duckling, my attention locked on the table.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    There was Adela, then Cornelius, and another mage I didn¡¯t know sitting on her right.  Next to them was Oriana and two more mages I didn¡¯t know.


    To Adela¡¯s left was a group of burly men and women I assumed were different Were-Kin.  To their left were three pale-skinned and strikingly beautiful people in dark suits and dresses.  Vampires, if I had to guess.


    And seated next to them was a middle-aged man in a pale suit holding a glowing box.


    Oh.


    I skipped over the next seat, not wanting to draw the grey-skinned woman¡¯s attention.  I didn¡¯t have the faintest clue what the hell she was, but I wanted nothing to do with her.


    Next was a seemingly ordinary man in a dark green tracksuit.  His choice of clothes made him stand out like a sore thumb, but aside from that, I couldn¡¯t see anything odd about him.


    ¡­except he was casually chatting with the grey-skinned woman like it was nothing.


    Very not normal then.


    There were a few more people I didn¡¯t recognize, and I skimmed past them. Seeing so many new faces at once was causing them to blur together.


    My eyes settled on the woman at the head of the table.


    She was odd, to say the least.  Old, probably in her mid-sixties, with snowy hair bundled up in a red bandanna, a workman¡¯s coat that was several times too large, and a wide, mischievous grin that was out of place in this tense atmosphere.


    Her appearance, her position at the table, and the way some of the others were casting her respectful and fearful looks made me sit up and take notice.


    A few more groups wandered in, and I slowly settled back on the bench.


    I just needed to sit and not draw attention to myself. That should be pretty damn easy, considering the present company.  I was downright subtle compared to the leaders of the Pact.


    Once everyone had gathered, the old woman at the head stood and cleared her throat.  The sound echoed through the room.  I didn''t see any speakers. Probably magic then.


    "Welcome, everyone!" Her voice was strong, and just those two words were filled with dry humor.


    "Normally, we would have some formalities to slog through, but one of the upsides of a crisis is that I get to skip some of the boring shit."


    I blinked.  I had been expecting... Well, I wasn''t sure what I''d been expecting, but it wasn''t this.


    "Let''s cut to the chase." She waved at the bleachers.  "Vouchers, stand, please."


    People climbed to their feet around me, and I paid attention to the bleachers for the first time.  I recognized a fair number of faces.


    Of course you do, dolt.  If they''re vouchers, then they''re locals.


    There was Sally, a hedge mage.  A few feet over was Kyle, a Were-Kin of some kind.


    There weren''t that many, which wasn''t that surprising.  Many locals would have told the factions to pound sand, regardless of who did the asking.


    Rodgers and a few other ghosts stood and made themselves visible.  They were only a fraction of the ghosts present.


    A lot of people had wanted to witness the summit and had no intention of revealing themselves.  Hell, I didn''t know all of them that well, and I was pretty sure a few weren''t even from town.


    The leaders scanned the bleachers, and I saw Adela''s eyes widen for a breath as she saw Rodgers.  He grinned.


    "Y''all can sit now. We already know who you''re backing, but I can''t skip all the formalities." The old woman, who had never said her name, also sat.


    "Five factions have vouchers, but we''ll get to the town-specific votes later.  I want to get down to the matter at hand."


    Her casual tone vanished, and while nothing about her appearance changed, the old woman no longer seemed out of place sitting with these monsters.


    "Are we going to war with the Barrow King or not?"


    Damn, she really was getting right to it.


    I had a feeling there were usually more steps to this, and going off some of the uncomfortable looks I saw around the table and bleachers, not everyone was happy with her skipping steps.


    I certainly wasn''t one of them, though. More power to her.  The faster this was over, the better.


    The grey-skinned woman spoke first, her voice deep and uncomfortably loud.  "I have missed your directness, Adjudicator," she laughed. "I vote yes!"


    Adela was next. She said nothing, simply raising her hand in favor.  More quickly followed suit.  The guy in a tracksuit tipped the balance into a majority yes.


    He raised his hand and shrugged.  "It''ll be fun. We haven''t had a good war in forever."


    Just like that, the Pact declared war.


    Some of its members were being far too casual about this, but at least it was done.


    A man stood from the bleachers and slowly made his way down towards the field.


    Blair turned towards him and sniffed.  "He''s slathered in ?cologne. Too much cologne."


    "Maybe he''s just bad at measuring it?"


    Blair frowned.


    The man stopped once he reached the field and turned to the table.  He pulled something from his coat, and I tensed.


    The table''s occupants had noticed him and turned to face the man.  None of them looked very concerned, which was understandable, considering the people gathered there.


    He tossed a small wooden box in front of him, and I saw several auras tense around the table, ready to react at a moment''s notice.


    But no blast of hostile magic came from the box. Instead, sparks of eldritch green light started floating from Its top.


    They quickly gathered into a shape, and I felt something from the box. Something familiar.


    Spirit magic.


    The green motes formed a man.  I couldn''t distinguish too many details from where I sat, but the image was around average height, with long hair spilling over the shoulders of its fancy suit.


    That was about all I could tell from looking at their back.


    I was a little taken aback by the magic hologram, but the Pacts response was far more extreme.


    Adela stood so quickly her chair exploded into splinters, and many of the others rose alongside her.


    The hologram spoke, and I realized it was a live feed.


    "No need to be so hasty. I''m not the danger." The man''s voice was smooth, and faintly accented, though I couldn''t place where it was from.


    "How did you find this place?" One of the Were-Kin delegates.  I wasn''t sure how I knew he was a delegate and not the leader himself.  I guess he just lacked that it factor that Adela had.


    The hologram ignored the man, turning his head back and forth over the table.


    "You all have voted for war against me."


    My eyes widened.  I''d already guessed who this was, but hearing him confirm it made it real.  He was the reason for this stupid mess.


    The Barrow King.


    I''d fallen into a kind of nervous trance, all of my focus bent on not attracting attention.  That trance ended with the revelation.


    I squashed a wave of panic. This was almost certainly about to devolve into violence of some kind.  And while that was panic-inducing as well, I knew how to deal with that type of panic.


    "A not unexpected outcome. But, it''s still a shame it played out this way."


    He sounded...sincere.  I actually believed that he didn''t want this.  Which was odd since, from what I had been told, he had attacked another House out of the blue.


    The old woman, or the Adjudicator, I guess, waved at the image.  "Hello, Solomon.  I don''t suppose you''ve come to surrender?"


    "I''m afraid not."


    "Yeah, I assumed as much from the sending instead of coming in person. But it never hurts to check."


    The Barrow King laughed.  "No, that''s not why I''m here. I''m here to convey a bit of information."


    Adela growled, and I''ll admit, it was an intimidating sound.


    The Barrow King spoke over her.  "Firstly, I intend no disrespect, Elders, but I can¡¯t have your sendings stay."


    I tried to guess where he was looking, and my eyes fell on the grey woman and the tracksuit guy.


    The woman smiled, showing off her sharp teeth.


    The guy shrugged.  "Eh, I get it.  No hard feelings. Though I am still going to war on you."


    These were the leaders of the Pact?


    The Barrow King laughed.  "I appreciate your understanding."


    The hologram flexed its hand, and a surge of magic flooded the room.


    It pressed against my senses, feeling old and icy, like a grave in the dead of winter.


    The white-suited man flinched as the glowing box he was holding guttered out.


    The grey woman and tracksuit guy vanished.


    The room was silent for several long seconds.


    "Now, then," the Barrow King shook out his hands.  "I said I was here to convey some information. Let''s get to that."


    What the hell was that?  Had he just teleported them or- no, no.  He had mentioned spirit sending.  I didn''t know what that was exactly, but I could take a good guess.


    I was looking at a magic hologram.


    Those two must have been more advanced sendings, and he''d cut off their feed.


    The Barrow King''s next words made me forget all about magic holograms.


    "The hoard will arrive in a half hour. I suspect your scouts are detecting them right now. Goodbye."


    His image vanished, then another wave of magic crashed over the room.  Except this time, it triggered something.


    All across the Dome, more points of magic bloomed.  I could feel them all around us.


    Wait, why could I feel them all around us?


    Some of the points of magic were far outside my normal range while veiled.  So why-


    My gut clenched as what I was feeling clicked.  I could feel them because they were spirit magic.


    They were under the ground, buried several feet deep, and scattered at key points around us.  Half a dozen were under the table, more were under the bleachers, and I could feel a few at each exit.


    The Barrow King had trapped the Dome.


    Trapped it with what?


    Everyone had stood at this point, and the roar of overlapping voices filled the room.


    "Stay close!" Blair.


    "What''s happening?" Laurel.


    "Wha-"


    The trap sprung.


    All across the room, hundreds of shades burst from the ground.


    My world slowed.


    I''d felt adrenaline speed up my perception before, but this was something else.  The world moved at a crawl around me, and I felt like I could spend all day examining the scene before me.


    Shades weren''t ghosts. They didn''t have a soul.  They weren''t people: just a memory, an echo someone''s death left in the ambient magic.


    But that didn''t mean they weren''t dangerous.


    The shades around us had been stuffed with an absurd amount of power.  They were glowing in my senses like red hot metal, and I didn''t doubt for a second that they had enough juice to interact with the living.


    They boiled up from the ground, crawling over themselves in a mad scramble, their spectral hands reaching.


    The Barrow King must have visited old battlefields since most of the shades wore military uniforms, though they were from wildly different eras.  I saw some in the red and white of the Revolutionary War crammed next to knights in full plate.


    The spirits charged forward with swords and knives and grasping hands, wailing madly.


    In that frozen moment, understanding settled in like a cold weight.


    This was only going one of two ways.


    The shades were everywhere.  The truly durable spooks like Adela would make it out, but the mages? None of them had a spirit shift up, and assuming they could even do one, they wouldn''t get it up before the shades reached them.


    And more importantly, Blair, Simon, Bobby, and Laurel.


    The shades didn¡¯t have silver, but with the amount of power rolling off them they would have the strength to rip a person limb from limb.


    Werewolves were strong, but they couldn¡¯t hurt the shades, and while they could run from a few, they had no chance against hundreds.


    They would be torn apart by hundreds of spectral hands and knives.


    Blair was the only one who might make it out.  And that was only if she focused on herself and abandoned the others.  She''d die first.


    I could make it out, though.


    If I lifted my veil just a bit and kept my aura up against my body, the mages wouldn''t notice, not in this chaos.  I could push through any of the shades in my way and make a beeline for the exit.


    All I''d have to do was leave the others behind.


    Or...


    I closed my eyes.  I had never been under the illusion that I would live forever.  I''d seen death since I was a child and lost count of how many times I''d almost met the reaper.


    I had spent plenty of time stewing over how I''d go.  I assumed it would be a mad ghost that finally did me in, or maybe a passing monster that caught a whiff of Telss.


    This wasn''t such a bad way to go, all things considered.  At least it would mean something.


    I opened my eyes.  Blair was staring at me, her irises slowly filling with red as her lips moved in slow motion.


    I only had one real option.


    I tore off my veil.


    Time rushed back in as power poured out of me.  People screamed, the shades wailed, and I held nothing back.


    "Caspers retreat!" At that signal, every ghost flew straight up.  The few who didn¡¯t know the playbook ushered along by the others.


    I wouldn''t have to worry about hitting them.


    Gathering my aura like I had only a few times before, I brought out every bit of magic I had, every scrap, then I pushed.


    ~<>~<>~


    Blunder knew she''d been had.


    She felt the pulse of magic tear through the room but hadn''t sensed the soul-cages until it was too late.


    Solomon had probably used null bark boxes to hide their signature.


    How he''d known where they were holding the summit was another matter entirely.  They had a mole.  Unfortunately, Blunder might not live long enough to sniff them out.


    The shades exploded up from beneath the table, and Blunder slowed the world down.  After so many centuries, speeding up her perception of time wasn''t even that draining.


    She wasn''t sure if that was going to matter, though.


    She couldn''t pull up a spirit shift, even in slowed time, it would take her too long.  It was the most demanding shift for her, and she''d need to drop her splits and have at least a half-hour of meditation just to start the process.


    She could speed up her perception by a lot, but turning the two seconds it would take the shades to reach them into half an hour was beyond her.


    She gathered her aura and focused on her earth split.  This would be tricky. She could fling them all into the air, but moving them fast enough to escape the shades without killing herself and the other mages from the acceleration was a delicate balance.


    Once they were away, one of the others could keep them moving while she tried for a spirit shift.  It would leave them hopelessly out of position when the hoard arrived, but it was better than getting torn apart by shades.


    She shoved her aura into the turf and prepared to drag the ground into the sky.


    Power erupted from the bleachers, slamming against her senses like a cold sun.


    Slowly, her body moving like a snail compared to her mind, her eyes settled on the bleachers.


    The Telss.  He was here, and he was much stronger than she''d thought.


    A wave of green and purple surged from the man, flowing and shifting like the northern lights.


    He was moving so much magic that the display would leak into the physical world, even those without the Sight would see it.


    Blunder felt pity for the Telss.


    He''d just thrown his life away.


    Moving quickly even in slowed time, the wave reached the first of the shades and flowing pillars of green and purple crashed over them.


    The spirits came apart like sand in a current.


    His aura pushed against hers with a shocking amount of force as it slammed against the following line of shades.  They didn''t hold out any longer than the first.


    It reached the main mass of shades and paused for a breath, straining against the wall of spirits.


    The shade''s magic pushed back, cold and dark and furious.


    The Telss kept pushing, as inexorable as the crashing tide.


    The two magics clashed, both cold and dark. But one was harsh and hungry, like the dead of winter, while the other was a soothing wave.  It was a balm on a fresh burn, shade from the hot sun, a long journey''s peaceful end.


    The shades broke.


    The Telss¡¯s power pushed to every corner of the Dome, and everywhere it swept, the shades were wiped away.


    In less than two seconds, she had gone from expecting to die to looking at a clear room.


    There was no evidence of the clash. The Telss''s magic had annihilated every speck of the shades.


    Blunder dropped slowed time and took a deep breath.


    Every eye in the room was turned to the Telss, some shocked, some grateful, and some hungry.


    Blunder cracked her neck and readied her aura.  She would do what she could for the Telss, and that started with taking some attention off him.


    Which shouldn¡¯t be too hard, since they all had something more urgent to worry about right now, namely, the approaching hoard of undead.

 Dead Man Waiting

    The last shade broke under my aura, and I stopped.


    I stood on the bleachers, my gasping breaths deafening in the suddenly silent room.


    Every eye was on me.  Every. Single. One.


    I pulled, and my aura came racing back to me like a net on a line.


    I felt it brush past the other auras in the room, flowing around them like rocks in a river.


    It reached me and pulled back into a veil.


    I felt several gazes grow even more intense.


    I didn¡¯t look at all the hungry eyes around me, focusing on Blair instead.


    Her eyes had completely filled with red, and she stared down at me, her mouth open slightly.


    ¡°Left you speechless, huh? I¡¯ll admit, it¡¯s a gift.¡±


    Blair twitched at my lame joke, but someone else had a very different reaction.


    A booming cackle sounded from the table. I turned to see the Adjudicator doubled over, great peals of cackling laughter escaping her.  The sound was far louder than it should be, and some of the room turned to the woman.


    More eyes left me a moment later as the Adjudicator stopped laughing.


    She stretched out her aura and snapped her fingers.  Her magic mimicked the motion and a yellow patch of her aura tore the air apart in a deafening boom.


    She didn¡¯t move more than that, but her aura loomed in my awareness, seeming to fill my vision.


    It hung above her in a lazy cloud of distinct colors, and while it wasn¡¯t covering nearly as much space as I had a moment ago, it felt like it was.  And not only that, it felt deeper, like staring into a lake and not even catching a glimpse of the bottom.


    ¡°You¡¯re attention, please.¡± She rose and cracked her neck.


    "Leave the Telss alone for now. He''s with the Northwoods. Any and all issues can be brought up after a hoard of undead isn''t on the way to kill us all."


    She gestured at the table around her.  "Have the wards triggered?"


    One of the mages I didn''t know nodded.  "Yes, they''re tripping all around town.  They started going off right before the Barrow King mentioned the hoard."


    The old woman grunted, then started barking orders.  "Oriana, you lot are in the Overlook. That side of town is your responsibility. Do you have enough mages to hold it on you''re own?"


    The woman nodded and immediately headed for the exit.


    One of the Were-Kin delegates growled.  "You''re splitting us up before a Hoard?"


    The Adjudicator stared at the woman, and her aura pulsed slightly.  "Maren, do I need to remind you what taking vouchers means?"


    The Were shrank back and stared at the floor.


    "This town''s protection is our responsibility now.  We could sit tight here, which might not even be the best move since every strong undead would converge on one location.  But we could do that." Her voice had lost its dry humor and found ice instead.


    "We could let the Hoard tear through the town as they come for us. And by doing that, we would be admitting that we can''t protect what''s ours."


    The Adjudicator, who was physically a frail old woman who couldn''t possibly be an inch over five feet, stared the Were-Kin down.


    "Do you think the Pact shouldn''t protect what''s ours?"


    The Were straightened her spine as she bowed her head in respect.  "No, Adjudicator!"


    The woman smiled, and the humor returned to her voice like it had never left.  "Good! That''s what I like to hear!" She turned to the others.  "Northwoods, you lot are in the Northside. Can you hold it on your own?"


    Adela paused for a long breath before nodding.  "I will have to use the lure method, but I can manage that.  Unless this Hoard is several times larger, then we''re expecting." She looked around. "Does anyone have an estimate?"


    A Vampire looked up from their phone. "At least five hundred.  Our scouts can''t get an accurate measure.  The Hoard is starting to affect the weather, which is making it even harder."


    Adela nodded.  "I can hold the north."


    The Adjudicator turned to the others, but I stopped paying attention.


    I felt¡­relieved.  I had already decided to jump off the cliff. Now I just had to wait for the landing.


    Blair had never fully turned away, but she suddenly spun towards me, her eyes frantic.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    I nodded.  ¡°Yeah, just¡­¡± Just what?  What the hell was I supposed to say?  That I was doing great because I wouldn¡¯t live past tonight, so I didn¡¯t have to care?


    I didn¡¯t think that answer would go over well.


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know what to say.¡±


    Blair grasped my shoulders, and I realized her hands were shaking.


    ¡°Why are you so calm?¡±


    For the first time, I wanted to thank Adela since she appeared beside us before I had to come up with a response.


    ¡°We need to go now.¡±


    Blair stepped back, and I quickly glanced around.  The factions were racing to the exits, leaving as soon as the Adjudicator gave them their region.


    We didn¡¯t have much time before the Hoard arrived. That fact slipped through my new calm, and my pulse started racing.  The factions would defend Silver Spruce now that they had their hooks in, but that didn¡¯t guarantee everyone would make it out alright.


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    From what I knew of the undead, they were going to make a beeline for the spooks before anyone else, but if any townsfolk were in the way¡­


    What could I do to help?


    Rodgers floated down from the ceiling, the others following in his wake.


    The sight of the ghosts sparked an idea, but I was jerked into motion before I could consider it.


    Blair pulled me by the hand, and the others walked around me, walling me in.


    I appreciated the gesture, as I could still feel the eyes boring into me.


    ¡°Cornelius,¡± the Adjudicator called.  ¡°You stay with me.  I¡¯m going to try and form a spirit shift strong enough to wipe out the weaker mass of undead, but I need a guard.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Adjudicator.¡±


    We left the field, and their conversation faded.


    We reached the vans among the flood of spooks scrambling to their own vehicles or just sprinting out into the darkness at superhuman speeds.


    Adela started snapping out orders.  ¡°B and A squads, head straight to the manor.¡±  Evidently, Blair¡¯s Pack was B squad, and the group Adela had brought with her was A squad.  They immediately went for their vans, but when Blair tried to tug me with them, I resisted.


    She stopped, confused.


    I stared at her for a breath, memorizing her face. The lines of her cheeks, they way her red eyes caught the moonlight, the subtle tilt of her head as she stared down at me.  I took in every little detail I could and held them close.


    I would never see her again.


    ¡°I need to visit my house before the Hoard hits.  The spirit ward will help if any shades are with the Hoard.¡±  I turned to the Alpha Northwoods. Usually, the following words would have burned me to say, but I was past caring.


    ¡°It¡¯s safest if you take me.  Anyone else would be a risk if they went on their own, and if there¡¯s an issue, you can run back to the main group in a flash.¡± I inclined my head.


    ¡°Please. I just need to make one last stop.¡±


    I put the slightest emphasis on last, hoping the ancient werewolf could read between the lines.


    She stared at me, her face carved from ice.  A knot of tension formed in my gut as footsteps pounded around us.


    It was clear where Blair got her neutral expression from.


    As I was about to ask again, the ice cracked slightly, and she nodded.  ¡°Very well.  We must be quick, though.  Everyone move!¡±


    Blair stared at her mother and opened her mouth, but Adela cut her off.  ¡°I swear I will not abandon him or do anything else against his will.¡±  Blair snapped her mouth closed and, after giving me one last look, rushed to the moon mobile.


    Bobby said nothing, only giving me a severe nod before climbing in the van.


    Laurel and Simon both shot me worried glances as they followed.


    Adela marched towards me.  ¡°Close your mouth. Make sure not to bite your tongue.


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    She didn¡¯t bother responding. Instead, she kept walking toward me.  Before I could react, she closed the distance and scooped me up like I weighed nothing.


    ¡°What the hel-¡° the words died as the werewolf took off.


    The woman ran faster than a goddamn horse, and we crossed out of the Dome¡¯s parking lot before I grasped what was happening.


    ¡°Jesus Christ, woman! Give a guy a little warning before- Guh!¡±


    We hit the tree line, but instead of slowing down, she sped up.


    The night air whipped at my face and howled in my ears as we tore across the forest.


    ¡°Did you expect to take a car?¡± Adela yelled over the wind.


    I started to yell back a response, but she was a werewolf. Why bother?


    ¡°I didn¡¯t really think about it, to be honest,¡± I said at a normal volume.


    ¡°Fool.¡±


    I wanted to glare at the woman, but I couldn¡¯t tear my eyes away from the trees blurring past.


    She hurtled over a fallen log, kicked off a tree as we passed, then turned to slip through a narrow gap between branches, all while still gaining speed.


    The most terrifying part was how smooth it all was.  I was barely jostled.


    The speed she was showing was one thing, but the absolutely superhuman control was another.  Every step, every shift in balance, and twitch of her body was perfectly controlled.


    Each action blended into the next until we flew through the forest faster than a car at highway speeds, and she made it look effortless.


    I wouldn¡¯t say it was humbling since I had no pride in my physical abilities to be humbled.


    I knew how outclassed I was in the big wide world.


    But the display was awe-inspiring.


    We reached the graveyard in under two minutes, landing on the grass with a quiet thump.


    Adela set me down, and I straightened.  I looked at the woman, an odd mix of emotions swirling in my gut.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    She inclined her head, a surprisingly sympathetic look on her face.  ¡°You are not the first Telss I have known.  I would take the same route rather than let the Clans have me.¡±


    I swallowed a lump in my throat. She had certainly read between the lines.


    ¡°I half expected you to sell me to the Clans if I¡¯m being honest.¡±


    She sneered at me, and a faint growl entered her voice. ¡°I would not stain my honor.  You saved my Pack.  I would have lived, and my daughter may have, but most would have died.  I would be shamed if I returned that with betrayal.¡±


    ¡°Huh. Well, I still don¡¯t like you, and I think you¡¯re a bitch to your daughter.  But I can respect that you have some principles.¡±


    She glared at me, a flash of fury running through her expression before cooling.  She shook her head and laughed.  ¡°It has been such a long time since someone was so¡­blunt to my face.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a dead man walking.  Not much point in beating around the bush.¡±  Speaking of not beating around the bush, we didn¡¯t have much time before the Hoard arrived.


    ¡°You said you would use the lure method earlier.  I assume that involves using a lot of magic to draw the undead to you?¡±


    She nodded.  ¡°Yes.  I will let some of my power flow, and the corpse eaters will come like moths to the flame.¡±


    I grunted¡ªthe idea I had earlier taking shape.


    ¡°I¡¯ll help.  I used so much magic in the Dome that it¡¯s still clinging to me, even while veiled. That will draw its fair share.¡±


    I turned towards my house.  ¡°Also, I really do have a spirit ward for you.  I¡¯ll make another one as well, which will draw even more undead to me.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.  Making sure your last stand is your last.  And doing as much good in the process. That''s a good death. But¡­are you sure this is what you want?¡±


    I froze.


    Sure? Was I? Maybe I could¡­


    I closed my eyes.  Memories pushed at the surface of my thoughts, desperate to break through. And weariness had settled into my bones, I couldn¡¯t remember the last time I¡¯d gotten a full night''s sleep.  And to top it all off, nothing would ever be the same again. The mages would never let me be at peace here.


    I was done.


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯m sure.¡±


    She was silent as I went and grabbed the spirit ward.


    I came back with the ward, and Jack.  The cat looked into the night and trembled.  He was right to be scared.


    She took the carving and I handed her the cat as well. She took him without comment, then gave me a shockingly deep bow.  She bent low enough to expose the back of her neck, and she held it for a few seconds before straightening.


    ¡°I will remember you, Alder.¡±


    And with that, she vanished with a clap of air.


    Okay, now I had around fifteen minutes before a Hoard came and tore me apart.


    The ghosts had followed us, but they¡¯d kept their distance as we talked.


    I swallowed another lump in my throat, and addressed them.


    ¡°I have a favor to ask, and you''re not going to like it.¡±

 The Hungry Dead

    Ben floated up, his grin gone. ¡°Why aren¡¯t we going to like it?¡±


    I took a deep breath and met his eyes. ¡°Because you need to leave me.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°What!?¡±


    ¡°Are you-¡°


    ¡°I¡¯M A DEAD MAN!¡± My shout cut them off, and I continued before they could recover. ¡°Even if the mages weren¡¯t going to hunt me to the ends of the earth, the undead will get me first. I¡¯m covered in magic. It¡¯s sticking to me, even with my veil. I¡¯m going to get mobbed, and I need you all to not help me.¡°


    Ben closed his eyes, and his voice broke. ¡°Why?¡±


    Rodgers met my eyes, his own grief stealing his voice for a moment. ¡°Because we can¡¯t help him.¡±


    Ben spun. ¡°If all of us worked together-¡°


    ¡°I still die. You use magic to affect the physical world. By fighting the undead, you¡¯d just draw more of the Hoard to me. And even if I make it through tonight, you can¡¯t protect me from the Clans.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°Help the town. You don¡¯t need to try and halt the Hoard in its tracks. Just run damage control. With all of you working through town, you can save lives.¡±


    ¡°But not yours!¡±


    I swallowed. ¡°¡­No. I¡¯m sorry, Ben. This is the end of the line.¡±


    ¡°I- you- Dammit!¡± Tears ran down his cheeks as he crushed me in a hug. I returned it, my own face wet.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°For what?¡± He snapped as he pulled away.


    ¡°For asking you to leave.¡±


    Ben¡¯s face twisted with an emotion I couldn¡¯t place. ¡°After all these years, it¡¯s only fair we fulfilled your request, even if it¡¯s to not help you.¡±


    Agatha slipped in next. She said nothing, only holding me. She shook, and her hair writhed around us.


    The others piled in as soon as she pulled away.


    They quickly said their goodbyes. They knew we didn¡¯t have much time.


    They vanished, leaving Rodgers as the lone ghost in the graveyard.


    ¡°¡­I¡¯m proud of you.¡±


    I met his eyes, exhaustion weighing me down. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    He pulled me into a cool hug.


    ¡°I love you.¡±


    I chuckled, the sound thick. He had once told me to always make sure you pared it down to the bare essentials when saying goodbye. He was keeping to that.


    He pulled away, and his face hardened. ¡°Goodbye.¡±


    I pulled him into another hug, but after that ended, I was left alone in the graveyard.


    ¡­Alone.


    I sighed and started for my house. I didn¡¯t have much time and while I didn¡¯t plan on making it out of this, I also wasn¡¯t planning on going down without a fight.


    I started grabbing guns. I had a fair share, but nothing compared to most Domesday preppers¡ªtwo shotguns, a handful of pistols, and two rifles, one semi-automatic, the other bolt.


    I¡¯d never bothered to get more than that since they wouldn¡¯t help in most cases. An assault rifle without silver bullets wouldn¡¯t do me any more good than a pistol if a Pack of Were¡¯s came for me.


    The spooks that a single gunman of my skill could take was a pretty small group.


    Fortunately, the lower ranks of undead fell into that group.


    Shoot for the head had become a zombie cliche for a reason.


    I turned my attention away from guns for a moment. I grabbed a wooden spatula and unveiled myself.


    A minute later, I set the new faintly glowing spirit ward down on the counter. It wasn''t as strong as the first. I didn''t have enough time. But it would still help the others.


    My eyes swept over my cellar door. I could try and hide in there. Weaker zombies couldn¡¯t break through a heavy trap door like that.


    I shook my head. The weaker zombies, sure, but a fallen vampire or a corpse hound would tear through it like paper.


    Still, I might be able to use it as a last stand or something. I pulled the door open with a grunt.


    I hadn¡¯t fully recovered from the beatings I¡¯d taken, but at least I wasn¡¯t wincing with every little motion anymore.


    The cellar was relatively small, most of its space filled with cans and camping equipment.


    My eyes caught on the cans, and I couldn¡¯t tear them away. Cans. Those cans, those little packages, were a clear sign of planning for the future. A future I wasn¡¯t going to see.


    I grimaced and turned away.


    I had an old tactical vest with loops for ammo mags and whatnot. It was weathered and not the prettiest garment, but it would do.


    I grabbed what I needed then marched out my back door.


    The trees thickened quickly behind the graveyard, shrinking the clear grass until it was a small circle roughly twenty feet around.


    I settled down on the cold grass, my guns and ammo clattering with the motion.


    Couldn''t be more than a couple of minutes left now.


    I closed my eyes and listened. I couldn''t hear any wails yet.


    I should have been scared, or maybe angry. Angry at the Clans, angry at the Barrow King for shoving us all along this path. Angry at the unfairness of the world.


    Instead, I was just tired.


    I felt like I''d been holding on to a raft in a storm all my life, and it was finally about to end. Or rather, the storm was finally going to take me.


    Either way, it would be over, and I could rest.


    I sat there, thinking, and as I heard the first wails in the distance, I sighed.


    ¡°¡­I don''t want to die alone."  What I wanted didn''t matter, not in the face of a Hoard.


    I rose to my feet and took a deep breath of night air.


    I paused as another thought struck me. "I don''t want to die at all."


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    The words came as a shock, though I didn''t know why. It was never death that I''d wanted, but rest, an end to the constant pain and fear¡ªan end to the memories of long-dead madmen and murderers.


    Yes, I would rather die than let the Clans take me, but that didn''t mean I wanted it.


    I let out a bitter chuckle as the wails grew louder. Well, the Clans certainly weren''t going to take me. I could consider that a small, spiteful victory when I got torn apart.


    I readied my rifle and waited for the first undead to come through the trees.


    ~<>~<>~


    The butt of the rifle slammed into my shoulder, and the zombie''s head rocked as it collapsed.


    I ejected the magazine and quickly slammed another into place.


    The night air rasped in my throat, and the clean scent of pines and soil had been replaced with rot and blood.


    Ten bodies lay in the clearing, and more screams were growing closer.


    A zombie sprinted into sight, its pale grey skin barely covering its bulging muscles.


    I shot, but the bastard jerked to the side. I fired again but missed as it snapped its head over, not even slowing for an instant.


    I dropped the rifle to hang from its strap and snatched a shotgun.


    A pump to the legs did enough damage to drop it, but that didn¡¯t stop the zombie.


    It crawled towards me, pushing with its ruined legs the best it could as it''s dirty fingernails raked at the dirt.


    Another pump and its brain sprayed the grass.


    I saw a flash out of the corner of my eye and shot on instinct.


    A dark, four-legged mass bigger than I was staggered back, a bloody hole in its side.


    Mangy black fur, a long muzzle filled with jagged blackened teeth, emaciated ribs that stuck out like questing fingers, and sickly yellow eyes that looked at me like I was a thanksgiving feast.


    My heart clenched at the sight of a corpse hound, and I fired again.


    It tried to dodge, but my first shot had torn something, and it was too slow.


    It staggered from the buckshot, then rushed me, not bothering to dodge again.


    I emptied the gun as fast as possible, the roar overpowering the screams and wails for a moment.


    The corpse hound slid to a stop, its dark nose almost brushing my foot.


    The whole time the creature hadn¡¯t made a single sound. Not when it charged me, not when I shot it, not even when it died.


    I swallowed. If I hadn¡¯t gotten lucky with that first shot, it would have torn me apart.


    I started feeding shells into the gun before another monster could rush me.


    I had barely gotten the last one in when a mob broke through the trees.


    The zombies, all dressed in torn and ragged clothes, staggered and stumbled, and in three terrifying cases, sprinted for me.


    I dropped the shotgun and snatched my rifle.


    I wasn¡¯t a crack shot, but I was no slouch either.


    Three shots and two sprinters hit the ground.


    The last had wrenched to the side at the last moment so hard that it would have torn something in a living human.


    I spent three more bullets on them. But they joined the others on the ground.


    The other zombies hadn¡¯t even covered half the distance to me yet, and I carefully placed my shots, making sure not to waste ammo.


    I checked the mag. I had at least one shot left.


    The weaker zombies weren¡¯t much of a threat on their own. Slow, stupid, and not much stronger than the average joe, if the Hoard were made up of them, I would live until I ran out of ammo. Hell, I might be able to funnel them well enough to fight them up close.


    But the weak zombies were the least of the undead. Not even mentioning corpse hounds, fallen vampires, ghouls, and the countless other horrors, there were far stronger zombies.


    Eventually, something that could eat bullets was going to roll up, and it would be over.


    But until then¡­


    I readied my rifle.


    ~<>~<>~


    Screams, inhuman cries, furious bellows. They all pierced the night only to be cut off one by one as her mother tore the monsters responsible apart.


    The woman wasn¡¯t in danger. It would take something worse than a Hoard of this size to kill her. But her mother wasn¡¯t killing them faster than they could come.


    This wasn¡¯t a small Hoard. The Barrow King had gathered far more than the five hundred they had first estimated.


    A fallen vampire sprinted at her mother from the side, screaming at the top of its lungs. It¡¯s clothes hung off it''s emaciated frame, and it''s greasy hair trailed behind as it ran.


    The woman side-stepped, and while she didn¡¯t seem to be moving quickly, her fist went through the monster''s chest before it could swing.


    Alder couldn¡¯t survive this. There were too many. He would die.


    Unacceptable.


    He had chosen to stay behind because of the Clan. Because he would draw more undead.


    Because she wasn¡¯t strong enough to protect everyone.


    She clenched her jaw. Helpless when Bobby needed her, helpless at the Straits, helpless as she watched Alder thrash and rant.


    And now. Now she was helpless, useless. Just sitting here, waiting for him to die.


    ¡°Meow?¡± Blair looked down at Jack, and the cat stared back, his luminous green eyes blinking up at her. Her hand tightened around her phone.


    Helpless.


    The phone cracked. Blair spun from the cat and stalked towards the door.


    She couldn¡¯t take Alder here. She couldn¡¯t endanger the others. The chances that anything in this Hoard could kill her mother were low, but she couldn¡¯t be everywhere at once. It would only take a moment of distraction for a powerful undead to kill one of the others.


    But that didn¡¯t mean she could abandon Alder.


    She marched out the front door, ignoring the others as they stared. Her own Pack was further inside, safe behind the older pack members. She was grateful for that. They would have tried to come with her. And this wasn¡¯t a task for those under a hundred.


    She stepped outside, and the smell of rot and death slammed into her. She shook her head and kept going.


    Rull glanced at her, and Anika opened her mouth to speak, but Blair ignored them. Her mother never stopped fighting, but her voice came out clear, not even close to winded.


    ¡°Get back inside.¡± It wasn¡¯t a request.


    The force of her Alphas words almost stopped her in her tracks as her Bond quivered.


    ¡°No.¡± Blair kept walking.


    Her mother snarled and vanished. Every undead in a hundred-yard radius died. Blair could barely catch flickers of movement before her mother appeared in front of her, her face set with cold fury.


    ¡°Get back inside,¡± she repeated.


    Blair felt her eyes bleed to red. There were arguments she could make, sound reasons for why Alder dying was bad for the Pack. About how having their Voucher die would look. But that didn¡¯t matter anymore. Only two things mattered.


    A debt was owed. And she didn¡¯t want him to die.


    ¡°A Northwoods repays their debts.¡±


    Her mother''s face twisted, and she spat, ¡°You would abandon and endanger your Pack-¡°


    Blair cut in, her voice harsh. ¡°That¡¯s not how the undead work!¡± Her mother knew that. She was grasping at straws to keep Blair here.


    ¡°I will draw some away. And you are more than enough.¡±


    As they argued, more undead flooded up the hill. Blair smelled ash and char, as well as something dark and oily. There was a reason the lady Northwoods hadn¡¯t been moving that fast the entire fight. Aside from the energy costs, it increased her magical footprint tenfold.


    ¡°I am not discussing this. Go inside.¡± Her magic spiked with the last word, and Blair staggered. The force of Adela¡¯s Will slammed into her like a collapsing house. It pressed against her mind, her body, her magic.


    The Bond trembled inside her at the attention of a greater predator, demanding she submit.


    Blair¡¯s rage compressed into a single point.


    She would not be stopped.


    Blair pulled at her Bond, drawing more power. At the same time, she pushed against her mother''s Will, trying to break the Clash.


    The night air started to tremble, but it wasn¡¯t enough. She was too weak. Helpless.


    She pulled harder, wrenching more power from her Bond than she could safely handle. Her body surged with power, the magic strengthening her muscles and bones at an incredible rate.


    Her mother gasped and cut off the Clash.


    ¡°What are you doing, fool!¡±


    Blair spoke in a growl. ¡°I am saving Alder, and you aren¡¯t going to stop me unless you want to see me Fall.¡±


    Adela vanished as she killed the incoming wave of undead.


    She reappeared in front of Blair, furious. ¡°The man wants to die! Do you not understand that? He asked me to leave him there!¡±


    ¡°Too fucking bad! I don¡¯t care if he wants to throw himself into the fucking Deep Wood. I¡¯ll pull him back out!¡±


    Blair drew even more power from her Bond and had to fight to keep from shifting. ¡°And if you try to stop me, I¡¯ll fight you until I go Feral!¡±


    Adela¡¯s stone front broke as she closed her eyes. Strong undead rushed up the hill, screaming and groaning as they desperately sought their prey.


    Adela opened her eyes, and for once, her ancient mother looked old. Old and tired.


    ¡°Go.¡±


    Adela vanished, and as she tore apart the undead, Blair ran.

 A Lesson In War

    Cornelius stood next to the Adjudicator, his aura tensed and ready.


    Dalton stood a few feet behind him, his own aura trembling slightly.


    ¡°Wh-¡° the young man coughed.  ¡°What are we doing, exactly?¡±


    Cornelius continued to scan the Dome as he answered.


    ¡°Blunder is making a spirit shift.  With enough power behind it, she should be able to annihilate any undead under a certain power threshold unless someone is actively protecting them.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s going to attack the magic animating them.¡±


    ¡°And she¡¯s meditating since the spirit shift is advanced?¡±


    Cornelius nodded.  ¡°Not advanced, exactly.  We¡¯ve delved a little into how the shifts are affected by perception, so someone can find a spirit shift easy.  But in most cases, it¡¯s extremely difficult.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Dalton tried and failed to hide the fear in his voice.  Cornelius couldn¡¯t blame him.  No one his age should have to deal with something like this.


    ¡°The spirit shift requires commitment. More so than almost any other known shift.  On top of that commitment, the required emotion is highly flexible and personal. Two people could reach the shift from drastically different angles.¡±


    ¡°It has a long history, actually.  Back in-¡°


    He cut off as a flash of magic burst in front of them.


    The air twisted with orange and black light, and a man stood before them.


    He must¡¯ve used a realmstone.  Which meant they were powerful. The Clans collectively had less than five hundred realmstones. The Barrow King wouldn¡¯t waste such a valuable artifact on a nobody.


    The man wore an expensive suit that had obviously been tailored to his lean frame, and his dark eyes took them in at a glance.


    He had broad features, short cropped black hair, dark skin, and walked forward with a dancer''s grace.


    ¡°Switch-Shot,¡± he said with a slight bow.  His voice was deep and rich, with a slight accent he couldn¡¯t place.


    Cornelius returned the gesture without taking his eyes off the man.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t know your name, sir.¡±


    He flashed a white smile. The smile had fangs.


    ¡°You can call me Benjamin.¡±


    That wasn¡¯t ringing a bell, which was a problem.  An unknown vampire of unknown age and skill was unpredictable. And while Cornelius had no idea what to expect from the man,  Benjamin clearly knew of him.


    The vampire waved toward Dalton.  ¡°I will not stop your apprentice from leaving.  I¡¯m here to stop the Adjudicator from interfering, not kill children.¡±


    The man seemed sincere, and Cornelius nodded in respect.  ¡°I appreciate the offer, but he is safer at my side than out there.¡±


    The man carefully adjusted his collar, his gaze cool.


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose I could convince you to step aside?¡±


    Cornelius shook out his hands and readied his aura.  ¡°No, I don¡¯t suspect you can.¡±


    Benjamin shrugged.  ¡°Ah, well. Worth a shot.¡±  Then he vanished.


    ~<>~<>~


    I cursed as the rifle clicked empty.


    The short hag cackled as she closed in.  The woman was wearing dark rags that dripped with dirty water, and she reeked of the bog.  Her sickly pale face stretched into a rictus grin that exposed a mouth full of sharp teeth.


    She had caught me with a slash of her nails earlier, and while the cut was shallow, I had no doubt it would get infected.


    The hag''s laughter cut off as I pulled out my pistol.


    It took the entire mag, but she dropped.


    Bog hags were more durable than humans but not durable enough to take a pistol magazine at point blank range.


    I was out of shotgun shells, I just had what was left in the guns, and I only had two rifle mags left.


    I had a few more pistol mags, but the stronger undead had begun to arrive. A handgun was about to be hopelessly outclassed.


    I hadn¡¯t taken too many hits yet, but I was exhausted, and the few undead that had managed to close in had left me bruised and bleeding.


    I looked around the clearing and chuckled. There were at least three dozen corpses scattered about, and some of them belonged to some real monsters.


    If I hadn¡¯t unveiled my aura, I never would have survived the second corpse hound. However, while they were just about undetectable to human hearing, the creepy bastards stood out like a bonfire in my aura.


    I rolled my shoulder and winced.  A sprinter had knocked me on my ass.  I¡¯d killed or re-killed it, I guess, before it reached me, but its monument had carried them through.


    A large gang of zombies burst into the clearing, and I sighted.  But before I could fire, three shapes rushed through the mob.  Heads flew, bones crunched, and before I knew what was happening, the mob was dead.


    I would have felt relieved, but the three figures weren¡¯t my saviors.  I could feel them in my aura, like bloody grease stains on the world itself.


    The trio looked similar. Deathly pale skin, old worn formal wear, gaunt, exaggerated features, and long yellowed fangs. Their yellow eyes were just a little too sunken, their cheeks too gaunt.  It combined to push them right into the uncanny valley, and as they stared at me, it wasn¡¯t just hunger dancing in their eyes but a sick amusement.


    Fallen vampires.


    ¡°Well, Shit.¡±


    ~<>~<>~


    Before the vampire moved, Cornelius slowed the world down.


    Speeding his mind was an exhausting skill, draining not only his magic but his mental energy.


    This technique was a mages equalizer.  It was what allowed them to become a supernatural power unto themselves instead of mere vassals to some ancient being.


    Humans could never match the raw psychical strength of the other factions. The gap was too large.


    In the lower ranks, it wasn¡¯t so bad.  A farmer with silver bullets could kill a young Were in the right conditions.  But as a spooks power grew, the gap widened.  And it kept widening until it was a chasm they had no hope of ever crossing.


    A normal human couldn¡¯t even process an elder vampire or werewolf moving at full speed, much less fight them.


    And if it weren¡¯t for slowed time, all the power in the world wouldn¡¯t help mages. They would still die before they even realized the fight had started.


    But with this, they were standing on the same ground.


    When he¡¯d first used the ability, Cornelius could only keep it up for a heartbeat.  That had been a long time ago.


    As the world slowed to a crawl, he caught sight of the vampire.


    The man had dashed forward, covering over a dozen yards in an instant.  He was moving at a crawl now, but Cornelius couldn¡¯t keep up this level of slowed time for long. He had pushed it as hard as he could to gauge the vampire''s speed.  He¡¯d certainly gotten a gauge.


    Fast.


    The man was probably over three hundred, at least.


    With an effort of will, Cornelius split his mind, one half becoming as stubborn and unmovable as the bones of the earth while the other stayed in control.


    Then he reached out with his mind, focusing on the four points of power in his chest.  He hadn¡¯t used them in months. He''d had no need.


    But this wasn¡¯t a tussle with some punk werewolves. This was a fight. A real fight.


    They didn¡¯t need Cornelius the inexperienced diplomat.  They needed the Switch Shot.


    He attacked.


    The world rushed by as he pulled back the slowed time, not releasing it entirely but dropping it to a manageable level.


    At the same time, the earth tore apart.


    Benjamin darted to the side as a nest of spikes exploded up from the ground.


    Cornelius guided the spikes with his aura, chasing the vampire.


    The man bobbed and weaved between the flashing stones and shattered those he couldn¡¯t.


    Cornelius needed to keep this fight at a distance.  If Benjamin closed, he could end this in one hit.


    He split his mind again. He felt the strain this time.  Two was approaching his limit.  Splits had never been his specialty.


    He pushed his fury at this situation into the new split, his anger at the Barrow King, at the factions for their endless plotting, at his own helplessness to stop it.  The shift turned red.


    He gathered the fire split and began to condense the magic.  The red power brightened, then burst.  Fireballs roughly the size of his head sparked into being, and he hurled them at the vampire.


    He could move them as if they were in his hands until they reached the edge of his shroud. Then he had to trust in his aim.


    Blazing red streaked through the air as spikes continued to chase Benjamin.


    The vampire''s eyes narrowed as the fireballs closed in.  They detonated against the spikes with a wash of light and heat, and the vampire vanished.


    Cornelius didn¡¯t wait for the flames to fade.  Vampires had a rather specific playbook in times like this.


    He reached out to one of the points of power in his chest and pulled.


    A wave of curiosity and erratic wistfulnesses flooded him along with a burst of magic.


    He controlled it, guiding the power to his fire spilt.  He allowed the emotions to overwhelm the shift, and the red light bled to yellow.


    Without any grace or subtly, he slammed his magic over where the vampire had been.


    Wind tore the air and buffeted the flames as Cornelius did his best impersonation of a tornado.


    The flames guttered out, revealing a swilling cloud of mist.  Cornelius couldn¡¯t kill Benjamin by tearing his mist form apart, the vampire would simply snap back together when the effect ended.


    But now, the vampire couldn¡¯t use any of his overwhelming strength.  Moving his mist form was a matter of magic and will, and that was a fight Cornelius was very, very good at.


    He kept pouring wind on the vampire, burning through the magic in his wind split at a monstrous pace.


    At the same time, he pushed with his aura directly.


    Shoved by the wind and Cornelius¡¯s will, the mist blew backward.


    Benjamin reformed in a snap, and before all of his body had even solidified, he hurled a rock at Cornelius.


    It tore through the air like a bullet, and he barely moved his earth split in time.  He deflected the rock towards the ceiling instead of trying to stop it outright¡ªno need to waste magic.


    He moved his aura, angling his splits so that the earth was covering the ground while his wind split was just above it.


    Benjamin dashed in and whipped a handgun from his suit.


    Cornelius pulled, and the ground tore.  A rock wall blasted through the fake turf as the vampire opened fire.  He kept track of the vampire with his aura as the bullets cracked against the stone.


    The vampire was rapidly closing, he¡¯d be on Cornelius in seconds!


    The man wanted to throw rocks? Cornelius could throw rocks.


    He seized the broken chunks of spikes with his earth split and launched them.  At the same time, he started spinning up the wind, pushing the stones even faster.


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    It was a delicate balance, as he couldn¡¯t touch the stones with both parts of his aura simultaneously, but he wove the magic so quickly that it almost didn¡¯t matter.


    The stones tore the air apart as they raced towards Benjamin.


    The vampire sped up, his dark eyes flashing red as his movements began to blur.  He dodged the volley without stopping his advance.


    Cornelius pulled the ground up around the vampire while launching another volley from behind.


    Benjamin blasted through the stone as it tried to flip him, barely slowing.


    Cornelius couldn¡¯t use the wind to help launch the stones since that would be propelling them straight at him and his charges, and the technique traded aim for power.


    But without that technique, he couldn¡¯t propel the stones fast enough to catch the vampire.


    He dropped the volley and sent more spikes racing up from the ground.  He wasn¡¯t going to clip the vampire, but it would slow him down, even if only by a hair.


    At the same time, he began swirling the air as he crushed stray rocks into dust.


    The wind caught the dust, and he guided it.  As Benjamin closed in, Cornelius quickly gathered a cloud of rock dust at least fifty feet around and so thick he couldn¡¯t see through it.


    It enveloped the vampire.  He kept track of him with his aura and added even more spikes to the attack.


    He knew that wouldn¡¯t be enough, though.  He¡¯d taken the man''s sight and dampened his nose, but vampires had better hearing than even werewolves.


    Even blinded, he could track Cornelius by his heartbeat.


    His hearing had to go.


    Cornelius angled the spikes to crash into each other and then focused more of his magic on the ground.


    His mind ached from focusing on so many things at once, but he didn¡¯t slow as his aura trembled.  The earth cracked.


    The splits in the ground weren¡¯t large enough to threaten the vampire, but it was loud.


    The air filled with the sound of cracking stone, and for the first time in the fight, Benjamin stumbled.


    Cornelius hit him with half a dozen spikes in an instant.


    His earth split was running low on magic, and his wind spilt wasn¡¯t much better, but now was not the time to hold back.


    He slammed a column of wind down as he aimed the spikes toward his chest.


    The vampire twisted, and blackness flashed out.


    Cornelius briefly felt a power he recognized¡ªnull magic, then his senses, from his sight to the vampire''s presence in his aura, were covered in darkness.


    There was no time for panic. He just reacted.


    He launched the stone wall he was hiding behind in front of Blunder, then used the rest of the magic in his wind split to send a furious gust swirling up around her.


    His senses returned with a snap, the oppressive darkness vanishing as quickly as it had come.


    He had read Benjamin right.  The man had gone straight for Blunder.


    The vampire had a fist shoved against the gusting wind. His other hand dug into the remains of the wall Cornelius had thrown at him.  His feet were up in the air, his grip on the wall the only thing keeping him on the ground.


    He stared at Cornelius, his arms straining.  ¡°You didn¡¯t even try to guard yourself.¡±


    Cornelius didn¡¯t slow his perceptions, so his smile felt like it took forever to form.


    Benjamin narrowed his eyes and pushed harder.


    Cornelius was almost out of magic in his wind split, and even with no leverage, the vampire¡¯s massive strength was almost too much for him to stop.


    Any second now, he would have to drop the split and reform it with more magic.  But he didn¡¯t need it to hold out long, just¡­


    He reached out with his earth split and tore the stone wall up from the ground.


    Without that anchor, the winds ripped Benjamin into the air.


    He rocketed up, and Cornelius immediately dropped his wind split.


    Before the winds could cut off, he slammed the chunk of wall the vampire was holding back into his chest.  Benjamin resisted, and his strength was more than enough to keep it from striking him.  But with no leverage, the rock sent him further into the air.


    Cornelius remade his wind split so fast that pain lanced through his temples, but he fought through it.  He could not let Benjamin touch the ground again.


    He threw more power into the winds, launching the vampire towards the center of the room.


    His earth split ran out of power, so he remade it.  He could move a little slower this time, but it still sent a fresh round of pain through his head.


    One more push and he could end this.


    He spread his aura out, weaving strands of dark brown power around broken spikes and lose rocks.


    He spilt the strands further and further, gathering more and more stones until he had hundreds floating below the vampire.


    Benjamin saw the massive volley and blanched.  He instantly puffed into mist, but Cornelius kept him boxed in with wind.


    It was draining him dry. His entire aura was half empty already.  But staying in mist form took magic, and Cornelius was betting that he had a lot more of that to burn through than Benjamin.


    The stones trembled as Cornelius poured more and more power into the spell.  When Benjamin reformed, he would take an attack that could tear through buildings.


    The vampire stayed in mist form for ten more seconds before snapping back together, holding a black key.


    He met Cornelius¡¯s eyes, his own shining a vibrant red.  Cornelius unleashed his attack.


    ¡°Well played.¡±  Benjamin crushed the key, and orange light swallowed him.


    The rocks flashed through the air with a crack as they tore the sound barrier.


    He pulled on the stones, slowing them some.  He wasn¡¯t about to waste the energy to stop them altogether, but he couldn¡¯t have them punching through the roof.  The stones might hit a random person half a mile away if he didn¡¯t weaken them.


    They smashed into the ceiling with a deafening boom, but he had slowed them enough that they didn¡¯t punch straight through.


    He angled the falling chunks of stone away from them as he dropped slowed time.


    His head pounded, and his aura felt like a partially wrung rag.


    He hadn¡¯t managed to kill the vampire, but making him use a second Realmstone was good enough.  Dalton was safe. Blunder was safe.  And the Barrow King was down two Realmstones.


    He must value Benjamin highly to spend those kinds of resources on the man.


    And all it had cost Cornelius was having to fight again.


    A diplomat¡­ he wasn¡¯t feeling very diplomatic right now.  Just tired.


    He turned to Dalton and forced a smile.  ¡°So.  Did you learn something?¡±  His apprentice was staring at him, his mouth agape.


    Cornelius smiled.  ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a yes.¡±


    He managed to slip his hands into his pockets before they started shaking.


    ~<>~<>~


    Vampires weren¡¯t undead.  Not by default, at least.  They were alive by the standard definition. They ate, slept, and could have kids.


    But if a vampire''s thirst grew too strong, something changed.  It overcame them like a disease, slowly killing them until what was left is a cruel, hungry husk of what had been.


    They were corruption, and greed, and hunger boiled down to one fang-filled package.


    And three of them were currently staring at me.


    ¡°So¡­fellas, how about the weather?  It¡¯s pretty crazy.  Real gloomy atmosphere, and the wailing monsters don¡¯t help, let me tell you¡­¡±


    The vampires did not twitch.  And I mean that literally.  Their weight didn¡¯t shift. They didn¡¯t breathe or blink or give any indexation that they were anything more than creepy wax dolls.


    I licked my lips.  ¡°Tough crowd.¡±


    Still nothing.


    ¡°So which of you is going to kill me? And is that the one who gets to drain me?  Do they get the whole juice box, or do they have to share?¡±


    That got a twitch from them.  Yellow eyes flicked to one another.


    Huh. I guess stirring discord might actually work.  The benefit of facing sadistic monsters, I suppose.


    Well, this was only ending one way.  Might as well try to hurt one of them on my way out.


    In the instant their attention was off me and on each other, I opened fire.


    The rightmost most vampire staggered as several rifle rounds tore into its head.


    That wouldn¡¯t kill something like a vampire, but at least I drew some blood.


    The two remaining vampires turned towards me and slowly started walking.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t even going to charge me?  Man, that kind of hurts.¡±


    The lead vamp smiled. Its fangs looked¡­greasy.


    ¡°Best to savor a meal.¡±  He chuckled, and his voice was like the audio equivalent of sticking your hand in oil.  ¡°Especially one with no chance to run.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­that sucks.¡±


    Its smile widened.  ¡°I will.¡±


    A suck pun?  Jesus Christ, I was going to die to a vampire making bad puns.


    Mist started to seep through the trees, the curling white tendrils a sharp contrast to the dark and green night.


    ¡°You know, I have some straws back at my house. We could grab those and make this a party.  Might make the sucking easier too.¡±


    ¡°Humor.¡± The vampires all let out dry, rasping chuckles.  ¡°It¡¯s always nice to catch the ones with a good sense of humor.¡±


    I aimed my gun at the approaching vampire--for all the good it would do me.


    ¡°Because you like breaking the humor out of them?¡±


    It shook its head.  ¡°No.  I just like jokes with my meal.¡±


    I shot the vampire in the head.  It stumbled, but I could see the hole begin to close.  I¡¯d need to stake and behead the fallen vampires to kill them, which wasn¡¯t happening.


    ¡°Well, I am feeling like a joke right now.¡±


    One of the vampires cried out as something dragged it into the mist.


    There was a crunch, a gurgle, and them the other vampires were rushing towards the sounds.


    I didn¡¯t let a spark of hope worm its way in.  Chances were, this was an even bigger monster coming to eat me.


    I aimed at the closest vampire''s knees. Maybe I could ensure these chuckleheads would lose.  I would still die to whatever big scary monster killed them, but at least I¡¯d been dying with a last breath made up of spite and petty revenge.


    I couldn¡¯t think of a more noble way to go.


    I cracked off a few shots at its knees, and the vampire turned and started towards me again, anger twisting its face.


    Blair erupted from the mist, dragging a vampire with her.


    Streamers of white trailed off her as she landed in the clearing with a thump.


    The vampire dangled from her grip, its arm missing and neck visibly broken.  Blair¡¯s eyes positively glowed, twin orbs of red glaring at the night.  At me, actually.


    In the dark, she even seemed bigger than usual, almost inhuman.  The air shook with her growl.


    For a fraction of a second, there was a tense silence. Then everyone exploded into violence.


    The vampire next to her swiped, its claw-like nails blurring through the air.  At the same time, the vampire in her grip twitched and gurgled, and the vamp who had been advancing on me hissed.


    I saw Blair dodge the swipe and strike back before my vision was filled with a charging vampire.


    I had expected a rush, had been expecting it from the second I saw the vampires.  I still only missed getting my head punched off by less than an inch.


    I shot the vampire in the chin as I back peddled.


    It staggered, but then it was on me again.


    I ducked a swipe at my head, twisted away from a stiff-fingered stab, and just barely avoided a bite at my throat.


    I had spent my entire life fighting people who could come at me from any angle, at any moment, and move faster than me.  I had the vampire enveloped in my aura, and I had been ready for its attacks.


    And despite all of that, I was barely hanging on.


    Every attack I dodged felt like it would be the one to end me, and I couldn¡¯t spare a second of attention to see how Blair¡¯s fight was going.


    ¡°Stop dodging!¡± The vampire snarled.


    ¡°No!¡±  It lunged, and I sidestepped.


    I shot its knees as it recovered.


    I snatched my shotgun in the brief moment that bought me.


    The vampire wheeled around, and I opened fire.


    Three pumps into its right leg almost cut it off, and I added a few more to its head for good measure.


    I could already see its flesh writhing back together, but that had at least bought me some time.


    I turned to Blair only to see one vampire on the ground, its body broken and bloody.  The other vampire¡­the other vampire was still in her grip, and she was currently slamming it into its brother like a squirming club.


    She smashed them together over and over.  Bones crunched, flesh tore, and the vampires screeched.


    The sheer savageness was shocking, but we didn¡¯t have time to hesitate.


    I rushed to the edge of the clearing.  It didn¡¯t take me long to find broken sticks with sufficiently jagged ends.


    ¡°Blair!¡± She paused her smashing for a moment and stared at me.  The look in her eyes was off¡ªalmost inhuman.


    I threw the makeshift stakes at her, and she dropped the vampire to snatch them.


    She slammed one down into each vampire''s mangled chest.


    The pile of vampires froze, and their healing stopped dead.


    I glanced at the vampire I had shot and back peddled.  ¡°Blair! Help!¡±


    The vampire had pulled itself back together and was climbing to its feet, its yellow eyes glowing with hate.


    Blair hit them like a truck.  The vampire was blasted off its feet, and Blair chased it.


    The monster barely hit the ground before Blair was on it, driving a stake toward its chest.  It smacked her hand away and tried to bite her.


    Blair bit back.


    Her jaw enlarged with a crack as she clamped down on the vampire''s neck.  The vampire screamed and seized her with its arms and legs, not letting her get the space to stake it.


    Growling, Blair lifted off the ground with one hand.  With the other, she slammed the makeshift stake into the dirt.


    What was-  Blair fell on the stake.


    With the vampire beneath her, Blair¡¯s weight slammed the stake straight through the vampire''s chest and into her own.


    ¡°Blair!¡± I started to rush over, but Blair pulled herself free with a sucking noise.  She turned to me, and I watched as the hole in her chest stitched itself closed.


    ¡°Holy shit.¡±


    My attention snapped to the vampires.  The stakes paralyzed them, but we needed to behead them to finish the job.


    ¡°I can find my ax.  I think it¡¯s in my-¡° I trailed off as Blair crouched over the vampire.  Her hands lengthened into claws, and she grabbed the vampire by its neck and the top of the head.


    She flexed, her arms and back straining.  With a grunt, she ripped its head off.


    ¡°Or that.  That works too.¡±


    She said nothing, stalking over to the other two vampires.


    Two more heads joined the pile.


    Blair turned to me, her hands and face covered in black blood.


    I opened my mouth, but all the conflicting emotions caused a pile up in my throat.


    I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d ever see her again, so on the one hand, I was overjoyed.  On the other, I hadn¡¯t expected to see her again for a very good reason.  She was in danger. I was just going to keep pulling in undead.


    ¡°You need to run before something-¡° apparently, that wasn¡¯t the right thing to say.  She grabbed me by the front of my coat and hauled me up to her eye level.


    She tried to speak, and something shifted in her throat.  The animal-like cast to her eyes faded slightly, though she still spoke with a growl.


    ¡°No. I am not leaving you here.¡± She stopped, her hands shaking slightly.


    ¡°You have to.  I- the Clans-¡°


    ¡°Can¡¯t afford to try and take you from us. Not right now.  They will barter and demand and threaten, but if they tried to take you by force during a war, every member of the Pact would turn on them.  We don¡¯t take kindly to poachers.¡±


    She pulled me closer.


    ¡°We can protect you.  I can protect you.¡±


    ¡°It would¡­I-¡° The Clans were a looming, inescapable shadow in my mind.  I knew, had known, for years that my discovery meant death.  It was unavoidable.  But I had never thought of belonging to a different faction.  In the chaos after the Dome, I was focused entirely on making sure the Clans couldn¡¯t have me.  I¡­


    I felt the fight go out of me and rested my forehead against Blair¡¯s hands.  They were sticky with blood and smelled awful, but I didn¡¯t care.


    My words caught in my throat, but I forced them out.  ¡°¡­Help me. I- I don¡¯t want to die.¡±


    She set me down only to wrap me in a crushing hug.  ¡°I won¡¯t let you.¡±

 Ghosts In A Storm

    Brock¡¯s heart pounded as the screams echoed around him.  The inhuman sounds were growing closer!


    ¡°Oh God, oh Jesus.  Anyone up there listening?  Wanna send me a hand?¡±


    He stumbled and nearly kissed the pavement.


    His store was in sight. He was so close.


    A dark form stumbled into his path.  Brock froze.


    The figure took a step closer, and a beam of moonlight lit their face.


    It was something he¡¯d seen in countless horror movies. A zombie.  Grey skin, dull, sunken eyes, and half its face was missing, exposing bone and rotating muscle.


    It groaned and limped toward him, crocked fingers reaching.


    The smell hit him next, wet soil and rotting meat.


    Brock gagged and started to back peddle, but a scraping noise from behind made him spin.


    Another zombie!  He turned and saw even more.  They were slowly encircling him.  And some of them weren¡¯t stumbling.  They stalked forward with more grace than Brock had!


    His breaths came fast and shallow, and his heart beat so loud that he was sure the zombies could hear it.


    I¡¯m going to die!


    A man¡¯s voice, faintly touched with a New York accent, spoke into his ear.


    ¡°Helps coming. Hang tight.¡±


    Then one of the zombies tripped, then another, and another.


    It slowed the group''s advance, but just as Brock got ready to make a break for it, a new figure appeared.


    The man was average height, with a  lean frame covered in a nice suit that had obviously been fitted.


    He had dark skin, and his handsome face was marked with half a dozen bright scars that seemed to glow in the night.


    He glanced at Brock and smiled.


    Brock froze.  The man had teeth like a shark.


    ¡°Well, well, well.  You weren¡¯t lying, ghost.¡±


    One of the faster zombies lunged for the man.   He took a single step back and, as it stumbled past, punched.


    The zombie''s head crumpled.


    The bottom dropped out of Brock¡¯s stomach.


    The zombies mobbed the man, and he tore them apart.


    They clawed and bit and groaned as they died, but they died.


    Every punch dropped a monster, and he ignored every attack as if he couldn¡¯t feel them.


    In seconds every zombie was motionless on the pavement.


    He turned to Brock and grinned wider.


    ¡°Is that your place?¡± He motioned to Brock¡¯s apartment building.


    Brock tried to speak, swallowed, tried again, then settled on nodding.


    The man gave a sharp nod of his own and gestured at the building.


    ¡°Let¡¯s be quick.  I¡¯ll help you with some hasty barricading, and then I have other people to rescue.¡±


    Brock was frozen for several seconds until the man''s raised brow jolted him into motion.


    The man glanced at the empty air.  ¡°Ghost?¡±


    The voice that had spoken in his ear answered.  ¡°I told you, it¡¯s Ben.  And I¡¯m already on it. Stay safe, Brock!¡±


    He felt a shiver pass through him as he followed the direction the voice had gone.


    That ghost knew his name.


    ~<>~<>~


    Barry slowly put down his mop.  A man had just stumbled past one of his store''s broken windows. The man didn¡¯t have arms. Barry pulled out his phone.


    ¡°Don. You might want to come over.¡± He reached under the counter and pulled out his shotgun.  He paused, then pulled out two rifles.  He pursed his lips and reached down again.  He set the Vepr-12 down with a thump.  Getting his store wrecked again had made him over prepare a little.  He watched as another figure stumbled past.  Then again, maybe it was the right level of preparation.


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    ¡°Come over to your shop at this time of night?  Are you coming on to me?¡±


    He rolled his eyes at the phone. ¡°If that¡¯s what I meant I would have said that. A man with no arms just passed by, and it looks like more are on the way.¡±


    ¡°Shame. I¡¯ll be over in a second.¡±


    A woman appeared out of thin air.  Barry blinked at the semi-translucent old woman with floating grey hair, and she stared right back.


    ¡°God damn, I was going to lend you a hand, but I don¡¯t think you need one.¡±


    Barry rubbed at his face. First people with magic healing and just plain magic, and now ghosts.


    ¡°You''re not even going to say anything?  Well, fair enough, I need to move on anyway and go find someone who does need my help.¡±  Barry moved to the entrance.  He had a clear line of sight to Don¡¯s.


    He checked both ways before calling out.  ¡°Clear.¡±  Don strolled over, her pig in toe.  She had painted its hoofs again.


    The ghost watched Barry hand Don a gun before shaking her head and vanishing through the floor.


    ~<>~<>~


    Rodgers finished leading a squad of ghouls to some townsfolk trapped by undead and then flew up to get a birds-eye view.


    The others were all helping along with him, and while the fighting was still intense, most of the undead that had slipped into this side of town had been dealt with.


    He had a few minutes.


    He raced towards the Hanging Manor as fast as he could.  Which for a ghost his age, was very fast.


    He reached the manor in under thirty seconds.


    He found what he expected.  Corpses were piled high, two of the older werewolves dragging them from the yard to give Adela room to work.


    Adela herself was a mass of controlled savagery. Any undead that came was killed with inhuman efficiency.


    A fallen vampire rushed in, only for her to tear its head off in an instant.  The body thrashed, and she held one hand out.  One of her Pack was already throwing her a stake.


    She caught the weapon and plunged it into the writhing body.


    The vampire went still.


    The lure was a tried and true method of dealing with hoards.  It wasn¡¯t uncommon for leaders to be several orders of magnitude stronger than their people.  So, when dealing with an enemy that was largely unthinking and hungered for magic, sending the leader out on their own was optimal.


    The hoard, in its unthinking greed, would break itself on the wall that was Adela, leaving her Pack unharmed.


    Though it was a delicate balance to keep, if she pulled in too many at once, they might tear through the manor on their way to her.


    Even if the hoard couldn¡¯t kill her, she was only one person.  If she was slowed for an instant, an undead that would do nothing to her might tear through her charges.


    Rodgers felt a confusing cocktail of emotions seeing her after so long.  They hadn¡¯t been friends, exactly, but there had been respect.


    He flew to her side and made himself visible.


    Adela stiffened.


    ¡°Save him.¡±


    The werewolf didn¡¯t look at him, instead facing the drive.


    ¡°I¡¯m begging you, Adela, please.¡±


    Her gaze flicked to Rodgers before returning to the drive.


    ¡°I can¡¯t bring him here.  It¡¯s too much of a risk.¡±  A mob of over thirty undead sprinted into view.


    Rodgers saw a handful of fallen vampires, a gorger, and over a dozen sprinting zombies.


    He glanced around.  ¡°Two corpse hounds heading for the house.¡±


    She slowly rolled her shoulder, and half turned to look at him.  ¡°I know.¡±


    She ran, not in a blinding dash, but far faster than a human.


    As one of the corpse hounds raced for the house, Adela caught it, her speed just barely overtaking it.


    One strike and the monster died.  The next tried to slip inside, but the two Pack members made quick work of it.


    Adela turned and started towards the approaching mob.


    The screaming monsters crashed into Adela and broke like a wave against a cliff.


    She killed or crippled everything in one hit and never stopped her slow walk.


    Adela was not fighting. She was exterminating.


    ¡°You can wipe this group out without trouble, but bringing Alder would be too much?¡±


    Adela turned as the other two Were¡¯s started staking the now headless vampires.


    She gave Rodgers a look he¡¯d rarely seen on her face.  Sympathy.  ¡°You know the reality of this situation, Rodgers.  He will draw in too many.¡±


    A flash of something cold and


    dark crossed her face.  ¡°Fortunately for you and Alder, my daughter has already gone to help him.¡±


    She clenched her jaw.  ¡°I am doing what I can.¡±


    She didn¡¯t elaborate, but Rodgers didn¡¯t need her to.


    If she went to help, her Pack would get overwhelmed.  If she brought Alder here, it would increase the chances of her Pack getting overwhelmed.


    So she had to try and use enough magic to pull the Hoard towards her, but not too much.


    Rodgers heart swelled with gratitude towards Blair, and he took a deep breath.  It wasn¡¯t necessary, but some old habits never died, even if you did.


    ¡°Well, I owe you daughter then-¡° Rodgers cut off as a massive form slammed into Adela.


    It was a big, hulking thing with pale skin and four arms.


    Adela tore the creature apart, but it had managed to cut her cheek.


    Of course, the wound instantly stitched itself closed, but Rodgers had seen bullets fail to scratch her.


    Adela kicked the corpse away with a sneer.  ¡°The elites are beginning to arrive.¡±  She glanced at Rodgers.  ¡°Can you assist with any spirits?  Alder gave me a spirit ward, but having an actual ghost on our side would be a help.¡±


    Rodger nodded.  ¡°I will do what I can.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t much good against a mass of shades, but that was what the spirit ward was for.


    Rodgers would do his best to counter any strong spirits.  And from what he was feeling from the woods, he was about to be needed.  The next wave was coming, and it was much, much larger than the last.


    Rodgers readied himself for a fight and prayed that Blair could keep his boy safe.

 Beast

    The mist that had started creeping in thickened until it covered the clearing in a twisting wall of white. It was cool against my skin, and the wet coating amplified the scents of the forest. Which was unfortunate, since those smells currently included rotting corpses.


    Actually, the mist was really cold- to cold.


    My guts twisted, and I pulled away from Blair. ¡°Something¡¯s wrong! This mist isn¡¯t-¡° Blair whipped her head to the side, then grabbed me.


    Something moved in the mists, and Blair jumped.


    Like it had in the Dome, my world slowed to crawl.


    I watched the mist part and swirl in slow motion. I watched the individual strands of Blair¡¯s hair as they streamed through the air, buffeting my face. And I watched as a massive shape tore the ground apart where we had been.


    Oh shit.


    The world rushed back as we landed in the branches of a huge pine, the massive thing barely swaying from our landing.


    ¡°What the hell even is-¡° I didn¡¯t get to finish as Blair pushed off the tree hard enough to rock it. She slammed into the ground, cratering the grass.


    A gust of wind rolled over the clearing, blowing the mist away.


    A monster stood before us. It towered above Blair, twelve or thirteen feet tall, and looked like it had crawled out of someone¡¯s nightmare.


    It was starved, its whole form painfully thin, with pitch black skin stretched over bone like it had been vacuumed on. I could make out every rib in its emaciated chest without even trying.


    It stood on two legs, bare feet digging into the dirt with cracked, talon-like nails. One elongated arm rose from the trench it had carved in the earth, and the limb stretched past its knee, each finger tipped with a long, gleaming claw.


    Mist swirled around the creature and slowly started filling the clearing again. I realized with a start that it was coming from the monster.


    The mist covered its face until all I could make out were a few jagged teeth and the massive rack of antlers that jutted from its head like a dark crown.


    That, and its eyes. Twin specks of cold blue light pierced through the mist and locked right on me.


    As disturbing as the creature was to look at, that was nothing compared to how it felt.


    It pulled at my aura with two sensations. Hunger. So overwhelming, so all-consuming that it pushed everything else aside. Every emotion and instinct, all other thoughts, they were nothing compared to the rabid, desperate need to consume.


    And creeping behind the hunger was cold. Uncomplicated, but ever present, the thing felt like winter, but only the worst parts. The harshest, darkest depths when light grew scarce and food even scarcer. The time when the creeping cold dug its way deep inside, taking root.


    The time when you would do anything, in the cold and the dark, to survive.


    Anything.


    I gasped and pulled my aura back. This thing was- I wanted to scrub my memory of the way it felt.


    It was evil. Not just hostile or dangerous. Evil.


    ¡°Be careful! This thing feels like a nightmare!¡±


    Those blue lights narrowed, and the thing laughed. The sound was hideous. A wet, gasping thing that made me feel dirty just listening to it.


    It spoke, and its voice sounded like it belonged to someone else, smooth and collected. ¡°I will show you nightmares, little one.¡±


    My throat went dry. It was intelligent.


    ¡°Ahhh, a morsel that can understand me. A rare treat.¡±


    It was only then that I realized the thing wasn¡¯t speaking English. It was using one of the Algonquian languages. Maybe Abenaki?


    I racked my brain for a monster that felt like this thing that would speak an Algonquian language. Rodgers could have told me in an instant, but it took me several more seconds of terrified thought before I landed on a name.


    Wendigo.


    I racked my brain for more information. They were evil spirits that possessed people or people consumed by hunger and greed, I was pretty sure. But what were their weaknesses?


    Before I could think of anything useful, it attacked.


    A black claw whipped out faster than I could track, so fast that Blair only managed to get an arm up before it slammed into her.


    The hit launched Blair so fast that her wake left a hole in the mists.


    Holy shit.


    Before I could properly panic, Blair came racing back in.


    The wendigo slashed out, and she ducked under it and tore into it with claws of her own.


    Black blood sprayed, and the wendigo bellowed. The sound tore through the night like an elk¡¯s call from hell, and I had to clap my hands over my ears.


    The wendigo kicked the ground, tearing up a massive patch of soil and sending it straight into Blair¡¯s face.


    She stumbled but still managed to dodge its following lunge. She scraped at her face before throwing herself back into the fight.


    The crack of flesh against bone filled the air, and the speed of their blows kept ramping up until I struggled to track what was happening.


    If the vampires had been moving like this, I would have died instantly.


    I struggled to think of a way to help.


    Well, shooting the hell out of things hasn¡¯t really let you down so far. A helpful corner of my mind pointed out.


    I grabbed my rifle. I couldn¡¯t have more than a handful of shots left, so I had to make these count.


    I sighted but didn¡¯t rest my finger on the trigger. With the two dancing around each other, I didn¡¯t have anything close to a clean shot.


    And while shooting Blair by accident would only be a mild annoyance to her on its own, the distraction might get her killed.


    The monster raked its claws down, and Blair dodged, then rushed inside its massive range. She drove a fist into its knee with a crack.


    The wendigo bellowed again and, before she could react, caught her with a backhand that cracked like a gunshot.


    Blair flew back like she¡¯d been launched from a cannon.


    She slammed into a tree on the other side of the clearing without losing speed, and wood splintered.


    It was hard to make her out through the mist, but I could tell she wasn¡¯t moving.


    The wendigo started toward her.


    Panic laced with fury bubbled in my gut.


    I had a clear shot now.


    I unloaded into the monster, aiming for the knee Blair had punched.


    As the bullets ripped into it, I poured my magic against it like I was trying to forge a link. I had no idea if that would work. Some mythology about these things said they were spirits, but that could have been total bunk.


    But it was definitely hungry, and I had just flashed magic at it after taking a pot shot.


    It turned and stared at me.


    Well¡­shit.


    It charged, its massive legs eating the distance between us in a heartbeat.


    ¡°SHIT!¡±


    It lashed out, and its gleaming claws tore into the tree below me.


    Wood crunched, and the tree started to tip.


    ¡°No, no, no!¡± I fell backward as the massive tree toppled.


    I tried to do something, anything, but before I fully understood what was happening, my tree crashed into one of its brothers.


    The impact flung me from the branches, and by dumb luck, I crashed into another tree.


    My back hit the trunk, and my luck ran out.


    Agony erupted from my back and stomach.


    My vision swam, and I struggled to pull my thoughts together through the pain.


    I looked down. The jagged end of a dead branch protruded from the right of my stomach, Its tip stained red.


    My mind stalled for a beat. I was impaled. I had landed on another large branch but had enough momentum to smack against the trunk.


    And I was impaled.


    My mind kept circling back to that point. Like a magnet that drew my eyes, I couldn¡¯t look away from the bloody point.


    Memories roiled.


    Markus, his knife lodged in my guts, the snarl on his lips, the scent of burning food¡ª Dilly stabbed me. Why? What had I ever done? How could she¡ªAera stuck the knife in deep.


    I tried to suck in a breath, to control the torrent of memories, but I couldn¡¯t make my lungs listen to me.


    I tried again, and as soon as I had a breath, I screamed.


    ~<>~<>~


    Blair drifted. Her head hurt, and she was¡­fighting? What was she fighting? Where was she? And why was she so angry?


    The fury boiled in her gut, choking her. Demanding that she act, that she fight and conqueror.


    And her Bond! It was so strong¡ªtoo strong. Why had she pushed it so far? What had she been doing?


    Alder screamed like he was dying.


    The sound punched through the fog like a pickax, and Blair reached out to her Bond and pulled.


    Her fury redoubled, and she drew even more. Rage burned away the fog in her brain, but she didn¡¯t stop pulling.


    This monster was stronger than her. It was faster. And it was trying to kill Alder.


    Pain rolled down her back as her spine healed with a snap.


    She took a deep breath of cold air as she opened her eyes.


    She pulled herself from the crater in the tree and the fractures in her skull healed.


    A scent hit her nose.


    Blood.


    Alder¡¯s blood.


    Blair¡¯s world went red.


    ~<>~<>~


    My scream whimpered out as the wendigo closed in.


    The mist parted, and the monster''s face pulled me back to the present.


    It had the skull of a deer but twisted. its flaming blue eyes hovered in empty black sockets, and its lower jaw jutted out, filled with jagged, bloodstained teeth.


    It made a clicking noise and tilted its head.


    It leaned close and took a deep breath. ¡°Wonderful.¡±


    It opened its jaws wide, mist curling out to outline its bones. I stiffened. I needed to get my pistol out!


    My side throbbed, and my vision wavered as I reached for the gun.


    The monster froze.


    It sighed, its icy breath sending goosebumps down my chest.


    ¡°It seems the little wolf wants her turn first.¡±


    It turned, and then Blair was in front of it, claws flashing.


    I hadn¡¯t even seen her move!


    The wendigo matched her, lashing out with inhuman speed.


    Something had changed. Blair fought with none of the grace or skill from before. She didn¡¯t even fight like a person.


    She tore and bit, headless of the damage she took, and the wendigo did the same.


    Blair took a slash to the chest but didn¡¯t pause, accepting the hit to slam a kick into its thigh.


    The monster staggered, and Blair was there to capitalize.


    She leaped, crashing into its side like a cannonball.


    The wendigo collapsed, and the two turned into a growling ball of thrashing limbs and flashing jaws.


    They broke apart with a spray of blood, and the wendigo back-peddled on all fours, it''s head close to the ground.


    Blair started to circle it, and the wendigo turned to keep track of her, its eyes narrowed.


    She feinted, and the monster tensed.


    Blair backed off and kept backing off until she vanished into the mist.


    I kept track of her with my aura, but the wendigo didn¡¯t have the luxury. Its antlered head thrashed from side to side as it searched.


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    I saw a tree shake behind the wendigo. It spun toward the tree, but nothing happened. Another tree shook from another direction, and then another.


    The monster spun as the forest seemed to shake around it.


    With my aura I sensed Blair rocketing from tree to tree like a pinball. The speed and grace needed for that was so far past human that it was staggering.


    The wendigo spun towards a particularly loud tree, and Blair burst from the mist to slam into its back.


    Blood sprayed and It bellowed as she tore at it. The mist quaked.


    It reached back with a boneless motion and hurled Blair off.


    She hit the ground and bounced. Before she came to a stop, the beast was on her, lashing out with a kick. The blow blasted her into a tree, which snapped in half from the impact.


    Blair came to a stop as the tree landed near the wendigo. She climbed to her feet, unphased.


    The wendigo cocked its head, then kicked the tree at her.


    Blair dashed to the side, dropping to all fours for a moment as the tree passed above her.


    She pivoted, dirt spraying with the motion as she charged back in.


    They met, and I lost track of the fight.


    I could only see shaking mists and blurs of motion as the two tore the clearing apart.


    A stomp caused a small crater, a throw dug a trench, and more trees toppled.


    It raged for minutes. Though with the whole being impaled thing, those minutes stretched. But the agony in my side was a distant second in my mind.


    The helpless fear was far, far worse.


    All I could do was watch¡ªliterally stuck here, as Blair fought for our lives.


    The fight raged back and forth until the wendigo made a mistake. It dodged back from Blair¡¯s rush and stumbled over a fallen tree.


    Blair didn¡¯t hesitate. She leaped and swept a devastating kick at its head, the mist trailing her foot like an afterimage.


    The wendigo¡¯s motions blurred, and a black claw swept up.


    It met Blair¡¯s leg mid-thigh and cut straight through. Her leg tumbled into the air with a spray of red against the white.


    The wendigo smiled.


    I froze.


    Blair didn¡¯t.


    Without pausing for an instant, Blair twisted in mid-air, and her hand lashed out.


    She caught her spinning leg and, with a sound like shattering ice, slammed it through the wendigo¡¯s chest.


    They collapsed to the ground in a heap.


    The wendigo¡¯s blue eyes turned to Blair, disbelieving, and then the flames froze over. A wave of blue fire spread over the wendigo, leaving ice in its place.


    Blair¡¯s shoulders heaved and she slowly brought her fist down on its chest. The monster shattered.


    Blair stared down at the chunks of her enemy, blond hair falling around her like a matted veil.


    She threw her head back and howled.


    The triumphant sound pierced the night, bowling over the other cries and screams for a brief moment.


    I stared, a mix of horror and awe swirling in my chest.


    Her howl tapered off, and she collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.


    I blinked and slowly looked around.


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    I was trapped at least thirteen feet in the air, stuck to a tree, and Blair was unconscious on the forest floor, probably bleeding out.


    And the night was still filled with the screams of the Hoard.


    A tide of panic started to rise up, but I crushed it. Blair didn¡¯t have time for me to panic.


    First things first, I needed to make myself less of a target.


    I veiled myself with a thought. I was still coated in magic residue, but I couldn¡¯t help that.


    I hadn¡¯t sensed any undead nearby before veiling, and I had a feeling that they would take a minute to come for me again.


    The wendigo had black blood on its teeth. I was pretty sure it had chomped down on other undead.


    So, first, I had to find a way down, then stabilize Blair and get her somewhere safe. Or at least safer than out in the open.


    I looked down at the branch protruding from my gut. The sight made my stomach clench, which sent a fresh wave of agony through my side.


    The tree had more than enough branches for me to climb down, but I had to find a way to free myself first.


    I couldn¡¯t pull the branch out. Not only could I make the wound worse by pulling it out, but the branch was doing a pretty good job at staunching the blood loss as it was. If I pulled it, I might bleed out.


    But the dead branch was still attached to the tree.


    My eyes flicked to Blair. I didn¡¯t have time.


    Werewolf healing was intense, but it had limits. She could be dying.


    Dying because she came here to help me.


    I swallowed. This was going to suck.


    I unzipped my vest and coat and grabbed my shirt. Careful to avoid putting pressure on my side the best I could, I took a small pocket knife from my tac vest and started cutting strips of cloth out.


    I wrapped the makeshift bandages around the branch and my waist in a figure-eight pattern, trying to immobilize it as much as possible.


    I took a deep breath. No hesitating.


    I gripped the several inches of wood jutting from my stomach with one hand, wincing at the feel of my cooling blood.


    I pulled myself forward just enough to get my other hand on the branch''s base. The feeling of the wood scraping my insides caused bile to rise in my throat, but I forced it down. No time.


    I took a deep breath. How many of those had I taken in the last minute?


    I did my best to think about my breathing habits as I slid myself off the branch I was sitting on.


    All my weight suddenly crashed onto the broken branch, and I pushed with my arms, desperately trying to move the pressure to my arms and off my guts.


    Break, come on, you bastard! Break!


    Blood began to stain my makeshift bandages.


    The branch held for a few agonizing seconds before giving way with a wet crack!


    I dropped and immediately threw my hands out.


    I caught a branch on the way down, and pain tore through my shoulders.


    I hung there for a second, my mind white with pain.


    Blair is bleeding on the ground.


    Gasping, my side feeling like it was stuffed with coals, I started to climb down.


    The whole getting impaled thing took up most of my focus, but the climb informed me that getting flung into a tree had done more damage than just the stabbing.


    My back and shoulders protested with every motion, and I was pretty sure I might have cracked a rib. Even my legs were twinging.


    I felt like I¡¯d been in a car wreck.


    But none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was getting to the bottom.


    It wasn¡¯t a hard climb, there were plenty of branches, but I forced myself to move carefully. Blair couldn¡¯t afford for me to fall.


    I reached the ground, and my legs almost buckled.


    I straightened and started for Blair.


    Her fight had devastated the landscape. The once beautiful clearing covered in craters, deep trenches, and new hills.


    Which made getting to Blair a lot harder. I couldn¡¯t just sprint over. If I fell, I wasn¡¯t sure I could get back up. So I had to fight the urge to rush with every step.


    I almost fell twice, but I made it to her side in under a minute.


    When I saw her up close, my heart stopped. She was covered in blood from head to toe, and the few parts of her that weren¡¯t were a sickly grey. She looked like a fresh corpse.


    Her chest rose, and I let myself breathe.


    Not dead.


    I carefully dropped to my knees. Even moving as slowly as I could, the pressure on my side had me seeing spots.


    I forced my eyes to focus.


    I needed to triage her injuries.


    Her fucking leg is missing, what do you think needs your attention first?


    Her thigh had partially closed, but that wasn¡¯t good enough. Blood still dripped from the stump, and three long gashes across her stomach hadn¡¯t healed at all.


    I pulled my belt off and wrapped it around her upper thigh. With a grunt, I cinched it as tightly as I could.


    Makeshift tourniquet done, I quickly cut more of my shirt off and wrapped her stump.


    It wasn¡¯t sterile bandages, but I was working with what I had.


    I turned my attention to her stomach. The wendigo had cut deep, the three furrows each wide enough to require stitches, which I didn¡¯t have. I swallowed, trying to ignore the reek of blood, and gently dabbed at the wounds with bandage. If the claws had gone too deep¡­


    I sighed. It hadn¡¯t made it through her abdominal wall, thank god.


    As I studied the wounds, I realized something else was wrong. Blair was thin. All the werewolves I had seen looked like they could impersonate a greek statue, and Blair, in particular, was absolutely built.


    Now she looked skinnier than I did. I couldn¡¯t even gauge how much weight she had lost.


    Her body is eating itself.


    I moved faster.


    I was running out of shirt to cut, so I sacrificed Blair¡¯s for the cause.


    It was a struggle to find parts of her top that weren¡¯t already covered in blood, but I managed to salvage enough material to cover the gashes. Getting the bandages under her was a pain¡ªliterally¡ªbut I patched the wounds the best I could.


    She was as stable as I could get her.


    On to step three. Blair needed food and shelter, which meant I had to move her. If I left her here to grab food, she would be a free meal to any passing undead, and besides, I wasn¡¯t sure if I could make more than one trip.


    I glanced around at the devastated landscape. This part was also going to suck.


    Blair and the wendigo had fallen on the top of a small, lopsided hill. I eyeballed it for a second.


    ¡­it¡¯ll do.


    I walked around the steep side of the hill and got a firm grip on Blair¡¯s leg and shoulder.


    I glanced down at the stick and swallowed.


    Stop. Hesitating.


    I rocked Blair slightly. One, two, three! I pulled, rolling her off the hill and onto my shoulders.


    Pain.


    A low whine tore past my lips, and warm blood trickled down my back and front.


    My balance wavered, and my focus sharpened.


    If I fell, I wasn¡¯t getting up again.


    I straightened, pushing through the burning agony in my side. Even with her leg missing and muscles atrophied, I was barely strong enough to carry her.


    Move.


    I started walking, and each step made the pain worse. I didn¡¯t stop¡ªcouldn¡¯t stop. Blair needed me to keep moving, and by god, I was going to.


    All of my attention, every speck of focus I had bent towards the next step. I fell into a fugue. The was nothing except the weight on my back, the pain in my side, and the next step.


    I made it most of the way to my house before something went wrong. The ground under my foot shifted, and I started to fall.


    No!


    I snapped my foot out, catching myself, but all our weight came down on my right side. I felt the branch shift inside me, and fresh blood gushed out.


    Blair¡¯s weight pressed down on my aching shoulders, and my side spasmed.


    I didn¡¯t have the words to describe the pain, but I didn¡¯t need to. I just needed to keep walking.


    The next step. Take the next step.


    I did. Then I took the one after that and the one after that. I paused at my back door, and it took me a few seconds to realize I needed to open it.


    I slipped inside, careful to avoid smacking Blair into the doorframe.


    Where did I set her down? My eyes flicked to my cellar, and I walked to the edge. That could work? It was only a single entrance, easy to defend, but we would be trapped there if something came for us. And how was I supposed to get Blair down there? Maybe set her down, get in, then lower her?


    There was more than enough food in there for her to heal.


    But could I lift her again if I set her down? Was I strong enough-


    My legs gave out. I had pushed too far, and my body didn¡¯t care how determined I was.


    We toppled into the cellar, and I tried to guide Blair¡¯s fall the best I could. She landed in the clear section with a thud, and my back slammed into the cans.


    The branch struck a can dead on, and I blacked out.


    When I woke, I wasn¡¯t being eaten by a zombie, so I couldn¡¯t have been out that long.


    My side pulsed, and I felt like I had a literal fire burning inside me. A quick glance told me my wrappings had kept the branch from getting shoved out, but there was even more blood than before.


    I wanted to close my eyes again and pray for unconsciousness, but I wasn¡¯t done yet.


    With a soft grunt, I pulled myself to Blair¡¯s side.


    I reached over and snatched a can of broth. It was one with a tabbed lid, thankfully. I didn¡¯t want to try and open a can with my pocket knife right now.


    I opened it and put the can to Blair¡¯s lips. She didn¡¯t give any signs of waking, but her nose twitched, and she took a deep pull of the broth.


    I pulled the can back slightly, making sure she didn¡¯t choke. She swallowed, and her breathing didn¡¯t slow, so I moved the can back.


    She quickly finished the can, and I grabbed another.


    The process repeated four more times until her eyes snapped open. They were still blood red, and the wild, inhuman cast was back in full swing. Blair stared at me, and it felt like being studied by a wild animal.


    I reached over and grabbed a can of spam. As soon as I opened it, her eyes narrowed. She snatched the can and devoured the meat.


    I opened another can, and after she tore through that just as quickly as the first, I got to work. I opened cans as fast as possible, and Blair devoured their contents just as quickly .


    I saw her stomach writhe under the bandages, and Blair paused for a breath, setting down her current can to look herself over. She made her index finger into a claw and sliced through the bandages. I watched as her skin knit itself closed.


    She frowned at her missing leg and sliced through the tourniquet.


    I blinked. I was pretty sure you weren¡¯t supposed to do that, but it wasn¡¯t like I could stop her.


    I saw her thigh writhing under its wrappings as her stomach had, and I laid back.


    She was healing. She was okay.


    I closed my eyes.


    ~<>~<>~


    A flood of familiar magic on a scale unlike anything I had ever felt crashed over me.


    My eyes shot open.


    The power coursed around me like the tide. It was overwhelming. It was inhuman. Everywhere I looked, the world was tinted a deep violet.


    I blinked. Where had I felt this power before?


    I waved my hand through the air. ¡­Spirit magic. But this amount was insane. It was several orders of magnitude above what I had done in the Dome. I didn¡¯t know mages could do something like this.


    Blair shifted, which tore my attention away from the thick haze of magic.


    Half the cans in the cellar were empty, and she was seated in front of me, her gaze locked on the cellar entrance.


    Blackness started creeping into my vision. I tried to push it away, but I was so, so tired.


    I blinked, and the darkness pounced.


    ~<>~<>~


    I woke with a jolt. I had to move had to- to- I blinked and looked around. Everything was blurry, and the world was made up of dark shapes rushing around me.


    Bobby¡¯s voice cut through the haze. ¡°Hold on, Alder! The healers are coming. Just hold on!¡± One of the dark shapes moved and-


    The man pressed his hands against my side, and my flesh quaked. Skin shifted and stretched as chunks of wood wriggled out of me like maggots. I gasped for breaths that wouldn¡¯t come. The pain was unlike anything I had ever felt, but it was nothing to the feeling of my guts rearranging themselves. I finally pulled in a breath and screamed.


    ~<>~<>~


    A raven''s call pulled me from sleep. It was one of those snap transitions¡ªno groggy in between here. One second I was in empty blackness. The next, I was cursing that I had been mocked by those stupid birds so many times I could recognize their caws in my sleep.


    I was alive, which was shocking, all things considered.


    My entire body felt like one massive bruise, and my throat was doing its best impression of a desert, but I was alive.


    The memory of my guts moving around inside me like snakes snapped my eyes open. I leaned up slightly, or at least, I tried to. A wave of pain and weakness rushed through me, and all I managed was a weak twitch.


    I sighed and stared at the wooden ceiling. This was the fourth guest room on the third floor. There was a crack in the ceiling that had always bothered Niall, but Bram had liked it, so he never patched it.


    I scanned the room and noticed an IV bag hanging beside my bed. I blinked and glanced toward my arm. Sure enough, I was pricked. Damn, how did I miss that?


    I took a deep breath, the air smelled like flowers and cotton.


    I tried to move again, albeit much slower. I managed to move my head just enough to look at myself.


    It wasn¡¯t a pretty sight. More of me was bruised than not, and from the pain radiating from my ribs and back, at least one of them was cracked or broken.


    Under the fresh bruises and old scars was a small hospital''s worth of bandages. Mainly around my right side, but a few were on my shoulder as well.


    Why my shoulder?  Oh, right. The bog hag. I totally forgot about her.


    The door opened, and Bobby walked in only to freeze, a sandwich halfway to his lips.


    ¡°Sup,¡± I croaked.


    Bobby turned his head and yelled out the door. ¡°He¡¯s awake!¡±


    Several ghosts zipped through the walls, but before I could even make a bad joke, Blair skidded through the door.


    The words died in my throat. The relief choked me. She was okay. Hell, not only was she still alive, she was walking on two legs!


    I didn¡¯t know if they had reattached it or she¡¯d regrown it, but either way, she was okay.


    I sagged back into the bed.


    ¡°You-¡° I swallowed. ¡°You look a lot better than I do.¡±


    A complicated mix of expressions crossed her face before she dropped to her knees and wrapped me in a careful hug.


    ¡°How long was I out?¡±


    ¡°Three days,¡± she whispered.


    ¡°It-¡° her voice hitched. ¡°It took three healers just to get you stable.¡±


    Slowly, careful not to jostle my IV, I returned the hug.


    Rodgers smiled at me from near the window, and Ben looked like he was about to cry.


    I closed my eyes.


    I was beat to hell. A war was on our doorstep, the Clans knew about me¡ªeverything was about to change.


    But despite all that, in the small guest room in a formerly haunted mansion, surrounded by people that cared about me, I felt better than I had in a long, long time.

 Epilogue

    Solomon stopped in front of the grey stone doors.  Each one towered over him, their aged surfaces covered in intricate carvings.


    He took a deep breath, the night air cool in his lungs.


    He licked his lips and prodded the magic in his chest.  The cold green power was still only a fraction of its normal level.  The attack on Silver Spruce hadn''t gone perfectly, but he had achieved his main goals.  Six targets had been eliminated, and he''d guided the Hoard towards the spooks the best he could, but... The thick green chain lying in pieces haunted him.


    He didn''t know where the wendigo had gone, who it had hurt.  He had brought a weapon, and it had gotten loose.


    Solomon closed his eyes.


    Without its backup, Benjamin wasn''t able to stop the Adjudicator from interfering.   That had limited their options.


    And you don¡¯t know who it killed in the meantime.


    He shook his head.   Not to mention his shades. His shades had been wiped out by a Telss.  A Telss that would need to be dealt with if they could actually counter Solomon.


    But despite the setbacks, it was still a successful step.  But it was only one step.  It was time for the next one.


    He opened his eyes and focused on the door.


    He swirled his magic, and his finger burst with an eerie green light.  He pressed it to the door, and the carvings drank in the light like desert soil.


    The illumination quickly spread, and in seconds the entire surface glowed a cold green.


    The doors opened without a sound, and the scent of old stone and even older death poured over Solomon.


    He took a deep breath and started forward.


    The doors led to a long, straight cave. Imposing carvings of a man dressed in formal robes lined the walls.  Each statue was carved from a dark stone and depicted the man in exquisite detail. So much so that Solomon wouldn¡¯t be surprised if they got up and moved.


    He glanced at the nearest statue.  The man had a high brow pinched in thought, hard eyes, long, shadowed cheeks, and a narrow chin.


    As Solomon walked, the carvings changed.  The man stayed the same, but his dress shifted, going from different styles of robe and formal wear until he reached the end.  The last statue was dressed in a dark suit.  Solomon eyed the suit''s buttons.  Each had a tiny skull at the center.


    Past the last statue sat a small, circular alcove.  At its center lay a stone crypt, its surface covered in so many runes and sigils that a human would need a magnifying glass to see them all.


    It was wrapped in pitch-black chains that sucked in the specks of light trickling in from the door.


    Solomon pulled a black wooden case from his pocket.  Knull wood was absurdly expensive.  The cost of this box and the ones he used at the summit would bankrupt most wealthy spooks.


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    But as far as he knew, nothing was better at hiding something¡¯s magical footprint.


    He opened the case and pulled out a chalk white key.  It had several seams throughout its length.  The key had originally been broken into shards, one of which his master had possessed.


    The Pact knew that and had accounted for it.


    However, they did not know that his master was aware of the location of this tomb, this prison. Or that the late Burrow King had gathered a second piece of the key.


    He had been discrete gathering the other pieces.  The Pact had some very well guarded, and he couldn¡¯t get to them all.  Not that he would want to.


    Not yet.


    As he drew the key from the box, the world convulsed.


    Light shifted, the ground shook, and the very air started to warp and tear around the key.


    Solomon touched it to the chains, and the black metal crumbled.


    The runes and sigils over the crypt sparked and buzzed, but the key silenced them.


    Solomon didn¡¯t allow his hands to shake as he touched the lid.


    The best of the bad options.


    He shoved the lid off with a crash of stone on stone.


    A massive man lay in the crypt, his manacled wrists crossed over his chest in death.


    He was easily eight feet tall, and his body was all long limbs and sharp angles.  His skin was an inhuman grey, but aside from that, he was a perfect match for the statues, right down to his pitch black suit.


    His wrists, ankles, and neck were clamped with dark manacles, a few chain links trailing off them.


    Each chain link held more magic than Solomon had ever felt in one place, and that was nothing compared to the manacles themselves.


    They pulled on Solomon''s senses like five black holes, drawing everything in and giving nothing back.


    He took a deep breath.  The Pact, and others,  had titans on their side, and once they bothered to move, they would crush him.


    It was time to get a titan of his own.


    He pressed the key to the manacle on the man¡¯s left wrist.


    The manacle cracked along with the key, and Solomon pushed the last of his magic into the man.


    His grey skin drank the magic up, and the chained man opened his eyes, and they burst with green light.


    The world quaked.


    Solomon had to force himself to keep breathing as every natural law began to twist and distort around the man in the crypt.


    His body grew lighter; sounds started to warble, and even the musty smell of the crypt began to fluctuate, strengthening until it overpowered his nose one moment only to all but vanish the next.


    A tremendous pressure pushed down on Solomon, forcing him to brace himself to avoid stumbling.


    The crypt cracked, the stone splitting down the middle, and the quaking stopped.


    The world returned to normal as the man took a long, slow breath and rubbed his wrist.  He looked up at Solomon and smiled.


    ¡°Oh, that feels nice. These manacles  chaff.¡±  His voice was a deep, elegant drawl that wormed its way into Solomon¡¯s ears like a song.


    ¡°Now, tell me, young vampire.  How long has it been?¡±


    Solomon smiled and straightened.  The man hadn¡¯t tried to kill him yet, excellent.


    ¡°Six hundred and thirty-two years.¡±


    The man blinked.  ¡°Hmm.  Not a short rest, but it could certainly be worse.¡±  He smiled at Solomon, and the force of his gaze was a physical thing.


    He jingled his remaining shackles and raised a thin brow.  ¡°You removed one seal, which has already earned you a boon.  But I have to ask, do you happen to know where the other keys are?¡±


    Solomon¡¯s smile grew.  ¡°Let¡¯s make a deal.¡±


    The End.

 Book Twos A Corpse In Chains: Prologue

    Caden spun the feather duster in a lazy circle, humming to the quiet sound of Boc rolling in from the store speakers.


    He took a deep breath, relaxing as the scent of old books and cinnamon filled his nose.


    Caden Nook Books was his store, his. Even after three years, the thought still warmed him.


    He¡¯d done it.


    Oh, it might not be endless riches or the flashy lifestyle that James or Marvin had always talked about getting, but that had never appealed to Caden.


    He was a simple man with simple needs, thank you very much.


    A little shop, a small home, and his books were all he needed.


    The others were still out chasing or talking about chasing a dream they would never achieve while he had already gotten his.


    Morons.


    Mire Lock was a small sleepy town. It was unremarkable, save for the hill it was built on and the river running down it. Nothing exceptional, but a pretty town with friendly enough neighbors.


    It was perfect.


    A floorboard creaked to his right, and Caden spun, his heart pounding.


    A young boy wearing a blue superman shirt and dark shorts stared back at him, brown eyes wide.


    He couldn¡¯t be older than seven or eight.


    The kid had frozen with a book halfway off the shelf, and he looked like he might bolt.


    Caden took a deep breath. It¡¯s just a kid, don¡¯t be so jumpy.


    ¡°Sorry about that. I didn¡¯t hear the bell; you caught me off guard.¡±


    The child slowly started moving again. ¡°So I¡¯m not in trouble?¡± He asked, his voice high and uncertain.


    ¡°No,¡± Caden laughed. ¡°You¡¯re not in trouble. Is there any book in particular you''re looking for?¡±


    ¡°Par-tic-ular?¡±


    ¡°It means a certain kind of thing.¡±


    The kid blinked and then shook his head. ¡°No. I¡¯m just looking at any with pictures.¡±


    Caden grinned. ¡°Well, you''re going to want to look over there.¡± He pointed to the picture book section. ¡°Good luck with your search.¡±


    The boy gave a serious nod and turned back to the shelf.


    Caden chuckled and resumed his dusting. It was a little odd that the kid was wandering around without his parents, but it was a small town, so that wasn¡¯t too uncommon.


    He glanced towards the windows. The sun had set a little while ago, leaving the town in the latter edge of twilight.


    It is a little odd for him to be out this late, isn¡¯t it?


    The streets and storefronts of their tiny downtown were illuminated with the harsh yellow of the streetlights, and the shadows they cast were just as intense.


    As he dusted, the simple task ahead of him, the music in his ears and familiar smells of the shop filling his nose, his eyes began to wander.


    He felt himself staring into those shadows and his eyes began to unfocus.


    Something about them, they seemed almost¡­rich. Like staring into a painting and seeing depths you weren¡¯t expecting. How could one shadow have so many shades of black?


    Something tugged at the edge of his awareness.


    Was¡­was something moving outside?


    He shuddered, tearing his gaze away from the street. What was wrong with him tonight? Why was he so jumpy?


    He shook his head and kept dusting. Just a little more, and he¡¯d close up. He repeated that to himself several times until he started to feel better.


    A gust of wind howled down the street, rattling the front door and causing Caden to flinch.


    He bit back a curse as the kid eyed him.


    Don¡¯t swear in front of children, Caden.


    The door stopped rattling, but the sound took a few seconds longer to taper out.


    Huh.


    He glanced at the kid. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be getting home? It¡¯s pretty late. Your parents are going to worry.¡±


    The kid shrugged without looking up from his picture book. ¡°No, they won¡¯t.¡±


    Caden¡¯s following words died on his lips. ¡°¡­Oh. Take your time then.¡± It wasn¡¯t enough, but what were you supposed to say to something like that?


    The wind howled again. Caden had moved to the next shelf and started dusting when he realized something was wrong.


    If the wind was howling like before, why wasn¡¯t his door rattling?


    An overwhelming sense of dread settled in his stomach as he turned to the door. No leaves blew by, and the distant trees weren¡¯t moving.


    No wind.


    If there was no wind¡­


    He took a deep breath as his hand clenched around the duster.


    If there was no wind, then what was howling?


    There was a boom somewhere in the distance, and the power cut off with a crack.


    Every light winked out at once, plunging them into darkness.


    Caden immediately started hyperventilating.


    He wasn¡¯t proud of it, but he owned a bookshop; dammit, he wasn¡¯t made for surprises.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Mister? Are you okay?¡± The kid''s voice snapped Caden from his building panic attack.


    ¡°I- ah- yeah, yeah, I¡¯m fine. Just¡­¡± he trailed off and quickly fished his keys from his pocket. ¡°Is that howling getting louder?¡±


    He rushed to the front door and locked it.


    ¡°Maybe?¡± The kid sounded equal parts curious and terrified.


    Caden was just terrified.


    ¡°Okay. Okay. Okay.¡± Caden paused. His heart was hammering. He¡¯d expected to think of something by the third ¡®okay,¡¯ but he was as confused and terrified as before.


    He took a step back from the door. There was no denying it. The howling was growing louder.


    Oh god!


    ¡°Get to the back of the store! Stay away from the windows!¡± He hissed.


    They stumbled in the darkness, nearly tripping in their haste.


    The howling was almost to the street!


    At the back of the store was a small office with a door to the alley. With those howls growing ever closer, going outside wasn¡¯t an option, but hiding away in his office was sounding like a fantastic idea.


    They slipped inside, and Caden fumbled in the dark with his keys. He wanted to be certain the backdoor was locked.


    With that done, they just had to¡­to sit here. Waiting.


    Caden took a few deliberate breaths.


    Screams rose up to join the howls. Tortured, terrified sounds that turned Caden¡¯s guts to jelly. They were unlike anything he had ever heard, primal, almost inhuman.


    The kid was remarkably quiet, staying huddled in the corner with his knees pulled up to his chest.


    Shouldn¡¯t he be panicking or something?


    Caden licked his lips and crept towards the office door. He had to see. Just sitting in the dark, listening to the howls and screams, would drive him insane. He glanced at the boy. ¡°I¡¯m going to get a look, stay put,¡± he whispered.


    He carefully cracked the door open, just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the outside.


    It was dark, but his eyes had started to adjust, and his office door had a direct view of a window. He slowly inched his way over, afraid to even breathe.


    Something bone deep told him that one wrong step, one noise at the wrong time- he cut that line of thought off and bent his focus towards the window as he crept into place.


    Now- something moved in front of the window.


    His breath caught.


    The shape was massive and furry and slinked forward on four legs.


    It moved with the grace and confidence of a predator. Like something that knew, just knew that it was above everything around it.


    It didn¡¯t look like a bear, it¡¯s movements, it¡¯s shape, they were all wrong, but Caden¡¯s mind still latched onto the thought.


    Yeah, it¡¯s a big bear that¡¯s passing through. Totally normal. Even if things are howling out there, and the power went out. It¡¯s just a bear. It¡¯s just a bear that¡¯s walking by.


    As if it heard his thoughts, the beast froze just before it passed out of sight.


    Don¡¯t turn back. Don¡¯t turn back!


    The monster snapped its head to the side and took off at a sprint, directly away from his store.


    He held back his sigh of relief as It crashed into the shop across the street¡ªTammy¡¯s Baked Goods¡ªand more screams erupted into the night.


    Caden carefully closed the door.


    An odd calm had settled over him. He wasn¡¯t actually calm, not at all. But his fear had grown so overpowering, so all-encompassing, that it went full circle, leaving him empty.


    He had to run.


    That thing had crashed through the wall like it was nothing. His store wouldn¡¯t hold up any better.


    His eyes flicked to the boy. He was small, too small to run away. He wouldn¡¯t make it out there.


    The part of Caden that could still fight his fear protested, but only for a moment.


    The kid couldn¡¯t make it out there. He¡¯d only slow Caden down.


    Just because he didn¡¯t like that fact didn¡¯t make it untrue.


    He took a deep breath. He wasn¡¯t abandoning the kid. He wasn¡¯t.


    He might draw some attention away from the kid by leaving, which would help him survive. He certainly had a better chance of surviving by staying here than he would trying to run.


    It was for the best.


    A small, treacherous part of his mind whispered. If staying was really the safest option, why are you running?


    Caden killed that voice and unlocked the back door with a shaking hand.


    The kid was watching him. He could feel the small eyes boring into his back like accusing fingers.


    He licked his lips and handed him the keys. ¡°Lock the door behind me,¡± he whispered.


    The boy didn¡¯t protest, didn¡¯t say anything. He just took the keys and kept staring. Caden tried not to look at him or the Superman shirt that seemed to be glaring daggers at him.


    He slipped out the door, careful to avoid making any excess noise.


    The buildings seemed to push in on the alley, leaving only a thin stretch of damp pavement and barely enough room to walk without turning sideways.


    Light from the moon poured between the buildings, lighting his path, almost seeming to guide him.


    If Caden took a right and followed it to the end, the alley would let out onto Walker Street. It would be a short run to his house from there.


    More importantly, his car. He was going to drive and drive and drive, and he didn¡¯t plan on stopping until he ran out of gas.


    Caden made it through the alley and started running.


    He didn¡¯t see the shape that swept his feet.


    One moment he was sprinting, his heart in his throat. The next, he was on his back, looking up at the full moon.


    The moon seemed huge, its great white expanse hanging over the hill as if it were waiting to drop and crush them.


    It felt like a living, pulsing thing as it hung there, like Caden could reach out and touch it, if he only stretched a little more¡­


    Beautiful. The thought came out of nowhere, and was so odd that if momentarily cut through his fear.


    ¡°Wha-¡° he cut off as a massive man stepped into view.


    With the moon to his back, he was little more than a dark silhouette. Caden could vaguely make out that he was wearing a long coat and heavy boots. The rest was just shadows. With the way he stood there, unmoving, his coat hanging perfectly still, he almost seemed to be part of the night itself.


    ¡°You choose wrong, Caden.¡± The stranger''s voice was smooth as honey and deep, deeper than anyone else Caden had ever heard.


    As the man¡¯s words registered, a bolt of fear tore through his gut. The man knew his name.


    His pseudo-calm cracked like an egg, leaving the fear to choke him.


    ¡°Wha-what do you mean?¡± Caden didn¡¯t even try to keep his voice from shaking.


    The man chuckled, the sound barely above a rumble.


    ¡°Come now, Caden. Don¡¯t play dumb with me. You left Jeramy to the monsters in the dark.¡±


    ¡°I-I didn¡¯t! He¡¯s safer there than running! I was I-¡° Caden paused as the man shifted. He seemed even larger all of a sudden, his dark frame filling Caden¡¯s vision.


    He desperately searched for anything that could get him out of this situation, but there was nothing but the moon overhead, and the man.


    As he moved closer, an errant beam of moonlight struck him, illuminating part of his face.


    Caden gasped. His mind ignored most of the details, his craggy features, his heavy, drawn brows, focusing on the long, sloping scar that ran the length of his face.


    It was a raised, ugly thing starting at his temple and ending at the tip of his chin. It looked like it should have split his head in two.


    A note of ice entered the man¡¯s voice. ¡°I told you not to lie, especially if you cannot sell them to yourself. As the elder, the stronger, it is your duty to protect the weak.¡±


    The man¡¯s eyes flashed in the darkness, standing out like two bright yellow searchlights.


    He stomped down, and Caden felt something break in his foot.


    He wanted to scream and thrash, but he couldn¡¯t bring himself to look away from the man¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°You failed, Caden.¡±


    Another howl joined the night, reaching out towards the great moon overhead.

 A Corpse In Chains 2: Healing Blues

    Being hurt is exhausting.


    Obviously, getting hurt isn¡¯t fun. It freaking hurts.  It¡¯s in the name.


    But there¡¯s feeling a little under the weather cause you¡¯re a bit banged up, and then there¡¯s being hurt.


    Your poor body is working overtime trying to fix itself, and that energy has to come from somewhere.


    It¡¯s the worst part of being injured.  Don¡¯t get me wrong, I¡¯m not a fan of constant pain any more than the next guy, but that soul-sucking weariness it¡¯s worse.


    It pulls at you like a leech, draining your will to move, to act, to do anything more than lie in bed and feel miserable.


    I was no stranger to being heavily injured, and if not for being a Telss, I would have permanent disabilities from some of my more violent escapades.


    So, with that in mind, I stared at the mage healer with mixed emotions.


    On the one hand, he was a mage. But on the other hand, he was taking months off my recovery time.


    Quinton was a short, rotund man who looked to be somewhere in his late fifties. He was a mage, though, so the guy could be in his hundreds for all I knew. He had a severe face and bushy grey eyebrows that always seemed to be pulled down in a scowl.


    Quinton, and the two others had worked on me for the last week. And after that measly seven days, I was patched up enough to escape bed rest.


    It was amazing.  It wasn¡¯t werewolf healing, but it was still literal magic.


    I didn¡¯t understand all the complexities of healing magic, but the gist of it involved purifying your aura until it was as close to unaspected as possible, then imbuing it with a will to heal.


    There was a whole lot more that went into it, but it went over my head.


    Despite having a resting ¡®disapproval¡¯ face, he had one hell of a bedside manner. I don¡¯t think I¡¯d heard him raise his voice, much less shout. I liked him, which was awkward for me as it clashed with my instinctual nervousness around Clan mages.


    He stepped back from the bed and clapped his hands. ¡°We¡¯re done for the day.  Gertrude will treat you tomorrow.¡±


    The three healers, one from each Clan, worked without any of the rivalry or hostility that I had half expected.  They were trying to impress me, make their clans seem nice and shiny so a yokel Telss might want to join up. But they were doing it by making themselves look good instead of the others look worse.


    It shouldn¡¯t be surprising. They were healers. It took a certain kind of person to work that magic and it made sense that they¡¯d rather build themselves up in my eyes than tear the others down.


    ¡°Thank you, Quinton,¡± I said with a nod.


    ¡°We appreciate it,¡± Bobby said from his spot, leaning against the wall.


    The Pack never left me alone with mages, even the healers.  Something I was very grateful for.


    Oh, the mage clans wouldn¡¯t try to nab me openly. Not since the Northwoods made a claim.


    I was firmly under their protection, and any attempt on me would be considered an attack on the werewolf''s authority.


    But all the polite smiles and tacit understandings wouldn¡¯t stop a ¡®rogue  element¡¯ from bursting through the wall Kool-Aid Man style to kidnap me.


    The healer packed up and headed for the door.


    Rodgers sat in the corner, causally flipping through a book and despite his relaxed posture, his bright blue eyes tracked the healer as he left.


    Bobby strolled over, the top of his blond hair pulled back into a pseudo bun.  It wasn¡¯t quite long enough for it, so it looked kind of ridiculous, but the man wore it with so much confidence that it worked.


    The same rule of overbearing confidence translating into fashion held true with the rest of his wardrobe, bright green shorts that rode up his legs higher then I would have dared and a light blue tank top.


    The werewolf was right around six feet tall, with a leanly muscled build and a face that¡­well, he looked like he could be a surfer boy heartthrob in any chick flick from the early 2000s.


    ¡°So, how¡¯d the latest patch job go?¡±


    I chuckled, though the sound sent a bolt of pain through my side.  I had been healed a remarkable amount in the last week, but I¡¯d still come close to dying. My body was far from whole.


    ¡°I¡¯m feeling like a few miles of bad road.¡±


    Bobby scowled.  ¡°I thought you were getting better?¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Yeah.  I felt like the whole, torn-up highway before.¡±


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    He grinned, his blue eyes sparkling.  ¡°Progress is progress!¡±


    I started to climb to my feet, and Bobby helped me. I fought down a shudder at the contact.  The last few weeks had curbed some of my aversion to touch, but it was far from gone.  Having the living touch me without trying to tear me apart was helping, but only to a point.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I said as I wobbled on my feet.


    Bobby hovered close, ready to step in at a moment''s notice.


    I felt weak, uncomfortably so, but I was standing.


    I took as deep a breath as I could without straining my side.


    Wonderful.


    Being cooped up was definitely worse than the pain.


    Bobby tilted his head to the side.  ¡°Blair¡¯s back.¡±


    I stared at him for a second. ¡°You know, it¡¯s the little reminders that throw me.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± Bobby arched a blond brow.


    ¡°Werewolf senses and whatnot.  I know that they¡¯re ridiculously past human, but it¡¯s things like hearing Blair pull in from across a giant mansion that drive that point in.¡±


    Bobby nodded.  ¡°I think I get what you mean, but in reverse.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± I shifted, the manor¡¯s wooden floor creaking underfoot.


    Before Bobby could answer, the door opened, and Blair stepped in.  She must have booked it to get here so fast.


    She wore a leather bomber jacket, a white T, and loose black sweats¡ªwerewolves tended to like clothes that could be thrown off at a moment''s notice.


    The woman was around 6¡¯2, with a build closer to a Greek statue than a person¡ªdamn werewolves¡ªand- my train of thought was cut off as she rushed forward.


    ¡°Your walking! How are you feeling?¡± She clasped my shoulders as if afraid I would topple over.


    Which was fair, all things considered.  I hadn¡¯t exactly been a picture of health.


    ¡°I¡¯m feeling better, Blair,¡± I chuckled.  ¡°Practically good as new!¡±  I tried to roll my shoulder but stopped halfway through.  I wasn¡¯t quite good as new.


    She frowned and then wrapped me in a careful hug.  I stiffened, then returned it.


    She was¡­warm. And that didn¡¯t feel like a bad thing.


    She stepped back, reluctantly letting my shoulders go.  I could tell she was still tensed, half expecting me to topple.


    While her concern was touching, I wanted to move more than be coddled right now.


    A week in bed had driven me half insane.


    ¡°Care for a walk around the manor?¡±


    She smiled.  ¡°Of course.¡±


    Bobby and Rodgers headed for the door with us but went left as we turned right.


    ¡°Going to go harass Laurel,¡± Bobby said.


    Rodgers chuckled. ¡°I¡¯m going to check on the graveyard.¡±


    Blair and I meandered through the twisting halls, chatting idly.  We strayed away from serious topics and just talked about anything and everything that crossed our minds.


    It wasn¡¯t as if we hadn¡¯t talked over the last week. She had been a frequent visitor to patient Alder. But I couldn¡¯t stress enough how much I hated being bedridden, so walking and talking felt like magic.


    We passed by an intersection, and Jack bounded out of the hall on my left to crash against my leg.  Since the cat weighed all of ten pounds, he bounced off me like he¡¯d struck a wall.


    That didn¡¯t seem to bother the little guy as he quickly wrapped himself around my leg, purring steadily.


    ¡°Hey, Jack.  I¡¯d pet you, but I¡¯m not bending down right now.¡±


    The cat meowed in protest but subsided as Blair scooped him up.


    She brought him close, and I obliged the cat, scratching him under his chin.


    He purred, then bundled up in Blair¡¯s arms.


    It looked a little ridiculous, the tiny cat and the werewolf, and I couldn¡¯t help but smile.


    After a few more minutes, I decided to steer the conversation toward a less cheerful topic.


    ¡°Any big news?¡±


    Blair scowled, the humor crawling away from her face.  ¡°Nothing major.  The war is still a cold one.  Back alley brawls and fights in isolated towns.¡±  She idly scratched Jack behind the ears.


    ¡°The Barrow King is pushing at the edges of a lot of places but isn¡¯t committing to any of them, which forces us to spread thin.  We outnumber his known allies, but his spirit magic and ability to raise and control undead makes it so he can suddenly increase his forces at any given place much faster than we can.¡±


    She brushed her hair behind one shoulder.


    ¡°And from what we can gather, he is pulling in more allies fast.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Super.¡°


    Blair nodded. ¡°Yeah.¡°


    I studied her expression. Something more was bothering her, something more specific than the general ¡®we¡¯re at war¡¯ thing.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡°


    She glanced at me and raised her brows. ¡°Am I that easy to read?¡°


    I shook my head. ¡°No. Typically trying to reach you is like trying to read a stone wall. I¡¯m just that damn good.¡°


    She chuckled. ¡°What¡¯s bothering me is that this war doesn¡¯t make sense. Solomon wasn¡¯t known for being a fool before all of this.  But he¡¯d have to be a push things like he is. He doesn¡¯t have the firepower for it.¡°


    She gestured with one hand as she talked, keeping Jack cradled against her chest with the other.


    The cat followed her gesturing intently.


    ¡°There are powerhouses outside of the Pact¡ªancient beings closer to gods than anything else. Hell, there might still be gods out there wandering around. But as far as we know, none are allied with Solomon.¡±


    She paused, and Jack filled the silence with a meow.


    Blair gave him another idle pat before continuing.  ¡°He has some strong people on his side. Even a few that can contend with spooks like my parents and some of the other faction leaders.¡± She stared down the hall, her gaze distant.


    ¡°But not strong enough to contend with the old monsters allied with the Pact. Not with things on the level of the Adjudicator.¡°


    I frowned. ¡°So, if he¡¯s not an idiot but has still committed to this, the question is¡­what are we missing?¡±

 A Corpse In Chains 3: Card Tricks

    Solomon sat in a plain kitchen that smelled of freshly baked bread, one arm resting on a scratched, timeworn table.


    He held a hand of cards before him, their surface illuminated by the cheap yellow light buzzing quietly overhead.


    Sitting across from the vampire was a dead man.


    He wore a spotless back suit, dark as night save for the threads of silver around his wrist, collar and a line of gleaming gray skull buttons down the middle.


    The grey-skinned man was tall, a positive giant that had to be pushing eight feet.  He was lean both in build and face, with a long forehead, hollow cheeks, and green eyes that glowed with a steady light.


    He shifted his right hand, causing the three links of chain connected to his shackle to jingle slightly. The chains and shackles they connected to were black, so black that the night around them seemed bright.


    Solomon kept his senses far from those things.


    The Corpse In Chains had been known by many names, though most were lost to history.


    He had asked Solomon to call him Thar.


    In his millennia of existence, Thar had sought great works of art and created them himself.


    He had delved into the mysteries of magic and waged war on his enemies.


    He was an innovator, a conqueror, a liberator, a tyrant. A king.


    And he was losing at a game of Uno quite badly.


    He clenched his hand around the cards, bending them slightly. That was an impressive show of control, considering that even as weakened as he was, those hands could powder stone like chalk.


    ¡°This game is foolish! Utterly lacking in strategy and far too reliant on luck.¡° His voice was solid and smooth, flowing into the kitchen like a trained orator.


    Solomon smiled. ¡°It sounds like you are being a sore loser.¡°


    Thar raised a finger and scowled.  "I am a sore loser,¡° he pointed out. ¡°I can respect an adversary displaying a modicum of skill and ingenuity. Or, at the very least, some brute strength.¡°


    ¡°But dumb luck?¡± He scowled.  ¡°Dreadful.¡±


    Solomon shrugged helplessly. After a moment of thought, he tapped his chest with a thought.


    His magic was around half full.


    It was fairly slow to refill, though that would change with time.


    The more he emptied and refilled his reservoir, the deeper it would become and the faster it would renew. But he was still quite a ways off from anything like a speedy recovery unless he was in an area truly dense with ambient magic


    Once his magic was refilled, he would dump it to raise more troops.


    These troops weren¡¯t for him, however. They were for the person they were waiting on.


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    They were late, but Solomon hadn¡¯t really expected a half-mad necromancer to be timely in the first place.


    ¡°You know, Solomon, my lad,¡± Thar said as he tapped his chin.


    Solomon raised a dark brow. At over 600 years old, not many called him lad. Though in the lifespan of immortals, 600 wasn¡¯t much.


    ¡°I thought you decided to stop calling me lad yesterday?¡±


    ¡°I did. It slipped out. But something has been bothering me.¡°


    Solomon rolled his hand in a ¡®go on¡¯ gesture.


    The corpse gave him a small smile. ¡°Why me?¡°


    Thar didn¡¯t do anything. His posture didn¡¯t change. His magic didn¡¯t so much as shift.  But suddenly, the giant loomed in Solomon¡¯s vision, and a faint pressure shoved in from all around.


    It wasn¡¯t an attack. It was Thar giving Solomon his full attention.


    Solomon didn¡¯t let the weight of Thar¡¯s gaze affect him as he considered the question, his cards forgotten.


    Why had he chosen the Corpse In Chains?


    Finally, he spoke, resting his hands upon each other as he studied the man.


    ¡°I am lancing a boil, Thar. Venting the pressure on a steam engine before it bursts and takes us all with it. I am going to war now to try to prevent a greater one in the future.¡±  He met The Corpse¡¯s gaze.


    ¡°I am strong, but I am not the strongest. I¡¯m not even in competition for the title. I have some true powers on my side. But if the old players in the Pact decide to get off their thrones and out of their caves and strongholds to squash me, there was little I could do but delay them, much less stop them.¡°


    The other man nodded, his green eyes intense. He played a card, and Solomon briefly looked at his hand before playing one himself.


    Thar tapped his chin again, chains jingling softly.  ¡°You needed a trump card, so to speak. But surely things have not grown so dim that I was the only light?¡±


    Solomon shook his head. ¡°No. Not my only option. But you were the option aligned with my goals.¡°


    ¡°To prevent the most destruction in the long run, yes? Then again, why me? I haven¡¯t looked into it much since my awakening, but there were some nasty tales about me during my time.¡±


    He leaned back, his chair creaking under his weight.  ¡°I highly doubt they have turned positive in my absence.¡°


    Solomon¡¯s lips quirked into a small smile. ¡°No. There are some truly horrifying tales about you. But, there are tales of your mercy and your charity as well as your odd rampage or razing of a city. Your very being is a contradiction, according to every record I could find.¡±


    ¡°You want to rule, and you want to win. What you don¡¯t want is the world to burn. You have understandable desires that are above base destruction.  You can be reasoned with.  Deals can be struck.¡±


    He frowned.  ¡°The other options¡­ not so much.¡°


    The giant nodded once, his gray lips stretching into a wide smile. ¡°Astute, and mostly accurate. One thing that I am certain stuck in the histories is my word. I do not break it, and I do not twist it unless prompted.  Deal with me in good faith, and I will return it.¡±


    His smile grew.


    He played a card, a plus 2. ¡°I like the way you think, Solomon.¡±


    ¡°Methodical.¡± He placed down another card, a second plus 2.


    "Measured." A skip card joined the growing pile.


    ¡°You thought through your options before coming to me, but despite that, I can see fire in your eyes. The hunger.¡°


    ¡°I like it.¡±


    Finally, he set down his last card, a plus 4.


    "Uno."


    Solomon stared at the pile and then at the immortal, amused.  That had not been his hand before they started talking.


    ¡°You cheated.¡±


    The Corpse¡¯s grin only widened. ¡°I won.¡°

 A Corpse In Chains 4: Cloudy With A Chance Of Necromancy

    Rain thundered down onto the streets of Bramble Myer.


    Small rivers formed next to the sidewalks, carrying a tide of orange leaves on their back.  The very air filled with the smell of Fall and rain. Fresh and cold, with just a hint of decay.


    Dalton glared up at Cornelius from his position beneath a tiny umbrella and what meager cover the bus stop provided.


    Water dripped from his dark face in small streams as his glare filled with pure accusation.


    ¡°You¡¯re enjoying this, aren¡¯t you!¡°


    Cornelius raised his brows, a pure, innocent smile stretching his lips. ¡°Whatever do you mean, my dear apprentice?¡°


    Cornelius wasn¡¯t wet. His thick yellow raincoat went down past his knees and was doing a marvelous job of protecting him from the pounding rain.


    ¡°What would I possibly have to be smug about? Maybe the fact that a certain someone insisted that I shouldn¡¯t bring my ugly coat on this trip? Or maybe that you shouldn¡¯t have let Wally try to drive? Honestly, how did you think a spider could reach the pedals? And now we¡¯ve had to take the bus on short notice.¡±


    Cornelius¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Could that be why I¡¯m feeling rather¡­ Gratified?¡°


    His apprentice growled. ¡°I resent you.¡±


    ¡°Now, now. I am a magnanimous master.¡°


    With a thought and a few deep breaths, Cornelius settled into a shallow water shift. He shaped his aura around him while sending a quick pulse of intent through the section around Dalton.


    Pull.


    All the water on Dalton¡¯s skin and clothes flew off him, pulled into a tight ball.


    Cornelius tossed the orb away and reshaped his aura to push away the rain.


    It wouldn¡¯t work for any substantial amount of water, and it certainly wouldn¡¯t work to stop an attack from another mage. But it was more than enough to keep them dry.


    Dalton nodded.  ¡°I forgive you.¡±


    Cornelius scoffed.  ¡°Forgive me for what? Wearing the right clothes for the occasion?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Cornelius¡¯s response was cut short as a black SUV rolled up to their bus stop.  The driver was kind enough to slow down and avoid sending a wave their way.


    Cornelius¡¯s mood soured.  They weren¡¯t here for a friendly call. And their car ¡®breaking down¡¯ the night before they left hadn¡¯t helped things.


    They quickly climbed inside, and the car took off before they even got their seatbelts buckled.


    The driver was a hard-looking woman with short brown hair and tanned skin.  She wasn¡¯t wearing a coat, only a loose flannel shirt and jeans.


    Werewolves rarely needed to care about the weather.


    From her intense stare and the way she held herself, Cornelius was guessing she wasn¡¯t just some driver.  ¡°Cagel?¡±


    The woman glanced at him before returning her gaze to the road.  ¡°Yes.  You¡¯ve been briefed on the situation?¡±


    He nodded.  ¡°Murder and suspected necromancer activity.¡±


    Her grip tightened further until he was sure the werewolf was about to bend the steering wheel.


    ¡°Yes.  Lilly was found dead in the woods three hours ago.  Except she was still walking around with her throat torn out.¡±


    Cornelius nodded, a cold pit forming in his stomach.  ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    She eyed him.


    Cornelius shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. ¡°One of you had to stop her.  No one should have to do that.¡±


    Cagel took a deep breath and nodded.  ¡°No.  They shouldn¡¯t.  At least the Clans sent someone with experience.¡±


    Cornelius snorted.  ¡°I unfortunately qualify.¡±


    There were plenty of mages with more experience than Cornelius had with the undead, but they were either centuries older and thus in more demand or not here.


    They sat in silence for most of the ride after that.


    Bramble Myre was a sleepy town. It was several times the size of Silver Spruce but lacked its air of insanity.  They passed by perfectly pedestrian homes and ordinary shops pelted by rain.


    Which made a murder all the more gut-wrenching.  It didn¡¯t belong in this peaceful little place. They didn¡¯t deserve this. No one did.


    They pulled into the driveway of a modest two-story home. It was dark blue with brown accents and gave Cornelius a cozy impression.


    ¡°Pack owned,¡° Cagel said as they climbed out. Cornelius didn¡¯t know much about the woman.  She was the alpha for the town''s Pack and was somewhere around 100 years old, and that was it.


    Despite that, she looked to be in her late thirties, but that was werewolves for you.


    They started walking towards the side of the house, an eerie quiet hanging over yard.


    The feeling of decay and death hit Cornelius long before the smell of it.


    It was an oily, putrid sense, like shoving your hand into a bucket of maggots coated in grease.


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    It was far from the worst thing Cornelius had sensed, but from the strength of it, he judged it to come from a moderately powerful mage. Not someone as wet behind the ears as Dalton, but no master.


    The sensation hit Dalton about 10 seconds after Cornelius. The boy immediately doubled over and vomited.


    Cagel nodded as if she¡¯d expected as much, and Cornelius patted him on the back before reaching into his coat.  A water bottle and a stick of gum later, Dalton rejoined them.


    He turned to his apprentice and put a hand on his shoulder.  He met his eyes. ¡°You don''t have to come. You can stay.  This...it won''t be pretty.¡±


    Dalton swallowed, then opened his mouth.   He paused, then slowly shook his head.  ¡°I¡¯m supposed to be learning.  Learning how to stop something like this should be- I should come.¡±


    Cornelius felt a swell of pride clash with sadness.


    Some sights left scars.


    But his apprentice was right.  He needed to learn, and learning now could save his or someone''s life.


    Cagel gave the boy a single stiff nod of approval.


    They walked around to the side of the house and found a sectioned-off area of torn-up dirt and splintered wood.


    The woman hadn¡¯t gotten a clean death.


    Her throat was a mess of torn flesh and dry blood, and the rest of her wasn¡¯t much better. One arm was broken, there were clean slashes along her abdomen, and a ragged stab wound near her left temple.


    ¡°How old was she?¡°


    The Alpha¡¯s hands tightened, relaxed, tightened again. ¡°26.¡°


    ¡°How much of the damage was done before she was reanimated?¡°


    ¡°The torn throat and the slashes.¡° Her words were rough, a mix of rage and grief bubbling beneath the surface, desperate for an outlet.


    Cornelius would try to give her one if he could piece the clues together.


    He wrapped the body in his aura, sensing it as clearly as possible. His earlier estimate of the magic was a little off. It was potent, more potent than realized, but sloppier, too. This was done by someone less experienced but with more raw power to throw around.


    A dangerous combination.


    However, something was off. If this woman was 26, then Cornelius doubted an inexperienced necromancer could¡¯ve disabled her without leaving any wounds aside from a torn throat.


    The stomach wounds had been made at the end. He could sense a dense cloud of corruption there.  It was likely done with a ritual knife.


    ¡°Silver?¡°


    Cagel nodded.


    ¡°Dagger, our best guess. We haven¡¯t been able to track it down.¡±


    Cornelius inspected the woman¡¯s wrists and ankles. There were no wounds visible, but he thought he could feel something.


    He turned to Cagel. ¡°Can you smell magic?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Could you tell me if her wrists or ankles have any scents aside from necromancy?¡±


    She frowned, tiny specks of yellow swimming in her irises.  ¡°You can¡¯t?¡±


    Cornelius didn¡¯t bristle at her tone.  One of her Pack had been worse than murdered, and now the supposed expert couldn¡¯t sense something.


    ¡°Mage senses can be trained in different directions. My specialty is range and deeply analyzing main traces, not sifting through muddled layers of magical impressions.  In this case, the necromancy is overpowering most of the other traces for me.¡±


    Cagel nodded and bent down.  She breathed deep, her face wrinkling in disgust.


    ¡°¡­Stone. Or earth, if the distinction matters.¡±


    Cornelius rubbed his beard.  ¡°Can you tell how strong it is?¡±


    Cagel closed her eyes and took another breath.  ¡°Very, it¡¯s¡­the necromancy feels more chaotic in comparison. Unrefined.¡±


    Cornelius nodded, the pieces starting to fall into place.


    ¡°Dalton, what can you sense?¡±


    His apprentice flinched but slowly extended his aura.


    His was a weak, unrefined thing next to Cornelius¡¯s, but he still pushed through the haze of corruption to scan the body.


    He ran his shroud along her head, then moved down to her stomach. He paused, retching a few times before finishing at her wrists and ankles.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­strong.  But¡­is necromancy supposed to feel so unorganized?¡±


    Cornelius raised his brows.  He was surprised that he had caught that so quickly. ¡°No.  It often does since necromancers tend to get caught before they can refine their skills.  But this¡­ this was a training exercise.¡±


    A furious growl erupted from Cagel.  ¡°What?¡±


    He firmed his jaw as he stared at the woman¡¯s ruined throat. ¡°Probably a more experienced necromancer.  Used rock or clay to hold her up, remove her leverage.¡± His knuckles popped, and he blinked. He hadn¡¯t even realized he was clenching his fists. ¡°It would give their apprentice time to work.¡±


    Cagel stared down at Lilly¡¯s corpse with yellow eyes.  ¡°How do we find them?¡±


    ¡°What do you know of soul magic?¡°


    She shrugged.  ¡°Not much.  I¡¯ve only encountered it a few times.¡±


    ¡°Dalton?¡±


    Dalton swallowed as Cagel¡¯s gaze focused on him.


    ¡°It- it requires extreme desperation or arrogance.  It can affect spirits, ghosts, perform necromancy, and target life force directly.¡±


    Cornelius nodded.  ¡°All true, though necromancy and spirit magic are technically different.  What¡¯s important here is the requirements for the shift.  It¡¯s one of the most variable shifts because the emotion itself doesn¡¯t matter. It¡¯s the force of will, the desperation, the want. You must want to achieve the shift with everything you have, every fiber of your being.  And the only people that can pull that off consistently are the extremely skilled or the extremely desperate.¡±


    Cagel stepped back, her eyes trailing back to the corpse.  ¡°That¡¯s where the tales of mad necromancers come from?  Is it because most are mad? Or at least unstable?¡±


    Cornelius nodded.  ¡°Yes. Which is why we can expect them to attack again.  They knew she was a werewolf.  So they¡¯re likely aiming for werewolves on purpose.¡±


    ¡°That, or they are arrows aimed by the Barrow King.  This town is a short stopover from Silver Spruce.  But I don¡¯t know what he would accomplish by killing one werewolf in a strategic sense.¡±


    He sighed. ¡°Necromancers.¡± The word came out as a curse. ¡°They¡¯re so damn unstable that I can never tell if something more is going on.  They could be part of a plot, a distraction tactic, or something else.  Or they could just being insane and saw a chance to hurt someone.¡±


    Cornelius paused, taking a deep breath. When he spoke, he took time between words, ensuring they came out as advice instead of orders.  ¡°I wouldn¡¯t let anyone go anywhere except groups of three, two at the absolute smallest.  But the larger the group, the better. They¡¯ll either try to strike again, and you¡¯ll be ready, or they¡¯ll move on to easier prey.¡±


    Cagel snarled.  ¡°I don¡¯t want them to move on.  I want their heads on a spike!¡±


    Cornelius nodded.  ¡°I know.  And I don¡¯t think they will run.  Targeting werewolves, especially a Pack so close to the Pact¡¯s new staging ground, has to be deliberate. Either they''re working for the Barrow King trying to distract us and stir up chaos.¡± He sighed. ¡°Or, as I said, it¡¯s some self-imposed challenge conceived by their broken minds.¡±


    He met the woman¡¯s eyes.  ¡°Either way, I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll run.¡±


    She stared back, and her smile was savage.  ¡°Good.¡±

 A Corpse In Chains 5: A Furious Visitor

    Ghosts know me.  And I don¡¯t just mean that I talk to a lot of ghosts.  While that is certainly true, I¡¯m talking about something deeper here.


    Ghosts know me.  They know I can help them, even if they can¡¯t tell how they know.


    I¡¯m like a beacon to them, and they tend to drift in my direction subconsciously.


    Sometimes, that led murderers with a bloody axe to my doorstep, but far more often, I found ghosts that were lost, scared, and looking for help.  Or just curious.


    In today¡¯s case, I stepped out of the bathroom, my hair still dripping and wet plastic covering my bandages, to find a furious ghost waiting for me.


    She was around 5¡¯6¡±, with chubby cheeks, short brown hair, and a very muscled build.


    Her white dress was stained with dirt and worse, and as I watched, her throat opened like a gaping maw only to close a second later.


    The air filled with the scent of rot, lilac, and bleach.


    I vaguely recognized her, which made the bottom fall out of my stomach.


    ¡°THEY KILLED ME!¡± She screamed, her dark eyes alight with fury.  ¡°THEY KILLED ME FOR PRACTICE!¡±


    ¡°Who did, how long ago, and where?¡± This woman had recently died, I was sure.  She was familiar, and her wounds weren¡¯t stable. Her mind still hadn¡¯t decided how her ghostly body should look.


    On top of that, I could get a general feel for a ghost''s strength and age.


    She was new.


    And when dealing with a grieving, furious person still coming to terms with their death, giving them something to focus on was very helpful.


    The woman took a deep breath and forced herself to stop screaming.


    But while her voice didn¡¯t hurt my ears anymore, her words still dripped with barely contained rage.


    ¡°Necromancers! I don¡¯t know their names, but I can point them out to you in a crowd.  They killed me¡­what day is it?¡±


    ¡°Monday the fifth.¡±


    ¡°Then they¡­they killed me yesterday.  In Bramble Myre.¡±


    As she said that, her face finally clicked.  She was in Cagel¡¯s Pack, and her name was Lilly.


    My gut clenched.  We hadn¡¯t had more than a handful of conversations, but I had seen her last year!  She¡¯d had a life-had been alive.  And someone had taken that from her for practice.


    My heart tried to break for her and freeze over simultaneously.


    I didn¡¯t let any of it show on my face, keeping my tone calm but friendly.  She didn¡¯t look like she needed condolences right now. She needed someone to take action.


    ¡°Does Cagel know?¡±


    Lilly¡¯s face crumpled.  ¡°She does, but I can¡¯t talk to her! Every time I try, nothing happens! Anything I try to do just gets nothing or maybe a shiver!¡± Her voice started to rise into a scream again, and I stepped forward and grabbed her shoulders.


    Her skin was cool beneath my fingers but solid.


    ¡°Lilly, I will help you catch them and talk to Cagel and anyone else you want to.  If you¡¯re up for learning, I or some friends can even teach you how to make yourself visible.¡±


    She stared at my hands, her eyes wide.  ¡°You can touch me!¡±


    ¡°Yes.  You knew I could do ghost stuff. That¡¯s why you came to me, right?¡°


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    She nodded, staring at my hands as I pulled back.


    ¡°You helped us when Cagel¡­you helped us, and I- I could just tell as soon as I was¡­aware.¡±


    I nodded.¡° That¡¯s normal. I am¡­ loud, spiritually speaking. Look, give me five minutes to get dressed and grab a few things, and we¡¯ll go to Cagel.¡°


    Lilly took another deep breath and then nodded.


    I considered calling some ghostly backup to keep her company, but I didn¡¯t want to use any of my shroud right now. With the way things were going, my life would get more hectic, not less.


    I would need every scrap of magic I could get my hands on.


    So, I resorted to the good old fashion method.


    I cupped my hands over my mouth and shouted for all I was worth. ¡°Ben! Rodgers! And anybody else who feels like tagging along, I need you!¡°


    Less than five seconds later, my door practically flew off its hinges as Blair sprinted into the room, eyes red and a growl already bubbling in her throat.


    She stopped, seeing no apparent danger, and looked me over. I blushed, in a manly way, of course, and quickly threw on a shirt.


    Werewolves might not care about being seen buck naked, but I did, dammit.


    I didn¡¯t care an awful lot, but still.


    ¡°Sorry, sorry, should¡¯ve expected that. Not used to being around anyone but the ghosts. No immediate danger.¡°


    Blair relaxed slightly, but her eyes still scanned the room. ¡°You were talking to a ghost then?¡°


    My expression darkened. ¡°Yeah. There¡¯s necromancers a town over.¡±


    Blair immediately went back into high alert.


    She started shouting orders into the empty air and then whipped her phone out and speed-dialed a number. Werewolves rushed by the open door, carrying weapons or supplies, and a moment later, Blair¡®s mother sounded over the phone.


    ¡°How reliable is the information?¡° Blair asked.


    ¡°Very. Lilly is one of Cagel¡¯s Pack. She died yesterday.¡° I turned to Lilly, and my voice softened. ¡°How many necromancers, if you can recall?¡°


    Surprisingly, she seemed much more relaxed than she had a moment before. It seemed seeing the rapid response from the Northwoods had cheered her up. Well, maybe that wasn¡¯t so surprising. Seeing other werewolves taking this seriously was probably a comfort.


    ¡°Two necromancers that I saw. A younger and an elder. The younger was a late teen girl, probably 19, maybe 20. Cute features, button nose, and light gray eyes. She was cackling like a psychotic bitch, but ¨C¡° Lilly took a deep breath and lowered her voice. ¡°But she probably looks normal when she isn¡¯t trying to kill you. I didn¡¯t get a look at the elder. But he smelled male and was tall. They both bleached their clothes and wore heavy perfume to mask their scents.¡±


    I relayed the information back to Blair and her mother.


    Adela said she would get the information to Cagel and then hung up.


    As far as I knew, the woman had been constantly on the move the last week, attacking compounds owned by the Barrow King or defending key locations.


    A werewolf of her age and strength was such a valuable asset that she could be sent alone to secure areas, freeing up dozens of other spooks to tackle other tasks and regroup.


    I turned to Blair. ¡°I need to go talk to Cagel.¡±


    About a dozen emotions rolled over Blair¡®s face before her expression firmed into a grim mask. ¡°Fine. But my whole Pack is coming with you.¡°


    I held up my hands in mock surrender. ¡°Hey, no complaints here. I don¡¯t want to try and fight a necromancer by my lonesome.¡°


    A moment later, Ben and Rogers flew in from the roof, startling Lilly and Blair.


    I brought them up to speed, and they quickly took Lilly aside and started giving her a gentle rundown on the needs to know of being a ghost.


    Blair trailed me as we walked toward the front door.


    ¡°How often does this happen?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°You just found out there¡¯s been a murder by having someone ambush you outside your shower, and you haven¡¯t even paused.¡±


    I considered her words for a beat.  My focus drifted to the nature paintings lining the dark walls.


    Master Bram loved his art.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know?  Ghosts have always come to me.  It¡¯s just how things are.¡±


    Blair frowned.  ¡°And you¡¯re okay with that?¡±


    I met her eyes.  ¡°Yes.¡±


    She stared for a few seconds before slowly nodding.  ¡°Let¡¯s go then.¡±


    I chuckled.  A waster of words Blair wasn¡¯t.


    Bobby fell into step beside us, and Laurel and Simon quickly followed.  ¡°I¡¯ll admit,¡± Bobby said with a pensive cast to his voice.  ¡°Going to a murder scene with the victim is kinda throwing me for a loop.¡±


    I shrugged.  ¡°It¡¯s pretty normal.  Ghosts want justice.¡±


    Laurel choked.  ¡°I don¡¯t think you can comment on normal, Alder.¡±


    ¡°Bah.¡±

 A Corpse In Chains 6: Three Ghosts, A Telss, And A Bunch Of Werewolves Get In A Van

    Werewolves and car rides.  It''s a classic combination.


    Well, maybe not ¡®classic,¡¯ but certainly interesting.


    Blair wasn¡¯t driving with reckless abandon, but I was still clutching onto the ceiling handle thingy with a white-knuckled grip.


    She glanced at me and rolled her eyes.  ¡°Drama queen.¡±


    ¡°Hey, you wouldn¡¯t be having that attitude if you couldn¡¯t walk off a crash like it was a stubbed toe!¡±


    ¡°Fair,¡± Bobby called from the back.


    ¡°Shut up, Bobby, my driving¡¯s fine!¡±


    ¡°Hey, I didn¡¯t criticize your driving; just commented on the fact that if a crash were likely to kill me, I¡¯d be terrified of it.¡±


    Blair¡¯s eyebrow twitched as we took a turn.


    I glanced toward the back. Laurel, Simon, and Bobby sat in the middle, with Lilly, Rodgers, and Ben behind them.


    ¡°How many ghosts are in Silver Spruce?¡± I heard Lilly ask Rodgers.


    ¡°A lot.¡± Was his helpful answer.  I could picture the woman¡¯s glare as Rodgers laughed.


    ¡°In all seriousness, we can¡¯t get an exact number. It changes over time.  Ghosts move on, either from the town or literally, and more come from outside or as people die. But I¡¯d wager dozens at any given time.¡±


    He waved his hand.  ¡°We get a lot of ghosts that just stop by to say hi or see what¡¯s drawing them,¡± he jabbed at me.


    ¡°Makes for some¡­eventful evenings sometimes.¡±


    Seeing my chance to dump weird knowledge into people''s laps, I spoke up.  ¡°Our last mayor was something of a gun nut and extremely anti-authority.  There are still firearms scattered about the town hall.¡±


    Laurel blinked. ¡°How has the new mayor not cleaned the place up?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ve tried, but they can never stay in office long enough to find them all.¡±


    Laurel frowned.  ¡°They? I thought you said he was the last mayor.¡±


    Ben chuckled.  ¡°He was.  We¡¯ve just never voted for a new one.¡±


    She opened her mouth.  ¡°Then how¡­¡±


    I shrugged.  ¡°They just walk into the office, and if no one protests too loudly, they¡¯re the new mayor.¡±


    Laurel struggled for words.  ¡°That can¡¯t be legal.¡±


    I shrugged.  ¡°It¡¯s probably not, but no one calls


    us on it.¡±


    ¡°So, how long ago was he your mayor?¡±


    I paused and did the math.  I could remember the exact year he died since the old bastard had made me use my aura on him.


    Of all the ghosts I¡¯d forced to move on, he was one of the weirdest.   Not tragic or scarring, really, just unreasonably strange.


    ¡°He died in ¡®63, so it¡¯s been a minute.¡±


    ¡°You guys haven¡¯t had a mayor for almost 60 years?¡± Lilly asked.


    I looked back at her.  Some of the tension in her shoulders had faded during the drive, and she looked at me curiously.


    Perfect.


    ¡°Who needs mayors, really?¡±


    Lilly laughed.  ¡°We always say you lot are odd, but I never really understood how true that was.¡±


    I grinned.  ¡°You¡¯re a werewolf, isn¡¯t that the pot calling the kettle black?¡±


    Variations of  ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean!?¡± Was the response from most of the van.


    I laughed.


    ~<>~<>~


    Bramble Myre was bigger than Silver Spruce but with a much lower density of weird.  There was Cagel¡¯s pack, a handful of lone were-kin and vampires, and like two hedge mages.


    There might have been a few more spooks, but those were all I could think of off the top of my head.


    Cagel¡¯s Packhouse was a big three-story affair that towered over its distant neighbors.  Despite its size, its warm brown walls and neat hedges gave off a friendly, if reserved, air.


    Lilly scrabbled at the van door. Her hand went straight threw, of course.  With a frustrated grunt, she threw herself out.


    I fought to keep a neutral expression.  I hated this part.


    The others looked worried as I climbed out, but I just shook my head.  My body protested the movement, my side and back throbbing.


    I ignored the pain as much as I could, shoving it to the back of my mind.  ¡°Stay next to the car for a second, please? I don¡¯t want to crowd Cagel.  Especially with people she doesn¡¯t know.¡±


    Blair clenched her jaw but nodded.


    Lilly stopped at the front door.  The ride over, she had been a mix of curiosity and shaky anger, but that shell was starting to crack.


    I patted her back a moment before the front door opened.


    Cagel stared down at me, confusion written plain across her face.


    She was a tall woman with short brown hair and hard features.  She wore a red flannel, dark jeans, and her eyes were rimmed in red.


    ¡°Alder? What are you doing here? And what happened to you!?¡±


    I smiled.  My face wasn¡¯t that bad, not when compared to my side, but I still had a few shiners.


    ¡°The summit.  And I¡¯m here because of Lilly.¡±


    Cagel went stiff.  She knew what I could do.  And she was a smart woman; it didn¡¯t take long for her to put two and two together.


    ¡°She¡¯s here?¡°


    I looked to Lilly, who was¡­I didn¡¯t think there was a word for her expression.  Overjoyed, grief-stricken, frustrated, all of those and more emotions I couldn¡¯t pick out flashing over her face in an instant.


    ¡°She¡¯s here.¡±


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Cagel followed my gaze.  ¡°I- I failed you, Lilly. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    To my surprise, the words seemed to calm Lilly.  Her back straightened, her shoulders firmed, and she stared right at Cagel.


    ¡°No, you didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°No, you didn¡¯t.¡± I mirrored.


    ¡°They came out of nowhere, and you had no reason to expect them.  I¡­I was just too weak.¡±


    I didn¡¯t want to say that last part. I didn¡¯t want to see the anguish in Cagel¡¯s eyes, but I said it anyway, and I didn¡¯t look away as Lilly poured her heart out.


    ~<>~<>~


    Bobby turned away from the van, grabbing Simon by the shoulder as he did.


    He didn¡¯t need to listen to the hurt in Alder¡¯s voice or see the pain in the alpha¡¯s eyes.  One more witness wouldn¡¯t do anything right now.


    What they needed was someone to start working on a solution.


    He nodded to Blair, and she nodded back.  There was no need for words. They would investigate, and if something happened, they would call for her.


    Bramble Myre wasn¡¯t the confusing mess that Silver Spruce was.  Bobby was coming to like that mess; it had a unique charm, but he wouldn¡¯t know where to start in a place like Silver Spruce.


    ¡°You remember what we¡¯re looking for?¡± Bobby asked, his voice steady.


    They had quizzed Lilly on what to look out for, as she had first-hand experience, as it were, and had listened to her alpha at the crime scene.


    Bobby shook his head.  Ghosts. He still wasn¡¯t used to seeing them so often.  They were things you heard fireside stories about and maybe had the odd encounter with.


    Not when you were around Alder.  Now, ghosts were very present to Bobby.  Present, and things that could take over your body like a plague.


    Simon bobbed his head as he peered around.  The man always examined new places like he was afraid to miss something, his keen eyes taking in every little bit of their surroundings.


    ¡°Bleach and decay.¡±


    Chances were Simon wouldn¡¯t pick up on the decay.  He didn¡¯t have a scent for magic like Bobby, but two noses were still better than one.  Even if Simon couldn¡¯t smell magic, that didn¡¯t mean he couldn¡¯t catch things Bobby missed.


    After a quick search and liberal use of Google maps, they headed for a motel.


    The town was small enough that Bobby was pretty sure the local Pack would have checked here already, but it could have been missed in all the chaos, and they needed to start somewhere.


    The motel was a rundown one-story affair with a log cabin aesthetic.  It had aging walls stained from time and weather, a bright green roof, and a flickering red sign out front that read: Mort Ridges Motel


    Simon sniffed.  ¡°Musty, but no rot.¡±


    Bobby shrugged.  ¡°Let¡¯s give it a look.¡± The front door swung open, rusty hinges protesting the motion with a squeal.


    They winced. They could usually filter out sounds so as not to be overwhelmed, less so when they were on high alert


    The entryway had a chair with torn leather cushions against one wall and a coffee table piled high with gossip mags next to it.


    Across from them was the front desk. It was made of dark wood, though Bobby could barely tell under the massive layer of papers covering every inch of available space.


    A squirrelly woman sat behind the desk, great horn-rimmed spectacles resting on her nose and a book in hand.


    Bobby patted Simon on the back and gave him a little shove.  ¡°Go make small talk. Keep her distracted,¡± he muttered under his breath.  Simon gave him a glare, but he went and started awkwardly talking to the woman.


    Bobby turned his nose to the walls and floor.


    ¡­Nothing.


    They needed a good cleaning, and there was a patch of cat piss in one corner, but aside from that, it was unremarkable. Bobby set off down one hall, trusting Simon to distract the woman.  He wouldn¡¯t appreciate that task, but he¡¯d get it done.


    He kept his sniffer primed as he walked past the identical doors but didn¡¯t catch anything odd.  Creaks and groans from the wall, the sound of a couple arguing.  A few rooms over a couple doing the opposite.  No bleach, aside from a cleaning cart.


    Bobby walked the motel''s short length twice before concluding that he had, in fact, found jack-shit.


    He sighed and went to free Simon.  He hadn¡¯t expected to find anything, but a man could hope.  But even if this place was a dud, it was one they could mark off the list.


    He reached Simon and threw an arm around his shoulders.  He gave the woman behind the desk a beaming smile.  ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, I just rechecked our tickets, and it turns out our flight leaves at nine tonight instead of tomorrow!¡± He started tugging Simon away.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry for wasting your time!¡±


    ¡°I, uh, sure.  I-ah, I hope you make your flight!¡±


    Bobby gave her a grateful smile as he pulled Simon along.  The woman blushed slightly.


    Simon grumbled as they walked out.  ¡°She spent the last five minutes being far less pleasant to me.¡±


    Bobby shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve just got that magic touch, Simon.  You¡¯ll understand when you''re older.¡±


    Simon elbowed him but couldn¡¯t hide a snort.


    ¡°Where to next?¡±


    Bobby hummed.  ¡°The next place that probably won¡¯t turn up any answers.¡±


    ¡°And after that?¡±


    Bobby chuckled.  ¡°We do it again.¡±


    ~<>~<>~


    Being a mouthpiece for an emotional outpouring was a uniquely unpleasant experience.


    At once far too personal, yet utterly detached.


    You had to speak confessions of love and hate, had to see the anguish or joy in another¡¯s eyes when none of the words were your own.


    And you both knew it.


    Cagel and Lilly¡¯s conversation was¡­a lot.  But after the really heavy stuff was done, I excused myself to go to the bathroom, and Rodgers stepped in to be Lilly¡¯s translator since he could make himself visible.


    He could have done that from the start, but Cagel knew me.  It wasn¡¯t a job I would bundle off to someone else.


    Cagel had a big house, three stories, and a basement, and it gave off a causal sense of wealth. The kind that didn¡¯t need to flex with tacky displays and trends.


    It made sense. Werewolves were social creatures, even more than humans. I didn¡¯t know if every Pack did it, but I knew of several who owned a large communal house for its members to stay in if they wished.


    As for the wealthy part, well spooks tended to live for quite a long time.  It wasn¡¯t hard to accumulate wealth if you lived long enough.


    I did my business and tried my best to keep my thoughts from wandering.


    Ghosts like Lilly hurt differently than the others.  She wasn¡¯t ancient or several decades dead, at the least.  She had died days ago. Merely a stone''s throw away from my home.  It felt like I¡¯d failed somehow.


    It wasn¡¯t logical or even reasonable.  I had no way of knowing, and if I were there, I probably would have been a second body on the pile.


    But she had been so close!


    As I started to walk back, my shoulder started to itch.


    I scratched it, but it didn¡¯t help.  I stopped.  The itch felt¡­cold.  I closed my eyes and really felt.


    The itch wasn¡¯t coming from my body.  It was coming from my magic.


    I turned slowly, keeping my eyes closed.  ¡°Blair, can you come


    here for a second?¡± I didn¡¯t say it loudly, but I didn¡¯t need to.


    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± Her voice sounded right over my shoulder.  I flinched.  ¡°Jesus, Blair, you¡¯re too big to move that quietly.¡±


    She chuckled.  ¡°Why are you walking with your eyes closed?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure yet. Can you make sure I don¡¯t trip and break my teeth on something?¡±


    She hummed, which I took as a yes.


    I started moving toward the feeling. All of my focus turned toward my magic.  I poured so much into it that I could barely feel Blair nudge me away from obstacles.


    The thing was cold in a very familiar way.  It wasn¡¯t the cold of a Fall day or anything so pleasant.  It was the cold of the grave, but wrong. Twisted and tangled up in ways didn¡¯t understand, and didn¡¯t want to.


    Blair put a hand on my shoulder, stopping me.  I opened my eyes and saw a wall inches from my face.


    I reached forward and gave the wall a mental nudge.


    A sigil blossomed on the plaster.  Deep blue and bright yellow, it was bigger than my hand and made up of sinuous lines that made sudden jagged turns at random.


    ¡°What is that!?¡± Blair snapped as she pulled me back a step.


    I narrowed my eyes.  ¡°A ward¡­I think it¡¯s a magical camera, though it feels terrible. And kind of sloppy.¡±


    With my senses focused on the ward, I could feel the flash of overwhelming rage pulse through it at my words.


    I quickly stepped back and met Blair¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°And whoever made it is listening in right now.¡±

 A Corpse In Chains 7: Wards On The Doorstep

    The mage clans are many things. Powerful, expansive, mysterious, terrifying, morally questionable. And today, I¡¯ll be damned if they weren¡¯t fast.


    Cornelius and Dalton arrived at Cagel¡¯s house a little over a half hour after I found the ward.


    Blair had whipped out her phone, and a few calls later, the mages were on the way.


    Cagel rushed them inside, and we barely exchanged nods before I led them to the ward.


    Cornelius was a tall man in his fifties, right around six foot, with an athletic build, pale skin, and a neatly trimmed black beard with streaks of grey at the sides and a sharp haircut.


    He wore jeans and, of all things, a thick yellow raincoat that went past his knees.  The kind you¡¯d expect a fisherman with a drinking problem to wear.


    His apprentice was somewhere between sixteen and eighteen, average height and slimly built with dark skin and short black hair.


    He had a handsome face and wore a brown jacket and dark jeans.


    I looked between the master and apprentice a few times.  I wanted to ask.  I really wanted to ask.


    But I shouldn¡¯t.


    Lilly walked over, her feet phasing through the floor a little with each step.  The moment she saw Cornelius, she snorted.  ¡°Why the hell is he wearing a raincoat?¡±


    I broke.  ¡°Why the raincoat?¡±


    Dalton immediately turned to Cornelius and gave him a look.


    Cornelius eyed his apprentice before shrugging.  ¡°I like it.¡±


    I pursed my lips and inclined my head.  Fair enough.


    ¡°The ward, please,¡± Cagel said, her tone even.


    I nodded and waved toward the wall.


    Cornelius frowned, and his aura shifted.


    I stepped back.  Seeing a mage''s aura was deeply unsettling. It was like- like¡­I didn¡¯t have anything to compare it to.  The only mage auras I was used to seeing, I was very used to seeing. The same old hedge mages and third-string talents I¡¯d seen my whole life.


    Despite the cat being out of the bag, seeing an unfamiliar mage aura made my brain scream at me to run, that I would be found out, that it was over.


    I slowed my breathing before my heart could really start pumping, but Blair and Laurel stilled and looked my way.


    Damn werewolves and their damn senses.


    Blair shifted forward a few steps, subtly placing herself between me and the mages.


    Cornelius¡¯s aura was a deep grey with tinges of blue at the edges.


    That was how the man¡¯s aura looked, but how it felt?  Stability incarnate.  This was no diffuse hedge mages aura. This was a mage, and from what little I had heard a strong one.


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    He definitely felt the part.


    Cornelius focused on the wall, his expression stilling.


    After a minute, he waved over his shoulder.  ¡°Dalton, scan this from a distance. Be careful.  I¡¯ve shut off their ability to hear through this, but their sense for magic should still work fine.¡±


    Dalton extended his aura.  It was closer to white than grey and tinged with a bit of yellow and red at the edges.  It felt much much weaker than  Cornelius¡¯s, like a sapling compared to a towering pine.


    He felt about it with tentative touches, and after a minute, Cornelius spoke up.


    ¡°What do you feel?¡±


    Dalton hummed.  ¡°It¡¯s¡­cool, but not like water or ice.  It¡¯s like¡­¡± his eyes flicked to me for a beat before returning to the ward.


    ¡°It¡¯s spirit magic, right?¡± He paused again.  ¡°But it feels off somehow.¡±


    Cornelius nodded, seemingly satisfied.  ¡°The word you''re looking for is rotten, warped.¡±


    His expression hardened.


    ¡°Necromancy is soul magic twisted into something dark and awful. It is an evil thing unless used on soulless corpses donated to the cause, and even then, it¡¯s still dubious. And these necromancers have been spying on Alpha Cagel.¡±


    Dalton frowned.  ¡°Why?¡±


    Laurel spoke up.  ¡°It lets them get a sense for who''s in the house, assuming it gives them that information.  They can plan an attack.  Easiest way to find another werewolf alone.¡±


    Cagel¡¯s knuckles popped.  Lilly walked to her alpha and hugged the woman.


    Cagel shivered but leaned closer to the woman.  I had explained what the sensation meant to her.


    ¡°Why now?¡± I didn¡¯t even realize I¡¯d asked the question until Cornelius turned to me.


    I held back a shudder.  I had no problem with the man personally. From what the others had said, he helped them against George, but he was a clan mage.


    ¡°Well,¡± Cornelius said.  ¡°It could be a move by the Burrow King.  Sending some necromancers to harass us and stir up chaos.  Or it could be rouge necromancers deciding to set up camp.  We don¡¯t know enough yet to really say.¡±


    I frowned as I inspected the ward closer.


    Cagel frowned and looked at Cornelius.  ¡°I should have had you do a sweep of our homes.¡±


    Cornelius shook his head. ¡°If anyone should have suggested that it was me.  But I didn¡¯t think they were capable of doing something like this.  Wards are hard. Unless someone specializes in them, it¡¯s unusual to see a mage use them unless they¡¯re past a hundred or extremely skilled.¡±


    ¡°For a necromancer to use them¡­¡± Cornelius frowned.  ¡°That¡¯s a bad sign.  The average necromancer is a magical thug.  They have a few good tricks they¡¯ve picked up, but aside from that, they''re as subtle as a brick through glass.¡±


    I shuddered, an old old memory trying to surface.


    A lush countryside covered in flowers, the reds and blues mixing to create a beautiful tapestry. As if God himself had reached down with a brush.


    That same countryside, the flowers gone, but just as red. More than red, there wasn¡¯t a speck of blue.  It had been scrubbed clean, drowned. The dirt stirred, and-


    I jerked my thoughts away before my emotions could get going.  Blair was looking at me, but the others were focused on Cornelius.


    Yeah. I had no interest in dealing with a skilled necromancer.


    ¡°My earlier advice still stands, but I suggest we search every Packhouse for more of these.¡± Cagel nodded, and Cornelius turned to me.


    Another bolt of panic started up, and I squashed it.  ¡°Alder, could you give me a hand? This was well hidden, and I¡¯d have trouble finding this if I didn¡¯t have someone pointing it out to me.¡±


    Going anywhere with a clan mage was like a childhood nightmare come to life.  I looked to Cagel and the woman standing behind her, the walls of this home visible through her skin.


    I swallowed.  ¡°Glad to help.¡±

 A Corpse In Chains 8: Vampires In The Cold

    Boston was cold as hell.


    Blunder had the misfortune of coming when the city was hit with record-breaking lows, freezing winds sweeping in from the sea and plummeting the temperature into the negatives.


    Blunder wasn¡¯t about to complain, though. She could cheat.


    A bit of fire magic was all it took for her to march around in her usual get-up as toasty as could be.


    Blunder strolled through the alleyway, her oversized workman¡¯s coat open despite the cold.


    She liked the city well enough.  Fine sights, nice people, and she knew a shop that served terrific sandwiches.


    Blunder raised a sandwich to her lips: fresh tomatoes, smoked turkey, homemade mayo, and crisp bread mixing to produce heaven.


    She sighed, the quiet sound lost in the hubbub of a city at night. Though that hubbub was quieter than usual, the cold chasing people into an early sleep.


    She rounded a corner, the alley opening into an industrial district.  She walked for a ways before a large warehouse loomed in front of her, its windows dark and stained with grime.


    Everything about the building looked abandoned: rust on the walls, the aforementioned grimy windows, and not a light in sight.


    If Blunder hadn¡¯t followed the careless fools here, she would never have suspected it was a staging ground.


    But she had followed the vampires right to their little hidey-hole.


    She cracked her neck before taking another bite of sandwich.  Blunder gave the thing an appreciative look.  She¡¯d need to go get another on her way back.


    She walked up to the warehouse¡¯s front door and knocked.


    They¡¯d probably noticed her by now; vampire senses were no joke, but now they definitely knew.


    After almost a minute of silence, the door opened, revealing an absolute bear of a man.


    He was probably pushing six-eight and had the kind of face that looked like you could break rocks on it.  Assuming he was even moderately powerful, he could.


    ¡°Excuse me, miss.  But this is private property.¡± His voice was deep but surprisingly refined, not at all belonging to a brute.


    Blunder pursed her lips.  A polite one.


    ¡°Well, can I come in?¡±


    He blinked at her slowly as one hand shifted behind his back.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m afraid not.¡±


    She couldn¡¯t see behind him, the man¡¯s bulk completely filling the doorway, but she heard people behind him stop in place.


    ¡°Well, time for more aggressive diplomacy, then.¡±


    The man blurred, and Blunder stopped time.


    Well, not really.  Mages couldn¡¯t actually affect time, but her perception of time? Blunder cranked that baby way up.


    The man froze, the sounds of the city froze, the sandwich she was slowly raising to her lips froze.


    Her aura didn¡¯t.


    With a thought, she covered the entire warehouse, getting a bead on its occupants.


    Two dozen vampires, all focused on her and the door.


    Every vampire was currently frozen as if encased in ice, which gave her a rough estimate of their age and power unless some of them were faking it.


    Very unlikely, but possible.


    Blunder readied her magic, and then she let time speed up a bit.


    The world began to move, much more slowly than normal, but it was moving.


    The giant was caught in a quick pillar of wind, ripping him from his feet before he could react and hurling him into the air.


    The pillar followed him, forming itself into a ball that pushed in on the man from every angle.


    He turned into mist, but the wind was too strong, keeping him packed into a tight ball.


    The man seemed to have some restraint or, at the very least, discipline. He might live through this, depending on what she found.


    She finished taking a bite of sandwich.


    She walked inside the warehouse.  Vampires charged her, their desperate runs only barely above a fast jog to her eyes.


    She waved a hand, the motion painfully slow.  But her aura wasn¡¯t.


    A group of slower-moving vampires were pulled under.


    She seized control of the earth around them and drove it down, burying them in a box twenty feet underground in a heartbeat.


    The next group caught a blast of wind, sending them hurtling back.


    Blunder sighed as she continued tearing through the warehouse.


    She¡¯d noticed the emblem on one of the vamp''s coats, removing the little mystery of which house these fools belonged to.


    With that question removed, this whole thing became wholly routine.


    The emblem, a broken bone crossed over a bloodstained knife, belonged to the Beltok.


    A screaming vampire reached her, and Blunder barely spared them the attention needed to nudge her aura.


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    A blast of fire crashed over them, incinerating the vampire in a fraction of a second.


    The Beltok wasn¡¯t one of the great vampire houses tied to the Pact. They were rogues, or well, independent.


    Blunder didn¡¯t resent them for that. If someone didn¡¯t want to be in the Pact, it was no skin off her back.


    She used a wall of stone to crush a charging group of three. They¡¯d heal, but it would take some time.


    Where she did take issue with Beltok was their utter disregard for human life and contempt of concepts like subtly or restraint.


    The only reason she¡¯d been able to find this place was that someone had gotten peckish, and instead of contacting a blood bank or paying someone in the know for their blood, they had left five bodies in a dumpster.


    And they hadn¡¯t even properly covered their tracks.


    Her fire split burned in her vision, the fiery red causing the air to warp and twist as she cleared the room.


    There were plenty of reasons a faction didn¡¯t join the Pact.  Animinity, for one, a general desire to be left alone or a hatred for authority of any kind.


    Maybe a strong sense of independence.  The Pact didn¡¯t meddle much with its members, but the possibility was there.  An old race that had hung onto their culture for thousands of years didn¡¯t want some other power to have any amount of control over them.


    She could understand that. She could respect that.


    And then there were the Beltok.  Their desires were as simple as they were boring.


    Wetting their appetites. Power, and fulfilling whatever sick little thought entered their heads.  They didn¡¯t want to be told no by anyone or anything.


    And to top it all off, they were vampire supremacists.


    A nasty group, all in all, and exactly the kind of fools that the Barrow King could recruit as mid to low-level soldiers.


    Blunder rounded a corner, her aura telling her three vampires were waiting.


    Stone-broke, bones crunched, and three vampires fell into torn pieces.


    The house had a few heavy hitters. That was the only reason they had survived for so long while being this annoying.


    But Grundy wasn¡¯t in this warehouse, and neither was Mia.


    These vampires were already dead. It just hadn¡¯t gotten through their skulls yet.


    Blunder moved towards the next group, but she already knew they weren¡¯t vampires.


    A metal door sat against one wall, its rusty hinges thick and sturdy, just like the lock and chain wrapped around its handles.


    With a quick flex of her aura, she tore the door from the wall, metal shrieking in protest.


    Four humans lay in the cramped closet, and only one was still alive.


    The bodies were ravaged, clothes torn, and throats bloodied.  The closet reeked, blood and filth and death mixing together in a toxic miasma.


    They hadn¡¯t been treated with a shred of dignity, even in death.


    As she continued to annihilate the room behind her, Blunder reached out, lifting the survivor with gentle strands of air.


    The woman was in rough shape, barely conscious, but alive.


    Blunder clamped down on her fire split before it began to combust.  She didn¡¯t need reports of a bomb going off in the middle of a city.


    She started walking, the survivor floating behind her.


    The Barrow King was playing a game of cups.  There had been signs in Boston, nothing definitive, but lots of small hints that he was planning something big here.  And since one of the Knull clan''s branches was located in Boston, it was a decent target.


    But there had been over half a dozen similar hints all across the country.


    He didn¡¯t have the forces they did, but many of their assets were known. His were not.  He could be anywhere in the country, if he was in it at all, and could strike at anyone.


    They could only fortify so many places.


    And the man was recruiting fast. The Pact had made plenty of enemies in its time, and they would flock to the Barrow Kings banner.


    The longer this went on, the worse it got for them.


    If Solomon could court the right player onto his side¡­well, he probably couldn¡¯t beat them, not in a straight fight.  But the collateral damage would be so devastating that it almost wouldn¡¯t matter.


    If the old powers threw down without restraint, little of this country would remain after.


    With a crack of flame, Blunder killed the last vampire in the building.


    She considered leaving the trio she had trapped underground in their little cell.  It would take them a while to suffocate. Even young vampires could hold their breath for a good beat.


    But they might escape and kill someone else.


    She sighed.  And she had to be careful with cruelty.  These punks deserved it, but Blunder was old. And there were very few beings in this world that could stand up to her.  If she let herself slide, even in tiny steps, those would compound.


    Maybe not today, but in 10 years? 100?  Eventually, those little concessions would build until she didn¡¯t recognize the person she had become.


    She¡¯d seen it happen time and time again over the centuries.  She¡¯d had to put down friends.


    So, she didn¡¯t let the vampires suffocate to death.  But she also didn¡¯t spare them.


    She reached down with her aura and crushed the box into a space no bigger than her fist.


    The vampires died instantly.


    That trick would never work on an elder; the rocks would break before their bones, but these weren¡¯t elders.


    She continued outside, carrying the woman in her wake.


    She turned her attention to the vampire trapped in her wind ball.


    He¡¯d run out of magic at some point, snapping back into a human shape.


    She lowered him but didn¡¯t let him touch the ground.


    ¡°You were in charge of this outpost.¡±


    He didn¡¯t say anything. He didn¡¯t need to.  He¡¯d moved the quickest when she slowed time.  Not enough to move when she didn¡¯t want him to, but still faster than the others.


    The Beltok ruled by strength.  ¡°You were in charge.  Which meant you let this happen.¡±  She didn¡¯t point at the woman behind her.


    She didn¡¯t need to.


    Finally the vampire opened his mouth, his eyes burning with disdain. ¡°You¡­are an affront to the natural order.  Huma-¡°


    Blunder snapped her fingers, and the vampire was covered in a wash of flame.


    She sneered at the burning vampire, contempt roiling in her chest.


    ¡°An affront to the natural order? Do you have any idea how many times I¡¯ve heard that by spooks who think they can take what they want?  Do you have any idea how many centuries I¡¯ve had to put up with nonsense like this?¡±


    Blunder seized the corpse with strands of air and hurled it back into the warehouse.


    Without looking, she gathered the other vampires up into a pile.  Red seethed around her, snaking over the ground and curling up the walls.  With an effort of will, Blunder stopped the building from catching fire.


    She contained her fury to the pile of dead vampires and lit it with a thought.


    Flames licked the ceiling and cast dancing shadows across the walls and into the alley.


    She didn¡¯t let the flames burn for long, and when they were done, not even bones remained.


    She opened up the floor and let the ashes fall, then she gathered their victims and laid them out.


    She closed their eyes and adjusted them slightly.  Let them have a shred of dignity.


    A team would be on the way to tend to the clean-up.


    Blunder turned and walked into the city, the survivor floating in tow.


    She would get the girl to the hospital, and then it was back to figuring out this game of cups.

 A Corpse In Chains 9: In Need Of Therapy

    Physical therapy in a room full of werewolves was an odd experience.


    Grunts of effort filled the room, mixing with the sounds of clinking weights and the steady hum of the air conditioner.


    Jack sat on a weight bench, studiously judging our performance.


    I mean, it didn¡¯t technically affect what I was doing.  I knew every stretch I was supposed to do. I''ve needed them quite a few times over my life.


    Nina, a ghost I¡¯d met when I was fourteen, had been a physical therapist and ran me through the paces before moving on.


    So it wasn¡¯t that superhumanly strong people were lifting absurd weights or sparring or doing any of the other very distracting things werewolves did when working out.


    It was that they wouldn¡¯t stop babying me.


    I wobbled in my stretch, my side aching with the motion.  If it weren¡¯t for the constant rotation of healers, I wouldn¡¯t be out of bed yet, much less doing PT, but while that was amazing, it didn¡¯t translate to fully healed.


    Before I could recover¡ªor get worse, to be fair¡ªBlair was at my side, a steadying hand on my shoulder.


    I bit back a sigh and nodded to her.


    She slowly backed off as if she expected me to collapse at any moment.


    All of them had been like that since we started, but Blair was the worst.


    It was annoying and unfamiliar, but it was also sweet.


    They cared.


    I switched stretches, carefully laying down and reaching out with one arm while twisting at the hips.  My back and side groaned with the motion, but I was fine.  I knew what was the ache of muscles protesting a stretch and what was me hurting myself like a dumbass.


    I studied the others as I stretched.


    Werewolves were bastards, not because of any particular wrongdoing on their part, but because they all made me feel like a pool noodle on legs.


    Blair and Simon were sparring, and despite being the smallest person in the room aside from me, Simon still had densely corded muscles and a six-pack.


    And the others all looked like some blend of professional fighter and Olympian.


    It was blatantly unfair.


    Blair noticed me looking and raised a blond brow.


    I shook my fist at her.


    She snorted and went back to her spar.


    The manor had a basement that had never been used for anything.  Master Bram had always intended to turn it into a wine cellar at some point, but we¡¯d- they had never gotten around to it.


    The Pack had made quick work of it while I was bedridden.  Werewolf workers were fast. It had only


    taken them a few days to convert the basement into a full gym stocked with all the equipment a gym rat could dream of.


    I was a little shaky on what good working out did for werewolves, but apparently, relying on their magic alone wasn¡¯t a good idea. Not all of their strength came from werewolf mojo; their muscles were also stronger and denser than any humans, and through training, they could make them even stronger.


    My side throbbed, and for a moment, I was back at the tree, the cold mist in my lungs and burning agony in my side.  Helpless as Blair fought for our lives.


    I took a deep breath and ignored the stares. That was another thing that took some getting used to.


    Werewolves could smell your emotions to varying degrees. And they could also smell pain.


    Blair ran over three more times before I finished stretching.


    She had protected me during our little hike, but nothing like this.


    I figured it could be chalked up to me almost dying, but she seemed more tense in general. Quicker to snap. It felt like half the times I looked over, her jaw was clenched.


    It was starting to worry me.


    After finishing our respective workouts, I ran to one of the mansion''s many showers.


    I enjoyed a shower that teetered on the edge of scalding before stepping out of the bathroom and being greeted with the smell of cooking meat.


    I sniffed the air. Bacon, unless the old sniffer was failing me.


    Ben rose up from the floor, or at least his top half did.


    He didn¡¯t seem to feel like rising any further.  ¡°Dinner is cooking if you want to head down.¡±


    I nodded and made my way to the door.


    He followed, treating the hardwood like it was shallow water.


    ¡°How have things been? In town, I mean.¡° I hadn¡¯t gotten the chance to look around much. Being bed-bound would do that to a fella.


    Ben scratched his chin. ¡°The mage clans are settling in well enough, even taking some of the vacant lots in the Biggin and a few fancy homes in the Overlook. The werewolves, well, you¡¯re staying with them. The vampires only have a few delegates right now, same for the ghouls and the other were-kin.¡±


    He rolled his shoulder.  ¡°Good news is nobody¡¯s been killed yet. Though, I think that¡¯s because most of the factions have been staying away from the north side. For some strange reason, it seems that Grumpy scared them off.¡°


    I chuckled.


    Ben frowned. ¡°Things are pretty tense.¡±


    He looked out at the far wall, his gaze distant. ¡°Everybody¡¯s moving like they expect a bomb to go off.  They don¡¯t know where, and they don¡¯t know when, but they can hear it ticking.¡±


    I rubbed my face.


    Necromancers a town over, undead in my backyard, though at least I¡¯d sent the Knull clan after them. They could handle it. They hunted down rogue mages all the time.  And necromancers avoided capture all the time.


    But compared to the big picture, what were some necromancers?


    War. What was I supposed to do? What could I even do?


    At that moment, familiar helplessness settled onto my shoulders like a cold weight. I was one man in a war with people who could annihilate armies.


    If the feeling weren¡¯t so familiar, it would¡¯ve been harder to deal with. But being a little fish in a big ocean, that was nothing new.  I took a few deep breaths, then walked downstairs.


    The kitchen was elaborate, all dark browns and greens with appliances that hadn¡¯t been updated in hundreds of years, sitting right next to a state-of-the-art fridge and stove.


    Werewolves did work fast.


    The kitchen bustled, everyone slipping around each other, each with their own tasks.


    Bobby was frying bacon on one burner while Laurel cracked eggs into a bowl beside him.


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    On another counter, Simon started slicing bread.


    Blair, notably, wasn¡¯t doing anything, and she looked rather unhappy about it.


    Ben dropped through the floor.  ¡°I¡¯m gonna go harass Agatha, be back later!¡±


    I rolled my eyes at the ghost before turning my attention to Blair.


    I sidled over to her and gave her a gentle nudge. ¡°Did you get banished?¡°


    She nodded. ¡°I struck out.¡°


    ¡°Excuse me?¡°


    ¡°I started micromanaging, so I¡¯m banished until someone finishes, and I can step in.¡°


    I wanted to laugh, but the fact that she wasn¡¯t helping clearly bothered her. ¡°Are you usually a micromanager?¡°


    Blair scowled. ¡°Not typically.¡±


    I sensed a but in there.


    I considered prodding her to answer, but she was upset.  Well, if the woman wanted to help, I¡¯d give her something to help with.


    ¡°The table hasn¡¯t been set. Wanna give me a hand.¡±


    She stared at me for a beat, her blue eyes inscrutable.  Then she gave me a grateful smile and followed me to the table.


    She started pulling out silverware as I grabbed napkins.  If this were at my place, they would have been paper, cheap enough to see through, and almost certainly bought on sale.


    These napkins were a deep crimson and probably made out of silk or something.


    I laid down a napkin, and Blair set the silverware on it. Rinse and repeat.


    We only had to set it for us and a few of the larger Northwood Pack.  Most of them were traveling with her parents, putting out fires as they popped up.


    It was comfortable, and I found myself relaxing as we worked through the simple task.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    I glanced at Blair.


    ¡°For?¡±


    ¡°For being patient with me.  I know I¡¯ve been¡­pushy the last week.  And snappy.¡±


    Well, I hadn¡¯t noticed her being snappy until a few days ago, but she had certainly been pushy.


    Mainly in that I couldn¡¯t get out of bed until every healer agreed that I could.


    ¡°It¡¯s just that-¡° she cut off as Bobby called out over the kitchen fan.  ¡°Foods ready! Come grab plates.¡±


    Blair bit her lip.  ¡°We¡¯ll talk after dinner.¡±


    Dinner, it turned out, was bacon, fried eggs, toast, and hash browns.


    As a civilized man of great taste, I never turned down breakfast for dinner, so I tucked into my food with an appetite.  Less of one than the werewolves, but still, I put up a fight.


    After a hearty meal, I found myself wandering the halls.


    I wanted fresh air, but I also didn¡¯t want to go outside¡ªtoo much effort.


    My feet took me to the back of the manor, through the second, smaller dance hall, and to a balcony tucked away against the side of the building.


    It overlooked the large hill the manor was built on, letting me see the forest stretching into the distance.


    I took a deep breath, the fall air crisp in my lungs.


    I closed my eyes.  I was tired, which was annoying.  I didn¡¯t want to be tired. I didn¡¯t want to go to bed again for another week, but I also wanted to flop down and sleep.


    I rubbed my face.  I was used to being sleep-deprived. It had been¡­a long time since I slept through the night.


    But adding the exhaustion that came with an injury to my normal levels was¡­I slumped against the balcony.


    It was a lot.


    Someone leaned against the balcony next to me. I didn¡¯t bother turning to look, but the strands of blond I could see in the corner of my eye told who.


    ¡°Hey Blair, what brings you to these parts?¡±


    She snorted as she stared out with me.  ¡°Just enjoying the fresh air, I suppose. And I did say I wanted to talk.¡±


    I nodded.


    Despite saying that, Blair wasn¡¯t in a hurry to break the silence.


    Not that I minded. It was nice sharing the quiet listening to the night come alive.


    After a while, I¡¯m not sure how long, Blair spoke.


    ¡°You''re fragile.¡±


    I blinked. ¡°Beg pardon?¡±


    She didn¡¯t look at me, keeping her gaze on the forest.  ¡°Part of the reason I¡¯m being so annoying. You¡­I don¡¯t have much experience with humans.  I know that you¡¯re more fragile than we are, that you heal much slower.  But knowing isn¡¯t knowing.¡°


    Her hands tightened on the railing.  ¡°You almost died.¡±


    I nodded.  ¡°So did you.¡±


    Her grip tightened further.  ¡°Yes. But I was walking around again that night.  You- you¡¯ve had a constant rotation of healers for a week, and you''re just better. I-I¡¯ve never learned how to properly cope with injuries, I suppose.¡±  She sighed and rubbed at her face.


    ¡°I¡¯ve lived with the understanding that if I kept my Pack alive through that fight, everything would be fine.  But that¡¯s not enough anymore.  I failed.¡±


    ¡°Hey, now!¡± I scowled.  ¡°You didn¡¯t fail anything. You saved my life." I felt a warmth in my chest.  She considered me part of the Pack.


    That was...touching.


    "If it weren''t for you, I would have died, torn apart by undead."


    Blair stared at me, her eyes hard.  "If it weren''t for you, we would''ve died at the summit, torn apart by shades."


    I shrugged.  "It''s not a contest."


    Blair shook her head.  "It''s not that. I''m too weak, Alder.  There are monsters out there, and the world isn''t going to slow down for me to catch up.  And if I try to force the issue, there will be consequences."


    I paused.  Part of me wanted to scoff at her, she could turn me into paste, but she was complaining about being too weak?


    But it was all relative.  The gap between us was nothing compared to the one between her and the people at the top.


    My brain latched onto the last thing she had said.


    "What do you mean ''force the issue?''"


    Blair turned back to the trees.  Wind whipped around us, tossing her hair about. "What do you know of werewolf Bonds?"


    "Umm. Not much.  I know it''s your connection to the moon, and it ebbs and flows with the moon''s cycles."


    Blair nodded.  "It grows stronger as we age.  That''s the rule of thumb for all spooks, though.  The older, the stronger.  As our Bond grows stronger, so do our instincts, good and bad."


    Her eyes turned back to me.  "I''ve already told you I''m stronger than I should be without the years of willpower training that''s supposed to come with it.¡± She pushed some hair behind her ear.


    ¡°I¡¯m not unique.  Sudden jumps in strength are normal for werewolves, especially in wartime. The constant fighting pushes us to our limits, and when we reach out and demand that our Bond gives us more¡­sometimes, it answers.¡±


    An uneasy feeling welled up in my gut.


    I didn¡¯t like what I was hearing, partly because I could guess where this conversation was heading and partly because I had been¡­well, not lying.  But not completely honest either.


    There were some memories I had repressed harder than others.


    Ones  I had locked away as deep in my psyche as possible and tried to bury the key.


    They weren¡¯t truly forgotten, couldn¡¯t be forgotten. But I could¡­pretend.


    I had known something more about werewolves.  If I thought about it for just a few moments, it would come to me, memories stamped into the soul couldn¡¯t be forgotten.


    My mind fled, and my attention settled completely onto Blair¡¯s words.


    ¡°If a werewolf pushes too far, if our Bond gets too out of control, it consumes us.  Hollows us out until there¡¯s no more person, only beast. It¡¯s why rapid growth in werewolves is only seen as a good thing in small doses.¡±


    Her grip once again tightened on the railing, and I was pretty sure I could hear the metal groaning.


    ¡°In the fight against the Wendigo.  I was too weak. So-¡°


    ¡°So you reached for more.¡±


    She nodded. ¡°I reached for more.  And I got it.¡±  She closed her eyes.  ¡°I was already struggling before.  My will is strong for my age, but not strong enough.¡±


    She met my eyes, and I was shocked to see fear in them.


    ¡°I¡¯m slipping, Alder. I¡¯m not at risk of going feral yet. But if I don¡¯t figure out a way to get this under control, then I will.¡±


    I stared at her, a numb, empty feeling rising up inside me.


    My vision wavered as the thought of her dying bounced around my skull.


    I was familiar with death.  Hell, it was practically my oldest friend.


    But while I had long since accepted ghosts moving on, and death as a concept, especially in regard to my own life, I hadn¡¯t had enough living connections ever to have to worry about them dying.


    And now that I was¡­At that moment, I realized something.  I would do everything in my power to save her.


    I reached out and grabbed Blair¡¯s hand. It was warm, almost shockingly so.


    ¡°We.  We will find a solution.¡±


    Blair stared, her eyes deep and dark.  She turned to face me fully and clasped my hand with hers.


    I felt a tugging in my chest, but I ignored it.


    ¡°I promise.¡±

 A Corpse In Chains 10: There Is Something Beneath

    Cornelius glared at the map, his foot tapping out a steady rhythm on the basement floor.


    Three points.  Three towns.  Three sightings of undead.


    His foot tapped faster.


    ¡°Dalton, this map is aggravating me.¡±


    His apprentice grunted from his position in the middle of the basement.  Three earthen pillars rose from the floor, two for his hands and one for his feet.


    He wasn¡¯t particularly high, only a few feet from the ground, but Dalton couldn¡¯t let the pillars fill in underneath. He had to keep them up with his will as he planked.


    It was a good exercise, and the lad''s mastery of the skill was coming along nicely.


    ¡°Maps do that, master.¡±


    ¡°If you still have enough focus to snark, then maybe I need to make that exercise harder,¡± Cornelius chuckled.


    ¡°No, no, I¡¯m pretty sure you don¡¯t.¡±


    Cornelius smiled as he continued to stare a hole into the map.


    ¡°Why, master mine, is the map aggravating you?¡± Dalton grunted out.


    ¡°Because the necromancer is playing games.  Sightings, hasty reports of spirits acting up, and the slimy feel of their magic all over, but never too much at one place.¡±


    Cornelius traced his finger along the map.  ¡°They are being cautious.  Restrained.¡° He looked up at his apprentice.  ¡°Few things are more dangerous than a necromancer with self-control.¡±


    There was a knock on the basement door, and Cornelius glanced up.


    A brief thought towards his aura told him it was Madame Lillian.


    ¡°Come in.¡±


    The door clicked, and the spider glided in, her legs tapping on the concrete floor.


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    Cornelius grinned even as his stomach turned to ice.


    It wasn¡¯t her fault that her appearance made an instinctual part of his mind scream in terror.


    ¡°Dinner will be ready in half an hour.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± He nodded.  ¡°Could I bother you with a question?¡±


    She bobbed closer, her large front eyes focusing on him.  ¡°Of course! Ask away!¡±


    She sent the impression of a grin as she eyed the map.


    Cornelius pointed to the spots he¡¯d marked out.  ¡°This is where necromancer activity has been spotted.  But we haven¡¯t caught a whiff of them moving between the towns.  We have a few mages, Were¡¯s with a nose for magic, even a Larouta offered to watch one of the roads.  We¡¯ve caught nothing.¡±


    Cornelius moved his finger down.  ¡°I know there are a fair bit of caves around here.  Is it possible they¡¯re moving through the DownThere?¡±


    The spider shook her torso slightly while sending the impression of a head shake.


    ¡°Maybe through some of those towns, but they can¡¯t access Silver Spruce.  There are some large caves, and there is a pathway to the greater DownThere.  But a monster lives there, and she doesn¡¯t leave.¡±


    Cornelius eyed the woman.  ¡°A monster?  What kind?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know.  It killed nearly a quarter of our community on our journey here, but no one ever caught a peek of it.¡±  She hesitated.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°When we fled here¡­we expected to be pursued, but we never were¡­.¡±


    Cornelius blinked.  ¡°You think whatever¡¯s down there killed your pursuers?¡±


    She sent the impression of a shrug.  ¡°I can¡¯t know for certain, but I think it¡¯s likely.¡±


    Cornelius swallowed.  The DownThere was¡­nightmarish.  He had it on good authority that parts of it were lovely.  Rationally, that made sense.  A cave structure spanning most of the world had to have some wonders in it.


    But his own experiences in the place had been some of the worst of his life.  If some ancient creature from those dark pits was sitting under his feet¡­


    ¡°Can it come up here?¡±


    Lillian gave him another mental shrug.  ¡°I don¡¯t know, I¡¯m afraid.  It never has, and most of the supernatural community here don¡¯t know it exists.¡±


    She paused, her legs tapping against the ground as she thought.  ¡°Personally, I believe it¡¯s bound.  Maybe even a guard put here to stop interlopers from the DownThere.¡±


    She turned.  ¡°We¡¯ll never know, but it¡¯s safe to say the necromancers won¡¯t be coming here from beneath.¡±


    She headed for the door.  ¡°Don¡¯t be late for dinner now!¡±


    There was silence for several seconds as Cornelius and Dalton stared at the ground.


    Finally, Dalton spoke, his voice strained.  ¡°Welp, I¡¯m not sleeping tonight.¡±


    Cornelius stared at the dark stone.  ¡°Same.¡±

 A Corpse In Chains 11: A Change In Plans

    Sitting on a couch in the manor, with a chess board between them, Blair and Alder were enjoying the evening.


    Alder certainly liked to put on a show of being in deep thought, but she still couldn¡¯t tell if he actually planned his moves out or just picked something at random.


    He reached out, moving a white pawn.


    Safe, if boring.  The score was currently 2-1 in her favor.  She smiled at Alder, and he scowled.  ¡°Don¡¯t give me that smug look.  I¡¯ll have you know I¡¯m a master at this game. I¡¯m just holding back my power!¡±


    Blair chuckled.  The man didn¡¯t care if he lost, the weirdo.


    She took a deep breath, the subtle scent of pine that always seemed to hang in the air here calming her.


    She reached out to her knight, then froze.


    A chill ran down her neck, and her gut told her to look right.  She wasn¡¯t sure why. She couldn¡¯t smell or hear anything in that direction, but she still turned.


    Alder was already staring at the child.


    He was around eight or nine, with short brown hair and watery blue eyes.  He wore a simple blue shirt and jeans, and he looked up at Alder like the man could solve all the problems in the world.


    Blair saw pain, sadness, and weariness flash over Alder¡¯s face before it settled into a gentle smile.


    He stood up from his chair and crouched, putting himself at eye level with the kid.


    ¡°Hey, do you need some help?¡± His voice was soft, steady.


    The kid nodded but didn¡¯t speak.


    ¡°Do you know what you need?¡±


    Another nod.


    ¡°Can you tell me?¡± He shook his head.


    ¡°Can you show me?¡±


    The child paused, then nodded.


    Alder¡¯s gentle smile didn¡¯t falter.  ¡°Are you ready to go now?¡±


    Once again, the child nodded.


    Alder rose to his feet and gestured. ¡°Lead the way.¡±


    Blair rose to her feet with them, and they started for the door.


    Blair¡¯s phone rang, the tone sounding out in three sharp beeps.


    She froze.  That was her mother''s emergency ringtone.  She whipped her phone out and answered.  ¡°Speaking.¡±


    Her mother''s cold voice sounded in her ear.  ¡°You and your Pack need to leave for Portland immediately.¡±


    Blair didn¡¯t argue or hesitate.  She knew that tone.  This wasn¡¯t some petty game.  This was the Alpha of the Northwoods Pack speaking.


    ¡°What can you tell me,¡° she asked as she moved to the door.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ¡°The Barrow King has forces around three different cities in the northwest and two in the southeast. No one place has a truly worrying amount, but the fact that we don¡¯t know how many or who he has on his side is worrying. Each city has an artifact of power or some piece of magic that can synchronize with his power.¡±


    ¡°He could go for any of them or none of them and attack somewhere completely separate. We don¡¯t know, so we are hedging our bets. We need your Pack to help bolster Portland¡¯s defenses.¡°


    Blair grunted. ¡°Understood. I¡¯ll gather the others immediately.¡± She paused, looking over her shoulder at the spectral child.


    ¡°I want to leave a few people behind to watch over Alder and the town.¡°


    Her mother didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°No.¡°


    Blair ground her teeth, the edges of her vision turning red for a beat.  She forced herself to breathe deep.


    It was getting harder. A week ago, that response would have been easier to bite down, and it wouldn¡¯t have been so intense.


    ¡°He-¡° Blair started before her mother cut her off.


    ¡°I understand your concern.¡° Adele said, a shocking amount of understanding voice. ¡°I have come to an understanding with the clans. If any ¡®rogue elements¡¯ snatch the Telss while we are away, the clans are bound by their word, both to me and as members of the Pact, to help us retrieve the Telss.¡±


    Her voice darkened.  ¡°And if I find any evidence that suggests they were directly involved, then I will declare war.¡±


    Blair blinked down at the phone. Her mother wouldn¡¯t want to declare war, and she certainly wouldn¡¯t do it for Alder¡¯s sake. She¡¯d do it out of principle.


    If the clans disrespected her like that, went back on their word, and snatched someone who was under their protection, she really would go to war. To do anything else would be to look weak.


    And the clans knew it.


    It would almost certainly destroy the Northwoods Pack, and they would definitely lose if all the Clans joined together, not that they would.


    But even in that case, the loss of life would be devastating, and it wasn¡¯t like the Barrow King would stand aside as that happened.


    If the woman had really laid her cards out on the table like that, then the clans probably wouldn¡¯t try something¡­ Not unless they were sure they could get away with it.


    ¡°¡­The town?¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t be abandoned. The Pact will still have people here, just not many. But the town won¡¯t be a target. It¡¯s the people the Barrow King was after before, not the town.¡±


    Blair ground her teeth.  She didn¡¯t want to leave Alder unprotected, but she knew her mother wasn¡¯t moving on this.


    She took a deep breath.  She couldn¡¯t take him with them, not if the city would be attacked.  Staying was safer, but it meant she couldn¡¯t help if something happened.


    It was out of her control.


    Blair squeezed her eyes shut as she centered herself.  Instincts clashed, twisted one way, then the other.  Her guts twisted as if she were on a roller coaster before finally settling.


    Then she turned to Alder.  ¡°We have to go to Portland.¡±


    Alder nodded slowly.  ¡°Okay¡­let me just finish up here and-¡°


    ¡°No,¡± Blair cut him off, and her next words stung in her throat.  ¡°The Pack and I.  You have to stay here.¡±


    There was a brief flash of pain on Alder¡¯s face, but it vanished in a heartbeat, replaced with contemplation.  ¡°There¡¯s going to be fighting.¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡±


    The small ghost looked between Blair and Alder but, aside from that, remained silent.


    Alder sighed.  ¡°Okay, I understand.¡±


    Blair stared at him.  Well, that was easy¡­ apparently she¡¯d let the thought show on her face since Alder chuckled.


    ¡°If I thought there would be a large group of spirits or something, I¡¯d come regardless of what you said.  But otherwise, I¡¯d only going to get in the way. Maybe even get someone killed covering for me.¡±


    Blair opened her mouth, then closed it.


    She admired how Alder could completely cut his pride out of a situation.


    He didn¡¯t fool himself or feel the need to bullshit.  He knew his limits perfectly well, even if she could tell he wasn¡¯t happy about it.


    ¡°¡­I¡¯m going to get ready.¡±  She said.  The words hung in the air, and they felt inadequate.


    Her stomach kept twisting as she marched through the door.

 A Corpse In Chains 12: Zombies And Rock-n Roll

    Kids are tough.


    Life was not fair. I don¡¯t know if I¡¯d ever been under the illusion that it was, but if I had, it was long, long ago.


    Bad things happened to good people, and those who deserved to have life rain on their parade always seemed to have umbrellas.


    That was nothing new, but seeing kids always drove that point home.


    I crouched down in front of the little ghost.  ¡°I¡¯m going to go say goodbye to my friends.  Can you wait for a little?¡±


    The boy nodded, then sat down on the floor.  He reached over to the coffee table and snatched the magazine.


    He was a little off. I couldn¡¯t point out what was off about him, but a voice at the back of my head was nagging at me.


    That was normal, though.  Ghost children tended to be¡­strange.  The young either handled their death better than anyone else or broke.


    It had been less than five minutes since Blair left to gather her things, but I was betting she was already done.


    I strode through the twisting halls of the manor, my feet echoing off the hardwood.


    Memories tugged at the edges of my vision. Margo skipping along the hall, the smell of eggs wafting from the kitchen.  Master Bram¡¯s warm laugh.


    I shook my head, scattering the memories like smoke.


    I found the Pack gathered at the front door, each with identical backpacks slung over their shoulders.


    Well, identical in brand and model.


    They had all started as large black packs with a perverse amount of zipped pockets, but each had certainly made their mark.


    Blair hadn¡¯t changed her bag, but I could still pick it out just fine.  It was positively bursting at the seams. Every ounce of space that could be used was.  And despite that, I was sure the whole thing was organized with enough precision that Blair could find what she wanted in the dark.


    Simon¡¯s pack was worn ragged, with patches over much of it. A few sections looked melted.  I didn¡¯t want to ask.


    Laurel had bedazzled her backpack.  Well, I say that, but it didn¡¯t actually have any rhinestones, just lots of pinks and purples painted or stained or something into the fabric, giving it a vibrant, cheerful vibe.


    Bobby had a shit ton of stickers¡ªjust an unreasonable amount layered over every inch of the bag.


    I couldn¡¯t even make out a quarter of the individual stickers; they were layered that thick.


    They turned to me as I neared. ¡°We shouldn¡¯t be gone for too long,¡± Laurel said.  She pushed a strand of black hair behind her ear as she watched me.


    All of them looked at me with concern as they hefted their packs.  It was sweet, but it was also annoying.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be okay,¡± I chuckled.  ¡°You lot are more likely to end up in a fight.¡±  I frowned.  ¡°Stay safe out there.¡±


    Simon gave me a tiny grin.  ¡°Always.¡±


    I paused. ¡°That would make me feel better if it wasn¡¯t coming from the only person in this room that tinkers with bombs.¡±


    He sighed. ¡°They aren¡¯t silver. It''s¡­safe.¡±


    Bobby rolled his eyes.  ¡°Which is why you paused.¡± He gave me a fist bump before heading to the door.


    Laurel hesitated, then gave me a very quick hug as if afraid it would shatter me.


    Simon waved, his usually reserved expression cracking to show his worry.


    Which left Blair.


    Her grip tightened on her pack, the fabric creaking.


    I walked forward and gave her a gentle hug.  She was warm and solid.  I took a deep breath.  ¡°It¡¯ll be alright. You guys will be back before you know it.¡±


    She returned my hug silently.  After several long seconds, she spoke. ¡°Just don¡¯t do anything crazy, alright?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dream of it.¡±


    She stepped back and, after one last look, walked out of the manor.  Leaving the place empty, save for me and one lone ghost.


    ~<>~<>~


    I didn¡¯t waste time to get out and about.


    With the child in tow, I started for the town proper.


    The kid nodded when I asked if the place he wanted to go was downtown, which was good enough for me.


    The familiar, pothole-strewn north road greeted me like an old friend.  An old, often muddy friend that tried to break my ankles when I wasn¡¯t paying attention.


    ¡­I never said it was a good friend.


    The setting sun washed over me, casting deep shadows over the road and making the lots I passed even more ominous.  Considering some of the things that lived in those lots, more ominous shouldn¡¯t even be possible, but here we were.


    I avoided Grumpy¡¯s side of the loop.  I could deal with him just fine, though the carnival would suck.  It was the kid I was worried about.  The little ghost might be fine, or he might have a panic attack after feeling Grumpy¡¯s presence.


    I chose the path less likely to include child trauma.


    By the time we reached the town proper, the sun had set, casting Silver Spruce into gloomy twilight.


    I actually liked twilight. It fit with the whole hermit who owned a graveyard vibe.


    The problem was that a lot of other things that were bigger and stronger and much, much hungrier than me also liked twilight.


    That small bridge between day and night was the metaphorical dinner bell for much of the supernatural world.


    And I was a preferred meal for a good chunk of the things that went bump in the night.


    Blair had written me a note of all things explaining the situation with the clans.  I wouldn¡¯t need to worry about a ¡®Rogue¡¯ group kidnapping me for now unless they actually were rogue.


    And all it had taken was the threat of war from one of the most powerful factions on this planet.


    But while that was undeniably nice, I had never been truly safe.  There was always danger. The mage clans had just been the cherry on top.


    ~<>~<>~


    The bus rumbled beneath me, its warm, almost definitely germ-infested seats oddly comforting in their familiarity.   I turned my attention to the ghost and got ready for a game of charades.  ¡°Do you know the exact location you need?¡±


    Cara, the bus driver, gave me an exhausted look.


    I ignored her.


    The ghost nodded, his pale cheeks looking even worse in the harsh fluorescents overhead.


    ¡°Is it a restaurant?¡±


    A shake.


    ¡°Is it a park or other natural landmark?¡±


    Another shake.


    ¡°So it¡¯s a building.¡±


    Nod.


    ¡°Tourist attraction.¡±


    He paused, then waggled his hand.


    I went down my list. ¡°Business?¡±


    A resounding shake of the head.


    ¡°Government building.¡±


    Nod.


    ¡°Library.¡±


    Shake.


    ¡°Police station.¡±


    Shake.


    I paused.  ¡°Town hall.¡±


    He nodded emphatically.


    I sighed.  Not the worst place he could have said, all things considered.


    After that, it didn¡¯t take long to get into gear, but twilight faded into true night when we reached town hall.


    The town hall was old, older than downtown, older than most of the town, period.  It was tucked away on a hill, a winding road maintained in the most technical sense leading up to it.


    I walked for a half hour from the closest bus stop before the old thing came into view.


    Two stories, wooden and dark.  Its age stuck out at a glance, its windows stained with time and grime.  It had a tall, arched roof with green tiles and dark wooden siding.


    The building looked haunted as hell, but I knew it wasn¡¯t.


    Not anymore.


    I turned to the boy.  ¡°This the place?¡±


    He nodded, his gaze wobbling somewhat.


    He looked like a sad child, but¡­


    I hid a frown.  There was something off about his expression, something I couldn¡¯t quite place but didn¡¯t like all the same.


    I unveiled my aura, tearing off a tiny bit of shroud. I pushed the image of friendliness into it and sent it out.


    The pulse had enough juice to cover the town and would signal all the friendly ghosts to come my way.


    It might not be necessary, the kid leading me to an out-of-the-way area that looked sketchy as hell was the norm for me.  But better to have help just in case.


    ¡°I¡¯m guessing we need to head inside?¡±


    Another nod.


    With growing unease, I walked up the steps to the double doors.


    ~<>~<>~


    ¡°Got him.¡±


    Dalton blinked at Cornelius, who had flung himself to his feet.


    He pulled out his phone.  ¡°Sight B. I¡¯m sending in the twins with you.  Wait for them, Cagel.  I mean it.¡±


    The woman growled on the other end of the phone, but he knew she would listen.


    A lesser were might have let their pride and anger push them into chasing a necromancer without mage backup, but Cagel was old enough to understand her limits.


    Someone like Adela Northwood would literally eat the necromancer for breakfast before the man knew what was happening, but Cagel was not Adela Northwood, and she knew it.


    Dalton swallowed.  ¡°What now?¡±


    Cornelius sighed and sat back down.  As much as he wanted to rush off into battle, that was likely what the Barrow King wanted.


    The twins were being sent as backup because of their insane mobility as much as their power.  If the necromancer had tripped a false alarm and escaped, they could move anywhere in the state fast enough to make a difference.


    They had five different sights scouted out, and Cornelius had been tying himself into knots waiting for news.  But now that he had it, he was to sit in this dingy Portland safe house and wait.


    ¡­Cornelius hated waiting.


    ~<>~<>~


    The front door was unlocked.  I knew it would be. I doubted anyone had been here since the last time I visited.


    The entry hall was large, with a big oak desk filled with dusty papers and a line of wooden chairs on the wall for people to sit as they waited for the mayor to bother with them.


    Hypothetically, if we¡¯d had a mayor since my equally hypothetical grandparents day.


    Now those chairs had a few inches of dust on them, and I was pretty sure a family of raccoons had been using one as a nest.


    To our left and right were long halls.  Each one led to a corner and


    wrapped around the whole building.


    The boy led me to the right.  I had an inkling we were heading for the stairs a little ways into the hall.


    Sure enough, we headed for the stairs, their dark wood creaking underfoot.


    The second floor was a maze of offices, hallways intersecting and linking to rooms only to dead end seemingly at random.


    I sighed.  Our dear mayor had made several changes in his time in office.  Most of them aimed at making the town hall more defensible in case of an attack.


    You might think he was aware of the supernatural and paranoid, but no.  The nutcase was just paranoid.  He didn¡¯t have a clue about the spooky side of things.


    The kid led me through the winding halls with confidence, and my apprehension grew the further we went.


    The kid wasn¡¯t walking right. His posture and bearing had changed.  Gone was the timidity and fear, replaced with a self-assuredness that didn¡¯t belong anywhere near a child.


    My gut told me this little guy had led me into a trap, and if he was making such a big tell, then it had likely already sprung.


    He stopped at the doors to the mayor''s office. This actual office was at the deepest point in the building, not the phony one he¡¯d constructed near the front.


    Something nasty could be waiting for me in there, but I was pretty sure I knew what this jig was.


    I pushed open the door, the weight of my sidearm at my hip clear in my mind.


    The room was a big box with steel-reinforced walls behind the plaster. It had no less than three hidden gun cubbies in it.  Two of them had been cleared out, but Gus had made sure I cleaned and repaired the guns in the third cubby before¡­


    I sighed and turned to the ghost.


    ¡°Alright.  What¡¯s the plan, then?  You got a grudge, or does someone else?¡±


    He looked up at me, his eyes cold.  ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you clever.¡± The voice was technically still that of a child, but his tone was as vicious as it was high-pitched.


    ¡°Took you long enough, but you technically managed it before it was bleedingly obvious!¡±


    I frowned.  ¡°Is that even a word? Bleedingly?¡±


    He scowled at me.  ¡°Shut up, fool! You followed an unknown ghost into an isolated building. I won¡¯t have you questioning my grammar!¡±


    I rolled a shoulder.  ¡°That¡¯s literally what I¡¯ve done my entire life.  Ghosts tend to be in spooky locations.¡±


    The ghost glared at me for a few seconds, opened his mouth, then turned away.  ¡°I won¡¯t waste words on a deadman.¡±


    I snorted. ¡°Well, isn¡¯t someone a hypocrite.¡±


    The child vanished through the ceiling without another word.


    As soon as he left, I rushed to the far wall and pulled back the plaster.  It gave easily, the hidden hinge allowing the section of wall to swing out.


    Rodgers and the others would arrive soon, so I¡¯d have backup for whatever was coming, but it might not be enough.


    I pulled out my shiny new phone.  Blair had forced me to get one when she learned I was lacking in the tech department.  I had resisted at first.  I hadn¡¯t needed a phone for my entire life, all the people I talked to regularly were dead, and I could call them with my magic if needed.


    I relented pretty quickly.  Partially because I couldn¡¯t even remotely defend my desire not to get one, and Blair had told me her family would pay for it.


    Usually, that would have stung my minuscule pride, but I was okay with her unreasonably wealthy Pack paying for my phone when they were the only people I¡¯d be talking to with it.


    As I frantically typed in the password, I was grateful she had bullied me into it.


    Rodgers appeared next to me, phasing through the wall.  His face was grim, his ordinarily kind eyes hard.  ¡°Zombies are entering the building.  The necromancer is coming for you.¡±


    ¡°Shit!¡±


    I hit call.  The phone barely rang once before Blair answered.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°The necromancer is after me!  I¡¯m in the town hall, zombies coming as we speak.¡±


    She snarled, and I heard the sound of tires screeching over the phone.  ¡°We¡¯re in Portland.  We can¡¯t make it to you within the hour!¡±


    Panic started to flood her voice, and I cut her off.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll be okay.  I got a plan.  I-¡° The call dropped.


    I checked the bars and got a blinking No service. for my trouble.


    Rodgers cursed.  ¡°They cut the lines!¡±


    Ben stepped through the wall a moment later, his expression grim. ¡°Do you actually have a plan?¡±


    I gave him a dark chuckle.  ¡°No.  I was just trying to make her feel better.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­that¡¯s sweet, at least?¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Have that engraved on my tombstone, will you?¡±


    Ben gave me a big thumbs-up.  ¡°Of course!¡±


    ¡°No! We will not be carving anything on any tombstones!¡± Rodgers growled.


    I returned to the cubby and the guns that filled it.


    There were only two, but they were beauties.


    The pump action shotgun was a comforting weight in my hands. It¡¯s dark brown wooden stock glossy in the flickering light.


    The box of shells behind it was even more comforting.


    A heavy revolver came next, a real Dirty Harry looking thing.


    Its rounds were in a purple Crown Royal bag, which I promptly tucked in my pocket.


    I loaded both guns then looked at the ghosts.


    ¡°Who else showed up?¡±


    ¡°Agatha, Ahab, and Lilly,¡± Rodgers said.


    I hesitated at Lilly¡¯s name but nodded.  Five ghosts total. Not bad for the middle of the night.


    A moan echoed through the building, followed by a crash.


    Agatha flew through the floor.  They¡¯re coming in from every angle.  You¡¯re surrounded.¡±


    I scratched my chin.  Well, this was bad.  ¡°Anything other than zombies?¡±


    ¡°I think there might be a fallen ghoul. I only got a look at it for a second. I was in a bit of a rush to reach you.¡±


    I nodded, but the bottom fell out of my stomach.  I could technically kill a fallen ghoul with what I had on me.  And you could technically kill a grizzly bear by sticking your arm down its throat and choking it.


    Possible, but the more likely outcome was you getting mauled to death by a goddamn bear.


    My thoughts swirled, plans forming and discarding at a record pace.


    My panic and fear were shoved to the side. I didn¡¯t have the time for them.


    Blair would be coming for me, as well as alerting others.  If the mage clans heard I was in danger, there was a good chance they¡¯d help in hopes of endearing themselves to me.


    But most of the mages had cleared out along with the werewolves. I wasn¡¯t sure who was even in town to help.


    And if they did come, how long would that take? More importantly, how long could I hold out for?


    I had to work under the assumption that help was coming, so my best bet was to plan on stalling.


    But that didn¡¯t mean holding on here.  If the undead reached me and broke into this room, I¡¯d be screwed.  I needed to stay mobile.


    I looked up.  Lilly and Ahab had entered the room while I was lost in thought.


    Ahab looked exactly like how you¡¯d expect someone named Ahab to look.  He had a strong jaw, thick black hair, and a full beard.


    He was dressed in a pair of chest-high waders and a large black raincoat that hung to his knees.


    He pulled off his beanie and met my gaze, his dark brown eyes full of worry.


    ¡°Running back.¡±  Rodgers nodded.  ¡°Good idea.¡±


    Lilly looked between us.  ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    I started moving towards the old desk.  ¡°It¡¯s a stalling tactic.  This building has a hallway along its outer edge that links to deeper rooms like a honeycomb.¡±


    I pulled a drawer out, revealing the old record player inside.  It was hooked up to a nest of wires.  Our lovely mayor had made me spend a week hooking the thing up to the building''s intercom system.


    I¡¯d needed the help of several other ghosts who actually knew shit about tech, but I¡¯d gotten it done.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to haul ass while you cover for me like I¡¯m carrying the ball.  Two ghosts in front cleared the path and warned me about what''s ahead.  Two behind to cover my rear, and one with me to help when needed.¡±


    Lilly nodded.  ¡°Okay, simple enough.¡±


    I reached into the drawer again and pulled out a record.


    The mayor had been dead when this thing released, but being dead didn¡¯t stop him from becoming a fanboy, and he hadn¡¯t settled for anything other than an authentic first edition.


    Even after all these years, I felt a flash of anger for the bastard.


    ¡°They¡¯re getting closer!¡± Agatha warned, her voice rising.


    ¡°Almost done!¡± I slotted the record. The familiar stress, the adrenaline, the terror, all of it washed over me.  I let it.


    The needle dropped.


    The undead, by and large, were hunters.  Either by scent, sight, hearing, or magic.  They hunted down their prey and tore them apart.  I couldn¡¯t do anything about sight or smell at the moment, but sound?


    Bad Moon Rising began to thunder into town hall, masking the sound of the groaning dead.


    I stood, sucking in a deep breath.  The scent of old wood, dust, and paper filled my nose, mixing with the metallic stench of the gun in my hands.


    My side ached, and I was already exhausted. I wanted to go to bed.


    I cracked my neck, then raised the gun.  ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    Ben and Agatha rushed through the door, and I followed.


    Rodgers stayed at my side as Lilly and Ahab took the rear.


    ¡°I hear a bad moon rising~¡±


    I rounded a corner into a hall and sprinted down it.


    I needed two more lefts, and then I¡¯d be in the hall I wanted.


    I busted through the next door, and Ben shouted a warning.


    ¡°One on the left!¡±


    I brought the shotgun up and fired the instant the zombie came into view.


    The things rotting suit was blasted apart as I took its head off its shoulders.


    The zombie dropped, and I kept going.


    Another room filled with dusty papers and dark walls with chipped paint.


    ¡°Two on the right!¡± Agatha called.


    I burst through in time to see Agatha¡¯s hands solidify, the ghostly blue tint to her skin deepening as she shoved one of the zombies in the back.


    At the same time, Ben¡¯s foot solidified in the zombie''s path.


    It went down, and I ignored it, focusing on the woman in a tattered white dress.  Mud clung to its edges, and her grey hands grasped for my throat.


    I fired, the buckshot tearing into her with a spray of dark blood. The smell of rot and mud filled the room.


    I kept moving, the music pounding in my ears.


    Sprinting like this sent pain lancing down my side, but I kept it up until I reached the hall.  I looked both ways before running right.


    I slowed to a jog. If I gassed myself, I¡¯d be screwed.


    My breaths came deep and slow. Despite my injury, a week and change of bedrest hadn¡¯t undone years of conditioning.  The hole in my side had undoubtedly put a damper on that, but magical healing was a beauty.


    ¡°Corner¡¯s clear,¡± Ben called.


    I rounded it and kept going. I just had to keep stalling, make them work to find me.  Blair would call in the cavalry.


    I ran past a stairwell that would lead to the back. I couldn¡¯t take that way out. It would be guarded.


    And if this necromancer was remotely competent, they¡¯d have fast undead stationed outside in case I jumped through a window.


    Why the hell were they after me in the first place? I¡¯d never even met them! The closest interaction we¡¯d had was when I sensed their ward.


    Surely that wasn¡¯t enough for them to send the undead hit squad.


    It might be, though. The odds were good that these necromancers were insane. You couldn¡¯t always tell what could set them off.


    I knew what it was like inside a broken mind.  Things didn¡¯t have to make sense to someone like that.


    Wails sounded over the music.  A cold, oily sensation rose with the sound, covering my senses in a flash.


    There was a thump from my right and a flash of power. I dove forward and hit the ground as the wall exploded, wood and plaster flying.


    I hear earthquakes and lightning~


    I rolled to my feet, pain rippling from my side. No time for resting now, Alder.


    I glanced over my shoulder as I ran and bit back a curse.


    The ghoul was hideous.  Close to seven feet tall with a hunched back, long arms hanging to its knees, and thick fingers topped with black claws.


    And all that paled compared to its face.


    Ghouls were in the same boat as vampires.  They didn¡¯t start as undead, but if they gave in to their hunger, it literally ate them alive.  Twisting them into something else.


    The ghoul''s jaw distended in a nightmarish muzzle, somewhere between a wolf and a bulldog.


    Jagged yellow teeth overflowed past its lips, and I could smell its rotting breath from here.


    White eyes focused on me, and those jaws spread, displaying those teeth in more detail than I ever wanted.


    It moaned, the sound filled with raw hunger.


    Welp, the shotgun isn¡¯t going to cover it.


    I ran as fast as I could and prayed this ghoul skipped cardio.


    As the sound of its gaining footsteps pounded over the music, I knew I wasn¡¯t so lucky.


    ¡°Trip it in three!¡±


    I spun, bracing the shotgun as ghostly hands grabbed its back foot.


    The ghoul would be monstrously strong but not that strong by supernatural standards.  If it were, I¡¯d be dead already.


    So when Ben and Agatha jerked its foot back the instant it tried to move it, the ghoul tumbled forward, and the shotgun roared.


    The gun kicked into my shoulder, and black blood sprayed.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    The ghoul¡¯s head jerked back, but its brain wasn¡¯t included in the spray of gore.  While they couldn¡¯t heal as fast, ghouls were as hard to kill as werewolves and vampires.


    They didn¡¯t regenerate as quickly as the former and didn¡¯t have the myriad of magical tricks as the latter, but the average ghoul was more durable than the average were or vampire.


    So, while the shot staggered him, I had no illusions that this was over.


    I pumped, the shotgun giving me a weighty ¡®chunk chunk¡¯ with the motion.


    I fired again, slamming the buckshot into the ghoul''s head, more blood and flesh flew, giving the thing an even more horrific appearance, but I didn¡¯t even chip the bone.


    I gave it one last shot to its knee, then turned and kept running.


    I rounded the corner, and Rodgers called out. ¡°File cabinet coming down.¡°


    I sped up, and the heavy wooden cabinet crashed to the ground inches behind me, partially blocking the corridor.


    The pain in my side built, but I felt no blood leaking.


    Not bad, all things considered.


    I blew through two more zombies and then started to reload without slowing.


    I could hear the ghoul in the distance. I couldn¡¯t keep this lead for long.


    I rounded another bend. Had I done a full loop at this point?


    I tried to consult my mental map of the place. Where was the nearest gun stash? One of them had a hand grenade in it.  And since the ghoul hadn¡¯t caught me yet, there was a decent chance that a grenade to the face would kill it.


    ¡°Detour!¡° Rodgers bellowed. ¡°First door on your right!¡° I didn¡¯t hesitate, barely looking at the hall long enough to see a group of four zombies before I took the door.


    If I cut through the next two rooms and took a left, I could get back into the hall. I wanted to barricade some of the doors behind me, but depending on how long this went, a pathway that I closed off was one that I couldn¡¯t double back through later.


    It would be awfully embarrassing to die because I trapped myself with a file cabinet.


    Shag carpet greeted my boots as I raced through an office. This office was Linda¡¯s.  I can¡¯t believe I let her have that stupid carpet.


    I shook the thought off and kept going.


    I hear trouble far away~


    I made it to the next room, a long office space with a door to my left, right, and one straight ahead.


    Rodgers and Ahab slipped through the far door only to burst back in an instant later.


    ¡°Take the door to your right!¡° Ahab shouted.


    Three zombies charged through the door on the ghosts'' heels.


    They came at me, running only a few notches below a full sprint.


    Go for the head? No time, can¡¯t stay still.


    The shotgun roared, and the lead zombie''s legs buckled and gave.  It didn¡¯t matter if they couldn¡¯t feel pain.  If the muscles and tendons connecting their legs together didn¡¯t exist, they weren¡¯t running.


    These zombies were fast, but they weren¡¯t agile.  The first toppled, and the next two slammed into it, going down in a tangle of limbs.


    I burst through the door as Rodgers flew ahead of me.


    It was the lunch room, which was a needlessly elaborate thing that stretched up both floors with a cafeteria on the bottom and tabled seating overlooking the first floor.


    Don¡¯t know why so many people complained about the room.  So what if it was expensive? I wanted to eat somewhere that looks nice!


    Dammit!


    I shoved the thoughts away and pushed a chair against the door behind me.


    Body¡¯s slammed into it a moment later, causing the wood to shake in its frame.


    Ben and Agatha flew through the door, their expressions grim.  ¡°Bad news,¡± Agatha growled.


    ¡°The other doors are getting swarmed. They¡¯re converging.¡°


    I swore. ¡°Barricades!¡° I rushed to the nearest door, wedging a chair under its handle before dragging a table over to shove against the chair. It looked wedged in enough that they¡¯d need to break the door itself to get through.


    Rodgers, who had been slipping in and out of the walls as I worked, flew over to me. ¡°Six directions now. They¡¯re trying to cover every exit.¡°


    I sucked in a breath as my mind worked overtime. ¡°Anything nastier than a ghoul?¡°


    He shook his head. ¡°I counted three bands of sprinters and another three with slightly slower runners. But there are a lot of zombies.¡±


    I bit my lip, my eyes scanning over the doors.


    How had so many zombies gotten into town with no one noticing? How had they slipped past the Pact¡¯s defenses?


    I shook the thought off and focused back on the doors.


    I ran towards where Rodgers pointed, a barricaded door to my left.


    ¡°Help me bar the hell out of this thing. It needs to be able to take a beating. Then we block the others until they¡¯re good enough. Then we wait.¡°


    ¡°And after that?¡°


    I sighed. ¡°We find the door with the least amount of resistance, open it, and then pray we can kill what¡¯s on the other side.¡°


    ~<>~<>~


    Blair fought, desperation and rage pushing her into a frenzy.


    A treacherous voice at the back of her mind told her that it didn¡¯t matter. She couldn¡¯t get there in under two hours, even running at her top speed. Alder would be fine, or he would be dead, and there wasn¡¯t a thing she could do.


    Hot, ugly rage burned in her chest. Before she could even worry about being too slow, she had to deal with the undead and the vampires.


    The Barrow King had sent six different squads into the city, each heading for an artifact or Pact member.


    Blair¡¯s Pack had been stationed outside a museum with an Egyptian exhibit inside.  Blair had been told what the artifact was, but she couldn¡¯t remember.


    It was hard to focus on anything. Anything aside from the undead in front of her.


    She crashed into the woman blocking the doorway, taking her head off with a punch. The rotting flesh gave easily. Blair hardly even slowed down.


    Her Pack ran beside her, their faces grim.


    They knew the score as well as she did.


    There was nothing they could do.


    She screamed, breaking through the formation of undead and hurling herself at the trio of vampires, leading them.


    The radio chatter said Portland wasn¡¯t being hit hard, not on a grand scale. But the strike teams were either after something or someone. Even if they aimed to bind some influential Pact members in the city, tearing them apart would deprive the enemy later.


    And Blair couldn¡¯t leave with them at her back.


    Her fist blurred through the air, her blood pounding through her veins as the strength from the fading moon shone down.


    The vampire dodged the punch, one of its flunkies charging her from the side. She didn¡¯t acknowledge the woman, pressing off with her toes and cracking the ground as she moved.


    Bobby intercepted the second vampire, and she kept after the first.


    The vampire moved like someone in their early hundreds, his steps precise and his strikes brutal.


    But he wasn¡¯t faster than Blair.


    Her fingers shifted as she swiped, black claws sprouting up and giving her several inches of reach. She caught the vampire across the face, and he cried out.


    She was on him before he could recover.


    He slashed blindly at her, and she caught his wrist. She crushed it, his bones grinding together as he screamed.


    A distant part of Blair realized that she shouldn¡¯t be strong enough to do that, that it was a bad sign, and that she should reevaluate, take a step back.


    The rage drowned that voice out, smothering it in hate.


    Simon swept the vampire¡¯s legs, and Blair¡¯s boot stomped down, crushing its throat before he could turn to mist.


    She ripped a steak from the holster at her side and drove it down. She moved on to the next one.


    The vampires lay dead moments later, the zombies in pieces, and the cries in the night air growing distant.


    Blair started to run even as that voice continued to whisper that it wouldn¡¯t be enough.


    ~<>~<>~


    I stared at the can of preserved raspberries as the riffs of Down On The Corner drowned out the wailing dead.


    ¡°How long do you think canned raspberries last for?¡°


    Lilly stared at me like I¡¯d gone insane.


    Ben answered from his position near the door.


    The barricade was as big as it was going to get, he knew that, but he obviously wasn¡¯t happy about it.


    ¡°A while. Years I think.¡±


    I pushed my lips. ¡°Well, I think this has been here since the late 60s, so it¡¯s probably fine, right?¡±


    ¡°You are not eating that!¡° Rodgers called from outside. ¡°It¡¯ll make you sick!¡°


    I waved him off, not that he could see. ¡°You¡¯re no fun.¡° I pocketed the can and walked further into the kitchen.


    They hadn¡¯t spared any expense. Despite being 60 years old and out of use for most of those years, the kitchen was in as close to pristine condition as you could expect. It just needed a bit of dusting, and you could feed a small army.


    ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll cook a cobbler for the zombies. Raspberries are red and chunky. Maybe they¡¯ll mistake it for brains.¡°


    ¡°Brains are pink,¡° Ahab pointed out.


    I waved him off too.


    ¡°Next phase, Alder,¡° Rodgers called out.


    I moved to the back of the kitchen, into the cleaning closet, tucked into one corner. Lilly followed me inside, her expression drawn and her eyes tight.


    There was a mop bucket, empty, of course, leaning against one wall.


    I tipped it over and sat down. My side cramped, and my muscles groaned, but it was nice to have a seat at least.


    I hummed along to the music, doing my best to ignore the pain and the sounds beyond the door.


    Lilly stared at me like I¡¯d grown a second head. ¡°How do you do it?¡°


    I tilted my head towards her. ¡°Oh? Do what.¡°


    She gestured with her hand towards the kitchen and what lay beyond. Then back to me. ¡°All of it. How do you fight when your side is like that? When you¡¯re so¡­¡° She trailed off, floundering for words.


    ¡°Fragile?¡° I offered.


    She nodded.


    ¡°I don¡¯t mean you as a person. But humans in general.¡±


    ¡°How do you go around when everything out there can kill you, when you¡­¡±


    She sank to the floor and wrapped her arms around herself.


    I reached out and gently laid a hand on her arm, her skin cool under my fingers. ¡°You didn¡¯t think about it until you died, did you?¡°


    She shook her head. ¡° I always knew it could happen, in my head. We¡¯re not immortal. Not truly. But it was always so distant. Werewolves don¡¯t die slipping in the tub. They don¡¯t get sick and waste away. They don¡¯t¡­ They aren¡¯t supposed to just vanish, just like that. Without a fight.¡°


    She squeezed her eyes shut.


    ¡°I don¡¯t-¡± she sniffed. ¡°I don¡¯t think I could¡¯ve left the house if I thought it could end at any moment. If I thought I was just as weak as a-¡± she cut herself off.


    I finished the thought for her, my voice gentle, ¡°as weak as a human.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean-¡° I squeezed her arm. ¡°No. It¡¯s okay. You¡¯re right. We are weak. Hell, we¡¯re practically made of paper compared to most spooks.¡±


    I stared into the kitchen as the moans and crashes continued. ¡°The world is scary. It¡¯s dark and unfair, and people who don¡¯t deserve it die every day.¡±


    She stared at me, her eyes wet. ¡°But?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°There is no but. All of those things are true.¡° I chuckled, the sound coming out darker than I intended.


    ¡°There isn¡¯t a but, more of an ¡®and.¡¯ That and is everything good in the world.¡±


    I looked into her eyes.  They were tired, scared, and so very lost.


    ¡°The bad things out there can keep you inside, terrified, and alone. Or you can go out and live. Being human is accepting risk. Accepting that life is going to hurt. And that it¡¯s worth it anyway.¡°


    Her lips began to tremble. ¡°I don¡¯t have a life anymore.¡°


    I took her hands in mine and gave them a squeeze. ¡°Not in the traditional sense, no. But do you know what being a ghost means?¡°


    She shook her head.


    ¡°Whatever you decide it does, far as I can tell. There¡¯s no grand meaning to undeath. Just that you have a strong attachment to life, to this world and the people in it.¡±


    ¡°Whatever you decide you¡¯re unlife should be is just that¡ªa decision. If you want to move on immediately, if you know your last request, or if you want me to speed the process along, we can. If you want to explore the world, you can. Or if you want to stay here and spend time with your friends and family for however long you wish, you can.¡°


    Her expression twisted. ¡°I can¡¯t even show myself to them. They can¡¯t hear me.¡°


    ¡°You can learn. There aren¡¯t many better teachers for that anywhere else in the world than in this building right now.¡±


    ¡°Alder, it¡¯s time!¡° Agatha called.


    I stood up, brushing my butt off as the dust from the mop bucket clung to me. ¡°You didn¡¯t choose your death. You didn¡¯t have control over it. But you get to decide what happens now. And whatever you decide, I¡¯ll help you through it.¡° Lilly stared up at me and wiped her eyes. She wasn¡¯t in time to catch a few tears that fell through the floor.


    ¡°Thank you.¡°


    I nodded.  ¡°Of course.¡±


    Then I spit in the mop bucket.


    ~<>~<>~


    The plan wasn¡¯t too complicated. You could only work with so much complexity when the tools at your disposal are one short Telss, a handful of ghosts, three guns, and a bunch of dining implements.


    My spit landed in the mop bucket with a splat. I spat on several other parts of the closet, grimacing as I wiped it around.


    A mage''s DNA contained magic. Blood was the real heavy hitter in that department and could be used for some real dark shit.


    Spit, on the other hand, was a tiny stream of magic compared to the raging river that was blood.


    But cutting myself to leave a blood trail would kind of defeat the purpose of this little stunt.


    As tightly veiled as I was, the zombies were having a much harder time tracking me than they should¡¯ve.


    And now I¡¯d walked all around this room and left a big helping of my magic behind in the janitor''s closet. It should serve as a nice decoy.


    The next step was to pick the right door to burst through, kill everything on the other side, run like hell to the next gun cash and pray that nothing too nasty got in the way.


    Some of the zombies would absolutely chase me, but hopefully some would waste time staring at spit in a bucket.


    We were walking towards a door to commit step two when crackling filled the air.


    The music hissed and popped, and a woman¡¯s voice sounded through the intercom. ¡°How do I make this stupid music stop! How does this even work?¡°


    The music roared up again, drowning out her voice. A moment later, the intercom popped again, and the music cut off. ¡°There we go!  Christ, that was annoying.¡°


    The voice was high-pitched and youngish, probably in their late teens or early 20s.


    The woman¡¯s tone was an uncomfortable mix of annoyance, impatience, and an edge I couldn¡¯t quite place but didn¡¯t like.


    ¡°Spirit mage! I know you¡¯re in there! My thralls can smell you. Open the door now, and I¡¯ll make this quick!¡°


    I exchanged looks with the others. ¡°Can you hear me?¡°


    The intercom system couldn¡¯t pick my voice up, but she was a necromancer. I didn¡¯t know what she could do.


    ¡°Yes. My servant''s ears are my ears.¡° Her voice came out in a hiss that set my teeth on edge.


    But if she was feeling talkative, I could try and get some information.


    ¡°Why are you coming after me in the first place?¡°


    She laughed, the sound crackling through the intercom to stab into my ears. It was manic and high-pitched and made me feel unclean.


    ¡°You delivered the first slap! You sent your insults, and a necromancer responds to slighted honor. One who deals with spirits should know as much!¡°


    She spat the last word out before proceeding to breathe into the mic.


    I exchanged another look with the ghosts.


    Holy shit, she was off her rocker. Which wasn¡¯t surprising, virtually every necromancer was, but just my backhanded insult towards her ward had prompted her to hunt me down?


    This attack had thought put into it.


    The ghost to lure me away, the timing of it coinciding with the Barrow King ramping up the pressure.


    She had spent all that time and committed dozens of undead to hunt me down because I¡¯d hurt her feelings.


    I hadn¡¯t even seen her face! People usually let me insult them to their face before they tried to kill me!


    I motioned with my hand, and we started moving toward our chosen door.


    As we moved, a devious part of my brain started to work.


    Obviously unstable, fragile ego. Impatient.


    I can work with that.


    ¡°You know, it¡¯s a good thing you¡¯re hiding and letting your goons do all the work. I¡¯m gonna tear through them just fine. I might be no match for a ¡®master necromancer¡¯ like yourself, but your thralls? I can handle them just fine. It was a good shot, though.¡°


    I paused and then fired a shot in the dark. ¡°For a little girl. ¡°


    Her scream ripped through the building, and the intercom cut out.


    She probably lost control of her aura and overwhelmed the machinery. That was a shame, no more- the music blared out again, and I laughed.


    My acting wasn¡¯t that impressive, and my lines were cheesy as hell. But while the downside of dealing with the dangerously unstable was that they might try and kill you because of one comment, they also tended to be extremely easy to goad.


    ¡°You have less than five minutes before she tries to kill you herself,¡± Rodgers whispered into my ear.


    It was best to be cautious. There was a decent chance the undead couldn¡¯t hear him over the music, but better safe than sorry.


    ¡°I know,¡± I whispered back. ¡°Blind rage doesn¡¯t lend itself to strategy. I don¡¯t think she will make effective calls while punching holes in the walls.


    And when she does try to fight me¡­¡°


    Rodgers nodded at my guns, his expression grim.


    We stopped at the chosen barricade, and I readied the shotgun. I didn¡¯t have much ammo left for it. Though I was fine on revolver rounds.


    I repeated the numbers Ben had given me in my head. ¡°3,1,3.¡±


    Three slow zombies. One sprinter.


    Three joggers.


    There was a door with fewer zombies behind it, but it was far too close to where the ghoul was pounding away.


    It wouldn¡¯t do to break through my barricade only to run headfirst into certain death.


    I cracked my neck and took a slow breath.


    The necromancer being in the building put a damper on things.


    I wasn¡¯t sure how well my distraction tactic would work if she could tap into the zombie''s senses and see which door I burst through.


    But there were dozens of undead in this building, all grouped in a relatively small space.


    I¡¯d bet she couldn¡¯t focus on all of them at once. Especially not while having a temper tantrum.


    I took one last deep breath and then barked out the signal. ¡°Go!¡±


    There was a surge of magic as the ghosts gathered themselves, strengthening their limbs as they hauled the tables and chairs away from the door.


    The door flew inward as the zombies scrambled to reach me.


    The shotgun boomed in my ears and the two closest zombie''s heads burst in a shower of gore.


    I pumped and fired again. The second boom took another zombie down.


    The sprinter vaulted their corpses, its motions more graceful than the others.


    I fired.


    The zombie jerked itself down and to the left, the motion so quick and violent that I heard its ankle snap.


    It was enough to dodge my shot, the spray hitting the slower zombies behind it.


    The zombie leaped for me, its arms spread wide and yellow teeth bared.


    Ben¡¯s fist caught it in the shoulder, his magic surging for an instant as he made contact.


    The blow didn¡¯t have much power behind it, but it didn¡¯t need to.


    The zombie missed me as I danced to the side, Ben¡¯s hit moving it just enough for me to dodge.


    Its failed tackle brought it to the ground. I pulled out the revolver, thumbed back the hammer, and fired.


    The runner went limp. I dumped two more rounds into the shamblers moving closer.


    The one I clipped with a stray shot was gathering itself and stumbling towards me. The revolver barked again, and the zombie went down.


    I sprinted into the hall, my side screaming with pain


    While the rest in the kitchen was nice for my lungs, it gave my side time to stew and really work itself up.


    Every step sent a bolt of pain through my gut, but I still felt no blood trickling through the bandages.


    Still a win!


    I passed through two more hallways, my breaths coming heavier and heavier.


    Memories began to tug at the edge of my awareness.


    Cam filling her cup with coffee, those damn journalists, trying to get a quote from me. Those hippies at the edge of town, trying to corrupt our youth, banging on my door.


    I shook my head. I couldn¡¯t force all the memories down, I was relying on the crazy old bastard''s thoughts to find his gun stashes, but I wrestled the unwanted memories the best I could.


    The cries and groans grew closer, chasing me through the dusty halls.


    And all the while, music pounded through the speakers, a nice rock soundtrack to accent my likely gruesome death.


    I rounded a corner. Not long now. One more room, and I would reach the next cache. One with substantially more oomph.


    I finished turning the corner, and my mind skittered to a stop.


    A young woman stood at the far end of the hall.


    She carried a thin, dark staff in one hand, its length marked with sickly gray and green runes that buzzed and hissed at the edge of my senses.


    She had dark hair pulled into a tight ponytail and round, open features. She was only a few inches taller than me, maybe 5¡¯2, 5¡¯3, with a ratty brown cloak, thick denim jeans, and a torn T-shirt with faded comic sans on the front.


    She glowered at me, her eyes dark and hateful.


    ¡°This is the end for you, spirit mage.¡° She growled, her voice cold and low.


    Well, it wasn¡¯t that low. She was trying to growl, but I had spent the last several weeks with werewolves.


    ¡°Die to my power!¡° She roared, her voice ringing out like a bad cosplayer.


    Only then did I notice her aura.


    The sense of death and rot was so prevalent in the building that I¡¯d tuned it out at first.


    It filled the hall, shifting and rising with an eager energy. Its motions were stiff, slow one moment, only to jerk and spasm the next.


    Like the corpse of a predator that didn¡¯t quite realize it was dead.


    It was strong. Not as strong as mine, but she could do a whole lot of actually dangerous things with hers.


    She kept monologuing at me, but while my brain had momentarily stopped, my feet hadn¡¯t.


    I barreled towards her, and her eyes went wide. I brought up my gun, and her eyes turned into saucers.


    I fired.


    I hadn¡¯t had time to aim in my dead sprint, so the spray flew toward her right arm.


    She threw herself down in time to dodge it all together, and before I could get a second shot off, a mob of zombies sprinted in behind her, quickly blocking her from view.


    Well, that was bad.


    I reached my destination and crashed through the door to my left and slammed it behind me as Ben, Rodgers, Agatha, Ahab, and Lilly quickly got a barricade going.


    I hurdled the desk, my side screaming, and landed on the other side. I opened the bottom drawer, my hands scrambling against the wood.


    A boot knife had been slipped between old files, its ivory grip smooth and familiar in my hand.


    I pulled it free and stabbed it down into the shag carpet.


    I quickly cut a hole and ripped the carpet out, revealing a green metal box.


    I reached in and heaved.


    My side screamed, but adrenaline was a hell of a drug. I removed the box, undid the latches, and flipped it open.


    There was a semi-automatic rifle, whose name I could never pronounce, with several mags of ammo, a hand grenade, and a longer bolt action rifle.


    ¡°They¡¯re flanking!¡° Rodgers warned. ¡°They¡¯ll be around in under a minute.¡°


    My palms felt clammy as I worked, quickly loading the guns before pocketing the grenade.


    I slung the bolt action over my shoulder. Its strap was a little big, but it would do. There was another problem, though. Carrying a shotgun, two rifles, and a revolver was a lot of weight.


    And I was far from a 100% at this point.


    I frowned, then slung the semiauto over my shoulder as well. I didn¡¯t have many shotgun shells left. It made more sense to use them up and then ditch the gun.


    Fists pounded, crashing into the door, and the necromancer screamed something I couldn¡¯t make out over the music.


    ¡°Man, she sounds pissed,¡° Ben said. ¡°She¡¯s going to give herself a heart attack if she keeps going like that.¡°


    He paused. ¡°Actually, that would fix the situation for us. I hope she keeps going.¡°


    I hummed along to the music as I jogged to the far door.


    ¡°Two on your left, about 20 seconds out.¡° Rodgers said.


    I nodded and readied the shotgun.


    I burst through the door; gun raised, just as Rodgers swore, pulling his head back through the far wall. ¡°The ghoul¡¯s on its way! It¡¯s coming in fast!¡°


    Shit.


    I was pretty confident that the grenade could kill the ghoul. If it were strong enough to survive the grenade, it would¡¯ve been fast enough to have caught me by now, and the barricades we threw up wouldn¡¯t have stopped it.


    Though if I hadn¡¯t spent so much money reinforcing these doors, the undead would¡¯ve gotten through anyway.


    I shook the thought away. I hadn¡¯t spent money on the doors.


    I saw the zombies round the corner and fired. They lined themselves up for me, and both of them went down from the spray.


    I took the corner, my heart pounding in my chest. I was close to a stairwell. If I could get to that before the ghoul reached me, it would make for a good spot to fight it.


    The shotgun might not have enough punch to actually kill it, but shooting its feet as it tried to climb would trip it up.


    ¡°Say, Agatha,¡± I gasped out. Man, I really was out of shape.


    ¡°What¡¯s the punishment for destroying government property?¡°


    ¡°Depends on the property and the amount of destruction.¡° Agatha said.


    ¡°But usually a fine and some jail time.¡°


    ¡°Well, the cops in this town don¡¯t do anything anyway. I doubt they¡¯ll be able to pin it on me.¡°


    I made it to the hallway leading to the stairs. Unfortunately, so did the ghoul.


    It whipped around the corner on all fours, its black claws stabbing into the carpet as it rushed forward. ¡°God!¡± I gasped. ¡°Fallen ghouls are so icky!¡±


    I raised the shotgun and fired. We were close to 50 feet from each other, but shotguns didn¡¯t behave as you saw in movies or games. The buckshot didn¡¯t spray in an absurdly wide cone the instant it left the barrel.


    It hit the ghoul, but that didn¡¯t mean it did anything.


    I kept running for the staircase and fired again and again. Just as the shotgun clicked empty, the ghoul stumbled as the last shot connected with its ankle. I hurled the shotgun at it and sprinted up the steps.


    I took them two at a time, my legs straining, and just as I reached the top, something gave.


    There was an awful popping sensation from my side, and warmth spread under my bandages.


    Well, shit.


    I scrambled for one of the rifles and ended up with the bolt action. It was better than nothing, and for what it lacked in fire rate, it made up for with power.


    It was the kind of thing you used to go bear hunting.


    The ghoul howled, the sound feral and full of need.


    It took the steps in a mad rush, its limbs flailing and jaws clacking.


    Zombies ran behind it, piling up the stairs.


    I aimed and fired. The shot boomed out, deafening me for a second.


    It took the ghoul between the eyes, and it staggered back a step. I reloaded, pulling the bolt back before slamming it forward again.


    Boom.


    The ghoul''s hand flinched, and I saw a chip of bone fly away. I reloaded again, then yelled out. ¡°Trip it!¡±


    I fished out the grenade, desperation causing me to miss my pocket on the first try.


    My fingers closed on cold metal. I pulled the pin and started counting.


    Ghostly hands burst through the floor,  seizing the ghoul''s feet.


    In a direct context of strength, they would fail, but I didn¡¯t need them to box the thing. I just needed a few seconds.


    The ghoul struggled, its eyes locked onto me.


    It jerked its foot once, twice, then it was free.


    Done with my count, I dropped the grenade, letting it clatter down the steps.


    Then I turned and ran for my life.


    I sprinted for all I was worth.  My lungs burned, my side throbbed, but I kept pushing.


    I timed it well, making it a good distance down the hall before the explosion drowned out the music.


    It still sent my ears ringing.


    I kept going, though I couldn¡¯t hear the music or my own feet pounding against the stupid carpet.


    Rodger and Ben gave me some pantomime while Agatha and Ahab rushed ahead. I assumed that meant danger up ahead, so I readied the gun.


    I had dropped the bolt action in my sprint, I wasn¡¯t sure when, so it was the semi-auto I leveled.


    Lilly jogged next to me, her expression tight.


    I could feel traces of magic swirling around her fists. She was trying to figure out how to make herself physical.


    Agatha tripped a zombie as they rounded the corner, and I fired. The zombie jerked, then went still.


    I stumbled along, the pain growing worse and worse.


    More zombies came, and I fired more. I changed the mag at some point, I was pretty sure. How many shots did I have left?


    My ears finally stopped ringing, and I shook myself. I wasn¡¯t any less tired or in less pain, but my thoughts didn¡¯t feel like they were being filtered through mud anymore.


    I was near the front of the building, and at this point, I felt confident that the necromancer had called all the undead she had. That grenade had to have wiped out a good chunk of her horde.


    If I got out of the building, I could run for it¡­ I glanced down at my bandages slowly filling with red


    Or shoot them as they made it outside, at least.


    I stumbled to another staircase, nearly tumbling down it as I went.


    More zombies, more shots.


    Pain.


    At this point, my side felt like it was going to rip me in half, but I made it to the front door and pushed it open.


    A few distant wails sounded over the pounding music, mixing with my gasping breaths to completely fill my ears.


    I started down the front steps, and my side cramped. Pain flashed through me, and I stumbled, falling the last few feet to the ground.


    It saved my life.


    Agatha cried out as I fell, but instead of trying to catch me, she shoved me, hard. I hit the ground as a shape flew over me.


    The ghoul, its body ravaged and broken, landed in a crumpled heap.


    It slowly pulled itself up and began to crawl toward me.


    The necromancer walked through the front door and rested her hands on her knees. ¡°You gave me,¡° she gasped. ¡°Quite the chase, spirit mage. I¡¯ll give you that.¡°


    Seemed she didn¡¯t get enough cardio.


    The ghoul looked like a mile of bad road that had stumbled into a war zone. One hand was gone, both legs were visibly broken, and a large chunk of its face was been blown off.


    I could see muscle and even a bit of brain through its flapping skin.


    But ghouls were tough. Despite all of it, it was still moving.


    The rifle had flown off in my dive, I tried to crawl towards it, but my body wouldn¡¯t listen.


    A few more zombies stumbled through the door, their clothes singed and their limbs mangled or burnt.


    I caught most of them with that grenade, I guess.


    Unable to get to my rifle, I pulled out the unreasonably large revolver and leveled it at the ghoul.


    A spiteful part of me wanted to aim for the necromancer, but even if I shot her dead, the ghoul and zombies would still tear me apart.


    Before the ghoul could shamble over and kill me, I fired.


    I wasn¡¯t in the best of spirits, and my arm was heavy. But the ghoul was less than 10 feet away.


    Its head jerked, but I could see that the bullet hadn¡¯t entered at the right angle. It had gotten stuck on thick muscle or bone.


    I fired again, and this time I got lucky. The ghoul¡¯s head jerked back as the bullet wreaked havoc on its exposed brain.


    It dropped, and then things got a little hazy. I fired a few more times, and some zombies hit the ground.


    There was some screaming, my friends rushed in, and the necromancer''s aura surged. The last zombie dropped in front of me, a bullet in its head.


    I aimed at the necromancer and fired.


    Click.


    Oh shit.


    She sprinted at me and kicked the gun from my hand, nearly breaking my finger in the process. I reached for my sidearm, but she was too quick, kicking it from my grip before I could finish drawing.


    She danced back, focusing on the ghosts pressing in at her aura.


    I blinked. She was doing what I did. Her aura, a pulsating, sickly green thing, shoved against the others, warning them away.


    No, it was doing more than that.


    They grimaced in pain, and Lilly held her stomach like she¡¯d been stabbed and cored out.


    She was draining them.


    I unveiled my aura, and her eyes widened. A wall of green and purple crashed against sickly green.


    It hit her with a lot less force than I¡¯d hoped.


    She pushed back, hard.


    My whole body tensed with the strain, and I had to fight back a gag as my side cramped, which made it cramp even harder.


    At least the pressure seems to lessen from the ghosts, their expressions changing from pain to anger.


    But while that stopped the drain, they still weren¡¯t coming closer.


    I could exclude them from most of the effects of my aura, but clashing with a necromancer was still causing my shroud to buffer the ghosts like strong winds.  They staggered, raising their arms as they slid back from the force of our contest.


    I took as deep a breath as I could and pushed.


    If I was at my best, well rested¡ªas well as I ever got rested¡ªand not beat to hell, I probably would¡¯ve been able to force her aura back. But she wasn¡¯t weak, and I was none of those things.


    I¡¯ve put my will against a lot of things, most of them older, stronger, and meaner than me.


    A lot of them had a kind of furious natural focus, like they could narrow down the world, cutting everything else away until it was just you and their will.


    The necromancer wasn¡¯t like that. She pushed against my aura with the ferocity of a rabid animal, desperate and furious and unwilling to give an inch.


    It took everything I had just to keep her from boxing me in, and after only seconds, I could tell how this game would end.


    She would close on me, and while she wasn¡¯t that much bigger than me, she didn¡¯t have a hole in her side and a list of injuries that could fill a novel.


    If I kept stalling, I was going to die.


    And after she kills me, she¡¯s going to turn on the others. She''s a necromancer, she can hurt them.


    The air was a disgusting mix of my own blood and carrion, rotting corpses surrounded me, causing memories to flicker at the edges of my awareness.


    The smell of fresh pines and the Fall air was so far away.


    I couldn¡¯t hold a stalemate, so I started losing.


    I let my aura give, but slowly, in the areas away from the ghosts.


    And as my shroud faltered, I split my focus and began to dig around in my pocket. I was hoping for a gun I¡¯d somehow forgotten, and as my aura buckled, my fingers brushed something cold and metallic.


    The necromancer grinned and lifted both hands. She muttered something under her breath, and her eyes shined with a manic light.


    I tuned her out.


    I¡¯d heard it all before, and I couldn¡¯t spare the focus.


    With a jerk, I pulled my hand back and let my aura fail. Green power rushed in, slamming over my senses and intensifying the smell of rot.


    But meeting no resistance out of nowhere left her flat-footed, her eyes widened a hair, and she nearly missed a step.


    With all the strength adrenaline and pure desperation could give my flagging body, I hurled the can of expired cranberries at her face.


    My aim was a little off. Instead of slamming into her forehead, it clipped her cheek.


    But I had thrown it with everything I had.


    As my side sent waves of agony through me, she staggered to one knee, and her aura faltered. Rodgers was on her in a heartbeat, his fist slamming down on the back of her head.


    The other ghosts were there a moment later.


    Lilly screamed, punching her fist down over and over, and in her rage, she reached out to the magic around us.


    Power gathered in her fist, and I saw them connect as she punched down again and again.


    Rodgers pulled her off a few seconds later. ¡°We need her alive,¡± he rumbled as he patted her shoulder.


    ¡°I doubt she knows much, but you don''t give up information.¡± Lilly trembled, and her eyes bored into the necromancer, but she controlled herself.


    Sirens sounded in the distance, and much closer, I heard the crunch of tires.


    A black SUV rolled up. The familiar figure of Quinton jumped out.


    I leaned back against the steps, one knee up, both arms resting in my lap.


    Music pounded through the building behind me, matching the rhythm of my heart.


    Someone said something, and footsteps pounded closer.


    When did I close my eyes?


    The wind picked up, gusting through the trees, and for one beautiful moment, cut through the smell of rot, carrying the clean smell of the forest night.


    I finally went limp and let the darkness take me.

 A Corpse In Chains 13: Once Again In This Hospital Bed

    Being tired of being tired sounded funny when said out loud. The reality of it was a lot less funny.


    I have been weary for much of my adult life. Scratch that. I have been tired much of my life.


    But on top of that constant fatigue was injury. I¡¯d been injured¡­a lot. Helping ghosts was not safe work. I didn¡¯t know how many bones I¡¯d broken. And I mean that literally. I have no clue. But the number was up there.


    So, when I opened my eyes to the familiar sight of the Manor walls, my side and back aching and my entire body feeling heavy, it was with a sense of resignation.


    I let out a heavy sigh.


    I looked to my left to see Blair, wound tight as a spring, sitting on a wooden stool that was a little too small for her.


    She looked a little like a bird on a perch with her knees pulled close.


    I lifted an arm, half expecting the motion to fail. Thankfully, I wasn¡¯t too far gone since the limb obeyed my command. I gave her a small wave and a half nod. ¡°Yo, we really have to stop meeting like this.¡±


    Blair took my hand before I could pull it back. Her grip was warm and calloused but gentle. She squeezed, not hard, but I wasn¡¯t pulling my hand away.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to give me a heart attack one of these days. I swear.¡°


    I wasn¡¯t sure if werewolves could get heart attacks and now didn¡¯t seem like the right time to ask.


    I gave her hand a squeeze in return, closing my eyes for a minute as my body ached.


    ¡°Yeah. Sorry.¡°


    Neither of us spoke for several minutes. Finally, as if someone was pulling the words out of her, Blair spoke. ¡°The little ghost. He was a trap?¡°


    I nodded, feeling another wave of exhaustion wash over me. Getting screwed over by ghosts was not a new experience. Once upon a time, it made me furious. It felt like a betrayal. As if ghosts abusing my goodwill was somehow worse than when the living did it.


    Now¡­ now just made me tired. And a little sad.


    ¡°Yeah. It was a trap. Little guy was old, don¡¯t know how old, but he certainly wasn¡¯t a kid.¡°


    ¡°A plant from the necromancer.¡°


    I nodded. I saw the hard edge of anger in her eyes. Not directed at me.


    ¡°I called everyone I could, but with the Barrow King''s attacks you ¨C¡°


    She cleared her throat and gently let go of my hand. ¡°They almost didn¡¯t make it. I didn¡¯t make it in time.¡°


    I shook my head at her. ¡°None of that,¡± I said, my voice tired. ¡°I know you would¡¯ve been there in a heartbeat if you could have, Blair. You were dozens of miles away. Nobody can cover that distance quick enough to-¡±


    Her eyes flashed, specks of red swirling with blue. ¡°My mother could have! Dozens of other spooks could have. I¡¯m still too weak.¡°


    I stared at her, the aches in my body feeling distant. I fished for the right words, weighing them carefully before I spoke.


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°If I had a different aura, or if I was a mage, I could¡¯ve protected myself. Maybe if I was more skilled, I could¡¯ve fought my way out cleaner.¡±


    Blair glared at me. ¡°None of that is something you can control!¡±


    I stared at her, not saying anything.


    We sat in total silence, the air thick, heavy.


    Her own words finally sunk in, and she collapsed back onto her stool, shoulders sagging.


    I reached out to her, my voice gentle. ¡°We can only control so much, no matter how much we want to. Somethings can¡¯t be overcome with just will alone.¡±


    Blair gave me a rueful smile. ¡°I. I know that. But I¡¯m not used to being too weak. I hate it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not my favorite either. You get used to it, kind of.¡±


    Blair reached over to a nearby desk and handed me a glass of water. I gave her a grateful nod and took a long sip. ¡°How long was I out for?¡°


    ¡°Two days.¡±


    I looked down at my side, which was swallowed in bandages. ¡°How bad was it?¡°


    ¡°It could¡¯ve been worse.¡° She admitted begrudgingly. ¡°You would¡¯ve died without healers on hand, but from what I understand, they restored you enough to be as healthy as you were a day or two before the necromancer¡¯s attack. They had to use a lot of magic to do it, though.¡°


    It was pretty lucky, all things considered. After an escapade like that, I was used to being incapacitated for a lot longer.


    ¡°What else did I miss?¡°


    ¡°The Barrow King attacked four different cities. Portland was one of them.


    ¡°One assassination attempt in Boston as well as New York. And a raid on museums in Portland and Chicago. We stopped them from getting out with anything in Portland, but both of the assassinations were successful, and three different museums raided. We don¡¯t know what the goal was. They took widely enough that it¡¯s hard to narrow it down.¡°


    I blinked, shock settling over me like cold water. ¡°He won?¡°


    She met my eyes. ¡°Not the war, obviously. But as far as we can tell, he got what he wanted from the attacks, by and large.¡°


    ¡°The targets?¡°


    ¡°A vampire who had dealings with his Master in the past and a high-ranking noble. He didn¡¯t take the field himself, which makes this worse.¡°


    He had the resources for a wide-scale attack while keeping himself on the bench.


    That was a problem, especially since the man¡¯s magic meant he was raising more and more undead every day.


    That would have limited effect if someone like Adela took the field against him. But she could only be in one place at a time. In many ways, the Barrow King wasn¡¯t so limited.


    Blair shifted slightly, drawing my attention.


    I¡¯d spent enough time around the woman to read the nerves in her expression.


    ¡°Get out with it. It can¡¯t be that bad. I know the others are fine. You would¡¯ve already told me if they weren¡¯t.¡°


    She shifted again before meeting my eyes. ¡°My mother has a¡­ Request for you.¡°


    I raised my brows.


    Blair tensed but didn¡¯t interfere as I sat up to lean against the pillows. ¡°A request? Or a politely dressed up order?¡°


    The woman couldn¡¯t order me around for shit. I was under her protection, not her authority.


    For most, that was the same thing, but I could tell her to take a fucking hike, and she knew it.


    ¡°More like a request, she resents being unable to make into an order.¡±


    ¡°What is this request?¡°


    Blair drew herself up, her bearing changing as she spoke with a voice full of authority. ¡°Adela Northwoods, co-Alpha of the Northwood Pack and representative of all the werewolves, politely requests that the Grave Keeper travel, accompanied by my daughter and her Pack, to the town of Vintray, Virginia.¡°


    I blinked at her. ¡°Why?¡°


    ¡°Because we¡¯re trying to recruit a Spirit Lord. And they¡¯ve refused to discuss terms unless they can meet with you.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡±

 A Corpse In Chains 14: Part 2: Adventures In Silver Spruce

    The fall air rushed by, nipping my cheeks and tossing up leaves. It carried with it the scent of decay and oncoming rain as it brushed against my coat, its questing fingers trying to slip inside. I shifted my jacket tighter, a smile flashing across my face.


    Cold or not, I was outside again.


    It had been five days since my little adventure in the town hall. Bed rest had once again demanded its due, but the healers managed to get me back to the shape I was before getting the shit beat out of me by a necromancer''s horde.


    Now that I was hale enough to move around, things were progressing quickly. Preparations sped along, shoved forward by the unstoppable force that was Blair.


    We were flying halfway across the country tomorrow in our trek to the Spirit Lord.


    Blair had finished any and all packing and prepping she needed¡ªprobably before she even knew we were going. My packing was also quick, which I achieved mainly by throwing the things I needed into a bag and ignoring Blair¡¯s pained protests.


    Another gust ripped along the path, and I shivered.  I glanced to the side. The woman in question didn¡¯t seem to mind the wind, her dark jacket unbuttoned to expose a white T-shirt underneath. Her loose sweatpants weren¡¯t any thicker than they¡¯d been a month ago. Werewolves weren¡¯t terribly impressed by the cold.


    Her eyes constantly scanned about, her shoulders stiff with tension that never left. She was about eight notches past high alert, and that hadn¡¯t changed since I¡¯d woken up. Things were worse; I could tell that much.


    Whatever she did to her Bond fighting against the wendigo had worsened in Portland. I couldn¡¯t help but feel responsible for that. If she hadn¡¯t been fighting to finish as quickly as possible to try and get back to me, would she have pushed her Bond further?


    Was it my fault that her temper was shorter, that the tension never seemed to leave her?


    I knew that wasn¡¯t fair. It was the fault of the necromancer and the Barrow King for attacking us. But my emotions took a bit longer to understand what my brain was telling them.


    We slipped beneath dense tree trunks, their needles filtering the light like curtains and casting distorted shadows on our path. The sidewalk was immaculately maintained, and even though we were only a few feet from the road, a layer of trees separated us from the asphalt, making the walk feel secluded.


    We passed over a section of trail that was cracked and dented. If I didn¡¯t know any better I¡¯d say it looked like something had stomped on the asphalt hard enough to break it.  Probably one of the undead from the Barrow King¡¯s raid.


    The cracks wouldn¡¯t last long. The maintenance man always took good care of this area, it was one of his favorites or something. I¡¯d ask the guy myself but trying to track him down was all but impossible.


    Everyone you asked who should know how to reach him had only heard about him from someone else, but our roads got repaired, and our benches, trails and bus stayed in working order.  Despite the fact that I had never actually seen someone repairing them.  Plus, Rodgers had insisted that the man was real and was just, ¡°A bit odd.¡±


    I shook my head before focusing on the task at hand. The trail led us beneath a bridge, the shadows cast by the trees morphing into something deep and cold. The air smelled of stone, mildew, and something slightly acrid.


    My eyes flicked to the corner of the underpass, to the deepest point of shadow.


    A little green spirit began to worm its way from the darkness. It looked like a mouth stretched into a scream, warbling and morphing as it moved. If you focused, you could hear a distant cry, growing louder the longer you listened.


    I unveiled my aura and slashed it through the spirit.


    Fiends weren¡¯t strong, but they were annoying and scared the hell out of people. I didn¡¯t know how common they were in other parts of the world; my understanding was they weren¡¯t very. But in places with exceptionally thick ambient magic, they cropped up like weeds, drawn to the emotions that created them. Greed fiends gathered in places of avarice and where lots of money changed hands: casinos, banks, and sometimes even stores.


    Fear fiends¡­ well, they gathered around sources of fear and places people tend to be afraid of.


    Like a dark bridge in the woods.


    Blair tensed further as the fiend popped. I glanced at her. ¡°You alright?¡°


    She nodded. ¡°Fine.¡° Her eyes tracked where the fiend had been.


    ¡°They can¡¯t hurt you, you know.¡° She shot me a look as we kept going.


    ¡°I know.¡°


    We walked for another few minutes, the sidewalk turning into a steep climb as we neared the Northside, though we didn¡¯t quite cross that barrier. Things were safer in this little section¡ªnot safe, but not filled with things of the same caliber as the North Road, which would be our last stop.


    My rounds had already taken us through downtown and most of the busier haunts. People shouldn¡¯t be screaming about little spirits and complaining that I hadn¡¯t cleaned them up for at least another month.


    I glanced to Blair, trying to be subtle about it. She had not taken this trip well.


    I wasn¡¯t sure why the fiends bothered her so much. They were mostly harmless. But each time one flew by or through us¡ªwell, through her¡ªthey bounced off me like a brick wall. She tensed further and further until I worried she¡¯d snap like a cable under strain, and I didn¡¯t know what was causing it or how to make it better.


    The trees opened up to our right, revealing a set of benches shaded under the bow of a large pine. I chuckled as I walked over. Typically, there was a little- yep, there it was. A bright pink fiend shaped like a heart rushed out with a moan. I unveiled my aura again and slashed it. As it evaporated, a second fiend shaped like a pair of lips puckered for a kiss blew through Blair¡¯s shoulder with a loud smacking noise.


    I chuckled as I evaporated it, quickly veiling my aura as Blair glared furiously at the spot the fiend had been. ¡°Love and lust fiends are a little cheeky. People often run out here for a nice secluded spot, so it tends to generate these little guys.¡°


    Blair was still glaring at the spot, and I couldn¡¯t help but laugh at her almost affronted expression. ¡°It¡¯s all right; I¡¯ll protect you from the mean old spirits. I¡¯ll just stand in front of you and block ¡®em like a scrawny wall.¡°


    Blair¡®s eyes locked onto mine, and she snarled, the sound brimming with hostility. Specks of red floated in her eyes as her lips curled back to expose slightly elongated canines.


    I took a quick step back.


    In that brief moment, Blair glared at me like a stranger; the only time she¡¯d ever given me a look of such raw hostility before was when we¡¯d first met.


    Okay, things had really gotten worse.


    Blair grimaced, stepping back as her eyes flashed with horror. Her face paled, and she looked like she was going to be sick. She closed her eyes and bowed her head. I didn¡¯t say anything. I just stood there and gave her some time.


    Cars passed in the distance, the rumble of their engines barely audible through the forest.  Birds chirped overhead, and I let the crisp air, decaying leaves, and the subtle scent of something freshly baked distract me as I waited.


    After close to a minute, Blair opened her eyes. The flecks of red had vanished, leaving only deep blue behind.


    I took a slow step closer, making sure not to meet her eyes, keeping my attention focused on her chin. ¡°Is there anything I can do to help?¡°


    She shook her head, and I couldn¡¯t tell if she would growl or cry. ¡°I- I¡¯m sorry. I don¡¯t-¡°


    I shook my head at her. ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡°


    Her jaw clenched. ¡°It¡¯s not!¡° She snapped.¡° A growl was back in her voice, and her gaze was furious.


    A heartbeat later, she deflated, sinking onto the bench. She pinched the bridge of her nose, a sound somewhere between a snarl and a sob racking her shoulders.


    I carefully moved next to her, sitting close enough for her to touch me if she wanted.


    She shifted closer, bending to lean against me.


    We sat like that for a few minutes, letting the forest calm us before I spoke.


    ¡°I want to help you, Blair. But I don¡¯t know how. Do I need to not make jokes, or is there a specific thing that ¨C¡°


    She let out a sound packed with so much frustration I was surprised it didn¡¯t create a fiend on the spot. ¡°You should be able to make jokes with me. You should be able to say whatever you want without worrying that I will take your head off.¡± Blond hair hung about her face in a veil as she shrank in on herself as if trying to hide from the world.


    She took several slow breaths before continuing. ¡°Ghosts, spirits. They frustrate me. I can¡¯t do anything to them. But they can hurt us, hurt you.¡°


    ¡°You can¡¯t protect me or the others from them,¡± I said, understanding finally dawning on me. ¡°It makes you feel helpless.¡°


    She closed her eyes and nodded. ¡°Which no part of me likes. It sets everything off.¡°


    I made a mental note of which jokes I needed to rein in. I should¡¯ve thought of that before; it had been stupid of me to poke at her. I didn¡¯t say that, though. I had a feeling it wouldn¡¯t make her feel any better.


    Watching her like this was hard. The frustration, the pain, seeing the fear in her eyes, fear that she would hurt me.


    And I didn¡¯t know how to help her.


    Her arm was warm against my shoulder, a pleasant sensation against the chill afternoon.


    More cars rumbled by, mixing with the sounds of the forest around us.


    I didn¡¯t know how to fix this, and I didn¡¯t have answers or the training to find them.


    But the Spirit Lord did.


    I laid my hand over hers and squeezed. ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out, Blair. It¡¯s going to be alright.¡°


    Now, I just had to make sure that wasn¡¯t a lie.


    ~<>~<>~


    Simon found himself drawn to Barry¡¯s Grocers and Guns like a moth to a flame. He would get packed before they left. That might be five minutes before, but he¡¯d get it done.


    The important stuff was done already, though Blair was likely to have a stroke if she saw the state of his bags at the moment. But so long as he didn¡¯t let her see how unpacked he was, everything would be fine.


    Silver Spruce held quite a few things he felt a town of its size had no business having. Its aquarium was oversized for its population. The one local museum he walked by was as big as an apartment building and it was only one of the museums in town.


    On top of that they had two large breweries across the street from one another, one made from red brick and white wood while the other was all glass and metal and bright colors.


    Each of their signs proclaimed that they were the first and best brewery in town.


    All of that was interesting and probably worth a look at a later date. But right now, Simon felt a particular explosive itch needing to be scratched. Something told him that Barry could help scratch it.


    He walked into the store, pausing to obey the sign before entering. Feet wiped, he marched in.


    As he walked inside, the smell of lavender and antiseptic struck him. The shelves that had been destroyed during their fight had been cleared out, and a decent number of them had been replaced.


    At this time of day, a few other people browsed the shelves, but not many. Besides giving an extremely wide birth to a man who smelled sickeningly of sardines, Simon didn''t pay them any mind.


    He smelled the fish across the block and assumed somebody had been returning from a nearby lake. He didn¡¯t know why the man smelled like he had bathed in a bucket of fish, and he didn¡¯t want to know.


    He went straight to the back of the store, entering the gun half as he searched for Barry. He found the man behind the long counter, casually cleaning a break action shotgun with meticulous efficiency.


    Simon approached, and the man¡¯s eyes snapped up. He nodded without saying a word.


    Barry was a large man with a barrel chest and clean, if untamed, black hair that seemed to meld with his equally untamed beard to give him the vague impression of a lion''s mane.


    His clothes were slightly mismatched as if he grabbed the first clean thing he¡¯d seen, but his bright blue eyes settled on Simon with an alert intensity.


    Simon cleared his throat. ¡°Do you have any interest in explosives?¡°


    Barry stared at Simon. Simon stared back.


    ¡°¡­¡± Barry looked left then right. No one was close by. Simon could have told him that.


    ¡°Are you with the feds.¡°


    Simon shook his head. ¡°No.¡°


    Barry considered him for a few seconds before grunting and motioning over his shoulder.


    With a small smile, Simon followed him to the back.


    ~<>~<>~


    Bobby had a plan.


    With one day left to enjoy Silver Spruce until their trip, he decided to make the most of it. Unlike the others, who, aside from Blair, couldn¡¯t plan their way out of a paper bag, Bobby had everything taken care of.


    He¡¯d checked in on the necromancer situation, he¡¯d followed up on that idiot George, all of it. He was home free. And he was going to go on an adventure.


    The halls of the manor creaked and groaned as he walked. He could feel the age of the place in every plank and painting, yet it wasn¡¯t decrepit¡ªjust old.


    He took a deep breath, the scent of old wood filling his nose.  Behind it was something delicious from the distant kitchen, a touch of something bitter upstairs, and one cat. He smiled.


    Like any aspiring adventurer, Bobby quickly faced a dilemma. Jack stood next to the front door, staring up at him with his big green eyes. The cat meowed, a clear question in the sound. ¡°Do you want to go explore?¡°


    ¡°Meow.¡°


    ¡°Do you think you have what it takes?¡°


    ¡°Meow.¡°


    ¡°That could be dangerous, birds you can¡¯t catch and mice big enough to eat you whole. I don¡¯t know what we¡¯re going to find out there. Do you have the spirit needed?¡°


    ¡°Meow?¡°


    Bobby nodded. ¡°Fair enough.¡° He bent down and scooped the cat up with one hand.


    Jack quickly scrambled up his arm to his shoulder, where he took his rightful perch. He stared around with curiosity, basking in his new vantage.


    He caught The Trio just as they climbed into one of the Pack cars. ¡°Oi, give a man a ride?¡±


    The closest, Xavier, nodded. ¡°Hurry up, freeloader.¡±


    Bobby climbed in, moving Jack to his lap as he did. The others jumped in, and the car took off with a rumble of the engine and a lack of caution that Bobby found agreeable.


    The Matello triplets were some terrors in their own right, running around and causing havoc wherever they went. He was never sure which of the Packs under the Northwoods they belonged to. The three seemingly went wherever they wished and generally fit in. It helped that they were competent, but most of all, Bobby respected their inclination to cause trouble and their willingness to give rides.


    The car bounced and sputtered along the North Road and Bobby tightened his hold on Jack, less the cat be bounced away.


    ¡°That cat¡¯s a bit strange,¡± said Xavier. The middle sibling. He stood at a respectable¡ªif short for a werewolf¡ª 5¡¯7 with a lean frame and an easy smile. His black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and he lounged in his seat like a throne.


    ¡°He has the spirit of an adventurer; the world¡¯s odd, not him.¡° Bobby said, defending Jack¡¯s honor.


    Coraline, the eldest of the triplets, eyed Jack as he purred in Bobby¡¯s arms. She was taller than her brother at around 6¡¯ with tousled black hair that fell just past her chin and a large mouth that always looked like it was struggling to suppress a grin. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever met a cat who¡¯s quite that friendly with werewolves.¡±


    Bobby absently stroked the cat''s head as he adjusted, trying to reduce the bumps on his feline friend. ¡°That just means he has good taste.¡±


    Elias, the youngest and tallest of the triplets, said nothing, his eyes focused on the road. With his broad chin and serious stare he looked like he was contemplating philosophy. Elias didn¡¯t talk much, but that was okay. In Bobby¡¯s experience, the other two talked enough for the three of them.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t he be with, like a witch or something? Doesn¡¯t that fit more?¡° Said Coraline. She waved her hand as if painting the scene. ¡°Sitting on the windowsill as they toil away at a cauldron with some dark design, the setting sun casting deep shadows over cat and master alike!¡°


    Bobby arched a brow. ¡°I suppose I could put on a hat and some black thigh highs if you want. I can probably even find a skirt. Really complete the ensemble.¡°


    They gave that more consideration than he felt they should, their eyes narrowing in unison as they studied him. Finally, they nodded and Coraline¡¯s eyes flashed. ¡°Yeah, we could see it. There¡¯s definitely potential there.¡°


    Bobby snorted as they bumped over one last pothole before the road switched from an unforgiving mess to standard pavement.


    The triplets had only gotten in town a few days ago and hadn¡¯t had a chance to explore. They¡¯d been on lockdown after the Barrow King¡¯s attacks while Alder recovered.


    The thought of the Telss laying out in bed, a rotation of healers and bandages covering him, sent a tightness through Bobby¡¯s chest.


    People weren¡¯t supposed to stay injured that long. It wasn¡¯t natural.


    Wind whipped against the car, howling as it raced through town. Bobby was quiet, content to enjoy the scenery. And by scenery, he meant the triplets reacting to the scenery. Their eyes were in constant rotation, widening as they pointed out some strange thing to their siblings.


    The triplets tended to get themselves in trouble, so Bobby gave them a few days before they stumbled across ¡®Grumpy.¡¯ The memory of that thing made Bobby shudder.


    The standing order from Adela herself was that all werewolves were to use the other side of the road, barring an emergency. Bobby knew that warning would serve only to tempt the triplets into exploring.


    He would try to warn them himself, but that would just encourage them to do it faster.


    They dropped Bobby and Jack off downtown before continuing their own adventure.


    He stretched, the chill air doing nothing to dampen his mood.


    Bobby sauntered along the sidewalk, his light jacket more than enough to protect him from the autumn breeze. He could¡¯ve gone shirtless and been fine, but he didn¡¯t need to distract the good citizens of Silver Spruce with his chiseled physique.


    Jack had returned to his shoulder and nestled in as he looked around with open curiosity.


    As he strolled through the streets, enjoying the sights, he noticed some people were shooting less than friendly looks his way.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    As he passed by an old man with grizzled features trying to glare a hole through his shoulder, he realized the man wasn¡¯t glaring at him. He was glaring at Jack. He¡¯d expected to catch some glances for walking around with a cat on his shoulder, but they didn¡¯t look surprised. They looked angry.


    The hell was that about?


    He shook it off. Maybe it was a political statement here or something. It would hardly be the strangest thing about this place.


    A cafe caught his eye, and he swerved towards it. A cute corner shop with crows and ravens painted along its walls in an intricate mural, and a steady stream of people wove in and out.


    Bobby ducked inside. The barista, a woman in her early 30s with a silver streak dyed through the middle of her hair, glanced at him and then at the cat, shrugged, and took his order.


    The shop had more artwork on the walls, a whole mural on one depicting a family of bears reading an encyclopedia, and a spattering of paintings from whom he assumed were local artists on the other. He liked the vibe, and a smile stole its way onto his lips as he took a seat.


    Bobby listened to the hum of the crowd as he waited. People were mentioning the weather. One man said he missed his wife, and another commented that they couldn¡¯t wait for the football game between some teams Bobby didn¡¯t care about.


    He let his eyes unfocus as he listened, the sounds washing over him.


    ¡°What if more undead come? What if the Adjudicator isn¡¯t here to wipe them out?¡± A mage couple in the corner who didn¡¯t strike him as locals.


    ¡°We¡¯ll stop him! The Pact is hardly just the Adjudicator,¡± announced the other man, his voice full of bravado.


    ¡°Oh, will we now? Are you going to stop him?¡±


    The bravado fizzled and died as the second man coughed. ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t say that.¡±


    Bobby moved on. A woman named Janet was waiting for her daughter to pick her up, and a man with grey hair chatted about a clan of spiders that lived in town.


    Even that strangeness couldn¡¯t pull Bobby¡¯s mind from the topic of the Barrow King.  They weren¡¯t saying anything he didn¡¯t know, but it still sat in his mind as an unwelcome squatter.  People were scared.  Of the Barrow King attacking again, of the undead ripping through the town, of this cold war escalating into something hotter.


    He sighed, forcing his mind to move to a different conversation.


    The word ¡®Grave Keeper¡¯ caught his ear and Bobby glanced to a pair of old men, one thin and tall, the other short and wide. They were talking about Alder.


    They didn¡¯t use his name. Most people in town didn¡¯t. They just said the ¡®Grave Keeper,¡¯ and it was definitely capitalized. ¡°He cleared up the fiends finally. Took him long enough; I couldn¡¯t even get a sip of coffee without seeing a spirit,¡± said the tall one.


    ¡°Give the man some slack. There¡¯s been a lot going on right now. Maybe he¡¯s got his hands tied with all this war business.¡°


    ¡°Baa.¡°


    Bobby chuckled at that. Alder was a strange figure in the town. He heard people talk about him occasionally in hushed whispers as if he were some spirit that would descend upon them if they didn¡¯t watch their words. Some thought he was insane, others thought he was dangerous, and others merely an odd recluse.


    It was interesting. Bobby had never befriended someone with such a confused reputation, especially when the man behind the reputation was¡­ well, Alder.


    Bobby marched out of the caf¨¦ with a coffee in hand. Jack sniffed it curiously before turning up his nose. Bobby gave him a gentle pat on the head. ¡°You might develop taste when you¡¯re older. These things take time.¡°


    The cat sneezed.


    Bobby hummed to himself as he strode along the sidewalk. ¡°Where do we go next, Jack? I¡¯m of the opinion that a great adventure needs some spontaneity. It can¡¯t just happen randomly, even though that¡¯s what spontaneity means, I think. It has to be random with a purpose, you feel me? Each random encounter the wayward adventurers have has to link together somehow. To inform a larger whole, yeah?¡°


    ¡°Meow?¡°


    ¡°I¡¯m choosing to interpret that as a question, and I will oblige you with an answer. We seek out adventure because it¡¯s good for the soul. One must have a balance between relaxing rest and exciting adventure. It keeps the body sharp and the mind healthy. Meow if you agree.¡°


    ¡°Meow?¡°


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if that had enough enthusiasm for my taste, but you did meow, so I think that¡¯s what counts here.¡±


    Bobby slipped into more shops, perusing knickknacks and novelty mugs. He bought one for Blair that had a wolf on it with arms crossed that said, ¡®I¡¯m a little grumpy before my coffee.¡¯


    She was going to hate that.


    Chuckling to himself, he walked out of the store. It was about two stores later that he realized he was being followed.


    A group of three, a man and two women, were trailing him. They were being somewhat subtle about it, but well, he was a werewolf.


    They weren¡¯t close to subtle enough.


    He sniffed gently and frowned. Humans, non-magical humans, far as he could tell. Unless they were exceedingly good at veils, he couldn¡¯t catch a trace of magic on them besides the usual bits and pieces people collected when living in a place like this.


    So why were they following Bobby, and why did they smell upset?


    Well, there was one way to find out. Bobby ducked between two buildings into a narrow alleyway and started walking. He began to whistle.


    The trio followed him into the alley, which suggested less-than-wholesome intentions.


    Well, I did want to go on an adventure. Being accosted on the road is the kind of thing an adventurer should be prepared for.


    ¡°You think you can flaunt that here without consequence? Do you think just cause it¡¯s been a while, it¡¯s safe?¡° The man behind Bobby was not happy. He spat the words out with an impressive amount of vitriol behind them.


    Bobby also had no clue what the hell he was talking about. He turned around to see his three tails had spread out to block the mouth of the alleyway. No one was blocking the other side, but perhaps there was a wall or something they thought he couldn¡¯t get through?


    Hard to tell.


    The man at the front was stocky with broad shoulders and a heavy gut stuck in that middle point between impressive strength and too many beers. He had tanned, ruddy features and a neatly trimmed red beard.


    The woman to his left could¡¯ve been his sister, but where he was wide, she was tall and thin. Like a stick, somebody had jammed into the ground. Her red hair was pulled into a tail so tight Bobby was amazed her face wasn¡¯t contorted from the pressure. Though her blue eyes did look a little watery, that could¡¯ve been the cause.


    The last woman was in the middle in terms of height and width. Perfectly average, with perfectly bland brown hair, brown eyes, and a dull, slightly lifeless expression on her face.


    Bobby scratched his chin as he examined the trio. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about. Why are you mad at me?¡°


    The tall woman¡¯s eyes narrowed, and she stabbed a pointy finger, not at Bobby but at Jack. ¡°You think you can tote around that wretched witch spawn without consequences? We still hold up tradition here. If you give him over, we won¡¯t hurt you.¡°


    Bobby was completely lost. ¡°So¡­ I¡¯m new in town. I¡¯ve only been here for three weeks, could you fill me in on what the hell you¡¯re talking about?¡°


    The middle woman blinked. A look of mild surprise overtaking her. ¡°Oh, this might be a little confusing for you then. Cats are evil. Black cats, at least. They are the spawns of witches and demons, and they¡¯re used to spy on folks. You probably don¡¯t even know who that cat is connected to. But they do not have your best interest at heart. Hand it over, and we will dispose of it quickly.¡°


    She sounded patient and reasonable, even if she was asking him to hand over a cat so she could presumably kill it.


    ¡°Well, if you¡¯re saying the cat¡¯s connected to a mage, then I actually do know who, but I wouldn¡¯t call him a witch. Though I guess I could get a hat for him if I¡¯m already getting one¡­¡±


    Bobby shook his head. ¡°Sorry, that¡¯s off-topic. I¡¯m not giving you guys the cat. The hell is the matter with you? Any animal could be a mage¡¯s familiar. It doesn¡¯t have to be a cat. And focusing just on the black ones feels kind of racist.¡°


    The man¡¯s fists clenched. ¡°Making light of this won¡¯t help you. We tried to be nice.¡° And with that, he charged Bobby.


    Bobby considered that as the man rushed him. Well, rushed him for a human. Bobby had plenty of time to consider how absurd this whole thing was. It was just a cat.


    To his credit, Jack was suitably unconcerned. He had moved back slightly, putting more of his weight into Bobby¡¯s hood. His front paws were still perched on his shoulder, his little head poking out from just beside his neck as he observed the trio of idiots.


    Bobby flexed his hands as the idiot charged him. What was the appropriate amount of force? They weren¡¯t a threat to Bobby, but they were trying to kill a cat. He was rather partial to animals, and he didn¡¯t appreciate people abusing them.


    Broken bones? Too extreme? Eh, they were trying to kill Jack.  He¡¯d make sure they¡¯d be healable ones. Maybe a broken nose?


    Bobby sidestepped as the man tried to tackle him. There wasn¡¯t much space for it in the alleyway, but Bobby didn¡¯t need much space. His hand whipped out as he slapped the man hard. Well, hard for a human. He staggered, crashing into the wall as he rubbed his cheek.


    Bobby stepped past the man as the pencil woman charged him. She pulled out a baton and swung, not for Bobby¡¯s face, but for his shoulder. That got her a matching slap to the man. She¡¯s staggered, crashing into the wall and sinking down.


    The last woman examined Bobby, then her companions, who were groaning and rubbing their cheeks, which were already red and beginning to bruise. He had held back most of his strength. He didn¡¯t think he had broken anything. But a cracked cheekbone was not out of the question.


    She considered them for a moment, then stepped back from Bobby, giving him a clear route from the alley. He smacked her upside the head as he passed, gentler than the other two. Wisdom deserved some consideration, but it was still hard enough to smart.


    As she winced and rubbed her head, he kept walking. ¡°Don¡¯t attack strangers cats, you weirdos. I don¡¯t know how you¡¯ve gotten this tradition or why you¡¯re keeping it alive, but there are people here now who will do a lot worse than a well-earned slap if you try this shit again. Dumbasses.¡°


    Jack made a sound somewhere between a squeak and a yowl at the groaning morons as they left, and it sounded scornful to Bobby¡¯s ear.


    As they slipped from the alleyway, he considered the next step in their adventure.


    They¡¯d spent enough time shopping in his estimate and he found his feet taking him back towards the North Road.


    He could call someone for a ride, but he didn¡¯t feel like it. It was a beautiful day, and he was going to spend more than enough time in a car soon. A chance to stretch his legs shouldn¡¯t be ignored.


    As the dense trees of the north road enveloped Bobby, he idly patted Jack. ¡°See, that was a proper adventure when you think about it, Jack. We went out to see new sights, succeeded, and had an unexpected encounter. Have you done something in town, by the way? I didn¡¯t  know about people hating black cats here?¡°


    ¡°Meow?¡°


    Bobby shook his head. ¡°Of course, you haven¡¯t; you¡¯re a sweet soul. But that¡¯s beside the point. So far, we¡¯re moving at a good clip for a proper adventure. We just need to find one more suitably interesting thing on our walk home, and then we can consider this day a success.¡°


    In Silver Spruce, it was harder to find only one interesting thing when you looked around. He passed by ordinary homes and strange lots. One looked like an abandoned mine, the road leading a few dozen feet up a hillside before widening into the plot of land.


    In another town, he¡¯d expect that to be the entrance to a museum or, at the very least, have some signage up to talk about the history of the place. But here? It was probably cursed or haunted or both.


    He wasn¡¯t taking the side that would lead him past Grumpy. Once was enough for a lifetime, in his opinion. But this side of the road had just as many dangers far as he could tell.


    His instincts screamed at him to avoid some places, while others seemed to call to him. And as before, seemingly ordinary homes were mixed in between it all. It was baffling. Who could live in a place like this as an ordinary human?


    Well, the residents of Silver Spruce, he supposed, though from what he had picked up around town, even the other locals considered the denizens of the Northside to be a bit off.


    As the road curved up, Bobby¡¯s eyes trailed to a pristine gravel drive cut into a thicket of trees, their bows so thick they seemed to form a tunnel. And unless his memory was failing him, it hadn¡¯t been there on their way out.


    He stopped, staring at the drive. It was a straight shot down, the angle steep enough that he¡¯d need to be careful not to lose his balance.


    That tunnel of green needle and shrub led down in a perfectly straight line, and at the end of it sat a house¡ªan old, simple cottage with a green boarded roof and brown wooden walls. Red flowers lined the porch, and an empty rocking chair sat beside the screen door.


    It swayed gently back and forth, the sound echoing through the forest.


    Creak creak. Creak creak.


    No one was in the chair, but that didn¡¯t seem to matter. He could still hear it shifting, the weight of its occupant moving gently.


    The blue flowers lining the porch were lovely- Blue? Weren¡¯t they red?


    The thought floated across his awareness before his eyes snapped up as the door began to open. Inside was a home.


    A home Bobby recognized.


    A carpet covered stairwell leading up, a blue wall with a cracked family portrait at its center, sharp lines obscuring the three smiling figures. The smell of smoke and gunpowder filled his nose.


    The door continued to open, and the fire was gone. Instead, the scent of his father¡¯s lasagna drifted out, as warm and tasty as he remembered.


    It had been over a decade since Bobby smelled that, and he found his feet beginning to move without waiting for his brain to command them.


    Creak creak, creak creak.


    His mother laughed as his father told a bad joke, a pop song drifted gently through the kitchen, a gunshot broke through the laughter.


    Crea- Jack¡¯s furious hiss and the sudden pain in Bobby¡¯s cheek snapped him back to reality. His foot was hovering on the drive, only an inch from stepping down. He froze, his instincts snapping awake as he blinked.


    The door was closed, and the cottage no longer seemed inviting. The flowers were wilted, the rocking chair chipped and splintered, and the screen door hung on loose hinges.


    And something was watching Bobby.


    He staggered back, hopping on one foot, making sure no part of him stepped onto the property. He made it away from the drive then he turned and ran like hell was on his heels.


    He only slowed down when he reached the manor drive, the scents of the forest doing little to banish the smoke and gunpowder from his memory.


    He stopped, sucking in a deep breath. His lungs were fine, but his emotions were a mess.


    He took slow, rhythmic breaths, and Jack purred on his shoulder, rubbing his cheek against Bobby¡¯s. ¡°Thank you. I am¡­ I think our little adventure would¡¯ve ended early if you hadn¡¯t snapped me out of that.¡°


    Jack continued to purr as Bobby stroked his fur. His cheek had healed almost as soon as the cat had scratched him.


    The little guy really had saved his ass. ¡°Somebody is getting a bowl of cream with dinner.¡° Jack purred louder as Bobby continued up the drive. ¡°I think it¡¯s time for the part of the adventure where the hero returns and claims their well-earned rest. You¡¯re the hero in this instance, Jack, in case you were wondering.¡°


    ¡°Meow!¡°


    ~<>~<>~


    The road to Brock¡¯s was nice and smooth, hell Laurel was pretty sure it was freshly painted.


    It was jarring, switching from the pothole-filled mess to this, and it wasn¡¯t just the road¡ªthat one she could at least understand. There was so much weird and dangerous nonsense on the North Road that a person would stay away.


    Most Silver Spruce residents fell into that category when it came to that place. Other parts of the town, seemingly ordinary sections, would be skipped or left to almost total disrepair, while others were spotless.


    She shook her head as she pulled to a stop, the van''s tires squeaking on the dry pavement.


    She felt a small rush of excitement course through her as she stared at the shop. It wasn¡¯t proper, not with how much was on the line, but when official Pack business just so happened to give her an excuse to find proper outfits for her friends, she wouldn¡¯t feel bad about relishing it.


    Bartholomew wasn¡¯t just eccentric, which seemed a requirement in mages as they got older. The man was said to have a fondness for costume parties, with outfits ranging from something as simple as a Halloween costume to full-on ensembles from different centuries. A man after Laurel¡¯s own heart. And since they desperately wanted this man to like them, bringing a few outfits out just in case was a legitimate use of her time.


    It was wonderful.


    She stepped into Brock¡¯s store, and the man in question noticed her immediately. He smiled, showing off a set of perfectly white teeth. His outfit was a strange mishmash of styles: a leather skirt that looked almost medieval and a stiff-sided jacket covered in pins. It wasn¡¯t until she saw the copper wiring on his shoulders that she smiled. ¡°Steampunk? Are you trying out costumes before Halloween?¡°


    He nodded, his smile wide. ¡°Dead on Laurel, my dear. This is the third I¡¯ve tried this week. Still haven¡¯t settled on a favorite.¡±


    ¡°I like it.¡±


    She gave him another once over. ¡°Though I think it needs a belt and maybe a hat?¡°


    Brock nodded, tapping his head before pulling out a notepad. He spoke as he began to scribble. ¡°You are the second person to suggest a hat and the first a belt. I like it. Now, what can I help you with?¡±


    Laurel thrust a list onto the counter, the thick paper pinned down by one very neat, very orange nail. Each outfit was written down with a different color of ink, and there was a lot of ink.


    Brock grinned and rubbed his hands together with childlike glee. ¡°I think that¡¯s the best thing somebody¡¯s asked me all year!¡°


    ~<>~<>~


    The rest of our walk was tense. Blair was upset with herself, and I knew nothing I said right now would help.


    I could tell her it was okay, but we both knew it wasn¡¯t. Every day, her Bond grew stronger, and every day, her control was tested further and further.


    Blair wouldn¡¯t become a monster overnight.


    It would happen like most things, a bit at a time. She¡¯d lash out more and more. First, growling at a joke, then at simpler things, not showing the proper deference, meeting her eyes. Then things would get worse. Those growls would turn into strikes. Eventually, she¡¯d be savage, an animalistic brute. And past that¡­ It- it wouldn¡¯t be Blair anymore.


    Which I was not going to let happen.


    The reason I was agreeing to go on this trip across the country wasn¡¯t to help the Pact. Oh, I didn¡¯t want the Barrow King to win this war. I didn¡¯t have very many nice things to say about the powers that be, but at least they hadn¡¯t attacked my home with the living dead.


    No, I was helping because Adela Northwoods promised me that the Spirit Lord could help Blair¡ªor at least he knew how.


    I let that knowledge light a little fire in my chest, and I tried to stop it from guttering out as we crested the manor¡¯s drive.


    A moment later, Blair tensed further. Which was an impressive feat considering she already looked like she was about to explode.


    I shot her a look. ¡°What is it?¡°


    ¡°My mother is here,¡± she said, her voice flat.


    I winced. Adela had been roaming the country nonstop since the Barrow King¡¯s attack. A spook of her age and strength was an invaluable asset. Where she went, dozens or even hundreds of other spooks could reposition, no longer needed.


    That one woman could cover an entire city or do things no number of bodies thrown at the problem could solve.


    There was an element of caution there, though. Adela and the others like her in the Pact couldn¡¯t get locked down unless we knew where the Barrow King¡®s big players were. The small fries were often sent out instead because if the enemy made a move, we needed to have an ace to respond with.


    The end result was that Adela had been here for only a handful of hours over the last several weeks. Something which I was perfectly fine with. The woman was¡­ civil in my presence. What I did at the summit seemed to have earned some tiny measure of her respect. Though she still tended to look at me like I was a stray raccoon Blair had brought inside and insisted be allowed to eat at the table.


    As we entered the manor, a werewolf whose name I couldn¡¯t remember approached us. She appeared to be in her mid-30s with short black hair and plain features. Her name was¡­ It was something with an M?


    She motioned to us before jerking her head towards the steps. ¡°Alpha Northwoods wants to speak with you two. She¡¯s in her office.¡°


    We nodded and started for the steps.


    Were¡¯s bustled about, moving through the manor''s halls in a frenzy. I only recognized a few of them.  For the most part, it was Blair and her Pack and a handful of other werewolves staying here long term, but people constantly moved in and out, using the mansion as a staging ground.


    And that was doubly true when Adela showed up, bringing people out of the woodwork with her arrival.


    I nudged Blair as we walked, gently brushing her hand with mine. She flinched before relaxing slightly, lightly tapping my hand with her knuckles.


    I cleared my throat. ¡°It¡¯ll be alright. She just wants to talk to us about the mission.¡°


    Blair gave a slow nod, then continued, lengthening her stride slightly to pull ahead of me. Worry coiled in my gut, enough of it that the thought of dealing with Adela didn¡¯t sink in until we approached the door.


    She had taken over Master Brahms''s old study, and the ornate wooden door, its surface neatly polished and cleaned, filled me with memories.


    I close my eyes, trying to banish the images that door conjured.


    ¡°Enter.¡° Adela said, her deep voice passing through the door like it wasn¡¯t there.


    Adela Northwoods resembled her daughter, looking more like her older sister than her mother.  She had lighter hair, only a few shades from white, sharper features, and a slightly thinner, if still powerful, build.


    Despite my personal distaste for her, I could admit she was a striking woman, beautiful as most werewolves were, but she had an extra something to her, like most truly old things did.


    Like standing beneath a redwood or treading the halls of an old castle. There was a weight, a silent pressure that could be felt.


    She leaned back in a leather chair, a dark maroon skirt falling to her calf. She wore a cream-colored shirt with a tan overcoat that probably cost more than my whole wardrobe¡­ten times over.


    And despite how she was dressed, no part of me mistook her for anything but a predator.


    Every instinct that had been carved into me over a life of danger screamed at me that the woman in front of me was dangerous, that the best plan for survival was to back up and hope she didn¡¯t notice.


    I ignored those instincts.


    She was typing away at a laptop, her fingers moving at an absurd speed and filling the air with clacks.


    Do they make laptops that can withstand spook strength?


    Before I could examine that thought, she shot us a glance, her glacier-blue eyes just as pale and harsh as I remembered.


    ¡°I trust the flight plans are in order?¡°


    Blair nodded once. ¡°Excellent. I¡¯ve called you here to fill the two of you in on anything that may have been omitted from the reports. I trust you have already read them, daughter?¡±


    Blair¡¯s jaw tightened, but she nodded.


    Adela¡¯s scornful gaze drifted to me. ¡°The Spirit Lord has asked for you. He still hasn¡¯t said why, but he has sworn that he means you no harm. I don¡¯t need to impress upon you how important getting a spirit mage of his caliber onto our side is.¡°


    I grunted. ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s a big shot against ghosts and whatnot. Which the Barrow King has to know about.¡°


    Adela nodded. ¡°I assume he¡¯s made deals with some of them; the others he will try to kill. We¡¯re fairly sure Bartholomew isn¡¯t in his pocket. Which means his life could be in danger.¡°


    I frowned. ¡°You aren¡¯t worried about sending us into a potential attack?¡±


    Her gaze sharpened. ¡°I have considered it, human.¡± Her voice held the bite of winter, and her glare looked like it could peel skin.


    ¡°We are tracking the movements of the Barrow King the best we can, and Bartholomew is as well defended as anyone. You will not be in danger from his agents; no more than you would be here.¡±


    She pointed to a map she had laid out on the nearby desk. ¡°Vintray must be approached by road. The town has no airport and can only be accessed from one direction. It is part of the magic that protects it. I¡¯ve made sure your trip is relatively unknown, but the route will have you driving for some time.¡± As she spoke, her fingers danced across the keyboard like tiny pistons.


    ¡°It will take you a day or two by road. Once there, you hear Bartholomew''s proposal and try to convince him to work with us.¡°


    Her eyes settled onto me, and I could feel the weight of her years, of her authority. ¡°And you convince him to help Blair.¡°


    Blair remained still, trying to keep her face stony. She hadn¡¯t spoken yet; that was how she usually reacted to her mother¡®s presence.


    The image of Adela standing in the hall, looming like a tyrant glaring down at Blair as she forced her into silence flashed through my mind.


    I felt my hands balling into fists.


    Even now, it was hard not to sneer at the woman. But that wasn¡¯t productive. And I was efficient and productive and¨C ¡°You don¡¯t need to remind me. If this didn¡¯t help Blair, I probably wouldn¡¯t go. As much as I dislike the Barrow King, I don¡¯t like all of you enough to leave my home and go on a potentially dangerous mission.¡±


    Adela glared at me for a few seconds, the weight of her gaze oppressive. Her fingers paused, the sudden silence filling the room.


    Adela¡¯s presence didn¡¯t slam against me as it had on our first meeting, but it felt as if she were a hair away from it.


    Blair gave me a warning look, but I didn¡¯t stop glaring. A small part of me almost wanted Adela to try it again. It was something tangible, a force, a problem I could just slam my will against to try and overcome.


    After several increasingly tense seconds, Adela shook her head. ¡°Go.¡°


    I turned and strode out of the room before I could say something that would start a fight.


    And by starting a fight, I mean get my ass knocked out by the ancient werewolf.


    I clenched my fists so hard my palms ached, and my body thrummed with a desire to move, run, to do something!


    But getting my bell rung by Adela wouldn¡¯t help anyone. And well she was infuriating, terrifying, and more than a little alien at times, right now we wanted the same thing.


    Help Blair.

 A Corpse In Chains 15: Ice, Airports And Cigarettes

    The basement wall was smooth, polished on every corner except one. The south wall, lower right corner, a few feet up. There was a flaw. A scratch. It was just barely big enough for me to get the spoon into.


    My hands were stiff, my thin fingers trembling from the strain. But I didn¡¯t rush. I couldn¡¯t rush. If I went too fast, if I made a mistake, I could injure myself. And that could delay me.


    I couldn¡¯t be delayed.


    I waited until my hands stopped trembling. Sitting there, in the pitch blackness, I felt my body. All its pains and aches pressing for attention. My stomach hurt. Hunger clutched at me. Water was delivered once a day, but food? That was anyone¡¯s guess.


    He hadn¡¯t fed me for several days now. Two waters, no food.


    It had taken a few weeks to realize the water came exactly once every twenty-four hours.  I almost wish I hadn¡¯t made the connection. It would have been easier to ignore how long I¡¯d been here.


    I would die in this basement if I didn¡¯t do something.


    After the first couple of weeks, I became certain of that. No one was coming. I had to find my own way out.


    I didn¡¯t know how much stone was in the way. I didn¡¯t know how long it would take to scrape through. But I would. God in heaven, I would.


    My fingers moved of their own accord, and the scrape of metal on stone filled the basement.


    ~<>~<>~


    I jerked awake in the passenger seat, my heart hammering as the scent of stone and blood filled my nose. I couldn¡¯t keep going like this; a man wasn¡¯t meant to live without sunlight. I had to-


    A warm hand closed around mine, and Blair¡®s voice cut through the scraping in my ears. ¡°Breathe, Alder. Breathe. You¡¯re in the car, and we¡¯re almost to the Portland airport. You¡¯re OK.¡°


    She repeated that until my heart slowed, and my breathing took a few steps back from hyperventilating.


    I sat up in the van and looked around. We were in the airport parking lot. There wasn¡¯t much of a crowd at this ungodly hour, and the asphalt was lit with the early fingers of dawn.


    The others were looking at me with what I would call complicated expressions. Discomfort, concern. Thankfully, no pity.


    I shook my head and rubbed a hand down my face. ¡°Sorry. Bad dream.¡°


    Simon shook his head. ¡°Don¡¯t apologize, and we don¡¯t mind.¡°


    Bobby chuckled. ¡°Actually, I do mind. In fact, I think you¡¯re a terrible person for having the nightmare.¡° Laurel smacked him, and I laughed.


    We piled out of the van. Blair was quiet, but her gaze never left me for long. The scent of metal and stone still filled my nose, and it took several minutes to vanish altogether. When it did, the werewolves relaxed. Odd.


    Maybe they were sensing my emotions. I still wasn¡¯t totally clear on how much they could tell. They were pretty good human lie detectors, as a whole, but just how much of a read they could get on someone from scent seemed to vary from werewolf to werewolf.


    A plane rumbled overhead, and my stomach dropped. I had never flown personally, but I had memories attached to it. They weren¡¯t pleasant.


    However, one thing I was certain of from those memories was that I had never seen a smoother trip to the airport. Blair had everything planned out to a tee. We all had our passes loaded on phones and physical tickets, our bags were all carry-ons that she ensured would fit, and she led us through the airport like a bloodhound following a sent.


    She¡¯d probably studied a map of the place.


    It was nice. I didn¡¯t have to think nor worry about it, and I could see Blair relax ever so slightly as she guided us through. This was, in essence, a simple series of checks that she got to mark off: bags, security, filling water bottles, etc. It was a sort of ritual for her, practical meditation.


    The Portland airport was a big room followed by a hallway, a big L, and one massive corridor. And I do mean massive. That corridor was home to most of the gates. While one giant hallway wasn¡¯t the most stimulating architecture, I could see construction workers outside building a pretty impressive expansion.


    In no time at all, we were sitting in front of our gate an hour before boarding.


    It was a bit early, but I was not going to be the one to tell Blair that¡ªBobby was, much to her annoyance and Laurel¡¯s amusement.


    I started to nod off as I stared out at the tarmac. My side hurt¡ªa lot of me still hurt, and I was a sleep-deprived as ever; my brief nap in the car only seemed to worsen that issue.


    But as soon as my eyes fluttered shut, the darkness brought me back to that basement, to the spoon in my hand and the slowly growing hole in the wall. My heart rate spiked, and my eyes snapped open.


    I didn¡¯t move aside from that, but I saw Blair¡®s eyes flick to me for a moment before turning back to Bobby. She didn¡¯t say anything, letting me quietly regain my composure.


    After a few seconds, I sighed and stood. ¡°I¡¯m gonna stretch my legs, I think, go explore this long hallway.¡±


    Bobby stood and sauntered my way. ¡°That sounds like a great idea. I quite enjoy walking in straight lines.¡°


    I snorted and rolled my eyes. ¡°I¡¯m sure you do. It¡¯s supposed to be very riveting.¡°


    Blair opened her mouth, and Bobby waved at her. ¡°We will be fine, Blair. This is an airport, and it¡¯s literally a straight hallway. You can see us at the other end.¡°


    Her jaw tensed for a moment, but then she nodded.


    We started down the terminal, avoiding those little flat escalator things. I didn¡¯t know what they were called, but the idea was to walk more, not less.


    We explored the shops, looking at tourist traps and a whiskey store. I was uninterested in the stuff, but Bobby talked about it like a sommelier. ¡°You¡¯re a whiskey guy?¡° He shook his head. ¡°God, no, I don¡¯t know the first thing about it. I just like to sound smart.¡°


    I laughed, and we moved on. Bobby bought a sandwich that he wolfed¡ªheh¡ª down as we walked.


    A man was playing a piano at the edge of the food court, an Elton John song I couldn¡¯t remember the name of. He was pretty good, though I questioned his timing. There weren¡¯t many people out and about this early. Maybe he was warming up.


    Bobby took a deep breath before rubbing his chin, as if pondering a great mystery. ¡°Airports have a certain soul to them. I find it interesting how varied they can be despite having the same essential purpose. Have big building so people can enter and exit big metal flying tube. Well, that and shipping things, but that¡¯s not the point right now.¡°


    I eyed Bobby. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know. This is my first time flying.¡° He whistled. ¡°Impressive. First time flying and you¡¯re gonna get the VIP treatment. I don¡¯t know if a Northwood has ever flown in something that wasn¡¯t First class.¡°


    I hummed. That did sound about right. Blair didn¡¯t flash cash or anything, but almost everything she wore was high quality, the same for the rest of the Pack. And¡­well, you didn¡¯t have to try hard to gather a fortune if you lived for several thousand years, compound interest was a magic all its own.


    I grabbed a coffee from an exhausted-looking barista who had dark circles around his eyes. He looked just as caffeinated and just as sleep deprived as I was.


    ¡°What were we talking about again?¡± Bobby asked as I took a long sip of the coffee. It certainly had coffee in it but was also packed with enough sugar and cream to count as dessert. Not my usual go too, but this wasn¡¯t my usual coffee. I just had to make sure Blair didn¡¯t catch me drinking it.


    ¡°I believe you were talking about the soul of airports.¡°


    He snapped his fingers. ¡°Yes! There are, of course, general similarities, such as their purpose. But some of them are such extravagant things, take the one in Norway. The thing was huge, full of stores and all sorts of crap, felt like I was in a mall.¡±


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Then there are other airports that¡­¡± He pursed his lips, as if carefully searching for the right words. ¡°You know, that abandoned bus stop you see in the middle of the night, unsure if it¡¯s had a single employee in the last decade, it feels like it¡¯s been rundown longer than you¡¯ve been alive, and there¡¯s a uniquely bad smell to it that nowhere else can quite capture? It¡¯s like that but with planes.¡°


    I grunted at that oddly specific comparison. ¡°The airport in Norway? I¡¯m pretty sure there¡¯s more than one.¡°


    He nodded. ¡°I am almost sure there are. But I can¡¯t remember its name and I¡¯ve only been to the one, so it¡¯s just the Norway airport.¡°


    I laughed and gently tapped my fingers against the wall as we passed. Solid, no cracks or weaknesses.


    We reached the end of the hall, which almost felt abandoned in the darkness of early morning. No one was in the gates, not even a plane on the tarmac.


    As we reached the last gate, I paused, a tingling sensation rippling down my spine. A familiar one.


    I stopped, and so did Bobby. He took one look at my face and tensed. ¡°Something wrong?¡°


    I kept staring at the gate, at a row of seats in the corner overlooking the tarmac. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯re in danger. But I¡¯m going to chat with that woman over there and see if she needs anything.¡±


    Bobby blinked, following the direction of my gaze. ¡°What wom- oh.¡±


    His expression changed rapidly before settling into a grim frown. It was a little unnerving. He was usually so upbeat and easygoing that seeing a different expression felt unnatural.


    I had noticed he seemed more tense around spirits than the others, which was fair considering how we met.


    I walked up to the corner row and took a seat next to the ghost. The woman had died somewhere around her late forties or early fifties. She had very dark skin, wrinkled around her eyes in a way that hinted she was prone to smiling. Her hair was tucked away beneath a knitted cap, and she wore a heavy green coat and a thick skirt. She clutched a green purse between her hands, idly rubbing a silver wedding ring as she stared out at the early morning.


    I steadied myself, taking a deep breath before I began to talk.  ¡°Hello, my name is Alder. What¡¯s yours?¡°


    She blinked at me and then smiled. ¡°Oh, you can see me. Sometimes, they can¡¯t; I feel invisible these days. My name is Darcy. I¡¯m waiting for my family.¡° Her expression fogged, her eyes growing distant as she slowly shook her head.


    ¡°Wait, no, that¡¯s- that¡¯s not right. I¡¯m not looking for my family. I¡¯m waiting for my plane.  Going to go visit my family for Christmas!¡° The confusion cleared from her eyes, and she grinned at me. As I suspected, those lines were indeed from smiling.


    She had a warm, welcoming smile, the kind you associate with an open door and the smell of food. I tried my best to return the smile as my stomach slowly sank.


    ¡°I gotta say you¡¯re just as crazy as I am, traveling just a few days before Christmas.¡±


    It was still October.


    I hummed, turning my gaze to the tarmac, slowly coming to life with workers.


    Bobby slipped in, taking the seat beside me. Darcy looked at him and smiled. ¡°You have quite the handsome friend there. You know I have a daughter around your age.¡° I snickered. She hadn¡¯t said that at the sight of my ugly mug.


    I laughed. ¡°I am sure she¡¯s lovely, and he¡¯d love to meet her.¡°


    Bobby gave me some side eye but didn¡¯t say anything. I could tell from the way he was moving that Darcy wasn¡¯t visible to him.


    ¡°Is he shy?¡° She asked, cocking her head. ¡°He¡¯s mute, I¡¯m afraid. His brain works just fine, but his vocal cords don¡¯t.¡°


    A look of sympathy flashed across her face as she nodded. ¡°I had an uncle with something similar. He died a few years back, bless his soul.¡°


    She rubbed her hands together and shivered. ¡°They always keep it so chilly in here. With this cold front we have rolling in, I don¡¯t know how I¡¯m going to make it. Especially in Chicago, it¡¯s been years since I was there.¡°


    I hesitated. There hadn¡¯t been any cold fronts recently. But I didn¡¯t think she had died recently.


    ¡°Yeah, the cold¡¯s been tough, though I¡¯m dreading the new year more. I can never get my brain to realize I need to write something different. 19¡­¡° I trailed off, hoping she would finish for me. She did with an easy laugh. ¡°Will be 1986 instead of 85. My husband always does the same thing.¡±


    1985¡­I don¡¯t think her daughter¡¯s around our age anymore.


    I hesitated before gently probing her. ¡°Do you know how it happened?¡°


    She hesitated, her eyes flicking from me to the tarmac and then back to me. ¡°I-what do you mean? I just¡­¡° Her eyes grew distant again. ¡° I was waiting for my plane. The snow storm¡­ it delayed things. My husband and the kids- they got an earlier flight. But work forced me to wait a day. I was away¡­¡°


    She shivered violently, and her breath began to fog. Cigarette smoke filled my lungs, mixing with a bitter chill and the faint scent of perfume. ¡°So cold, so so cold. I had just¡­ it was so crowded, and I needed some space. I had just stepped outside for a smoke and-¡° Her eyes grew wide, and her breathing quickened.


    ¡°Did I trip?¡° She looked at me, hopelessly lost and scared. ¡°Did something happen?¡°


    I took her hand in mine. She clutched at it like a lifeline. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Darcy. You¡­ died. I think the cold got you.¡°


    She blinked at me, and then her entire form blinked. Her clothes fuzzed, and her skin shifted. Patches of it were suddenly stained, blood frozen from where it had run down her head. Her skin was cracked from the cold, and a mound of snow slowly slid off one shoulder.


    Then it was gone, and she was perfectly hail and healthy and still translucent. The glassy look was gone from her eyes, but so was the recognition. ¡°Hello, young man, my name is Darcy. You¡¯re a bold one, traveling so close to Christmas. Though I suppose I¡¯m in the same boat, aren¡¯t I.¡°


    I closed my eyes. ¡°I can help you. If there¡¯s anything you need done. A last request. I¡¯d be happy to help you. To let you feel at peace.¡°


    She continued to stare at me, uncomprehending. ¡°What are you talking about, young man? I got plenty of requests but I think I can handle them just fine. It¡¯s sweet that you want to help though.¡± Her grin was just as warm as before. ¡°You remind me a little of my son William. You have a similar jaw.¡°


    I felt Bobby¡¯s shift uncomfortably. Maybe he was reacting to my emotions, or Darcy had made herself visible. I tried one last time: ¡°What¡¯s your last name, Darcy?¡°


    ¡°Mornington?¡°


    Being subtle wasn¡¯t going to work, her mind couldn¡¯t grasp it. ¡°You died. You slipped-¡° She blinked at me several more times, and then her form flickered, that frozen corpse flashing for a heartbeat. And then she was back, smiling brightly. ¡°Well, hello, young man, my name is Darcy. We¡¯re two peas in a pod, eh? Crazy enough to be traveling this close to Christmas.¡°


    I squeezed my eyes shut but didn¡¯t pull my hand back. She hadn¡¯t noticed she was holding it yet.


    ¡°I can help you move on. I know you aren¡¯t all there anymore¡ªI think your head injury has held onto you as you manifested; it¡¯s screwing with you. But if you can understand enough, then take my hand with both of yours and I¡¯ll help you move on.¡°


    ¡° I don¡¯t need any help moving on, young man; I¡¯ve got a flight to catch soon. I appreciate the sentiment, though.¡°


    While her tone was casual, her words a denial, both of her hands seized mine with crushing strength, her grip filled with a desperate, frantic need that clutched at me until I thought my bones would grind together.


    I nodded. Then, I unveiled my aura.


    ~<>~<>~


    Watching Alder work was disconcerting. One moment, he was joking around without a care in the world, and then he froze, a look on his face like someone stepped on his grave the dozenth time this week.


    Dread wasn¡¯t quite the emotion Bobby would label it. Grief, exhaustion, resignation, resolve? It wasn¡¯t any of them either but an amalgamation of them all.


    Bobby had known something was wrong the instant Alder stopped. But once he started staring at something that wasn¡¯t there, Bobby realized exactly what was wrong.


    He¡¯d tensed and gotten ready to call Blair, but Alder calmly walked to the corner, sat down, and began speaking to the empty air.


    He was calm and gentle, and it fascinated Bobby. Alder just walked over like it was the simplest thing in the world.


    It wasn¡¯t hard to see that the conversation didn¡¯t go how he wanted. The man¡¯s shoulders tensed, and then resignation shown in his eyes, while his smile didn¡¯t falter.


    ¡°If you can take my hand¡ª¡°the ghost became visible, a woman in her forties with dark skin, warm features, and hands that clutched at Alder¡¯s with desperate strength.


    She met Bobby¡¯s eyes, and they positively sparkled, not a trace of the frantic grip she had on his friend showing through.  ¡°You know, my daughter would love you.¡±


    Alder¡¯s aura poured out of him in a wash of purple and green, enveloping the ghost in a heartbeat.


    Alder didn¡¯t usually smell like magic, not like mages did.  His veil was too constant, too strong.


    Now, the scent of hard rain and wet, old soil filled the air.


    It took Bobby longer than it should have to realize that his friend''s magic smelled like a graveyard.


    The magic pulsed, the ghost''s smile grew relieved, and she released her grip on his hands, laying a gentle touch on his cheek.


    Then she vanished, her body fading like mist in the morning sun.


    Alder turned to him, and Bobby fought back a flinch.


    The man didn¡¯t look like he was in his twenties in that moment.  Not as his attention settled on Bobby, his face etched with exhaustion, and his eyes¡­his eyes looked ancient.


    Then he shot Bobby a wry smile that was almost believable.  ¡°Make sure I wake up in time for the flight, yeah?¡±


    Then he collapsed. Bobby caught him before he could bang into anything, gently laying him back into his seat.


    Bobby stared at the man, the quiet of the airport no longer feeling so peaceful.


    He took off his coat and laid it over Alder¡¯s chest. ¡°You are a crazy son of a bitch, and I mean that with the highest respect I can give.¡±


    He pulled up his phone and sent a quick text. ¡°We¡¯re safe, with no physical injuries. Alder used his magic on a ghost.  He¡¯s out cold but unharmed.¡±


    That would hit Blair like a cattle prod to the ass. She¡¯d be over here in approximately five seconds. Hopefully, that wouldn¡¯t include running at highway speeds, but there wasn¡¯t much he could do about it if she did.


    Bobby leaned back in his chair and stared at the empty tarmac. And as he did, the scent of fresh rain and wet soil began to shift, overtaken by the scent of cigarettes, lavender perfume, and blood.

 A Corpse in Chains 16: Starting On The Road

    I woke up in time to get on the plane. I was fairly certain that was a requirement, though I had a feeling Blair could¡¯ve gotten me on that plane, conscious or not.


    But instead of having to somehow get my unconscious ass past the flight attendants we all bustled to the gate.  Well, the others bustled and I was also there.


    The employee at the counter arched a brow as he saw us, his eyes freezing on the others before absently flicking to me.


    A fair reaction to our group.


    We scanned our tickets and scampered onto the plane.


    Blair froze as we reached our seats. It only took me a second to understand why.


    One person would have to sit by themselves, and I was guessing Blair had planned on that being her. But with my recent¡­ Excitement, she wanted to sit with me.


    Bobby also reached that conclusion as he slipped into the seat Blair had planned on taking. He immediately put on headphones and ignored her stern look. She closed her eyes and then gave a grateful nod.


    I took the window seat, and Blair slipped in next to me.


    First class was cushy. I had never flown it before, coach was always so hard on my back, and William had been a crier when he was little, making every flight a test of patience.


    When I get to Chicago l need to tell-


    I stared at Blair as hard as I could, focusing on her face¡ªthe shape of her jaw, the color of her eyes. Darcy had not known Blair. She had never seen Blair. I wasn¡¯t Darcy. I was Alder.


    Cases like Darcy weren¡¯t as¡­ Awful as others for me to sift through. The woman¡¯s death broke my heart, even more so now that I knew her, that I had felt her love for her family, and theirs for her.


    But most of the memories I received from her were positive, if laced with a general anxiety and worry for those around her.


    I¡¯d guess that¡¯s what kept her here in her addled state. That love and that fear chained her, forever waiting for a plane that would never come.


    Blair gently took my hand. ¡°Are you OK?¡±


    I realized I¡¯d never stopped staring at her as I thought.¡°yeah,¡­ ¡°I shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s not like Nile or some of the others. I don¡¯t have to fight down those kinds of memories. But these do slip through easier. Especially right after.


    Darcy had never been to the South, so hopefully, there wouldn''t be familiar sights to trigger memories.


    Blair opened her mouth, hesitated, then spoke. ¡°Why¡­ Why do you do it?¡°


    I paused and then slowly shook my head. ¡°If it¡¯s OK with you, I¡¯d rather not talk about it now. I¡¯m tired, and I don¡¯t want to open up about my emotions right now.¡°


    Blair squeezed my hand, her calloused grip gentle and warm.


    I stared down at it, waiting for a wash of revulsion that didn¡¯t come. When I stopped to think about it, I hadn¡¯t felt much of that from her recently. I don¡¯t know if it was the length of exposure or something else, but her hand didn¡¯t fill me with the memories of others, only her.


    She smiled, and while strained, it was as warm as her grip. ¡°Of course, we don¡¯t have to talk. I shouldn¡¯t have asked this soon anyway.¡°


    I shook my head at her before turning back to the window. ¡°No, you¡¯re fine. I just need time, that¡¯s all¡ªtime, and if I¡¯m very lucky, a bit of sleep.¡±


    ~<>~<>~


    The flight overall was pleasant. The seats were cushy enough that my battered body only gave me moderate complaints instead of furious ones, and I had enough legroom to stretch as I wished.


    The landing was less fun.


    My memories of planes weren¡¯t wholesome ones by and large, and I found myself diving into Darcy¡¯s memories to escape the sound of screams and crunching metal.


    By the time we landed, I had tensed my whole body and didn¡¯t realize how angry my side was until the seatbelt light flicked off, prompting me to relax.


    The captain''s cheery voice echoed through the speakers as I bit back a groan. ¡°Arriving in currently sunny Kansas City ¨C¡°


    I shook my head and rubbed my eyes.


    Blair stood up immediately, gathering our bags with workmanlike efficiency. Since we claimed the front of the plane, we were the first off, stepping into the airport far more quickly than I had expected.


    I grunted as I pulled my suitcase, only for Laurel to snatch it from me as she passed. She made a flicking motion at me. ¡°Knock that off; I¡¯m gonna get a spray bottle or something. People with injuries don¡¯t carry bags, especially not when I can smell the pain on you.¡±


    I looked away. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯ll put on more deodorant next time.¡° The others laughed as we followed Blair like a line of ducklings.


    ¡°What¡¯s the agenda?¡° I asked. I was certain Blair had written one and probably put it somewhere we could read, too. Not that I was going to do that when I could just ask her.


    ¡°We didn''t check any bags. We go straight to a bus that¡¯ll take us to the rental car facility. Then we¡¯re on the road.¡°


    The track to the bus was uneventful, though the increasingly crowded airport started to unnerve me. The only time I was used to crowds was during tourist season, and that was never in confined spaces aside from the shops, which I could always avoid.


    Being around this many people this close together made me feel slightly nauseous. There was a general unease about the crowd being so close to me, but it was more than that.


    My senses were dulled with my aura sealed, but I could still feel the emotions of so many people packed together like this. Most weren¡¯t even that bad. Most were urgent or focused on a task; some were angry, tired, or even scared.


    It wasn¡¯t a mass of negativity, but it was a lot of emotion.


    I slipped my hand through a strap on Blair¡®s backpack and let her guide me. The woman moved through the crowd like a shark, everyone passing around her without seeming to notice.


    We made it to the bus and piled inside.


    I took a minute to center myself, and by the time we had arrived at the rental car facility, I felt mostly human again.


    Blair and Laurel went to speak with an employee while Bobby examined a pile of gossip mags in the corner like they were fine art.


    I turned to Simon and raised both hands. ¡°Rock paper scissors?¡°


    He shrugged and raised his own hands. ¡°Why not?¡°


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    Five minutes later, Blair and Laurel returned to find Simon scowling as I clowned on him for the fifth round. I had won all of them.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I like rock paper scissors anymore,¡° he said.


    I gave Simon a magnanimous shrug. ¡°Not everyone has my magic touch nor the quick mind and sharp wit required to win.¡°


    He snorted as he hopped up. ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡°


    I rose with decidedly less enthusiasm. First class was quite nice to be fair, but it still involved sitting in a chair for hours. My muscles cramped, my side ached, and I fought to hold in a wince. Everyone noticed but didn¡¯t comment.


    I think I disturbed the werewolves a little. Bobby didn¡¯t seem as surprised as the others, but the fact that my injuries lingered so long was something they still seemed to struggle to wrap their heads around.


    After a quick look around, we found the car, a large black SUV, and piled inside. I was ushered toward shotgun while Bobby literally dove into the backseat, clearing the middle headrest like an action hero. He sprawled out in the back and let out a deep sigh.


    Blair took the wheel while Simon and Laurel climbed in the middle.


    ¡°We might have to stay two nights before we get to Vintray; it depends on how good the roads are, ¡° Blair said as the car rumbled to life. It was one of those fancy models where you just had to press a button while the key fob was near. It made me feel old.


    ¡°I have a few motels marked out along the way, but I¡¯m hoping we can get to the furthest one today.¡±


    I smiled. Of course, Blair had mapped out the motels.


    We pulled out of the parking lot, and Bobby called from the back, cupping his hands around his mouth like a megaphone. ¡°Are we there yet?¡°


    Blair sighed.


    ~<>~<>~


    We left the city behind, roaring along the highway like hell was on our heels.


    Blair took low-speed limit signs like a personal affront, slowing only when absolutely necessary and grumbling every time she did. Honestly, I was amazed we weren¡¯t pulled over in the first 20 minutes.


    A few blessedly uneventful hours passed. I enjoyed watching the scenery and the occasional banter or tangent from the group. If it wasn¡¯t for the fact that we were now in a war, that Blair was slowly losing control of herself, and that if I screwed this up, I might not be able to help her¡­ of it wasn¡¯t for all that it would feel like a vacation.


    I let out a slow breath as tension drained from my shoulders.


    Maybe don¡¯t list all your problems out, Alder. They might meet and gang up on you.


    The track of uneventfulness continued. We stopped at a drive-through in a small town, getting an absurdly large order that made the employee''s eyes go wide.


    It wasn¡¯t until we stopped for gas that I saw my first ghost.


    The gas station was a local spot, which I had the feeling was family-owned, going by the name of Tress¡¯s Truly Terrific  Petroleum.


    It had faded blue paint and a flat black roof that felt like it had been there for ages. The door let out a gentle chime as we entered, and I was struck with a breeze from a set of fans on the counter. It wasn¡¯t too hot out, only about 70 degrees, but the fans were still on full blast.


    There were a few aisles of snacks and whatnot, some roadside essentials, and a wall of chilled drinks. The counter was empty, but I only noticed that in passing. My eyes focused on the lean man propped against it, idly perusing a small tower of sunglasses. He had lean, narrow features and a pointy chin.


    He idly fiddled with his sunglasses with one hand as his other ticked down the display in front of him, seeming to count something. He wore dark blue jeans and a red shirt with a faded band name on the front. His dark hair fell just above his ears, and even through the sunglasses, I could tell when his gaze settled on me. ¡°Oi, stranger, you can see me, can¡¯t you?¡°


    I nodded as I strolled over. ¡°I can.¡° The others froze at my words, their eyes darting to the sunglass display. I waved them off. ¡°He¡¯s friendly.¡°


    The ghost arched a brow. ¡°How do you know that? I could be a real killer.¡° He put both fists up in a mock boxing stance, widening his long legs like a cartoon character.


    I laughed. ¡°You get a feel for it eventually.¡±


    He hummed, his hand moving to drum on the countertop. ¡°I suppose you do, don¡¯t you?.¡°


    ¡°Do you have anything you need help with? Some lingering regret you need fulfilled.¡°


    He grinned, showing off a set of pearly white but slightly crooked teeth. ¡°I¡¯m good, my young spirit mage. I don¡¯t need a last request fulfilled at the moment. I¡¯m enjoying my unlife still. But there is something you can do for me.¡±


    I leaned against the counter beside him, tilting my head back to meet his sunglass-shrouded gaze. ¡°Oh, do tell.¡±


    He rolled his wrist at the display next to him. ¡°I was forced to use quite a bit of magic earlier in some nasty business. It¡¯s left me rather wiped. Tress, the owner of the store, and I go way back. I like to prank her, let her know I¡¯m hanging around when I don¡¯t have the energy or inclination to reveal myself.¡°


    I hummed. ¡°What kind of prank? I¡¯m not doing anything harmful.¡°


    He shook his head and lifted his hands to ward off the accusation. ¡°No, no, nothing harmful. We¡¯re friends. Note the sunglass case. I just want you to turn a couple of them upside down. It¡¯ll only take a few seconds to fix. Just enough of an inconvenience to make her roll her eyes and chuckle.¡°


    I nodded. ¡°Yeah, I can do that.¡°


    Simon rounded the corner, his arms full of energy drinks, and paused. ¡°Why are you rearranging the glasses display?¡°


    ¡°The voice told me too.¡° I said as I slid a pair back into place upside down. I did it to five or six more before nodding. The ghost chuckled. ¡°Perfect, and is there anything I can do for you, my young friend?¡°


    ¡°Well, your name, for one.¡°


    ¡°Bill, and you are?¡°


    I stuck out my hand. ¡°Alder.¡°


    He shook, his grip light and surprisingly gentle.


    ¡°How long have you been around here, Bill?¡°


    He laughed, throwing his hands up in an exaggerated stretch. ¡°Now, I might not look it, but Old Bill here has wandered through these hills for many a moon.¡°


    ¡°Who says many a moon?¡°


    ¡°Hush, I do, and it sounds cool. My point is I¡¯m old, and yes, I¡¯ve been around here a while. What do you wanna know?¡°


    I drummed my fingers on the counter, mirroring his beat.


    ¡°We¡¯re traveling to Vintray. To meet with Bartholomew Cain. Do you know him?¡°


    Bill¡®s eyebrows shot up and he took off his sunglasses, revealing a pair of sharp brown eyes. ¡°Shit, kid, you¡¯re going to mess with Bartholomew?¡°


    I shook my head. ¡°Not messing with him. Meeting with him. We¡¯re invited.¡°


    He relaxed slightly, some of the surprise bleeding from his face.


    ¡°I see. In that case, well, you should be fine. He¡¯s got a decent reputation. I consider him one of the better spirit lords in terms of how he treats us. Quite the showman,¡° he chuckled, and I had a feeling that was an understatement. ¡°Have you met him?¡±


    Bill nodded. ¡°Twice. Once, when I was a wee little ghost who could barely haunt a TV or scare a tourist, then a few years back, we had some trouble around here. He cleared it out.¡°


    That sounded like Bartholomew was helpful, although Bill wasn¡¯t finished.


    ¡°If you give Bartholomew a reason to treat you kindly, chances are he will. You betray him? Well, there¡¯s a reason people call them lords. They have a monopoly on violence in these parts.¡°


    Hearing the words ¡®monopoly on violence¡¯  from a ghost who was still leaning against a counter and had just asked me to rearrange sunglasses was a little jarring, but I appreciated the advice all the same.


    ¡°Be straight with him, he¡¯ll probably be straight with us, don¡¯t piss him off, don¡¯t betray him.¡°


    Bill nodded. ¡°And, of course, keep your guard up. He¡¯s an old mage. Old mages are wily.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Bill, I appreciate the help.¡°


    ¡°Likewise.¡°


    Laurel sidled up next to me and stared vaguely in Bill¡¯s direction. ¡°If you¡¯re asking your  ghostly friend questions, see if he¡¯s got any tips for us about the trip to [Vintray].¡°


    Bill whistled as he stared at Laurel. ¡°A reasonable question from your very beautiful friend.¡° His eyes flipped from Laurel to Simon before scanning about for Blair and Bobby. ¡°Werekin?¡°


    I nodded.


    ¡°There¡¯s a few Packs around here that don¡¯t take kindly to people crossing their turf, but if you¡¯re with them, I assume they¡¯re aware. There are some vampire types eight or nine hours away. I think they¡¯re nobles or somesuch.¡±


    After a second to ponder, he shrugged. ¡°Keep your eyes up. I only know the surrounding towns particularly well past that, and it¡¯s only the rumors I hear.¡°


    I grunted. ¡°Thanks. I really appreciate it. ¡°


    He shot me a finger gun before giving me a wide grin with his pearly crooked teeth. ¡°Also, tell your friend she¡¯s smokin.¡°


    I rolled my eyes at him and then turned to Laurel. ¡°He gave us some useful information and told me to tell you you¡¯re smokin''.¡±


    She laughed and then dramatically flipped her hair over one shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t I know it.¡±


    I chuckled, and Bill joined me. Then I turned and headed off down the aisle. I needed to find something sugary and bad for me that came in a size too big.

 A Corpse In Chains 17: A Dive Bar, A Biker Gang, And A Hatred For Wolf Kind

    The next several hours passed without incident. We made pretty good time, with only a few stops due to traffic.


    At each of them, I thought Blair would burst a blood vessel or get out and physically move the cars from our way. Considering that she actually could, it was a bit more worrying than funny.


    Bobby showed remarkable restraint, only asking, ¡®Are we there yet?¡¯ about three, maybe four times. Laurel showed equal restraint by only punching him once.


    As traffic clogged and we inched forward, Laurel sighed. ¡°It¡¯s getting towards dinner, and we aren¡¯t exactly breaking a land speed record here. How about we pull over at the next place that looks like it serves something we can categorize as food.¡°


    ¡°Why did you say categorized as food? That sounds needlessly verbose.¡° Bobby nudged her.


    She shrugged. ¡°I was trying to think of a joke, but it failed halfway through.¡°


    ¡°Something that these people call food?¡° Blair threw out.


    I shook my head. ¡°No, that just sounds racist.¡°


    She cursed.


    ¡°Something a scientist might categorize as food?¡° Simon offered. Bobby laughed. ¡°So Laurel¡¯s version but more verbose.¡°


    ¡°Hey, at least it makes sense that a scientist is categorizing something; I gave the joke context. Sprinkled in some lore.¡°


    Laurel sighed.


    ~<>~<>~


    We found the bar about 20 minutes later. It was a slightly rundown place with a half-full parking lot and an air of age about it. Thin wood painted yellow and brown made up its two stories, and I was guessing that the second floor doubled as a cheap motel.


    While Tamara¡¯s Tap didn¡¯t seem exactly high-end, the sign promised beer, burgers, and fries. One of those things didn¡¯t matter to me, but fries and a burger sounded pretty nice.


    As we pulled into the parking lot, I noticed a line of 10 or 15 motorcycles¡ªbig hulking things of leather and steel with color schemes that ranged from black to black  with charcoal and chrome. The lineup looked like it was straight from a show on biker gangs.


    As we walked by, I noticed they all had an insignia patched into the back of the seat¡ªa coin with a bullet punching through it.


    The others all B lined for the door as their stomachs rumbled, not giving anything else a second glance. I started to say something. Those symbols itched at my memory, but Simon ushered me inside as Blair glanced back, realizing I was lagging behind, and I lost the thread.


    The inside looked like every cheap bar you¡¯ve seen in a movie. A pool table sat in one corner with an honest-to-God jukebox next to it, and a quiet hum of 80s rock and casual conversation filled the room.


    Men and women hunched over the pool table, a line of bikers sat at the bar nursing beers, and a scattering of others sat at tables and booths.


    Blair quickly grabbed us a booth, and a middle-aged waitress with suntanned skin and frizzy blonde hair walked up, a pencil tucked behind her ear,


    and a notepad in her hand.


    ¡°What can I do you for?¡± She asked, her voice smoother than I was expecting. Everything else about this place seemed so¡­ Clich¨¦; I expected her voice to come out with a rasp of cigarettes and cheap whiskey.


    The menu consisted entirely of fried food and alcohol, so it didn¡¯t take us long to decide. Each of the Pack ordered two burgers and two fries, and I ordered one of each.


    The waitress didn¡¯t even blink at the size of our order before turning on her heel and marching back into the kitchen.


    ¡°Wowser, my legs are upset. I haven¡¯t been confined for this long in months,¡° Bobby groaned as he stretched out his legs.


    I glared at him and made a kicking motion under the table. My leg wasn¡¯t long enough to reach him, but it was the thought that counted. ¡°I¡¯ve been bedridden the last couple of weeks. A car ride and plane trip are fine.¡°


    He stuck his tongue out at me and returned the kicking motion. His legs were long enough to reach, but he was merciful and just bumped my shin. ¡°Yes, but you¡¯re a weak and pathetic human, so it¡¯s more of a tragedy when someone of my great status is confined.¡°


    Laurel sneered at him. ¡°Great status? If this were more feudal times, you would be a commoner.¡°


    Bobby gasped, placing a hand to his chest as if struck. ¡°Yes, but Blair here would be a princess, and since I am her right-hand man, that makes me practically a knight,¡± he said as he leaned against Blair.


    She shifted and rested her arm on his shoulder. ¡°Aren¡¯t knights supposed to be stoic and brooding?¡° She asked with a chuckle.


    Bobby shook his head. ¡°You¡¯re both of those things, enough for both of us. I have to balance it out with my good looks and quick wit.¡° Laurel glowered at him. ¡°I¡¯m more her right-hand man than you are,¡° she harrumphed.


    Bobby shook his head. ¡°Incorrect. You¡¯re her right-hand woman. I¡¯m surprised you¡¯ve never noticed before.¡°


    Laurel considered this before seeming to accept the declaration. ¡°What does that make Simon then?¡°


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Bobby cocked his head one way and then the other. ¡°Maybe the jester? Or the wizard. He does like making things go boom.¡° Simon paused and then shrugged. ¡°Jester hats are funny.¡°


    I scowled. ¡°Hey now, if anybody¡¯s the wizard of the group, it¡¯s me.¡°


    Simon shook his head. ¡°You¡¯re the old hermit the party meets in the woods.¡° The others nodded immediately.


    I burst out laughing. ¡°You guys suck.¡°


    As we continued to banter and laugh, our tension began to ease away¡ªwell, most of it. Blair looked more relaxed than she had in the last several days, which made everyone else loosen up in response. It seemed that things going mostly as we expected were soothing her, which didn¡¯t surprise me. Things going according to plan is probably like crack to her.


    A few minutes later, one of the bikers turned, and his back caught Bobby¡¯s eye.


    The relaxation snapped as Bobby¡¯s smile cracked.


    I followed his gaze, and unless I missed my guess, it was locked onto that insignia¡ªthat silver bullet punching through a medallion.


    Bobby took a deep breath, and Blair tensed beside him.


    We didn¡¯t say anything, but her gaze snapped towards the biker.


    She kept her hand over her mouth and cursed. I could barely see her mouth begin to move, but I couldn¡¯t hear what she was saying. The others all looked towards the bikers before glancing back to the table.


    Appearing casual, Simon leaned close to me to whisper as if telling me a joke. ¡°That biker gang, they¡¯re members of the silver medallion. Werewolf hunters.¡°


    I blinked. I hadn¡¯t heard of them before. I knew of werewolf hunters as a concept, but not this specific group. ¡°Human werewolf hunters?¡°


    He nodded without looking over at the group. ¡°Far as I¡¯m aware.¡°


    That made them certifiably insane in my book. At any age, a werewolf was physically stronger than a human in every way. But as they aged, that gap became something genuinely absurd. To actively hunt werewolves boggled the mind.


    Sure, if you were prepared, smart, and a little lucky, you could fight a werewolf with silver weaponry.


    Preferably, a large amount of silver bullets.


    However, once a werewolf passed 100 their Bond became a doozy, and it started to get harder and harder. Eventually, it didn¡¯t matter how prepared you were unless you had explosives set to go off with a dead man switch or a sniper with a very, very high caliber. You couldn¡¯t shoot what you couldn¡¯t physically react to.


    ¡°What do we do?¡° I asked, my voice low and my eyes on the drinks menu.


    Blair continued to speak with her hand covering her mouth, acting like she was resting her cheek on her palm.


    After a few moments she stopped and glanced to Bobby, who shrugged, keeping his gaze on the table. ¡°Nothing. They aren¡¯t paying attention to us and have no reason to. We get our burgers, and we leave. And we warn any local Pack that they are moving in this area.¡°


    Bobby was reacting differently than the others. It didn¡¯t take a detective to pick up on it. They had all tensed and now put on a show of fake relaxation, but Bobby was different. He stayed loose, his easy smile back in place. But I could tell it was a hollow shell, like a painted-on version of his usual attitude. He was just as ready to spring into action as the others. But he was much, much better at hiding it.


    I watched the bikers from the corner of my eye and wished the others were with me. Ben could keep an eye on them while Rodgers told me about the group''s history. But they weren¡¯t here, so I¡¯d make do.


    They seemed normal enough. They drank and joked with some of the older folks, who I tagged as locals, and they didn¡¯t seem to mind them.


    Though a few locals definitely did. I caught more than one sideways glance as we waited.


    So, not locals themselves, if my instincts were right. But not new faces, either.


    Werewolf hunters. Jesus, another thing to worry about.


    I tried to strike up a conversation, to keep acting casual, but the others were making it difficult. They weren¡¯t sneaking glances at the bikers, but I could tell they wanted to. I decided to sit and wait for our food in peace.


    As another crowd bustled in, our waitress nudged one of the bikers. The man looked late 30s with long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, laughed and nodded. The woman came out a second later and handed him a serving tray filled with food, then went to greet the newcomers.


    The man headed our way with a grin. Blair, Laurel, and Simon tensed, and I started to. The only person who stayed completely relaxed was Bobby.


    He flicked Laurel on the arm, stomped on Blair¡®s foot under the table, gave Simon a hard stare, and then shot me a wink.


    The others relaxed a little, doing the bare minimum to avoid looking like they were about to jump the guy.


    I found my attention split between Bobby and the man.  His reaction was so smooth, so practiced.


    The man approached with a platter full of burgers and drinks. ¡°Hello folks, my name is Brendan. Tamie has drafted me into this war on hunger. I don¡¯t complain, though, because she gives me free beer.¡± He grinned at us, showing off slightly gapped but very white teeth. He smelled of leather and metal, but not overpoweringly so.


    He started dispensing out the platters, and Bobby chuckled. ¡°Thank you, soldier, beer¡¯s as good of a motivation for war as any.¡°


    Brendan tipped an imaginary hat to Bobby and grinned. ¡°The best part about a life of travel is getting to see all the new sights, taste good food, and try good beer.¡°


    He said it in the tone of a sage delivering wisdom, and I couldn¡¯t help but chuckle. Which was a bit strange; I wasn¡¯t expecting a werewolf hunter to be charming.


    ¡°Where are you all from?¡±


    I answered immediately as I got my burger. It was big and juicy, and I was ready to dig in. ¡°Oregon, a small town in the trees.¡°


    Brendan arched a brow. ¡°Oregon? I haven¡¯t spent much time in Oregon myself, but I hear it¡¯s pretty.¡±


    I nodded as I snatched my burger. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful.¡±


    Bobby spoke up, pausing between bites of his burger. ¡°I grew up in a place near Braitenvil, Idaho. Small place. Lots of green.¡±


    While I hadn¡¯t known Bobby for long in the grand scheme of things, I considered myself pretty good at reading people. And something in his eyes tipped me off.  Bobby was looking for something¡ªfishing for a reaction.


    The biker didn¡¯t give much of one. His eyes widened just a bit, and then he chuckled. ¡°I grew up near there myself, no offense, but I find it boring. Hence why I¡¯m quite a few miles away.¡°


    Bobby laughed. ¡°Fair enough. What direction are you headed in now? Got a grand adventure on the horizon?¡±


    Brendan shrugged. ¡°I think we¡¯re heading east. We¡¯ve been itching for some excitement, and Dolly, she¡¯s a bit of a hunting enthusiast, always trying to track where big game is going and what not, has us pointed that direction.¡± He did another imaginary tip of his hat, then turned and strode away.


    East. Which just happened to be where we were headed. Super


    As we began to eat, I found my focus drifting back to Bobby, whose gaze was locked on the biker¡¯s retreating back.


    On that medallion pierced through with a silver bullet.

 A Corpse in Chains 18: The Thing Outside The Motel

    It was hard to enjoy a burger when people who wanted to stab your friends were only a few yards away.


    I mean, if we¡¯re being technical, they didn¡¯t want to stab my friends yet, but that was only because they didn¡¯t know what they were.


    The werewolves did not share my problem as they devoured their food.


    They were still doing an¡­ ok job of not staring at the hunters. Bobby was still better at it than they were, but I could feel his attention locked on to the bikers all the same. He knew where each of them was at any given time. I was certain of that much.


    After a few minutes, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his pipe. I¡¯d seen him with it a few times, and regardless of what else he was doing, his grip always held it reverently.


    It was a well-done piece. Despite its apparent age, the dark brown wood was glossy, and the carving of a wolf chasing leaves in a breeze was intricate and beautiful.


    A part of my mind that was not my own started to wonder about the wood, to question what tools were used to engrave the wolf and the crafter''s process. I shoved those thoughts down with a scowl.


    I finished my burger at the same time as the others, which sounded impressive, but they had eaten at least double what I had and slowed down several times.


    The others silently formed a half wall around Bobby as we strode to the exit, leaving cash on the table.


    Brendan waved to us as we left. ¡°Drive safe, folks,¡° he said with that gap-toothed grin.


    Bobby responded immediately, turning and flashing the man a bright smile. ¡°Thanks, same to you.¡° As he spoke,  his hand tightened around the pipe.


    Bobby rolled his shoulders as we moved to the car as if shrugging off a heavy weight. ¡°Who wants to call the local packs and warn them hunters are in the area?¡±


    Simon raised his hand. ¡°On it.¡°


    Bobby forced a chuckle. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to raise your hand, man, this isn¡¯t grade school.¡° Simon raised his hand again to flip him off before snatching his phone.


    Bobby gave a genuine laugh and shook his head.


    I shifted, uncomfortable with the subtle tension in the air. I was missing something, something more than just being the only non-werewolf in the car. ¡°That group, are they big-time players?¡°


    Bobby shook his head. ¡°More medium time. They have a few cells throughout the South and a handful in the Midwest.  Not particularly unique as hunters go except their willingness to escalate. They¡¯ll attack a whole town if they think werewolves populate it.¡±


    The image of a house burning and the sounds of gunshots sprang to my mind.


    It didn¡¯t take a detective to put two and two together. Bobby¡¯s mindscape had not been peaceful. That kind of violence didn¡¯t come from nowhere.


    Laurel sighed and rubbed her temple. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be anywhere near those psychos. I know we were planning on stopping soon, but I''d rather put a few more towns between us.¡°


    Blair nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll keep going. We can find somewhere to sleep when we feel safer.¡°


    ~<>~<>~


    We drove until the sun slipped behind the mountains, and twilight settled over the road like a cloak.


    We were all tired and eager to get out of the damn car, but that was secondary to putting distance between us and the hunters.


    ¡°There¡¯s a town about fifteen miles out,¡± said Blair. ¡°I think we have enough space to grab some beds for the night.¡°


    We nodded, though I winced internally. I did not want to sit in this car for another 15 miles. Hell, I didn¡¯t want to be in here for another five minutes.


    My side ached fiercely, and my body was stiff. I wasn¡¯t used to being in cars at all, and after the beatings I received, the whole sitting situation became even worse.


    I kept that to myself, though, trying to focus on the passing scenery, which quickly switched from asphalt and forest to a town. I blinked. As we crested a large hill, the surrounding mountains seemed to lean close, hugging a town covered in trees thick enough to get lost in.


    The road arched down sharply, moving through this little valley. It cut right through the center of the town. A train moseyed through the middle, and I could see a river winding to our left. The tallest building was only three stories, and overall, it was a less-than-impressive sight.


    Blair frowned. ¡°This isn¡¯t on the map.¡°


    Bobby shrugged. ¡°They can be outdated. There are a lot of places out here that are all but abandoned. This could¡¯ve been an old mining town.¡° That theory held some weight, as a good chunk of the buildings we passed were overgrown, trees and vines reaching out to reclaim them.


    I didn¡¯t catch anyone out and about, but the place wasn¡¯t totally abandoned. People peered through their windows at us, their expressions cautious as we passed.


    ¡°Okay, so the town isn¡¯t abandoned.¡° Laurel said.


    Something poked at the edge of my awareness. An odd feeling that I couldn¡¯t quite place. If I was fresh, I think I would¡¯ve paid more attention to it. But exhausted from a day of travel with a new batch of memories to sort through and a desperate need for a bed, I let it slip from my mind.


    The fading light cast the town in darkness, only a few notes of purple remaining as twilight faded. ¡°No one¡®s walking around. It¡¯s not that late.¡± Simon noted.


    ¡°It¡¯s a little odd. Nothing smells off, though; I guess it¡¯s just a sleepy little town,¡° Bobby said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s that strange,¡± Blair said. ¡°A town of this size isn¡¯t going to have a wild nightlife.¡±


    The road wound its way down until we reached the bottom of the valley. We passed by a police station and a handful of diners, and then, off to the side, almost hidden by a thicket of trees, was a motel.


    Its big red sign was faded, and only a few letters lit up so that it spelled out Mo instead of motel. However, its open sign was flashing, and its parking lot had a grand total of two cars in it.


    It would do.


    Bobby let out a sigh of relief. ¡°Oh, thank goodness, sweet sleep is in sight.¡°


    Simon let out a thankful groan and let his head bang back against the seat. ¡°I think I¡¯ve been sitting so long my legs have forgotten how to work. Someone carry me.¡°


    The rest of us climbed out except for Simon. Bobby quickly moved over to his side of the car, tossed open the door, leaned in, and pulled Simon out like he weighed nothing.


    He slung the man over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and Simon closed the door.


    ¡°Much obliged.¡°


    I chuckled as Bobby turned towards the motel. ¡°Wait, wait! ¡°Simon called. ¡°Our bags, I can¡¯t be totally useless.¡°


    ¡°Oh, my mistake.¡° Bobby backed up so that Simon could open the trunk. The rest of us watched in silence as Simon opened it, reached in, and grabbed their bags.


    He paused, then tapped Bobby on the side like a taxi. ¡°Okay, go.¡±


    Bobby started walking towards the motel as Simon dragged the suitcases behind them.


    I burst out laughing as I reached for my bag. Blair was faster, snaking around me to grab it along with her own. I was pretty sure she would¡¯ve taken Laurel¡¯s if she had a third hand.


    Laurel patted Blair on the arm as she picked up her suitcase. ¡° You¡¯re not going to carry me?¡°


    Blair looked down at her bags and then Laurel, her eyes considering.


    Laurel raised her hands, bag included, and backed up a step. ¡°No, hey, I don¡¯t actually want you to carry me in.¡°


    Blair hummed and still looked like she was solving a math problem.


    Laurel laughed before dashing to catch up with the others.


    Blair looked after the trio, a soft expression on her face. She looked at peace, more than she had the past several weeks. A gentle smile tugged at the corner of her lip, and her shoulders dipped ever so slightly.


    I bumped her arm and started for the motel. ¡°Come on before those stooges get into too much trouble.¡±


    Her smile turned to me, the expression deepening for a beat. ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s.¡±


    They were trying to figure out how to open the door without setting Simon down. It wasn¡¯t a particularly narrow door, but Simon refused to put down the bags.


    Blair sighed as she approached. Then, she lifted one of the bags and set it on the other. Simon lifted both of them and twisted slightly, allowing Bobby to slip inside. ¡°I wonder if you all passed grade school sometimes.¡° Blair muttered.


    The front room was a small, dingy thing with gray walls, aged carpet, and an old, time-worn desk. The place smelled of overly pungent air freshener and old cigarettes. The kind of scent were even though no one had been smoking recently, they had done it so much over the years that the smell could never truly leave.


    A bored man in his late 20s sat behind the desk, reading a book. As we entered, he hadn¡¯t looked up and continued reading his book as Blair marched up to the counter. She loomed there for several seconds before he finally glanced up and did a double-take, which was a pretty fair reaction. Seeing a bunch of buff, gorgeous people was startling, and I was also here.


    His eyes moved from Blair to Laurel and then to Bobby and Simon, who were currently messing around with the bags, trying to stack them to be self-balanced.


    Blair cleared her throat. ¡°How much for a room?¡± The man answered with a stutter. ¡°50 for a night.¡° Blair showed no expression as she nodded. ¡°How many beds?¡°


    ¡°Two doubles.¡°


    I knew Blair was just thinking, but with her blank expression, it looked like she was pissed and trying to glare a hole through the guy. He shifted in his seat, his hand drumming nervously against the desk.


    ¡°Is there room for more beds to be dragged in?¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°The-¡° he paused, then cleared his throat. ¡°There¡¯s barely enough room for the two.¡°


    I decided to step in before the guy had a heart attack. ¡°That¡¯ll be fine. Thank you for your help.¡± I said as I sidled up to Blair. The man¡¯s gaze snapped to me, and he gave me a relieved smile. ¡°Okay, thank you for your patronage?¡° He said it like a question and wasn¡¯t sure about the answer.


    Blair handed over the money, and the man dropped a key into her hand. We walked outside, which required another game of Tetris as Simon was now holding three bags and still unwilling to drop them.


    Our room was in the left corner of the motel, and Blair quickly unlocked it before ushering us inside. After setting her own down, she snagged two of Simon''s bags, ignoring his protests as she pointed inside.


    The room was¡­ about what I expected. It was cheap and old, but at least it didn¡¯t reek of cigarettes. And as far as I could tell, the two beds were clean. The werewolves all wrinkled their noses as they entered, which wasn¡¯t a great sign, but it was dry, and it was cheap.


    I stared at the beds and then at the werewolves. Part of me had wanted to ask for a separate room, but not only would Blair have fought me on that, I knew she was right, too. It was better to be safe than sorry somewhere you didn¡¯t know. Unfortunately, that meant I would be sleeping on the floor. I set my bag near the wall after Blair relinquished it and started the slow process of bending over. I was tired enough to fall asleep on the spot.


    ¡°What are you doing? ¡°Laurel asked with a sigh.


    ¡°Going to bed.¡°


    ¡°I can see that. But you¡¯re not doing it on the floor. Take a bed.¡±


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    I scratched the back of my neck as I stared at her. ¡°There¡¯s only two. I know you guys are fine with sharing, and I¡¯ve been getting more comfortable around you all, but I¡­ I can¡¯t be bunkmates with someone yet. I won¡¯t force one of you to sleep on the floor.¡±


    They all looked at me like I was stupid. ¡°One of us is a fragile, fleshy, injured human who cannot ignore a night of sleeping on the floor like it¡¯s nothing.¡° Bobby rolled his eyes at me.


    ¡°The rest of us are shining examples of werewolf vitality. Take a bed.¡°


    Blair didn¡¯t say anything. She just looked at me. I had the impression that if I tried lying on the floor, I would be deposited on a bed.


    I smiled at them. ¡°Thanks, guys, I appreciate it.¡±


    ¡°Dummy.¡° Simon said.


    I laid down in the bed with a quiet groan. My muscles ached, and my side cramped until I saw stars.


    I did my best not to make any more noises, riding out the cramps and spasms until my vision cleared. I didn¡¯t want to worry the others.


    The bed was not soft, the pillows were lumpy, and I felt like bedbugs might be in there. But I was so tired that none of it mattered.


    I closed my eyes and began to drift off to sleep. As I did, that feeling returned. That vague prickle at the edge of my awareness, like a whisper you could barely catch but couldn¡¯t quite make out.


    Before I could dwell on that, my exhaustion rolled over me in a wave, and I was out like a lamp.


    ~<>~<>~


    I woke slowly, which felt wrong. I was so used to waking with a start or jerk, some horrific nightmare forcing me from dreamland into the waking world.


    This time, I felt consciousness slowly seep in, my eyes blinking open. I was still tired, which checked out since the near total darkness of the room meant it was still night.


    A clock on the nightstand read 3 AM. I rubbed my eyes and listened. Breathing, three sets of it. There were no lights close enough to shine through the curtains, I couldn¡¯t hear anything off. What had woken¡ªa knock on the window made me  jerk up.


    I moved so quickly that my side cramped, and I had to hold my breath to keep quiet.


    I looked around, but none of the others had woken. They still lay in bed or on the floor, seemingly at ease. A part of my brain began to turn over.


    Something¡¯s wrong.


    A knock on the window should¡¯ve brought all of them to their feet. Especially Blai- ¡­I couldn¡¯t see Blair.


    What?


    I rose to my feet and crept towards the window. I glanced through a crack in the shades. A distant streetlight filtered through the trees to land in front of the window like a stage light.


    How did that angle work?


    The thought flickered across my mind, but before I could examine it, my attention was stolen by the lone figure just outside the window.


    Blair stood outside, her fist raised to give another knock. I blinked and threw open the curtain.


    Blair¡®s fist paused just a beat behind the glass as she gave me a rueful grin. ¡°Hey, Alder, I was hoping to wake one of the others; you need the rest more than we do.¡° She pushed a strand of blond hair behind her ear and glanced to the side. ¡°Could you unlock the door? I went out for some fresh air and forgot my key.¡±


    I immediately went to the door, reaching out for the handle. My hand froze just before I could turn it.


    Forgot her key?


    The nob was cold under my grip, and I felt a shiver travel up my spine.


    Blair Northwood was many, many things. Forgetful was not one of them.


    No one in this room was likely to go out in the middle of the night in an unfamiliar area, and none of them would do it without waking someone or taking a key.


    Least of all, Blair.


    I moved back to the window and stared at Not Blair. ¡°That was a decent attempt. But you should¡¯ve picked someone else¡¯s face. I might''ve done it if you¡¯d used Bobby¡¯s or maybe Simon¡¯s. But Blair wouldn¡¯t forget the key. I¡¯m pretty sure she would melt like the Wicked Witch first.¡±


    Not Blair frowned, a look of hurt and confusion spreading over her face. ¡°What are you talking about, Alder?¡°


    She took a step back, a hint of annoyance slipping in. ¡°I was only planning to be out for a minute or two. I was out the door before I even thought about it.¡±


    I shook my head at her. ¡°No. No, she didn¡¯t, and no, she wouldn¡¯t.¡°


    I examined Not Blair closer. It was an uncanny effect. Visually, the thing had gotten her down almost exactly. Every contour of her face, every aspect of her body I could see, and even the way she shifted her weight was just like Blair.


    ¡°Why did you pick Blair? You have some of our memories if you know my name. Is that all you can get? Names and appearance? No it has to be more than that. How can you copy her mannerisms so well?¡±


    Blair''s stony mask was the only answer. ¡°See, like that, that is absolutely her stonewall expression, and you¡¯ve got it perfect!¡±


    Not Blair opened her mouth again, presumably to convince me of her authenticity, only to close it.


    She regarded me, cocking her head to the side slightly.


    Something shifted.


    It was a subtle thing; her face didn¡¯t literally contort. Neither bone nor muscle warped, but that essence, that spark of Blair that it had imitated so well up until now, vanished.


    She regarded me with cold, dead eyes. Not cold and unemotional like Blair¡¯s signature look, but dead. Like an insect or a doll. The edges of her lips drooped, her cheeks tensing strangely, like a puppet with faulty strings.


    ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you clever.¡° Not Blair said. It was still in Blair¡®s voice, which was downright unnerving from her new expression. ¡°I suppose you can always get cocky. I witnessed a handful of werewolves and a little human march into my town, and I thought I¡¯d have a free meal. But you¡¯re not an idiot¡­how disappointing.¡±


    Not Blair sniffed, her eyes dilating slightly. ¡°You do have magic, though. I can smell that much. Your veil is good little mage. It''s very good. I didn¡¯t notice until you were right here, just a few precious feet away. It wouldn¡¯t have to hurt, you know.¡° She grinned, the expression decidedly unfriendly. ¡°I could make it quick or long, whatever you prefer. Just let me in.¡° I shook my head and gave Not Blair an exaggerated shudder.


    Though it wasn¡¯t much of an exaggeration.


    ¡°I¡¯m good, actually; you are horrifying.¡°


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be like that,¡° she said, stepping back and putting a hand to her chest. ¡°It¡¯s not often that I get such interesting snacks wandering into my web. I¡¯d hate for you to deny me. Come on, twist the lock.¡°


    My hand shifted slightly as if itching to move the lock. It was only then that I noticed the intrusion.


    It was a subtle, insidious little thing. A thin, almost invisible tendril of inky magic. It was slipping into the edges of my mind, wriggling around as it tried to worm its way deeper.


    I slammed the metaphorical doors on it, tearing it from my head with a grunt. I glared at Not Blair. ¡°Rude. Don¡¯t go digging in people''s heads.¡° I tried for casual, but my heart was pounding.


    Not Blair leaned back, her lips twitching slightly in surprise. ¡°Mages your age don¡¯t usually pick up on those. It¡¯s not until they¡¯re in their 80s or early hundreds that they start to fumble around with their minds. What a misfortunate night. You know you really should open the door. There are far worse fates out there. I don¡¯t even touch your soul; merely your body and mind is not such a terrible trade for a clean death.¡±


    I disregarded that horrifically creepy statement as I glanced around the room. Blair was now visible. I was practically standing on her as she had positioned herself in front of the door. She would be the first thing they¡¯d see if anyone tried to enter.


    I fought back an affectionate snort. That was exactly what I expected her to do.


    I turned my attention back to Not Blair. ¡°It seems that we¡¯re at something of an impasse then. I have no desire to let you in, and I have the creeping suspicion that you don¡¯t want to leave.¡°


    Not Blair rolled her eyes, though the slightest hint of a smile played across her lips. She¡¯s enjoying this. ¡°Come now, human, I can¡¯t simply let you slip away like this. That would bring shame on my name.¡±


    ¡°Oh, but I don¡¯t even know your name, so if I tell anyone, it won¡¯t bring shame on you, will it?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll know my name if you let me in.¡°


    I made a shooing motion at her. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure we¡¯ve passed three denials. I guess the rule of three doesn¡¯t mean anything anymore. The fairytales lied to me.¡°


    Not Blair went still for a beat, and their voice grew slack. ¡°I am not a fey, human. I am not bound by their covenants, nor am I trapped in a realm of whimsy. I am still real, still here.¡°


    The genuine venom in the things words took me off guard. Okay, whatever this thing was, it really didn¡¯t like the fey.


    ¡°You know I could just stay here all night. What are you going to do then?¡°


    Not Blair¡¯s slack expression twisted again, contorting into a sickening smile as she leaned in. ¡°You are not the only person in that room, human. What would happen if one of the others were to see me? I wonder what the owner of this face would do?¡°


    I felt a bit of ice form in my stomach. Blair would lose it upon seeing this thing. A monster using her face? Using her face to try and lure me out to kill me?


    There was a decent chance she would wake up, see it, and then throw herself through the wall at it, which this creature seemed perfectly ok with. That was a bad sign. At first, I thought this thing wanted to lure me out, but as the conversation went on, it became clear that it wanted all of us.


    I¡¯d figured it could take the werewolves in their sleep¡ªa quiet assassin with mental magic to keep them under. But now¡­this creature was perfectly willing to fight them while awake.


    Which was bad. Very bad. If the thing was that confident, I wouldn¡¯t call its bluff.


    Yet, despite its seeming confidence, it hadn''t reached out to the others yet.


    Why?


    Maybe¡­maybe it didn¡¯t want to give up.  Switching to one of the others would be seen as admitting defeat. Accepting that it couldn¡¯t control me.


    Plus, it had to have some other magic in effect. Otherwise, Blair and the others would have woken up immediately.  Maybe it couldn¡¯t switch targets midway through its spell?


    I thought frantically as we stared at each other. What did I know? It was a monster, obviously. That wasn¡¯t helpful; lots of things were monsters. Some people counted werewolves as monsters.


    It wasn¡¯t fey, which checked out. The fey were gone. But it seemed to have a relation to them. Or at least it had known them judging by its reaction.


    What did that tell me? It was old. Very old. And very old things tended to have peculiar rules, like being unable to enter a domain unless invited.


    Unlock the door.


    An open door was an invitation.


    Fallen vampires needed an invitation, but this thing did not strike me as a vamp. I didn¡¯t know everything vampires could do; their magic could be pretty weird and out there as they age, but its compulsion seemed subtler than vampires.


    Pride, shame its name, the thoughts bounced around until something clicked. ¡°Why don¡¯t we make a game of this.¡±


    Not Blair stiffened. Her face contorted slightly as if someone had jerked back on those puppet strings. Lifeless blue eyes bored into me as she let a laugh escape. ¡°I am fond of games, little mage. What did you have in mind?¡°


    I took a deep breath. ¡°If you can force me to unlock the door in one minute, I lose, and you get your chance to devour us and beat me. If I win, and you can¡¯t make me unlock it, then you have to leave and let us escape this town.¡°


    Not Blair leaned to the left then the right, the motion odd, as if the balance wasn¡¯t right. Almost like she was rotating the ground beneath her instead of her own body. The motion gave me an odd sense of vertigo, and I had to blink my eyes.


    ¡°Prideful little human, I¡¯m almost insulted you would suggest such a lopsided game. Five minutes. If you can withstand me for five minutes, you win. If not¡­ I feast.¡°


    One minute had been a pipe dream. I¡¯d hoped that their pride was big enough that it would consider one minute more than enough time to crush my mind.


    That hadn¡¯t worked. That was okay, though. I had a feeling I could withstand this thing for as long as I had to. And that wasn¡¯t just ego on my part.


    I¡¯ve fended off Grumpy and the Silent Straits. Those things wouldn¡¯t bother with these little games if they wanted to kill us.


    This thing enjoyed the banter; that much was obvious, but I was guessing another reason it hadn¡¯t immediately tried to crush my Will was that it would expend more energy than it wanted.


    It might feel confident taking on a room full of werewolves at once, but it had already underestimated me. I was betting it would do it again.


    And well, if I was wrong, we were fighting anyway.


    Not Blair gave me a wobbly, uneven grin that twitched in strange places, as of the puppeteer was fidgeting in their seat.


    Our eyes flicked to the nearby alarm clock, waiting for it to tick over.


    Tension hung in the air, making everything seem muted to my ear.  Blair breathed slowly beneath me, my heart pounded in my ears, and the silence of the night outside seemed to crowd in like a physical thing.


    3:05 AM


    ¡­


    3:06 AM


    ¡°Five minutes,¡± Not Blair whispered. Then it slammed into my mind like a linebacker. I grunted, pain spiking, but I didn¡¯t move an inch.


    I gave the thing a wide, toothy smile. ¡°Clocks ticking.¡±


    ~<>~<>~


    Blair woke with a start, her nose twitching as she realized Alder was standing over her. Her eyes snapped open, and she sprang to her feet, careful not to hit him. ¡°What¡¯s going on!¡± she snapped. Alder stared out the window, his jaw clenched and his feet squared.


    How had she not heard him? How did she not hear him open the curtain!?


    Before Blair could have an existential crisis about her senses, Alder grunted. ¡°Well, it was an abomination of its word.¡°


    Blair blinked at him. ¡°What?¡± The others were jumping up, her voice rousing them.


    ¡°Holy shit, I¡¯m glad that worked.¡° Alder sagged slightly, and Blair stepped forward, slipping a hand around his waist to catch him.


    He gave her a small smile and patted her arm. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    He stared into her eyes for several seconds with far more intensity than normal. It went on for long enough that she started to feel uncomfortable when he tilted his head. ¡°Would you mind smiling, then frowning for me?¡±


    She frowned in confusion.


    ¡°Good enough. I know what your face looks like, but I needed a comparison after staring at that thing for so long.¡°


    That sent a spike of alarm through all of them. Bobby was at the door in a heartbeat while Laurel and Simon rushed towards the window.


    ¡°It¡¯s gone.¡° Alder said. ¡°Though it gave me a piece of its mind.¡±


    Blair took a deep breath. She could smell Alder¡¯s exertion, tinges of fear, anger, and resolve. She took another deeper breath.


    Cleaner, antiseptic, the old filth that the motel owner had never bothered to truly clean out, linen sheets, and¡­something else. Something from outside. It reeked like a swamp, but it reminded her of herself.


    ¡°I¡¯m just going to warn you now,¡± Alder said, dragging her attention back to him. ¡°If you ask me to let you inside anywhere, I¡¯m going to refuse.¡±

 A Corpse in Chains 19: Southern Vampires Hospitality

    Laurel wasn¡¯t like Blair, and she wasn¡¯t like Bobby. Those two were freaks.


    She loved them dearly; the list of things she wouldn¡¯t do for them barely existed, but despite how close she was to them, there was a big difference between them and her.


    Simon too. He reacted like a normal person¡­ barring the whole explosive thing, but that was more of a fear blind spot in his case. Blair and Bobby¡­ Well, when things got dangerous, Bobby still joked and laughed, but underneath that, Laurel knew he had ice in his veins.


    Blair responded to danger with complete and total focus. She locked in on the threat until it was gone, and they were safe, and nothing else existed to her in the in-between.


    Laurel wasn¡¯t like that.


    She hadn¡¯t handled danger well at first. Oh, she¡¯d always been good at masking it. But as a girl, fighting terrified her. She wasn¡¯t bad at it; she had always been one of the Pack''s more skilled fighters for her age, but that fear never left her. It had just gotten more manageable, easier to hide.


    Then, they had come to Silver Spruce.


    Honestly, she liked the town. Its audacious and bizarre nature charmed her more than anything. But then there were things like Grumpy. Things that reminded her that while beings like Adela Northwoods might stand on top of the food chain; Laurel was not Adela Northwoods.


    Follow that up with ghosts and spirits and a horde of undead, it had been a stressful couple of weeks for her.


    And now she found out there had been something only a few feet away, something hovering outside the motel that had wanted to eat them. something strong enough to keep them asleep as Alder talked and even fought right next to them.


    She felt sick as she pulled her knees close to her chest.


    Alder was on the floor, his back propped against the bed and a pillow in his lap. Blair was seated in front of the door, her legs crossed, and one knee just barely touched Alder''s foot.


    Laurel almost smiled at that sight, but then her eyes landed on Alder, and she saw the bags under his eyes.


    Alder wasn¡¯t like Blair and Bobby either. But he was strange. It seemed like a coin flip on how he would react when things got bad.


    Sometimes, he would shrug off danger that made Laurel want to crawl in on herself and disappear. Other times, like at the Summit, fear poured off him like water from a fire hose.


    But now, after just having fended off an unknown monster that wanted to devour them in their sleep, the only thing she was getting from him was exhaustion and¡­ annoyance of all things.


    No, he was just as odd as the rest of them, maybe stranger.


    Her eyes settled back on Blair.


    Her friend was doing her best to meditate, but Laurel could still feel the tension in her body and smell the barely suppressed rage bubbling under the surface.


    That sight gave Laurel strength, gave her a reason to be brave.


    Blair needed her, she needed Laurel to be stable, to be the normal one.


    Laurel took a deep breath, even as the thought of a monster bursting in tried to flutter through her mind. She would be brave.


    She wouldn¡¯t let Blair down, not again.


    ~<>~<>~


    The frozen concrete burned my cheek, the icy chill sinking into flesh, creeping through muscle and reaching for bone.


    My head ached, and the smell of cigarettes and iron filled my nose.


    What was happening? Where was Reggie? Where were my boys where- where¡­ A plane flew overhead, its engine rumbling through the night.


    Snow stung as it landed on my other cheek as I tried to focus on that jet. As it cut through the falling snow, leaving a trail of white fog in the snow stained sky, a single word pierced through the haze in my head.


    Pretty.


    ~<>~<>~


    I woke with the scent of blood and cigarettes in my nose and the memory of cold burning through me. I blinked, the smell slowly fading. She hadn¡¯t recognized the scent of blood in her dazed state, but I did. Probably from her head wound, if I had to guess.


    As soon as the sun had risen enough for the path to our car to be clear of shadows we bolted for it like the motel was on fire. I didn¡¯t think The Thing was going to go back on its word, but we felt safer waiting for sunlight before leaving the room.


    The instant we had left the town I was out like a light.


    I blinked the remnants of sleep from my eyes and looked around. The Appalachia¡¯s were growing closer and closer, their looming presence making me feel small.


    The sun was setting, and the others were all murmuring and eating, their hands full of sandwiches. Blair glanced over at me as I shifted. ¡°Good evening.¡±


    I groaned and rubbed sleep from my eyes. ¡°Jesus, how long was I out?¡± Blair chuckled before reaching back and grabbing a sandwich for me. ¡°Something like 10 hours. You needed the rest.¡°


    I grunted, my mouth dry and my stomach ravenous. That thing might not have been on the same level as Grumpy or the Straits, but fighting it off had still worked me like a mule.


    ¡°I¡¯m guessing we¡¯ve made some good progress then. How close are we?¡±


    Bobby waggle his hand. ¡°We¡¯re getting there. Blair wants to get there tonight if we can. Which will entail driving through a good portion of that night.¡±


    I rubbed my eyes again and then took a bite of the sandwich. It was filled with lots of sauce and beef, and the bread gave a satisfying crunch. Perfect.


    After devouring most of the sandwich I cleared my throat. ¡°Speaking of Vintray, anyone got tips on being a diplomat?¡°


    Laurel laughed. ¡°You¡¯re only thinking about that now?¡°


    I shrugged. ¡°We¡¯ve been busy, and things have spiraled. But if we¡¯re going to try and get this spirit lord to help the Pact, we need to be diplomatic.¡°


    Laurel laughed louder. ¡°That¡¯s what I think of when I see you, diplomatic. A really guarded tongue. You¡¯d never do something like call a millennia-old spook a bitch.¡°


    I flipped her off, and she laughed harder.


    Simon shrugged. ¡°Just treat him like a ghost. You¡¯re usually pretty diplomatic with ghosts. Except the ones you swear at.¡°


    I pointed at him. ¡°Hey, I only swear at the ghosts who deserve it or swear at me first. Namely Ben.¡°


    The others had unwound while I slept, so the air didn¡¯t feel like it was about to snap from the tension. It took me a little longer to get that memo.


    Sleeping had been very nice. I¡¯d gone out so hard and fast that it felt like I had time-traveled. My brain hadn¡¯t calmed down or processed that I was safe. But as we bantered and chatted, I sank back into the car seat.


    I was safe. I was all right.


    For now.


    ~<>~<>~


    ¡°Shit!¡± Blair snarled, slapping the steering wheel so hard it groaned.


    ¡°You know that''s a rental, we gotta be careful with it.¡° Blair gave me a look, and I raised my hands in surrender.


    The sun had set hours ago, leaving the highway drenched in shadow. The mountains now loomed like¡­ well, mountains, but they were dark and spooky mountains.


    The source of Blair''s ire was the line of cars stopped ahead of us and past them the mass of construction equipment. A big sign read ¡® Road closed from 12 AM to 6 AM.¡¯ It was currently 10 pm, so I guess they decided to get started early.


    Blair looked like she wanted to climb out and give the construction crew a piece of her mind, but a few deep breaths settled her. ¡°We¡¯ll have to find somewhere to stay for the night.¡°


    Bobby scratched the back of his neck as he looked at his phone. ¡°There¡¯s not really anywhere close to stay. We¡¯d have to drive back at least an hour, which means another hour added in the morning.¡° Blair growled before Laurel spoke up. ¡°Plus, there is the political matter, we¡¯re close to Koehrsen Mar¡¯s. Passing through is one thing, but staying the night in his territory without telling him is a bit rude.¡°


    Blair growled deeper before banging her head against the steering wheel. ¡°You¡¯re right; I¡¯ll call him,¡± she said without lifting her head. I looked back at the others as Blair began to fiddle with her phone through the steering wheel. ¡°Politically awkward? What¡¯s going on?¡°


    Laurel spoke up as she stared at the construction workers. ¡°Koehrsen Mar is a Vampire Lord. The Mar¡¯s aren¡¯t a major house, but they aren¡¯t weak either and our Pack has history with them.¡±


    She waved her hand around the car. ¡°They¡¯ve lived around here for centuries. Blair passing through on a mission is one thing, but Blair not seeking refuge with them when needed during a time of political upheaval¡­ It would communicate that we didn¡¯t trust them. Which would not go over well.¡°


    Bobby nodded mid-yawn. ¡°And that¡¯s ignoring the fact that it¡¯s rude for a werewolf princess to stay in the territory of our ally without introducing herself, even without the wartime tensions.¡°


    ¡°I see.¡° I mostly did. I knew less about vampire politics and culture than I had about werewolves. Most of my experiences with vampires were them trying to eat me or drink my blood.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    All I knew was that their politics could often be messy and typically cutthroat. ¡°Okay, so we¡¯re staying at the vampires estate or something?¡°


    Laurel nodded. ¡°Most likely, it¡¯s technically their duty to shelter us since we¡¯re on a mission for the Pact in a time of war. But even if we weren¡¯t, several werewolf Packs have a good relationship with the Mar¡¯s, including the Northwoods.¡°


    I hummed only to cut off as Blair put the phone to her ear. The werewolves clammed up too. They were listening to the phone call, while I didn¡¯t want to get picked up by the vampire.


    ¡°Hello, Lord Mar, this is Blair Northwood. I¡¯m in your territory, and while I planned on speeding through, the roads forced us to stay the night. She was silent for several seconds and then nodded, not that he could see.


    ¡°Thank you. We will be there shortly.¡±


    She hung up and pulled a U-turn. ¡°We¡¯re staying at the estate. He¡¯s ¡®happy to have us in his words.¡¯¡° Blair did not look enthusiastic.


    I shifted, ignoring the twinge the motion sent through me. ¡°You don¡¯t seem very happy about that. Should we be worried?¡°


    ¡°Koehrsen is¡­ Aggravating. Polite, friendly. He will go out of his way to seem willing to help. And all the while, he¡¯s looking down on people.¡°


    Blair ran a hand down her face, and she looked weary. Her eyes were sunken, her shoulders tight, and her jaw set. I knew her Bond was taking a toll on her, but every day, it seemed to get a little worse, her exhaustion a little more pronounced.


    I ached to do something, anything. But want alone wouldn¡¯t get us anywhere.


    ¡°My mother makes her disdain for humans known. There¡¯s no deception or mask. I don¡¯t respect it. I don¡¯t agree with her, but at least she doesn¡¯t put up a front. Koehrsen does.¡±


    I blinked at her. ¡°Is that it? Blair, you don¡¯t have to worry about me. I don¡¯t care what some random vampires think of me. Maybe they¡¯ll be unpleasant towards me during our stay, but unless they attack me, I could not care less. Plenty of spooks look down on humans, little hedge mages even more.¡±


    I made air quotes for the hedge mage part.


    ¡°You guys don¡¯t have to worry about me for things like this. If something¡®s gonna come tear my head off, your concern is warranted and appreciated, but you don¡¯t need to safeguard my feelings from some stuck-up nobles.¡±


    Blair stared at me for a few startled seconds before she softened, and a small smile forced its way onto her face.


    Laurel looked relieved while Bobby smirked. ¡°You know, as far as I¡¯m concerned, Blair pretty much is a noble, so really, you¡¯re insulting her vaunted lineage with your crass words, puny human.¡±


    I pursed my lips. ¡°Well I told Blair¡¯s mom to go take a hike in not so many words, so I¡¯ve already insulted her lineage plenty.¡±


    That eased a good amount of the remaining tensions from the car, but I still needed to clear a few things. ¡°Okay, so the vampire lord is racist. That¡¯s a big shock. This is me being very surprised. Is there anything I need to know in particular? I don¡¯t have much diplomatic experience with vampires. It¡¯s usually them trying to drink my blood, kill me, or eat me.¡°


    Laurel shook her head in the backseat. ¡°I¡¯m gonna get that story one day.¡± She muttered.


    Simon piped in, ignoring Laurel. ¡°Treat him like you would any other fancy spook. Be polite; don¡¯t challenge his authority. Just follow our lead. They might try and bait you into reacting. Or take potshots at you. They want to put the Northwoods in an awkward position. Since they don¡¯t want to actually kill you, that would start¡­¡± his eyes flicked to Blair. ¡°Conflict. But if they get you to offer them an insult and then graciously forgive it, that gives them some leverage over the Northwoods in their mind.¡°


    I rubbed at my face. ¡°They¡¯re going to be doing stupid cats paw games with me. God, at least werewolf politics are pretty simple. You piss them off, and they¡¯re going to tear your face off¡­¡± I paused to consider that before shaking my head.


    ¡°I take that back. You people get offended by a lot of things; it¡¯s pretty easy to get your face torn off.¡°


    Bobby jabbed a finger towards the ceiling. ¡°I resent that; plenty of werewolves will tear your head off, not just your face.¡°


    Laurel shifted slightly. ¡°I don¡¯t know them well, but I have heard some things about the family. Koehrsen values his family quite highly, so keep that in mind. Don¡¯t insult them. And his kids can be¡­ Weird.¡±


    I stared at her. ¡°You¡¯re going to need to elaborate on that. I think everyone in this car has a pretty broad definition for weird.¡°


    She gave me a helpless shrug. ¡°That¡¯s all I have. I¡¯ve never met them personally. I¡¯ve just heard that his wife and kids, especially his youngest, have a reputation for being¡­ off.¡±


    I sighed and rested my head against the dash. ¡°Alright. Remember not to cause a diplomatic incident because they said something mean about the poor human.¡± I didn¡¯t look at Blair, but I didn¡¯t need to.


    ¡°But if any of them tries to eat me, I would appreciate some backup.¡±


    ~<>~<>~


    Falling asleep in a car was kind of like teleporting. You close your eyes in one place and open them in another. It¡¯s like magic, except it¡¯s not, and now my forehead hurt from resting against the dash.


    I looked around to see us no longer on the highway. Instead, we were cruising along a well-paved road surrounded by a dense canopy of trees. Moonlight filtered through, painting sections of the road white.  The moon in question was waning, thankfully.


    Blair¡¯s problem wasn¡¯t as severe when it was only a sliver in the sky.


    The SUVs'' tires rumbled over the pavement, the sound startlingly loud in the quiet of the night. An owl called in the distance, and a few seconds later, I heard a chorus of frogs and bugs begin to chirp and sing.


    I rubbed my forehead and winced. Note to self: don¡¯t fall asleep in that position.


    The others were all staring at the road, lost in thought. I imitated them, staring out into the darkness as we went. I couldn¡¯t see much to the sides; I didn¡¯t have their vision. But I got a good enough picture: a lonely road with lots of trees. Blair had said this wasn¡¯t as far from the highway as finding a motel would¡¯ve been, but that didn¡¯t give me an idea of how far we were from the main road.


    I figured some fancy vampires would want their space and privacy.


    We crested a hill, and the estate came into view. It was a mansion with a capital M. It rested in a small valley, with rolling hills of green surrounding it on three sides and a dense forest on the other.


    The mansion itself was opulent, stretching up for five stories and was all dark stone and rich wood¡ªsave for the front entrance which was lined with red and black, very vampiric-looking.


    In the distance I could see a pond, the sparse moonlight reflecting off its water.


    We pulled to a stop before the front door. Everything was almost uncannily clean. Like a TV set more than an actual house. As much as you could call a multi-story mansion an actual house, to begin with.


    We climbed out, marching to the door with bags in hand. Before we could even knock, the tremendous black things swung open to reveal a short, immaculately dressed man with gray hair and a severe expression.


    My brain thought Butler before the rest of his clothing even registered. He was, in fact, wearing a Butler¡¯s uniform, staring at us with a polite, slightly fake smile. ¡°Welcome, Northwoods. May you be at peace in the Mar¡¯s estate.¡±


    Blair inclined her head.


    We stepped inside, and the scent of stone and citrus filled my nose. The inside was just as immaculately maintained as the rest of this place, which only added to the slightly fake nature of it all. The front room was tall, with a spiral staircase ahead of us leading all the way to the roof. Three more hallways branched off from us in each direction.


    Before the Butler could say anything else, a deep voice rang out from the second floor. ¡°Blair, it¡¯s good to see you again, darling.¡° The man had a rich Southern accent and a baritone that made me think he should get into voice acting.


    Koehrsen and he was almost certainly Koehrsen, descended the steps, his arms wide as if beckoning us closer. He wore neatly pressed slacks, a lavender shirt, and a cream-colored jacket. It wasn¡¯t quite as extravagant as I¡¯d been expecting. I had kind of thought he¡¯d march down those steps in a three-piece suit, but I was willing to bet that the clothes on his back were still exorbitantly expensive.


    Unsurprisingly, he had pale skin and a large build. His arms filled out that jacket with noticeable muscle, and his square jaw and closely trimmed beard gave him an athletic vibe. His eyes were dark brown and looked genuinely warm, which just made me unsettled more than anything.


    He ran a hand through short black hair as he reached the floor.


    Blair walked up to greet him, and his smile grew. ¡°You¡¯ve damn near tripled in height since I¡¯ve last seen you! I don¡¯t think you were past my knee,¡° he chuckled.


    Blair returned it, though I could tell it was forced. ¡°It was quite a while ago.¡°


    He nodded. ¡°You take after your mother. You look like you could be sisters.¡°


    Blair¡®s hands clenched behind her back, but her voice came out with a slight chuckle. ¡°You flatter.¡±


    Koehrsen turned and began walking down the hall. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re all tired and would like a bit of rest. But I¡¯d love it if you would have breakfast with my family. Dinner for you, I suppose, ¡° he waved at the Butler. ¡°Gerald here will show you to your rooms. I¡¯d appreciate it if you could join us in an hour, but if you can¡¯t, it¡¯s no trouble.¡° He vanished down the hall. Never so much as sparing the rest of us a glance. Not that I minded; I didn¡¯t need more eyes on me.


    But it was telling. Blair was important, a noble daughter who was already strong beyond her years. The rest of us were not, so we weren¡¯t worth bothering with.


    The Butler turned towards the steps. ¡°If you will follow me.¡°


    We did, marching up the gleaming wooden steps. I tried to take in our surroundings as we climbed through the absurdly lavish mansion.


    There were windows, but I noticed each one had a contraption attached to the top. I was betting that was a vampire-grade shade. Sunlight wasn¡¯t leaking in if they didn¡¯t want it to.


    The walls were adorned with abstract paintings that looked like they belonged in an art museum. The kind of things that people with expensive turtle necks would talk about in great length.  Beside them were small sculptures of Greek gods that looked damn authentic. Hell, they might be.


    As we passed the second floor, I noticed a painting of Koehrsen in a rich red suit, his hands behind his back as he looked to the side.  It was beautiful. The painter captured every line of his face and every tiny detail until it felt like the Koehrsen in the painting might step out and start talking. And more than that, Koehrsen looked sad.  His eyes held a weariness that spoke to me.


    Holy shit, I gotta meet that painter.


    The Butler, even with Koehrsen saying his name, I couldn¡¯t help but think of him as The Butler with how well he fit the part, led us to the third floor and took a sharp left. We moved down a sparsely lit hallway, the light only a few shades above gloomy.


    That didn¡¯t surprise me. This place wasn¡¯t designed for human eyes.


    Gerald paused once we reached the end of the hall. He looked back at us, and while his face was perfectly neutral, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a bit of disdain rolling off him. ¡°Your rooms are here on the left. Should you have need of me, simply press the intercom, and I will come to assist you.¡±


    He adjusted his bow tie, though it was perfectly straight, as far as I could tell. ¡°You are free to travel around the estate so long as you do not go above this floor. The floors below and the grounds are open to you.¡° With that, he turned on his heel and marched away.


    I wanted to comment, but I was pretty sure the walls had ears.


    Considering no one else had spoken a word, I wasn¡¯t the only one who felt that way.


    Blair motioned us to the door at the far corner, entering first before waving us to follow.


    I stepped inside and was greeted with an almost comically lavish room. A flat-screen TV significantly bigger than I was sat against one wall, and a couch large enough to fit the five of us with room to spare sat across from it, covered in rich leather cushions that looked seductively soft.


    The room smelled clean and warm, and the rich brown walls mixed with the dark carpet to make the room feel cozy.


    There was a set of chairs around a table and a bathroom in one corner. Just peeking through the door, I could tell it was huge.


    My eyes settled on the bed, and I blinked. It was big enough for all five of us to sleep on and barely touch. And they had given us several rooms like this. People with money were crazy.


    Blair pulled out her phone, began to type, and then held it out for us.


    ¡°Assume they are always listening. Watch your words.¡°


    We all nodded.


    Blair grimaced, then slowly typed. ¡°Let¡¯s refresh ourselves, then prepare for dinner.¡±


    I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. A few weeks ago, my life had been very simple, very normal. That was a bald-faced lie, but I was used to the weirdness of my life, dammit! And now I was going to have dinner with a bunch of people who drank blood like wine and almost certainly looked at me like a second-class citizen.


    So rich people, I suppose.

 A Corpse In Chains: 20 Breakfast For Dinner

    Being human could give a guy an inferiority complex.


    In the paranormal world, shockingly, pretty people are nothing new. Considering how many of those things prey on humans, it just makes sense. We love a pretty face, and we love to stop thinking when we see one.


    So, not being the prettiest one in the room was nothing new to me. But there¡¯s still a certain¡­ completely justified resentment upon watching a man who you¡¯ve seen scarfed down fast food like it was water casually pull off his shirt and reveal a six-pack that looked like it belonged in a movie.


    ¡°Oh, silly me.¡° Bobby paused, his hands on his hips. ¡°I forgot. I should¡¯ve given you a few more seconds.¡°


    Blair snorted as she pulled out an outfit Laurel had packed for her. ¡°It¡¯s not the modesty thing; well, that¡¯s why he¡¯s blushing. No, he¡¯s glaring at you because of the six-pack.¡±


    Bobby laughed and then flexed. His abs popped like he had a CGI team working on them. I flipped him off and escaped to the bathroom before anyone could take their pants off.


    Werewolves didn¡¯t care if you saw them naked, for the most part. But thankfully for me, they cared that I cared enough to usually hesitate before stripping.


    I took a deep breath as I settled myself for what came next. I wasn¡¯t looking forward to this little dinner party, but it was hardly the worst evening I¡¯d had to endure. Keep a stiff upper lip, don¡¯t cause a diplomatic incident, and you¡¯re golden.


    I wore dark slacks, a dark gray button-up, and a light gray blazer.


    Memories that weren¡¯t my own told me which buttons to use and which to leave undone, the right way to store it to avoid wrinkles. I sighed. They weren¡¯t my memories but weren¡¯t particularly traumatic or harmful, so I didn¡¯t squeeze down on them immediately.


    I gave myself one last look in the mirror. I looked tired and a little gaunt, wearing clothes that didn¡¯t suit me.


    Perfect.


    I went back into the bedroom.


    The crazier outfits remained packed for now. We wouldn¡¯t whip those out unless Bartholomew was as weird as we expected.


    Bobby and Simon''s outfits were similar to mine, though dark blue and black, respectively. Laurel''s outfit consisted of a dark green skirt that fell just past her knees, a rich brown blouse, and a thin black overcoat.


    Blair wore an identical outfit to mine, but light gray.  Laurel looked rather bitter about it, so I was guessing a dress or second skirt was involved at some point.  Likely followed by a battle of wills that Laurel had lost.


    Bobby gave me a thumbs up as I came out, his grin practically sparkling. ¡°Looking snazzy.¡°


    I chuckled. ¡°I¡¯d say I feel like a kid in his dad¡®s clothes, but I don¡¯t want to imply Laurel didn¡¯t get them fitted right.¡±


    Laurel sniffed. ¡°Right that you don¡¯t want to imply that.¡°


    Blair looked over us before glancing at Laurel. ¡°Everyone good?¡°


    Laurel sighed and nodded. ¡°That outfit really would¡¯ve worked. Both the girls with skirts, all the boys with their coats, it would¡¯ve been a good look.¡°


    Blair patted her on the back as she went to the door. ¡°Maybe next time.¡±


    Simon patted Laurel on the arm as he walked by. ¡°You can pick out my outfit next time. Though you picked it out this time, too.¡°


    She sighed louder and followed. ¡°I appreciate the thought.¡°


    ¡°I¡¯m not gonna let you dress me next time,¡± I said as I fell into step. ¡°I¡¯m gonna let Bobby pick out my wardrobe.¡±


    That earned me a double thumbs up. ¡°My man!¡±


    ~<>~<>~


    I was going to ring the intercom for the Butler, but Blair walked confidently, so I decided to follow. We were moving towards food, I didn¡¯t need to worry about us getting lost.


    I was used to walking through mansion halls at this point, but this was not the Hanging Manor. Its architecture was laid out in straightforward, easy-to-navigate patterns, and it didn¡¯t feel like it was designed by someone drunk and maybe a little spiteful. Scandalous.


    I had plenty of other memories of absurd houses, and this didn¡¯t match any of them. It truly was just a rich person¡®s house¡ªkind of a letdown.


    As we passed door after door, each leading to a room that was, I¡¯m sure, sinfully extravagant, my eyes drifted to the paintings.


    The drawing of Koehrsen still lingered in the back of my mind, and I found myself scanning for more.


    Several paintings caught my attention, though none were as striking as that first.  But I was fairly sure they were by the same artist.  A young man with a strong jaw and dark eyes.  His face and matching black hair made me assume he was Koehrsen¡¯s son.  Another painting, this one of a woman in a white dress, a shawl covering her features in wisps of red fabric.


    And- I paused.  The other pictures had all been set in glossy black frames, but one sat apart, hanging slightly askew.  The frame was simple, almost crude brown wood. It looked like it had been thrown together in an afternoon, and unless I missed my guess, this photo was the newest.


    The others all felt settled in. No dust was sitting on them or anything like that, but I could still feel the weight of age behind them.


    Not this one. Something in my gut told me it was new.


    It depicted a large man, a hulking trench coat hiding much of his form. Shadows covered his face, save for a large, raised scar that went along his cheek, ending below his jaw, and a pair of luminous yellow eyes.  The moon framed him, shining down like a watch light as the figure moved forward, seeming to stalk right for me.


    I swallowed, unease rising in my gut. I sped up, catching up to Blair before she got concerned.


    It felt like the painting watched me as I moved, those yellow eyes pressing against me. If I wasn¡¯t so familiar with what it felt like, I might¡¯ve guessed that the painting was haunted, but that wasn¡¯t it. There were no ghosts around us.


    But I still couldn''t shake the feeling of being watched.


    As we approached the stairs, I looked left and did a double take.  A young girl, maybe ten or eleven, with black hair, red eyes, and pale skin, was walking beside me.


    She wore a white dress that fell to her ankles and had a headband with a pink flower tucked into her hair. She was also upside down.


    Her small white shoes stepped along the ceiling in time with the rest of us, and her hair hung straight down, clearly subject to gravity¡ªgravity that her dress ignored.


    I was no stranger to people appearing out of nowhere, but I was used to feeling them coming.


    This girl wasn¡¯t a ghost.


    Plus, she had fangs. Bobby noticed the girl a second later and almost jumped out of his skin. I waved to the girl. ¡°Hello, my name is Alder.¡°


    The others, excluding Bobby, froze, whipping their heads around to stare behind them. Blair cursed, Laurel stiffened, and Simon whistled.


    ¡°You¡¯re not a werewolf. But you¡¯re with werewolves. Are you like a ghoul?¡° the little girl asked.


    I shook my head before ushering the others to start walking. Slowly, they did, and the girl kept pace. ¡°No, I¡¯m not that tough.¡°


    She hummed. Her voice was light and airy and tinged with a gentle Southern accent. ¡°I¡¯m Kendra. Pleased to meet you.¡° She curtsied on the ceiling, and I figured I¡¯d return it with a light bow. ¡°Do you always walk along the ceiling?¡±


    She shook her head as we neared the steps. She transitioned from the ceiling to the wall. Her hair once again obeyed gravity, hanging sideways down her face to point at the ground while her dress remained perfectly straight. ¡°Sometimes I walk on the walls. The others don¡¯t do it as much, but I think they¡¯re missing out. It¡¯s fun.¡°


    ¡°It does look pretty fun. Do you know where we¡¯re supposed to be going?¡°


    She nodded but then pointed at Blair. ¡°She already knows the way, I can tell.¡°


    Blair looked like somebody had rammed a steel bar between her shoulders. The little vampire sneaking up on us would not do wonders for her cool. It was a little scary, considering four werewolves hadn¡¯t noticed her. But this was the vampire''s home. I had to imagine their scent was all over this place, and¡­ well, she was a vampire. Who knew what weird shit she could do.


    Though Blair was far less accepting of her limitations than I was, so I doubted that little bit of logic would make her feel better.


    Kendra kept pace with us, ignoring the others as she fixated on me. ¡°Why aren¡¯t you a werewolf?¡°


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    The others, it seemed, had decided dealing with a small vampire child was my job. Bastards, though I was probably the best suited for it. ¡°I wasn¡¯t born a werewolf. Same reason I¡¯m not a vampire.¡±


    She hummed and locked her hands behind her back. I had the distinct impression that she wanted to skip but was restraining herself. The mental image of a kid deciding that walking along the wall was a proper amount of restraint, but skipping wasn¡¯t almost made me laugh.


    ¡°My dad says humans are stupid creatures. But you don¡¯t seem too stupid.¡° She delivered the words utterly devoid of malice in that blunt tone only children could.


    I chuckled. ¡°You haven¡¯t seen all the things I do.¡°


    We reached the ground floor, and the girl briefly hesitated before deciding to hop off the wall and walk alongside us. As she did, she finally turned her attention to some of the others.


    She began to pester Bobby, her red eyes open and curious. She went for a different direction with him. She asked a few questions about being a werewolf, but then it moved into the territory of places he¡¯d been, if he¡¯d ever killed a bear for some reason, and other random questions. Bobby rolled with it.


    We turned through a few more halls before entering a nice dining room. There was a table big enough for the lot of us with room to spare, and while the furniture was all made from dark wood, which I assumed was expensive, I got the impression that this was the smaller, more laid-back dining room.


    Four people sat on one side of the table. Koehrsen was dressed similarly to before but slightly nicer, with a jacket and slacks that looked different.


    I assumed the woman sitting next to him was his wife. She was tall and slim, with dark skin and red eyes. Her hair was pulled up in an elaborate bun, and she wore a white ruffled dress that looked like it was from at least a century ago.


    It probably was.


    She also creeped me the hell out. She had almost plain features. Her skin was flawless like most vampires I¡¯d met, but every other feature was ordinary, unremarkable. But there was an edge. That it factor that spooks like werewolves and vampires tended to have that made my brain take note of her just a little bit more.


    That, combined with the gentle yet vacant smile on her lips and the blank stare she was giving us, sent shivers down my spine.


    Sitting a few seats down from her was a tall young man with light brown skin and buzzed black hair. He wore clothes like a punk rocker, but they were off. Not from this decade, not even close. He looked like he was trapped in the 1980s. Combined with his sullen expression and angry glances, he kept shooting at who I assumed was his father, and I got the impression of an angry teen out of time.


    Lastly, another young man looked a few years older than the first. He had the same light brown skin and close-cropped hair, but he wore slacks and a button-down and plated up a serving of chicken with exacting precision.


    Koehrsen smiled at us and waved. ¡°Come, grab a seat, guests, and let me introduce my family.¡°


    As we took our seats, Kendra moved past Bobby, snatching the seat beside me as Blair sat to my left. Bobby shrugged and sat beside her.


    Blair placed herself to sit directly across from Koehrsen, leaving me staring at his creepy wife.


    Koehrsen motioned to said wife. ¡°This is Olivia, my darling wife. The rambunctious man you see next to her is my son Tyler. And lastly is his brother Mordecai.¡°


    Olivia gave us a slightly vacant nod. Tyler grunted. Mordecai gave us a polite wave. ¡°Pleased to meet you.¡°


    ¡°I see you¡¯ve already met Kendra. She¡¯s my daughter, but she¡¯s a bit newer to the family; please forgive her eccentricities.¡°


    Kendra pretended like she hadn¡¯t heard her father, continuing to kick her feet in the air as she stared about with open curiosity.


    Blair bobbed her head. ¡°Thank you for having us on such short notice. The Northwoods will not forget such hospitality.¡°


    Hearing Blair speak so formally was slightly odd, but it shouldn¡¯t surprise me. She¡¯d been learning how to do things like this all her life.


    Koehrsen laughed. ¡°Come now, I¡¯m simply doing my duty as a member of the Pact. However, even if we weren¡¯t, I would not let Adela¡¯s daughter stay in lesser accommodations. I met your mother when I was a young vampire. Did she ever tell you that?¡°


    Blair shook her head, and I saw her hands tense on her lap.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think she did.¡°


    Koehrsen chuckled. ¡°That doesn¡¯t surprise me. I was practically still a child. Only 40 or 50 years old. The revolution hadn¡¯t truly started yet, and things were¡­ Unfriendly for my kind here. Some hunters ambushed me, and I dare say I would¡¯ve died if she hadn¡¯t appeared. She saved me and taught me what real strength looked like. Even let me travel with her for a few weeks.¡±


    He looked wistful like a grandfather remembering his younger years. ¡°I learned quite a bit in that time. About us, what it meant to be a powerful spook, our place among the humans.¡° His eyes flicked to me for just a beat.


    Blair''s knuckles went white under the table. I reached over, steeling myself as I gently grabbed her hand.


    It was large and distressingly warm, but the revulsion didn¡¯t come. This was Blair, not someone else.


    Her fist loosened, and she nodded at Koehrsen. ¡°That must¡¯ve been quite the impression.¡°


    ¡°I¡¯ll say,¡° Tyler snapped. ¡°He never misses a chance to bring up how he met the queen of the werewolves.¡° The vampire¡¯s voice couldn¡¯t be more petulant if he tried, and Koehrsen shot him a look. ¡°Forgive my son, he¡¯s feeling rebellious.¡±


    A servant walked by, and I do mean servant, not staff. They wore full uniforms and moved like they were in the presence of nobility, keeping their eyes down as they hustled to deliver plates. I suppose they technically were in the presence of nobles.


    A short woman with suntanned skin and dark eyes filled the waters on the table, barely meeting anyone¡¯s gaze. That was odd enough, but I was reasonably sure she wasn¡¯t human.


    Her motions were off. A little too smooth, a hair too fast. She couldn¡¯t be a vampire. I didn¡¯t think so, at least. Her skin didn¡¯t look tanned from ethnicity but from the sun. And I doubted other vampires would be servants here. From what Blair had told me and the brief comments he¡¯d already made, I had an itsy-bitsy inkling that Koehrsen was a vampire supremacist.


    As Blair and Koehrsen continued to talk, Laurel, Bobby, and the man''s sons were slowly pulled into the conversation, and my focus drifted to other things.


    Okay, less drifted, and more so yanked to Kendra as a finger poked me in the side.


    I glanced at Kendra to see she had one hand flat and the other raised in a fist. I stared at her for a second and then mentally shrugged. I held my hand out, and we started playing rock paper scissors. She let me win a few, and then her hand began to blur, and I was fairly certain she was changing her answer as she saw what I was about to play.


    I stared at her and arched a brow. ¡°Are you cheating?¡± She gave me a grin, showing off her fangs, and I almost laughed.


    I lost a few more times before calling it quits. The little girl was immensely pleased by her victory and now swung her feet with some real gusto.


    Suddenly, her swinging stopped, and she stared at me with far more intensity than a girl her age should have.  ¡°You saw him, didn¡¯t you? You were staring at my paintings in the hall.¡±


    I hesitated.  How long was she watching me?


    ¡°Him?¡± I asked, even as two yellow eyes flashed in my mind.  ¡°Also, did you say your paintings?¡±


    She nodded, a note of smug pride mixing with her intense stare. ¡°Yep! Daddy says I have a gift!¡±


    Her emphasis on gift made me suspect it had something to do with vampire magic.


    ¡°And you know what I mean.  The man, he was watching you.  He¡¯s always looking for people like you.¡±


    I swallowed a sudden lump in my throat. ¡°Like me?¡±


    She nodded eagerly and then, in the same innocently blunt tone as before, said, ¡°Yeah! The weak!¡±


    Ouch.  I mean, I didn¡¯t disagree, but still.  ¡°Who is he?¡±


    Kendra shrugged her little shoulders, the flower in her hair bobbing with the motion.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°Nope.¡±


    ¡°But you painted him,¡± I pointed out, somehow hoping that would change her answer.


    ¡°Yep! I get the itch, and I paint.  But I don¡¯t know who I paint.  Not always.  But I know things about them, like how he¡¯s always looking for people like you.¡±


    She delivered that fantastically unnerving statement in the same tone you¡¯d expect to hear about dinosaurs. I was used to hearing creepy stories from children, but I still felt a shudder try to force its way down my spine.


    Before I could really dwell on her words, Kendra leaned forward, her little fangs gleaming as she smiled. ¡°What¡¯s your favorite animal?¡±


    I pursed my lips as my brain swerved and switched gears. ¡°Mmm¡­Ravens, cats, and dogs.¡±


    She pouted. ¡°That¡¯s three! You have to pick one!¡±


    I opened my mouth to answer when I felt intent land solidly on my shoulders.


    Most everyone has a sense, an itch on the back of your neck, a twinge in the spine as someone stares at you.


    You don¡¯t even need the Talent to have it to some extent, but as a rule, mages and Telss¡¯s Sense was pushed up to eleven.  As someone whose life often depends on staying under the radar, I was very, very good at feeling a predator''s eye on me.


    That sense was screaming.


    My eyes snapped up to find Olivia staring at me. The woman idly bit into a piece of dark meat, her fangs gleaming in the light. The vacant look was gone; in fact, she was quite focused as she stared at me like a cat watching a bird.


    Lovely.


    She took a slow pull from her glass, the red liquid leaving a smear on the rim. Her eyes never left me. ¡°Smells good,¡° she said, her airy voice slicing through the conversation like a loosed arrow.


    Koehrsen stiffened slightly before clearing his throat. Blair had also gone still, her eyes shifting to the other vampire in a snap. I knew that look and desperately sought a diversion.


    Koehrsen had mentioned a revolution, so he was quite a few years older than the rest of us. Old enough that I didn¡¯t think Blair had a chance against him alone, much less the rest of his family.


    Which meant she really needed not to start a fight.


    The corner of Blair¡¯s eyes began to fill with red. Her weight shifted, and I realized my friend was a few seconds away from committing a diplomatic incident.


    I squeezed her hand, hard, and she paused to glance at me.


    Thankfully, Koehrsen seemed as eager as I was to avoid a diplomatic incident. ¡°Well, I think it¡¯s time for Kendra to have her lessons. Could you take her to her tutors, dear? I don¡¯t want her running away again.¡±


    Olivia blinked, her gaze leaving me for the first time in what felt like minutes but had probably only been 30 seconds.


    She nodded slowly, that slightly vacant look settling back in.


    Kendra whined. ¡°I wanna keep talking to Alder! I don¡¯t know what his favorite animal is yet! He has to pick one!¡±


    I was expecting Lord Mar to snap at his daughter, but instead, he gave her a soft smile, his gaze startlingly kind. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, little one, but maybe you can speak to him again before they leave. If not, he can tell Gerald his favorite animal, and he¡¯ll pass it on to you.¡±


    Kendra¡¯s cheeks puffed up, but she nodded stiffly before clambering from her seat.


    Olivia rose to meet her daughter halfway; her pale red eyes locked onto me the entire time.


    ¡°Alright, that¡¯s enough personal talk. Let us move this conversation towards your mission. Bartholomew.¡°


    Blair¡¯s focus snapped back to the Lord, and she nodded. ¡°We would appreciate it if you could share anything.¡°


    He nodded before taking a sip from his goblet. It was red, of course. ¡°I¡¯ve met the man a few times. I don¡¯t know him well, but I can give you a few pointers.¡±

 A Corpse In chapter 21: Insomnia, Ghouls, and Moonshine

    The rest of dinner was uneventful. Informative but blessedly uneventful.


    I found myself drifting, unable to focus on the conversation¡ªKendra¡¯s words and everything that had happened floated through my mind.


    It had been a long couple of weeks, and before I could catch my breath, something else came along to kick me around again.


    I didn¡¯t even realize the conversation had ended until Blair tugged me to my feet, her grip surprisingly delicate on my shoulder. She steered me towards Bobby before moving to lead us. I shook my head, refocusing as we made it to the steps.


    The Butler was nowhere to be seen, and the rest of the Mar¡¯s had vanished at some point, making the mansion feel abandoned as we trudged up the steps.


    At least the food was pretty good, which was a little funny to me. Vampires didn¡¯t need to eat human food, but they could taste and consume it without suffering magical indigestion or anything. It was a necessary adaptation for a predator among humans. You didn¡¯t want to be fingered as the lone pasty guy in town who didn¡¯t eat when the bodies started piling up.


    We made it to our floor, and my steps slowed.


    Don¡¯t look at it. Don¡¯t look. It won¡¯t do you any favors if you look.


    I looked.


    The painting was just as chilling as before. Those harsh, dark lines seemed to drink in the light as that trench-coat-clad figure marched forward, yellow eyes locked firmly with my own.


    I shivered before Laurel bumped into me, forcing me to speed up. The eyes didn¡¯t literally track me; I was reasonably sure, at least. But I swear I could feel them, their awareness, their hunger.


    We reached the end of the hall without incident, and Blair marched up to the door.


    We all piled into the room, which wasn¡¯t a struggle, considering its absurd lavishness.


    I barely paused long enough to throw on a pair of sweats and a T before I collapsed into the bed. Simon and Laurel climbed in as well; the damn thing was big enough that I could¡¯ve spread eagle without touching either of them, so no one was going to hear me complain.


    Bobby grabbed one couch while Blair moved another in front of the door and lay down.


    I closed my eyes, and creepy paintings and hungry stares vanished before the unstoppable tide of sleep.


    ~<>~<>~


    I don¡¯t have many nightmares. I know that sounds odd from someone who¡¯s woken up screaming more times than he can remember. But usually, those are from memories. Nightmarish ones, sure, but if we¡¯re being pedantic, they aren¡¯t nightmares.


    Tonight was an odd blend. That state where you¡¯re just aware enough to realize what you¡¯re seeing doesn¡¯t make sense, that it must be a dream, but it¡¯s not enough to snap you into consciousness.


    I was in a narrow hallway that reeked of copper and awful. My bare feet ached as I took a step on the wet concrete.  Wet? Wasn¡¯t I inside? I looked down to see blood puddled beneath me, enough of it to cover the entire hall. It wasn¡¯t mine. Blair stood at the other end of the hall, hunched over, her breaths coming in great, heaving gasps.


    She looked wrong; her shoulders too broad, her arms too long, and even her back was off, warped and uneven.  She started to bend, and my eyes followed the motion.  I froze. Corpses. Corpses littered the floor. I gasped, and her head jerked to face me. The eyes of a rabid animal bored into mine.


    Then I was in the motel again, staring at Not Blair as it tried to break my mind. More images, just as unpleasant, and then I was on the tree again.


    The sickening, chilling sensation of the Wendigo¡¯s presence crawled over my skin as two blue flames stared at me from the darkness. My side was in agony, the stick red with my blood. I couldn¡¯t see Blair. I couldn¡¯t see anyone.


    Jaws opened, cold, fetid breath washed over my face! I struggled to free myself and-


    My side cramped once, twice, and I jerked awake.


    I sucked in a breath through my nose, proud of myself for not screaming. My side ached as it cramped in slow, rhythmic pulses, making my whole torso contort.


    I forced my body to loosen as I clenched my teeth. I lifted my shirt to feel at my side. It was dry. The bandages were fine; the stitches hadn¡¯t burst. Everything was fine.


    My heart raced, and I slowly sat up, using one arm to try to avoid pissing my side off further.


    I wasn¡¯t getting back to sleep.


    Laurel and Bobby sat up a moment later, staring at me. ¡°Sorry, I thought I was quiet.¡°


    ¡°You were,¡± Blair said. ¡°We¡¯re just jumpy.¡°


    I glanced at each of them before Simon stood up and looked for his shoes. ¡°You guys wanna go explore some rich people¡¯s property?¡°


    Bobby chuckled. ¡°You forget Blair is rich people. So are we technically since we¡¯re part of the Pack. Also, yes, we do.¡±


    Everyone threw on the first things at hand, even Laurel, and marched into the hall. After a day of travel, my legs desperately needed to be stretched.


    This time, I managed to position myself so that Blair and Bobby were between the painting and me, and I avoided looking at it with an effort of will.


    The mansion was just as abandoned as it felt on our way up, which was a little strange. This was early afternoon for the vampires, so shouldn¡¯t they be up and at it? Well, they probably were. The mansion was big enough that they could be running through the damn halls, and I wouldn¡¯t know. Or they could be out doing¡­ Vampiry things.


    After a disturbingly short trip, we found a set of double doors that let out back.


    I say disturbing because it was so easy.


    Practically straight lines all the way. There were no zigzags, no oddly shaped hallways, and we didn¡¯t have to double back once. Truly, the architects had gotten complacent. How were people supposed to stay on their toes?


    The doors led to a small tunnel of gracefully arched trees, their purple-red leaves framing a cobblestone walkway lit with slivers of moonlight.


    The air smelled of clean water, moss, and flowers. I took a slow, deep breath and felt myself relax.


    The mansion might be too ordinary for my tastes, but I couldn¡¯t fault the groundskeepers. It was beautiful.


    We walked for a few yards before the path split in different directions. One split led to a pond about the size of a tennis court. Mind you, this wasn¡¯t the only pond; I could still see a much larger one in the distance, to our left, another path into a secluded section of trees.


    Bobby and Laurel shot Blair a look as they moved towards the pond. ¡°Stay within 20 yards?¡°


    Blair hesitated, then nodded. Laurel, Bobby, and Simon bustled off, eager to explore. I could see some ducks floating absently in the little pond. Did ducks sleep in the water? Or maybe these were nocturnal ducks. Vampire ducks¡ªwere those a thing?


    I wish Rogers were here; he¡¯d know.


    Blair tilted her chin to the right, and I followed the motion. The path led to a small maze, the cobblestones winding and twisting through flower beds and small sculptures.


    I nodded, ¡°Works for me. I like flowers.¡±  I  followed beside her as she headed for the nearest display.


    We broke from the tunnel of trees, revealing a night sky striped with clouds, but enough moonlight slipped through to light our way. My eyes had already adjusted to the darkness, so it was only then I realized there were almost no lamps or other light sources along the path.


    Why bother when the people who lived here and most of their guests could see in the dark just fine?


    The first display caught my eye, a distant memory tugging at me. Tall bushes, their thin branches stretching up towards the distant sky, each covered in clusters of small purple flowers.


    Lilacs.


    ¡°I¡­ I knew someone who loved these. She constantly nagged me to plant some at her grave. I could never get them to grow until after she had passed on.¡° I chuckled as the nostalgic scent filled my nose and brought me back to a rainy day on a hillside, a warm voice in my ear and a cold hand on my shoulder.


    ¡°Now I consider it a mercy that the flowers only grow at her grave instead of the whole hillside.¡°


    Blair was silent for a few moments, seemingly lost in thought. Then she cocked her head. ¡°Are lilacs that aggressive?¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°Honestly? I don¡¯t know, but those things sprouted like you wouldn¡¯t believe. A small part of me was worried she had somehow cursed the place.¡°


    We both fell quiet as we moved to the next patch of flowers, a set of rosebushes that looked almost too perfect to be real. Maybe they got a mage to come in and manage their garden.


    We meandered through the maze in companionable silence, sculptures, intricate rock formations, and flowers filling our thoughts.


    We passed by an onyx statue of a cat licking its paw as a bat rested on its back, its fuzzy face carved with an oddly suspicious expression, as if the bat suspected I was up to no good.


    Minutes later, we paused at a lone flower pot in the middle of a stone ring. A single blue flower rose from its center, perfectly straight save for a slight bend at the very top, as if the petals were leaning forward to get a look at us.


    Blair looked strange, as if she¡¯d gotten stuck between a smile and a grimace.


    She drew in a deep breath through her nose. ¡°Night veil,¡° she said, her eyes distant. ¡°Or something like that. My father never was overly concerned with names. He prefers to get to know a thing, how it works, and what it needs to thrive. He likes to concern himself with that more than what people call it.¡°


    She rolled her neck in a slow motion, producing an impressive array of cracks. ¡°When I was young, he would take me to the gardens. As I¡¯ve said before, I was a rambunctious kid, always nipping his heels to take me hunting or to run. And he would eventually. But he always liked to go walk with me first.¡±


    A small smile settled on her face, and she softened for the first time that week. Tension drained from her shoulders as she stared at that flower.


    ¡°There was a community garden. People would mark out a section if they wanted to care for it themselves, while others were group efforts. My father never marked his own section out; said it would defeat the point for him. I didn¡¯t get it at the time.¡±


    Her grin turned rueful. ¡°I was full of questions like why he didn¡¯t grow the biggest flowers or vegetables to show he was the best. He¡¯d laugh and ruffle my hair. Looking back on it, I understand what he meant.¡±


    A gentle breeze rolled over the clearing, sending that flower¡¯s subtle scent to me. The clouds stirred, and a few rays of moonlight lit Blair¡¯s face. She didn¡¯t look up, keeping her gaze locked on that speck of blue. ¡°For him, it was all about sharing that space with me and the others. About walking through and seeing what they had created, it warmed his heart to see everyone come together.¡°


    Blair lit up when she talked about her father. Not overtly. But that warm glow seemed to roll through her when she spoke of him. I needed to¡­ I don¡¯t know if a millennia-old werewolf would appreciate me buying him a beer, but I had to do something if I ever met the man.


    I didn¡¯t want to imagine Blair¡¯s childhood if Adela had been the only parent in her life.


    I spoke without thinking, the words slipping out before I had time to consider them, ¡°What changed?¡±


    Blair glanced at me, her smile fading until only a hint remained.


    Dammit.


    ¡°You said ¡®used to¡¯ for most of that.¡°


    Blair shook her head as her eyes rose to the moon overhead. ¡°My Bond started to outpace me. We didn¡¯t have much time for those garden walks after I was in my early teens. Too much time was spent making sure I could stay me.¡°


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Well, shit. I had neatly moved the conversation to where I didn¡¯t want it.


    I grasped for a bright side, trying to lighten the mood. ¡°Bartholomew¡­¡°


    ¡°Bartholomew isn¡¯t a guarantee,¡± Blair said with a sigh.


    My heart dropped.


    She didn¡¯t sound angry or frustrated. No, it was much worse than that. She sounded tired. Tired in that bone-deep way that¡¯s hard to grasp if you haven¡¯t experienced it.


    It was the kind of weariness that built and built like a cancer, overtaking your thoughts and feelings until anything and everything seemed dull and muted under that constant weight.


    I reached for something, my words freezing in my throat as I tried to decide the right thing to say. What if I messed it up again? What if I led the conversation to an even grimmer place?


    I let out an internal sigh as I silenced that nagging voice. I didn¡¯t have to say the perfect thing right now¡ªIf such a thing existed.


    I reached out, slow and careful, wrapping my arms around her side and squeezing.


    It was too much to be comfortable.


    Light brushes, the occasional clasped hand, I¡¯d been getting used to that. But a full hug?  Wails crashed through me, hundreds of memories scrambling, screaming to get free.


    I bent my will, focusing as if trying to overpower a ghost.  Don¡¯t show it, don¡¯t let her know.


    I didn¡¯t need to be comfortable right now. I just needed to let her know I was here.


    Blair was stiff as a board for a few seconds before I spoke. ¡°Bartholomew might not be the answer. But he¡¯s a pretty damn good start. If he doesn¡¯t pan out, we¡¯ll find someone else. I¡¯ll go track down famous ghosts if I have to; one of them has to have a way to help. We¡¯ll figure it out. You¡¯ll be ok.¡±


    She turned into the hug, pulling me closer as she enveloped me.  Her grip was gentle, almost terrified.  She hugged me like I was glass, ready to shatter at the slightest nudge, and I thanked her for it.


    My heart pounded in my chest, my skin felt too warm, and I wouldn¡¯t bet against my hands shaking.  But just as I resolved to keep up the hug for as long as Blair needed, she released me and stepped back.


    She cleared her throat, quickly swiping at her face.  ¡°Let¡¯s go rejoin the others,¡± she said after a short pause.


    She took a step, then looked back at me.  The moonlight framed her on one side, rolling down her shoulder and lighting her hair until it almost shone with it.


    Deep blue eyes met mine as she swallowed.  ¡°I¡­¡± she hesitated, emotions flickering across her face faster than I could track. After a moment, her gaze settled, firming as she reached a conclusion.  ¡°Thank you.¡±


    I gave her my best smile.  Sleep-deprived and nervous as I was, it couldn¡¯t have been much.  But she returned it all the same.


    ~<>~<>~


    It turned out that the fabulously wealthy old vampire family had a lot of pretty things on their estate. I know; I was shocked, too.


    As Blair and I rejoined the group, we walked past the little pond and headed straight for the big one.


    I was pretty sure the thing was big enough to qualify as a lake, considering it was only a few notches too small to use for speed boating, but I didn¡¯t know the technical differences, and I didn¡¯t really care.


    The waters were still, creating a glassy surface that reflected the moon and stars so perfectly that it seemed like a canvas.


    After my walk with Blair, I let myself enjoy the sights, not thinking about anything in particular. My brain was happy to move on autopilot, examining one pretty thing before moving on to another, like a bachelor with commitment issues.


    We walked the edge of the lake, Simon and Laurel occasionally skipping flat stones across it, causing that mirror surface to ripple and splash before settling.


    The wind blew our way, scything through the trees before brushing over us. I inhaled, enjoying the scent of the pond and forest. I hesitated. Something smoky was mixed in there.


    Bobby immediately turned and pointed up the hill. The others had all turned in unison with him, their heads cocking to the side in a distinctly canine manner. It was honestly kind of adorable, but I kept that opinion to myself.


    ¡°Somebody¡¯s got a campfire, and¡­¡± Bobby sniffed again. ¡°Enough booze to knock out a bear. Let¡¯s go investigate.¡±


    We all shrugged before following the path into the trees.


    Said trees were lush, with full branches straining under the weight of their leaves. Those leaves had begun darkening, orange spreading like a fire through the green. I wasn¡¯t sure what kind they were, and Rodgers wasn¡¯t here to ask.


    But familiar or not, I relaxed as we entered the shade. Does it count as entering shade if it¡¯s from moonlight? I brushed the thought aside as I continued climbing the hill with the others.


    It wasn¡¯t particularly steep, but it was long enough that it took us a few minutes to crest the top, revealing a quick plunge into a small valley below.


    A large shed was nestled into the base of the opposite hill, and a few yards ahead of it, three figures were huddled around the gently smoldering fire, bottles in their hands.


    Bobby sniffed and then blinked. ¡°Goddamn, that shit got a kick to it. And those three are ghouls unless the old sniffer¡¯s deceiving me.¡°


    The mention of ghouls summoned the image of a particular ghoul as it tried to rip me apart, but I shook my head. I¡¯ve met a few friendly ghouls, though I didn¡¯t have much experience with them.


    ¡°They¡¯re probably the groundkeepers, ¡°Laurel said.


    I blinked at her. ¡°Why is that?¡°


    The others all looked at me strangely. ¡°Not up-to-date on your ghoul history?¡± Simon asked.


    I shook my head. ¡°I know they¡¯re close allies with vampires. Are they a vassal faction or something?¡±


    Bobby waggled his hand. ¡°It¡¯s a long story. They used to be. The vampires took them in and saved them from extinction. Some of those vampires weren¡¯t exactly wholesome about it. But now they¡¯re much closer to equals, But you still see ghouls working as servants fairly often.¡°


    Blair nodded as they started down the hill. ¡°Though old Lords like Koehrsen likely had the same group working for him for decades. Chances are they¡¯re respected household members at this point unless I¡¯ve misread him.¡±


    The ghouls looked up as we approached, their noses twitching before they gave us three sets of wide, toothy grins. ¡°Come on down and have a seat; we don¡¯t bite,¡° one ghoul said, his voice high and laced with an incredibly thick drawl.


    He looked¡­ Well, he looked like a stereotype. Red hair, pale skin,  a plaid shirt with rolled sleeves, and a pair of honest-to-God denim overalls. He grinned as we approached, patting one of the empty seats.


    To his right was a woman who couldn¡¯t have been more than an inch or two taller than me, with short black hair and wide dark eyes. She had a tan, heart-shaped face and wore thick jeans and a heavy workman¡¯s coat that blended with the hill around us. She nodded as we approached, her expression reserved but friendly.


    Lastly, there was a tall man with dark skin and a square jaw.  He wore a security guard uniform with a gun on his hip and a radio on his shoulder. He waved as we approached. ¡°You¡¯re the werewolf guests, right?¡±


    Blair nodded. ¡°We are. I take it you work here.¡±


    The man chuckled. ¡°Oh shucks, what gave it away?¡±


    I snatched a seat, and Bobby and Laurel joined me. Blair stood by the side of the bench while Simon rested his elbows on Laurel¡¯s shoulders.


    The redhead offered up a bottle of clear liquid. ¡°My name is Lee,¡± he said before gesturing to the woman with the bottle. ¡°That¡¯s Mary and this here is Luther. I work in the gardens and the hedges and whatnot while Mary here makes sure the grounds and forest stay clear of any unwanted nasties.¡°


    Luther pointed to himself. ¡°You don¡¯t get any points for guessing what I do.¡±


    Bobby took the proffered bottle and pulled the cork. He whistled, leaning back slightly. ¡°Jesus, this could peel paint.¡°


    Lee cackled. ¡°It sure could; I¡¯m pretty sure it peels human organs, too, if they drink too much. But it tastes good, and it¡¯s my special blend, so I have pride on the line.¡°


    Bobby shrugged and took a swig. ¡°Wowser, that is strong. Does taste good, though.¡°


    Laurel snorted. ¡°Wowser?¡°


    Bobby passed her the bottle. ¡°Try a sip. It¡¯s the kind of thing that would drive a man to say wowser.¡°


    Laurel took her swig and gagged. ¡°Is this literally poison?¡°


    Lee cackled again, and Luther let out a deep, rolling laugh. ¡°The best kind of poison.¡°


    Blair took a pull from the offered bottle and kept her face blank, only offering the ghouls a slight nod after taking another sip before handing it to Simon.


    The ghouls all cheered.


    We all looked at Simon with keen interest. As the other non-tall person in our group, he seemed to be the underdog. He sniffed, blinked, and then took a sip. He coughed and spluttered but gave them a reluctant thumbs-up. They cheered as loudly as they had for Blair.


    The bottle passed my way, and I shook my head. ¡°For one thing, I am a puny human, and I¡¯m fairly certain that might kill me, and I¡¯m not a big drinker besides.¡±


    My statement was met with a thumbs-up from Lee. ¡°More for the rest of us! And don¡¯t let no one pressure you into drinking; there¡¯s nothing wrong with a bit of sobriety,¡± he said as Mary took a longer drink and let out a satisfied sigh.


    Bobby stuck his hands out, warming them on the small fire. ¡°So you all work here but you¡¯re allowed to drink on the job?¡±


    Lee grunted. ¡°Moonshining is an honored tradition among ghouls. Koehrsen understands that, and as long as we don¡¯t actually get drunk, we¡¯re free to drink as much as we like on our breaks. We¡¯d have to put down as much booze as you would to get drunk; it¡¯s no easy feet.¡°


    Bobby nodded before pulling his hands back.


    Luther reached beside his bench and pulled a brown jug from a box. ¡°This is a bit sweeter and less likely to make your teeth stand on edge. Give it a try.¡± As he said that, his eyes twinkled, and I couldn¡¯t help but note the skull with stars dancing around its head on the bottle.


    Bobby took a look at the bottle, quirked an eyebrow at Luther, then raised it for a long, slow drink.


    The alcohol was so potent that I could smell it from here, but you never would have guessed as Bobby finished, wiped his mouth, and immediately passed it off to Simon.


    The smaller werewolf gave the bottle a pained look before taking a reluctant sip. He coughed, and his eyes immediately started watering.


    After a second, he gave a thumbs up, and the ghouls cheered like he¡¯d just won a marathon.


    Lee chortled, elbowing Bobby as he took the bottle. ¡°Passing it off on the little guy, you bully! You¡¯re likely to call down the wrath of The Feral Man!¡±


    That caught my attention. In my experience, stories about people with ¡®the¡¯ in their name tended to be worth listening to. ¡°The Feral Man?¡° I asked.


    The ghouls all paused for a beat before Mary snapped her fingers. ¡°Right, y¡¯all ain¡¯t from around here. Where is you from? Northwest?¡°


    I shrugged. ¡°Oregon, for my part.¡°


    ¡°Ohio,¡± ¡°California,¡° Bobby and Simon sounded off.


    ¡°Germany,¡± Blair and Laurel added.


    Mary nodded before continuing. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve got plenty of your own boogie men wandering in those parts, but these mountains are full of them. And one of them is the Feral Man. Legend says he was a werewolf; others say he was a remnant of the Fey, a descendant of the big bad wolf. No one¡¯s sure. But he¡¯s old, he¡¯s strong, and he leads a hunt.¡°


    Lee picked up as she paused, his voice lowered as he tried to sound spooky. ¡°Feral Were¡¯s, bears, wolves, tigers, oh my¡ª¡°


    ¡°That¡¯s not how the saying goes,¡° Luther cut in.


    Lee ignored the other ghoul as he leaned in, the small fire casting harsh lines across his face as it danced in his eyes. ¡°They say the first sign is the howling. Like the wind whipping through the trees. Only there is no wind. Least none that¡¯s causing that sound. The howl of the Hunt haunts the people, waking babies in their cribs and setting every dog to barking and every cat to scamper away to a dark corner.¡°


    The fire crackled as he took a slow sip from the bottle, his expression never changing. ¡°Next is darkness. They say he always comes at night, or maybe when he comes, it is night. People never can agree on these sorts of things. And with the night comes the moon. Don¡¯t matter how full it was the night before when The Feral Man walks the streets, the moon is heavy in the sky.¡±


    Wind rustled through the trees overhead and I shivered.


    Lee¡¯s voice lowered a notch, his smooth, flowing drawl almost hypnotic. ¡°Then, as The Feral Man draws near, the pets quiet. The birds cease chirping, the dogs stop barking, and the cats? Well, they were already hiding on the count of having good sense.¡±


    He met each of our eyes in turn, and there was something mixed with the humor in his eyes. Something more somber.


    He was enjoying spreading the tale, but with that look in his eye, I knew this was the old kind of campfire tale. The kind you told little children not as a means to scare them but to warn them.


    ¡®Don¡¯t go into the woods at night, son.  You don¡¯t know what waits there.¡¯


    ¡°Once the night grows still and quiet and dark, they move in. Great heavy things cloaked in fur and shadow as they stalk the roads and sniff at doorsteps.¡±


    Mary spoke up, her voice unchanged, not bothering to try for a spooky air like Lee. But the simple bluntness of her tone made her words hit nonetheless. ¡°Hunters seek lone prey, pick off the stragglers, avoid risk.  Not these. The Feral Man prefers groups. Pairs are his favorites, but any more than one will do.¡°


    Lee grinned, his triangle teeth flashing in the firelight. ¡°It¡¯s a test or maybe a compulsion. No one really knows why he does it, but like many old things, The Feral Man¡¯s got rules. You don¡¯t run from the Hunt. Not on that night. It¡¯s a good way to get chased.¡±


    Luther spoke up, his baritone matching the ominous vibe effortlessly. ¡°As the dark shapes circle, red, white, and yellow eyes peering from the darkness, every man and every woman finds themselves with a choice. Run or try and stand your ground; let someone else have a chance.¡±


    Lee chuckled, the sound rolling through the little valley. ¡°Failing the test means death, and if everyone fails, well, only the weakest person there will be left.¡±


    I could picture it, beasts spreading through a town like a grizzly echo as people panicked and ran.


    Lee took another longer drink before letting out a satisfied sigh. ¡°There are the beasts, but worse is the Feral Man himself. Big as a bear, silent as he wishes, he stalks the night clad in an old heavy trench coat. Its worn surface patched and thick as the boots that echo his steps. Darkness shrouds him, hiding all but his eyes. Two yellow lights peer out from the darkness, searching.¡°


    The image of a painting staring me down sprung unbidden to my mind, and I had to fight a shudder as Kendra¡¯s words replayed in my head. ¡°He¡¯s always looking for people like you.¡±


    Then Lee sat up, and the spell was broken. ¡°Or so they say. He¡¯s real, that much ain¡¯t in question, but we¡¯ve never met him. Thank God, I¡¯d probably leave these two weaklings behind and become food.¡±


    That earned him a chorus of jeers from the other ghouls. He laughed and raised his hands in surrender.


    Bobby rubbed his chin. ¡°I¡¯m kind of surprised we¡¯ve never heard of him.¡±


    Lee shrugged. ¡°The Feral Man operates in bursts. He¡¯ll go dormant for years. Decades even. Then suddenly, a small town is gone. Then several. No one knows why he just stops and then starts again. It¡¯s part of the mystery. But he¡¯s been dormant for a while now; not surprising you ain¡¯t heard of him in his downtime.¡±


    He pointed at us. ¡°It¡¯s your turn now; hit us with something spooky or interesting. Or both.¡°


    The werewolves all looked at me, which I felt was unfair. They were spooks as much as I was. They should have their own absurd stories to share. But their reaction caused the ghouls to look at me.


    Well, I have to come up with something now. I tried to think of a good story, but most of the ones that sprang to mind were too dark for my current mood.


    I dug through my memory for a moment before smiling.  ¡°This is a real story from years ago.  It¡¯s a little silly, but I swear it happened.  It was a long week, and I had to figure out how to get a hidden inheritance back to a man¡¯s family.  Problem was another group was trying to steal the inheritance And the man in question could only communicate in whistles.¡±

 A Corpse In Chains Chapter 22: The Road to Vintray

    After regaling the ghouls with my tale, we headed to our room. That was a¡­restful night? I wasn¡¯t so sure.


    My conversation with Blair was emotionally draining, but it had been good, and so was our chat with the ghouls. Though, as we walked by that damn painting again, I felt those eyes searching for me, and Kendra¡¯s words overlapped with Lee¡¯s in my head.


    ¡°He¡¯s out there, looking for people like you, hunting for the weak.¡±


    It was an unsettling thought, but if I let myself worry about a monster potentially coming to eat me, I¡¯d never get any sleep. And sleep I got, or maybe sleep got me, as the instant my head hit the pillow, I was out, yellow eyes and campfire tales vanishing like a snuffed candle.


    ~<>~<>~


    We left before dawn as streamers of purple and pink were barely beginning to creep over the horizon.


    Koehrsen, Kendra, and Gerald, the butler, met us at the door. Olivia wasn¡¯t there, and I gave a silent thanks to whatever was looking out for me up above.


    Blair and the Lord began to talk, but I ignored it as Kendra marched up to me, a determined look on her face. "You have to answer!" She demanded.


    I blinked at the child, my slightly groggy thoughts turning over like a rusty engine. "Answer?"


    She nodded furiously, her black hair swishing with the motion. "Yes! What¡¯s your favorite animal?¡±


    I laughed, the sound bursting out of me before I could restrain it. It was so loud that the others paused for a beat, Koehrsen giving me a complicated look before turning back to Blair.


    Kendra glowered at me; it looked like she was on the verge of puffing out her cheeks. I smiled, crouching down to bring myself to her eye level. "Well, Kendra, as you get older, you realize that some things don¡¯t have one answer. I couldn¡¯t tell you my favorite book or food either, just a number that I really liked."


    Her brows furrowed, and her fang caught the light as she chewed on her lip. "I don¡¯t like that answer."


    I laughed and patted her head, the touch as cold as any ghost. "Well, how about you get back to me in a few years, and we¡¯ll see if your answer is still the same or if mine makes more sense?"


    She gave the offer some serious thought, her eyes staring at the carpet as she continued to chew her lip. "If I still think your answer is cheating, you must pick a favorite!¡±


    I nodded and managed to hide my amusement.


    She still looked dissatisfied. "Well, okay. It can¡¯t be too long, though. I don¡¯t want to wait a century. Ten years! I¡¯ll ask you again in ten years.¡±


    Oh, to be young and immortal. "It¡¯s a deal, Kendra, if I¡¯m¨C¡° I cut off. "If you still want me to pick a favorite, I will."


    She stuck out her hand, her expression deathly serious, and I shook on it.


    ¡°Come on, Alder,¡± Blair called from the door. I rose, giving the little vampire one final wave while deliberately ignoring Koehrsen as I strode out the door. It was a little petty, but it made me smile nonetheless.


    ~<>~<>~


    People in big cities tended to forget just how big the world was. It was understandable. Big cities were hard to grasp in their own right.  But in the same way that someone from a small town who had never seen a true mass of humanity before struggled to comprehend what it was like to live in a place like New York or Tokyo, a city kid who had never stepped foot in a forest had trouble comprehending just how big a country like America was.


    There was space between towns and cities. Some thought of it as empty space, but no one who¡¯d seen the things I had would call it empty.


    The further and further away you got from metropolises, there was a shift. As you drove into the mountains, the concept of cities and street lights became almost alien. The press of tree and root so overwhelming, so all encompassing it was hard to believe there was anything else in a place like this. Hard to believe that there could be anything else.


    Roads became thin veins, a cracked and faded tether to civilization as we marched into something far older than paved streets and warm beds.


    That familiar sensation of venturing into the deep wood settled over me a whole hour before we reached the turnoff to Ventray. We almost missed it, but as we made our way around a bend, the car¡¯s tires thumping over the cracked road in a steady song, I felt that sense of ancient magic strengthen to our left.


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    I pointed, and Blair slowed to a stop.


    My eyes didn¡¯t want to acknowledge the turnoff, but I could tell it was there. After a few seconds, my brain finally realized it was staring at an opening in the trees. My eyes flicked up to the sign beside the road. "Vintray, next left.¡± The mile indicator had been scratched out, leaving only vague smudges of white behind.


    Past the sign and trees sat a tunnel, its dark mouth swallowing the road whole.


    Those dense trees with their orange leaves and thick gnarled branches split as if they had decided to grow around the tunnel instead of being cut to gain access, but despite that, the tunnel looked brand new. The road leading to it was cracked, the asphalt faded with sun and time, but the moment it reached the tunnel opening, it switched, replaced with a clean, dark road that looked like it could have been finished that morning. It stretched as far as I could see, which wasn¡¯t saying much.  The tunnel sucked in the morning sun like it was desperate for it, leaving a wall of darkness to stare back at us.


    Laurel made a displeased noise from the backseat as she leaned around Blair¡¯s shoulder. "We are going to have to go through the spooky tunnel?"


    Blair nodded silently.


    Laurel sighed.


    Bobby chuckled as we started to creep towards the tunnel. "Have any of us ever gotten a ¡®no¡¯ to a question like that? I¡¯m having trouble imagining the day when we¡¯re told the destination is actually through the safer, easier path that isn¡¯t sinister at all."


    Laurel¡¯s only response was a louder sigh as our back tires crossed into the tunnel.


    The moment we entered the tunnel, weight slammed down on us. I grunted, my shoulders stinging and side cramping.


    The smells around us shifted, intensifying at random. The salt from this morning¡¯s breakfast filled my nose before being replaced by cheap coffee and sugar.


    The car''s suspension groaned as the wheels made labored progress every inch, causing a ¡®thump thump¡¯ to echo through the tunnel.


    I felt something brushing against my mind and swatted it away like a fly.


    The pressure increased, causing the car to shudder and shake before the pressure broke around us, vanishing without a trace.


    I glanced around quickly. "There was a mental component to that. Is everyone okay?¡±


    I got a round of nods in response, though Blair was slow to answer. She loosened her grip on the steering wheel, and I could see it slightly contorted.


    Well, the Northwoods could afford to replace a rental.


    ¡°Sense of wrongness, trespass, unwelcome,¡± she ground out before shaking her head like a dog.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s one hell of a first defense." I said with a low whistle." They had an attention ward or something on the entrance followed by whatever the hell that was.¡±


    Laurel rubbed her face as she stared at the darkness all around. "They don¡¯t call them Lords for nothing. You should expect them to be at least as well-guarded as a moderately powerful leader of the Pact. And Bartholomew is still supposed to be better guarded."


    I tentatively reached out with my senses and almost flinched. Somebody did serious work here. Space was odd in the tunnel. I didn¡¯t know how else to describe it. The magic flexed and tensed in seemingly random intervals. Strands of magic ran through the walls only to vanish and reappear on the opposite side of the tunnel, skipping the space in between.


    I didn¡¯t have the foggiest clue how that worked, but the threads of grey and black magic were beautiful.


    ¡°You can only enter Vintray from one direction.¡± Adela¡¯s words carried a whole new weight to them now. She hadn¡¯t said we shouldn¡¯t or wouldn¡¯t be able to get into Vintray from a different direction. She said ¡®can¡¯t,¡¯ and I don¡¯t think she excluded herself from that.


    Impossible was a very nebulous concept to spooks like Adela. If she said something couldn¡¯t be done, then chances were it really couldn¡¯t be done.


    The yellow glow of our headlights didn¡¯t bounce off the walls. They shot straight ahead, carving a path through the darkness just wide enough to drive through. It was as if the tunnel was begrudgingly letting us pass. It was creepy yet beautiful. The warm glow and the entrancing display of magic led me into a trance.


    I couldn¡¯t say how long the tunnel went for. I was so lost in thought that by the time light appeared ahead of us, it could¡¯ve been five minutes or two hours.


    Everyone started shuffling, breaking from their heads as the tunnel mouth loomed large.


    The tunnel opened into a forest just as old and heavy as the one we left. The light filtering through the leaves was shockingly bright, and by the time my eyes adjusted, we were cresting a hill, revealing a town in the distance.


    It stretched up a hillside before stopping at the base of a larger mountain. Forest surrounded the town, and I could see a train chugging its way across some tracks near the middle.


    A river ran beside the train before splitting down the hill, sending tendrils of blue stretching out.


    Blair slowed, and my focus snapped from the town to the trees around us. Just before the hill dropped down sat a large brown sign, its front covered in gold lettering.


    My eyes flicked from the sign to the figure sitting next to it. As we drew closer, I could see it was a woman, maybe five or six years older than me, with dark skin and dark golden eyes. Her booted feet were kicked up on a stool as she reclined in a rickety lawn chair. She wore a crimson coat that went down to her knees and held a beat-up paperback in one hand and a mug of something hot and steaming in the other.


    Gold eyes the color of dark resin flicked up to greet us with a look of supreme disinterest. Then she looked back down at her book, tilting her head the barest amount towards the sign.


    ¡°Welcome to Vintray; the dead and different are welcome.¡±

 The Grave Keeper: Christmas Spirit

    My boots crunched into the fresh snow, leaving a trail of neat footprints along the paved sidewalk. The Maintenance Man must¡¯ve been working overtime to keep them this clear as only an inch or two of snow coated the trail, and it had snowed twice that today alone.


    Well, I assume the maintenance man was working overtime; I¡¯d never seen him, so I couldn¡¯t say what his regular hours were.


    A freshly wrapped deck of cards, courtesy of my last paycheck, sat in my pocket.  The rest of that paycheck had gone to the boots I was tromping in.


    I¡¯d tried to resist Rodgers logic and stick with my old pair, but at the end of the day, I couldn¡¯t deny that being able to see my toes through hiking boots was a bad thing.


    I took a deep breath, savoring the smell. The crisp, chill air felt like it was purifying each breath as it stung my lungs and shocked me awake.


    I exhaled, the breath fogging around me, mixing with the fat flakes falling from above.


    It hadn¡¯t stopped snowing all day, and it was the kind of flakes you¡¯d see in a Christmas movie¡ªbig and full. They piled up so fast that the entire landscape changed in hours.


    I checked my watch. The old thing barely worked, and its face was cracked and scratched, but it still told me the time. Usually.


    Ronald and Linda would be out of town for the week on their ¡®well-earned vacation,¡¯ as they had put it. I¡¯d have the house to myself. I wasn¡¯t opposed to having Christmas in the library again, and I knew Agatha didn¡¯t actually mind, but it made sneaking food in a little difficult.


    I should be able to get home in 30 minutes or so¡ªdefinitely enough time to start cooking something before Ben can convince the others to make something truly vile.


    Most of the ghosts attending could smell and taste almost effortlessly, but they could also turn off those senses if they wanted to. I would have no such escape if Ben got his way.


    My steps slowed and then stopped as I rounded a bend in the trail.


    At the middle of the bend, tucked in front of a great pine, its branches shading it from snow and sight, was an old wooden bench. Made from thick planks and four posts as big around as both my thighs put together. It looked like it had been there For 80 years to stay for 80 more.


    The bench was nothing new. I passed it countless times on my walk from Barry¡¯s, but there usually wasn¡¯t a ghost sitting on it. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    He had died somewhere in his 30s or maybe early 40s, and he looked haggard. White skin made rough by sun and weather, and hair covered by a knitted cap that hid his ears. Just enough of his head was visible that I could see an old, faded scar across his forehead.


    He shifted, brushing a hand through a scraggly red beard that looked too thin against the falling snow. He was bundled in a heavy green coat that fell past his waist, its surface worn and patched in places. His jeans and boots were equally ragged and I couldn¡¯t see his hands tucked tight in his pockets, but I¡¯d guess his gloves were in a similar state.


    I let out another breath into the winter air, then walked over and sat next to him. Even through my underarmor and jeans, the bench was cold, its icy chill seeping up from the wood to steal my warmth.


    The man didn¡¯t acknowledge my presence, his slightly glassy blue eyes staring out at the trees.


    ¡°You know I¡¯m never sure what you¡¯re supposed to eat on Christmas. Thanksgiving is turkey and stuffing and all that, but Christmas feels less defined. I have a friend who¡¯s likely trying to come up with a dish right now, and It¡¯s either going to be offensively bad or out of season. He once made shaved ice for Christmas. I don¡¯t even know how he got the machine, but he managed.¡°


    The ghost didn¡¯t look at me but I could tell he was aware. His presence didn¡¯t have that vacant quality I¡¯d learned to pick up on. He could hear me; he just wasn¡¯t responding. I didn¡¯t pressure him. I stayed on the bench and stared out at the snow with him.


    Cars rumbled past in the distance, the sound muffled through the blanket of white. A raven cawed and I shifted my weight, causing the bench the creek.


    After nearly five minutes, the ghost spoke, his eyes never leaving the trees. ¡°Stuffing.¡°


    I glanced at him and arched a brow. ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°My family did stuffing for Christmas, the meat, the main course that shifted. But we always had stuffing and Grandma¡®s homemade cranberry sauce.¡° His cracked lips switched into a smile, and he snorted. ¡°The old woman reacted like someone was trying to tarnish her good name anytime someone brought the store-bought stuff. But I¡¯ll be damned if she wasn¡¯t right to be so proud of her recipe.¡±


    His voice was filled with that kind of irritated fondness people often had when talking about relatives. All the little things they did that might annoy you in the moment, but looking back, you realized you¡¯d never see those little ticks again, and you missed them.


    ¡°Was the cranberry sauce your favorite?¡°


    His lips tugged further, inching their way towards a true smile. ¡°Compared to the store-bought stuff? Yeah, it was my favorite. But the stuffing was what I remember most, what I would look back on and miss. Hell, I still miss it.¡±


    There was more light in his eyes than before, but his smile faded as he looked back to the quiet forest.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not an excellent cook, but I bet with your help, we could try and re-create that cranberry sauce. And Agatha always boasts about her stuffing.  It¡¯s pretty good if you ask me. We can see how it holds up.¡°


    He looked back at me, cocking his head. ¡°You¡¯d invite a stranger to your home on Christmas?¡°


    I smiled, extending a hand. ¡°I¡¯m Alder, and isn¡¯t welcoming you to my home in the Christmas spirit?¡± I waggled my eyebrows at the end, grinning with more enthusiasm than the stupid joke deserved.


    It took him a second before he got it, and he laughed, the sound dry and harsh but full of mirth. ¡°That is terrible!¡° He shook my hand, his grip cold and rough. ¡°I¡¯m Orin.¡°


    I rose from the bench, shivering from the cold, and started back down the trail. ¡°Come on, Orin, my ass is freezing.¡±


    The ghost fell into step beside me, his boots silent beside my own crunching steps. ¡°Do you have any more ghost puns?¡±


    I laughed, causing fog to puff around me. ¡°Orin, my new friend, I have books worth of ghost puns, and most of them are terrible.¡°


    My answer made the ghost smile, a real honest smile that stretched his cheeks and warmed his eyes. ¡°I think you just made a deadman believe in Christmas miracles.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the spirit!¡±