New Look and Holiday Thoughts

There have been some comments about the black background that I had before being too stark and people having trouble with the white writing on it. Decided to try something a little different. Tried several of the lighter colored templates and hated them all. Settled on this for now. We'll see how this one goes over but bear in mind this may be a transitional phase. I also just wanted to wish everyone a Happy Holiday Season. For me, this means I'll be celebrating Yule soon. Yule is the Wiccan Holiday that is very similar to the Christian Christmas and shares a lot of the same traditions, lore, and methods of celebration (i.e. the tree, the presents, etc.). This is a season of celebrating family, life, and all the good things that we have to share so share with as many people as possible and have a good one. Chapter Fourteen of Obsidian Gate to be coming soon.

Obsidian Gate - Chapter Thirteen

*Finally! I finished it! Hopefully everything goes as planned and everyone enjoys this. Comments, questions, etc. Y'all know the drill! *

Chapter Thirteen:
RISING CRESCENDO

- New Orleans -

The gunshot that killed Rudy Devlin was whisper quiet. The bullet rocketed through the air with barely a token vibration and no one saw it coming. One moment, Rudy was alive and well, laughing with his friends, and the next, he suddenly clutched his throat and slumped to the ground. While his concerned friends gathered around Rudy frantically trying to stem the flow of blood that had suddenly seeped up, his killer stood several buildings away and melted into the shadows with a rather impressive rifle. Her name was Marianne Devereaux and she was one of the best there was at what she did.
Breathing an internal sigh of relief that the night’s work was done, Marianne drifted down to the alley beside the building, landing quiet as a cat and slunk quietly away. Turning onto St. Andrew Street, the woman stowed her weapon in a special pocket of her black trench coat, glad that a freak cold spell made the disguise viable. She was an attractive woman though she made a living keeping to the shadows. She stood easily five ten though the pants she wore made her look even taller than her long legs did. Her hair was an odd color, not quite dark enough to be brown but not light enough to be blonde and it hung mid way down her back and was pulled back into tight cornrows, dangling with pastel colored beads, in shades of white, pink, blue, and yellow. Marianne flicked a strand back enjoying the clink of beads and the weight of the braids hitting her back and focused her brown eyes on her destination, her tan skin tatooed from the neon lights and street lamps as she moved.
She was about to start humming an old creole lullabye from her childhood when a tense vibration began in one of her pockets.
“C’est moi,” Marianne said, after retrieving her cell phone and briefly glancing at the number on the caller i.d.
She tried to keep her voice as calm as she possibly could, however, talking to her boss always managed to unnerve her, no matter how she struggled to hide it. Face pale and hands trembling, she awaited his response.
“Where are you?” the vampire, her boss, demanded in his ringing, silken French tones, “Ou est toi?”
“Ah’m in de French Quarter,” Marianne replied, “What ch’y’all need.”
Marianne really wanted to scream at her boss but she knew better. He was the Master of the City and he would make her life a living Hell if he wanted. He ruled all of the vampires and most of the underground activity in the city with a ruthless hand and it was not too far fetched to think that the loss of one measly human underling wouldn’t bother him too much.
“Meet me at Jean LaFitte airport right now,” the Master snapped, “The injunction's over. We're going to collect her.”
“What?!”
Marianne began to scream, to question, to demand answers, however, the vampire had already hung up. The woman ground her teeth in frustration as she hung up her own cell phone, then forced herself to take several deep breaths and calmed herself. Anger and fear would not help her. Marianne knew her boss lived and thrived on negative human emotions so there was no need to feed or encourage him farther. It did not take long for Marianne to make her way to the sleek green and black Yamaha motorcycle she owned. She donned her plain black helmet and sped through the streets of New Orleans like a silent deadly bat out of Hell. When the Master of New Orleans called, you did not keep him waiting.
The ride to the airport was swift and uneventful and Marianne pulled up beside the Master’s sleek, white jet before she knew it. The vampire, of course, was already waiting.
“What kept you?” he demanded.
The Master stood there, arms crossed, looking model perfect like a GQ meets Addams Family cover boy. His simple white suit only accentuated his pale, pale skin and his face was certainly handsome enough, almost pretty, when he wasn’t scowling. His short brown hair had recently been cut into a style that really flattered it, all spikes and almost punk style long bangs to frame his face. It brought out the red and gold highlights deep in his hair and made his blue/violet eyes stand out in stark contrast to his hair’s darkness. Marianne resented the Hell out of that, especially when her bangs were wild as she pulled off her helmet. She set it with her bike in the jet hanger and returned to where her boss stood waiting, trying not to scowl at him.
“Ah got here’s fast as I could, boss,” she said quietly.
The vampire glared at the woman until she began to squirm.
“Get on the plane, Marianne,” he said, short, clipped, and filled with malice.
Marianne stopped arguing, mastered her fear and her resentment, and filed in behind the Master as he climbed aboard the plane. Following his lead, Marianne chose herself a seat next to a window. The interior of the plane was comfortable and homey, despite the relatively small size of it, all done up in neutral tones. Marianne strapped herself in and flipped open her window so she could at least enjoy the view during take off. She knew darn well that her boss would personally close and lock every window himself to be protected from the sun as soon as possible. After a few minutes, the plane effected a perfect take off and, when the plane had taxied off the runway, Marianne turned to her boss and finally broke the silence between them.
“Where are we going?” she demanded.
The vampire did not answer immediately but when he did, it was quietly.
“New York City.”

2.

- New York -

The grand reopening of Charlie’s Nightclub was one week later. The damage to the front of the club had all been completely erased and the bar was restocked so that no one could even tell there had been an explosion. After a brief article in the paper, the incident was forgotten, no more than an angry, uncomfortable memory. Charlie himself was released from the hospital several days later totally healed, as if he had never been injured and he went right back to work as if nothing had happened. The Sirens, realizing that they would be spread too thin to try and aid the police as well as attempting to find Danthias’s portal, concentrated on looking for clues to get the elf home, though they met with little success. A visit to the alley where Dan had appeared on Earth yielded very little beyond a trace magical residue and the silver elf began to miss his home more and more.
Two days after the fight at Linn’s house, Alexandra suggested that Danthias move out of Charlie’s spare room and spend the rest of his time on Earth rotating where he stayed. Not wanting to see Charlie put in any more danger, Alex suggested staying with a different member of the Sirens each week and Dan was hard pressed to dismiss the logic in her suggestion, though he was also loathe to put any of the women in danger, no matter how capable they seemed. While he missed home and longed for the company of the other Silverlords, a part of him enjoyed talking with Charlie, watching the girls perform their loud and exciting music, and learning all about his new surroundings.
The funniest incident that occurred during his entire stay happened when he stayed over at Linn and Jenny’s on their couch for the first time. Jenny walked by him and casually pushed a button on a small, slender, silver rod and the large, silver box sitting directly across from the couch came to life. Images almost as large as life, loud enough to wake the dead, and real enough to be frightening flashed across the box with alarming speed. Danthias freaked out, reacting purely on instinct, and leapt behind the couch, somehow aiming an arrow at the contraption and hitting it dead center as he did so. It was then he learned what a television was and felt very bad about killing Linn and Jenny’s. After buying them a new one with his respectable stash of Earth money, Dan actually learned to enjoy television a little. Particularly amusing to him were the Lord of the Rings movies, with their references to elves. Dan wondered many a night what Tolkein would have thought if he had known he was writing a little truer to life than what he had assumed.
Linn was able to use her magic to repair her lawn and Danthias found it amazing to watch her work her spells. With a single gesture, her hand began to glow a pale green and the grass all around her began to grow and stretch. Within moments, her home and grounds looked even better than they had before and the entire place was thriving. Danthias spent many nights meditating out under the great oak tree talking with the faeries that lived in the garden. One of them, a jade green male ball of glowing testosterone named Cayden somehow became Dan’s constant companion while he was there. The pixie apparently had the world’s hugest crush on Linn and had even managed to take on human sized form to seduce her one Midsummer night, much to Linn’s chagrin. The Fae woman treated all the creatures on her land, faerie, human, animal, or other, with the same kind of care and kindness that she cared for her sister, though perhaps not with as much enthusiasm, and Dan felt more at home at Linn’s house than anywhere else.
Danthias found it fascinating to learn more about the women while they searched to find him a way home. Alexandra, it turned out, was pyrokinetic and telekinetic, as well as having the ability to fly and withstand any amount of heat. While she also had some latent telepathic abilities, they paled in comparison to those of her half-sister. Sarah was easily the most powerful psionicist Dan had ever met and watching her work her telepathy, telekinesis, and empathy was truly a wonder. Linnelle had her Fae magic as well as some interesting abilities inherited through her blood. Angie was a thief par excellence, thanks to her ability to teleport and become intangible. Watching her phase through solid objects never failed to creep Dan out and she took great delight in teleporting immediately behind him and startling him at least twice a day when she could. The elf enjoyed the game and liked the pout she got on her face when she failed to surprise him even more.
Lyra, of all the women, turned out to be the most difficult to get to know. She was naturally quiet by nature and not very forthcoming. She almost never talked about her powers or showed them openly and flat out refused to be very detailed when it came to talking about her past. It left the woman as somewhat of a mystery but, nonetheless, she was polite to Dan and always eager to make sure that he was entertained or comfortable. So it was that a routine was established and the elf slowly became a part of the society he had fallen into.
One night, Dan and Jenny were hanging out at her and Linn’s place playing video games and drinking a strange beverage called Coke, which had become Dan’s new addiction. Surprisingly, he found that he was really good at video games and enjoyed them. They were right in the middle of a rousing round of Crash Bandicoot when the phone rang. Jennifer paused the game and bounded up to answer the infernal contraption. Next to cars, Danthias found he hated phones more than any other Earth invention. Noisy, bothersome things. The blonde was gone for maybe five minutes, talking animatedly on the phone, then she hung up and returned, a solemn look on her face.
“What’s up?” Dan asked.
“That was O’Brian,” Jenny said.
“How’s Landen?” the elf inquired.
“Still in critical condition,” Jenny replied, “He’s alive and seems to be stable but, beyond that, they really can’t say. He sustained some pretty serious injuries and he’s gonna be laid up for a while yet.”
“That sucks,” Dan said with real feeling. He had actually developed somewhat of a soft spot for the two policemen who were working so hard to help him.
“O’Brian’s gonna be busy helping Landen recover so he wants us to take over investigating the bombing and the attack at the hospital. So far, they don’t really have a lot of leads but I’m sure we’ll be able to crack this one, if we work hard enough.”
Danthias had to smile at Jenny’s wide-eyed optimism.
“So what’s the plan?”
“I have to stay here and keep plugging away at the few leads we have to get you home,” Jenny replied, “I’ve already talked to the rest of the Sirens and Lyra and Angie’ll be here to pick you up shortly. That Tobias Simms guy thinks he might have a few more clues for us to help bust the AFH so they want you to come with them when they go to talk to him.”
Dan nodded and wandered outside as Angie’s sleek, black camero pulled into Linn’s driveway. As much as he hated the infernal machines, he had to admit that the one Angela owned with its white racing stripe was very pretty. Waving a jaunty hello, he slid into the backseat, buckled himself in and schooled himself to be calm as the car pulled away from Linn’s house. As they drove away, Danthias just kept praying to himself that perhaps this would be the one lead that would take them straight to the heart of AFH, the one thing that they would need to put the monsters away forever. One could only hope.

Apparently Tobias Simms had been released from the hospital several days ago with a clean bill of health. He was recovering from the last of his injuries at home and had begun the slow but sure process needed to turn over a new leaf. When they arrived at his home and spoke with his parents, Angie, Dan, and Lyra were all suitably impressed with the progress the young man had made. The proud mother and father were only too happy to usher the three investigators into Toby’s room upstairs and they all could see how these positive changes had affected him. The young man instantly recognized Dan and took his hand at once, shaking it gently.
“I am so very sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused,” he said gently, “I hope you’re recovering well. Is there anything I can do to make this up to you?”
Dan smiled and returned the young man’s hand shake with enthusiasm.
“Nothing to apologize for, Kid,” he said, “Just keep helping the police like you are and we’ll have no problems.”
Simms nodded and smiled, seeing the women behind Dan.
“And who might these lovely ladies be?”
Angie grinned, sly as a cat, and shook the teenager’s hand, fully willing to play upon his fragile young hormones if it meant he would cooperate. She was dressed in the typical uniform for the Sirens, black cotton pants, sensible black shoes, black cotton vest, and a very elegant, almost Renaissance poet style white shirt with ruffled collar and sleeves. Her hair was swept up nicely today and not only did the outfit make her look totally professional, it showed off every curve Angela had. Lyra offered a more conservative greeting but was dressed exactly the same, exchanging the pants for a modest, knee length black skirt and hose and the white shirt for an exact copy in the most vivid shade of blue/green teal that helped to bring out her eyes. They each introduced themselves in their own fashion and then, Angie fixed Simms with a very serious look.
“You told the police you had something else you wanted to share?” she said, “They’re a little understaffed right now so they’ve turned the case over to us and, if you’re willing to talk, we’ll be more than happy to make sure any leads you give us get followed up on.”
“Not a problem,” Simms replied eagerly, “The last day that I was at the AFH headquarters, they were talking about some wharehouse. He said there was something big going down there but he never said what exactly. Something about some big wig coming into town and big plans they had going on. I thought it might be worth checking out.”
“I agree,” Angie said, “Can you tell us where this wharehouse is?”
Lyra dutifully noted down the directions that Simms gave and, with many a thanks and hand shake all around, the three investigators departed the house. Glancing over at her companion, Angie faced Lyra solemnly.
“You think he’s lyin’?”
“I dinnae think so,” the Irish woman replied carefully, “Though he also did nae give us much t’go on.”
“Ain’t that always the way,” Dan muttered, “What’s our next step?”
“We find the wharehouse, do some preliminary snooping, figure out exactly what we’re up against and make plans from there,” Angie replied, “I just hope it’ll be enough.”
“You and me both,” Dan said softly.
No matter how hard he tried, he just could not shake the feeling that something was about to go horribly and inexplicably wrong. It would take most of the day to get to the place Simms had mentioned. It left an awful lot of room for things to take a turn for the worse and somewhere inside him, Danthias could hear the voice of his inner paranoia laughing at him, just waiting for him to take that last fatal step.

3.

The wharehouse appeared deserted from the outside. Night had already fallen and Dan peered at the dubious hideout with Angie, Lyra, and Alexandra, who had decided to join them. Dressed in the Sirens’ uniform with black pants and a midnight blue shirt exactly like the others that brought out her eyes, the Latina was sitting very quietly beside him and frowning at what they were seeing.
“Ah don’t like this,” she finally declared, “Somethin’ ain’t right.”
“You said it,” Angie muttered, “This screams set up t’me.”
“Honestly, must the two o’ye always believe the worst?!” Lyra demanded, exasperated.
“It’s why we’re both still alive,” Angie pointed out.
“Paranoia’s just another word for longevity,” Danthias agreed, quoting one of Al’s favorite phrases.
Lyra just threw up her hands and rolled her eyes in disgust.
“Alright, ye win, now can we please just see what’s in here?”
It didn’t take long for the four companions to ghost up to the side of the wharehouse and locate one of the lesser used entrances. The moon shone rather brightly, unobscured, and it made locating and picking the lock much easier. Danthias was about to offer his expertise but noticed how expertly Angie was handling the lock picks and simply left her to it. After several moments, the lock fell noiselessly into Angie’s gloved hands and she gently lifted the bolt. Carefully, weapons trained for maximum threat, they slid open the door and peered inside.
The smell hit them before anything else. Like something between an outhouse and a slaughterhouse, it filled their senses and left them reeling. Death was all around them and they could feel it. Wordlessly, Alexandra exerted her will and created a tiny fireball in the palm of her hand, then used her finite control to lift it into the air and send it dancing in front of her. The scene that it illuminated when it finally reached the shadowy interior was grim.
There were bodies everywhere.
Lyra gasped and turned pale, staring in mute horror at the carcasses that lay about. Luckily, each individual was mostly intact, but the smell was something that no one was liable to forget anytime soon. Some of the bullets that had killed these men had pierced intestines, vital organs, and the stink of the body’s last act on Earth rode high in the newly warm spring air like a stain.
Danthias knelt down by one of the bodies and, after putting on, with some difficulty, a pair of rubber gloves that Lyra wordlessly handed him, he began to examine the wounds very carefully. He still was not used to this new concept called forensics that these Earthers were so enamored of. He did not yet fully understand all the details about this odd art but he knew that the people of Earth swore by it the way people on his planet did the magic of a Diviner. The elf did his best to simply see what there was to see and stay out of the way as much as possible. Alex knelt at his side, gloves on hand as well, and they wordlessly poured over what evidence there was of how the men had died. One by one they went over the grisly details, until they had searched all twelve men thoroughly and returned to the original cadaver they’d been examining.
“These wounds are really precise,” Dan said thoughtfully, “Not more than one or two shots per kill. Whoever did this was a crack shot.”
“Most of them died instantly,” Alex agreed, nodding, her voice drifting into a deadpan, no accented speech, “All but one or two were one shot, one kill. Seems like the work of a trained professional if you ask me.”
“Any ideas?” Dan inquired.
“A few,” Alex replied, “None I can share ‘til I’m sure.”
Danthias stared at her quizzically, not liking the haunted, closed off look that came over her face but, before he could say anything, Lyra and Angie wandered back over to where they were squatting.
“The police’re on their way,” Angie said, “and we found absolutely no i.d. at all on any of the victims.”
“I think they might all be AFH, though,” Lyra said, “Looks like somebody busted up a meetin’.”
Danthias began to carefully examine the bodies, looking for clues as to what might have killed them. Making sure that he was wearing the gloves that everyone else seemed to be so fond of, the elf had finished searching the area around the bodies and was starting to check through pockets when he came across something interesting. Deep down inside the pocket of a young man who could not have been more than twenty, Dan found a small, crumpled piece of paper. Unfurling it as quickly as he could, the elf gasped at what he read.
“Guys!” he called, “Jackpot!”
Al, Lyra, and Angie wandered over to where the elf sat and their eyes opened wide at what they read. Apparently the meeting inside this building was not the only one to be taking place that night.
“Looks like we go visit another wharehouse,” Angie said.
Everyone cheered with the exception of Al. Alexandra just stood there, face pursed in thought, and though Dan longed to ask what she was pondering, he knew better than to pry. She looked spooked and the elf knew that a woman haunted by something that frightened her that badly was best left to reveal things on her own. Whatever she had seen had bothered her and she would reveal it or she wouldn’t, in her own time.
Angie pulled out one of those little things that people in this world were so fond of, a cell phone he thought they were called, and spoke into it briefly. Dan thought the name was ridiculous, as a prison room had nothing to do with communication, but he had to admit, noisy and annoying as they were, the items were nearly as useful as the gems people used back home for roughly the same purpose. When Angie was done, she quickly went over every inch of the wharehouse, removing evidence of their presence and replaced the lock the way it had been when they’d arrived.
“If we wanna get in on any o’ this, we’d better move fast,” she said, “This place’s gonna be hoppin’ in a minute.”
Wordlessly, everyone hightailed it back to Angie’s car and sped away just in time to hear sirens down the street. It seemed no one had seen them and everyone visibly relaxed as they headed west as fast as they could without attracting attention. Turning a corner into a dark, wide alley, Angie pulled up behind a rather large, nondescript black van.
Danthias was a little confused but the women immediately exited the car and jogged over to the van as if it were expected. Not wanting to be left behind, Dan followed, curiosity peaked. The sliding door to the van opened to reveal Jenny Cassidy’s smiling face.
“Hey guys,” she beamed, “Right on time!”
The women filed in quickly and Jenny spared Dan one of her cute little smiles as she shut the door behind him.
“Strap in and hold on tight,” she said, smiling, “This’s gonna be interesting.”
Danthias loathed the idea of riding in a vehicle once again but had to admit that the inside of this one was more intriguing than any he had yet seen. A good majority of the wall of the van immediately opposite the sliding door was occupied by a large panel of monitors, screens, and keyboards, not entirely unlike the set up in Jenny’s room. The screens showed images on all sides of the van, as well as what appeared to be the view directly in front of each of the women, coming from little devices that the girls each strapped onto their lapels before finding their seats.
Alexandra took hers wordlessly and moved swiftly towards the front of the van, which Danthias could see through a little doorway of sorts. Linn appeared to be driving and Alex strapped herself without a word into the passenger seat opposite her. Dan felt a bit abandoned and unhappy but stuffed it down as he attempted to strap on his own little device, which Jenny wordlessly handed to him before taking her own seat. The chair was a curious little black contraption that was bolted into the floor and moved and swiveled on a small track embedded into the floorboards. Once she was strapped into that seat, Jenny had almost total mobility to move about and putter with all the monitors, speakers, and keyboards that were mounted in front of her. It was a pretty sweet little set up and Danthias found himself gawking a moment before a slight frown from Linn, caught in her rearview mirror, reminded him to find his own seat.
The elf moved gracefully towards the back of the van, where he noticed two small bench like seats that were clearly meant to seat three apiece were strapped to the side walls of the van. Lyra and Angie had strapped themselves onto the ones located on the driver’s side and Dan took the seat on their side that was left, the one closest to the back of the van. In addition to hollowing out the interior to make room for the monitoring station and redoing the cargo hold for people, the girls had apparently installed racks to hold various equipment and weapons in the back near the rear door. He could see backpacks, a gun rack, and a small chest that looked like a bench with no seat belts but probably contained more of those kevlar vests Dan had seen the girls wear earlier. There were also small lockers of sorts that seemed to contain compasses, flashlights, batteries, ammo, and other things but the elf was too busy taking his seat and strapping himself in to take in every single detail.
When he was finally strapped in and as calm as could be, the van finally lurched into motion and the elf turned to Angie, who was seated right next to him, and began to speak in low tones. He wanted to ask about Alex and what was bothering her almost more than anything else but he thought it would be more prudent to wait until he could confront her himself, alone.
“This’s a pretty sweet set up, ladies, how’d you come up with it?” he asked.
“Jenny came up with the design,” Angie said, “Charlie used her blue prints to put it together. She really is a little genius. I swear she can make anything.”
Danthias answered her toothy grin with one of his own. From what he’d learned of Jenny, that was a rather accurate assessment. Then, moving on, he decided to ask about something that had been bothering him.
“I noticed Jenny had a really nasty scar earlier, on the left side of her collarbone. I didn’t want to embarrass her by asking but it looks pretty vicious and I was wondering what happened.”
Angie got very quiet for a moment, then finally spoke up.
“It happened before I joined up with the group, back when they were first starting out,” she said, “Apparently, they were tracking a really scary vampire and he managed to find out where Jenny was. She was working inside this van, doing security monitoring, the way she always does, and this vamp ripped the door off its hinges, dragged her outside and bit her. It took Linn, Al, and Sarah to take him down. Linn tagged him but not before he nearly ripped Jen’s throat out with his teeth. That’s why we don’t leave her alone while she’s monitoring anymore. One of us is in here with her at all times. She’s got a brilliant mind but she’s got nothin’ when it comes t’combat skills an’ some o’ the things we go after don’t always stop for bullets.”
Having dealt with vampires on his own world, Dan could only imagine how nasty that must’ve been and nodded thoughtfully. He really wanted to ask more about AFH as well but he knew that they were obviously dealing with a time table and he could always ask more questions later. They really didn’t like lycanthropes and that was all that Dan felt he needed to know at the moment, not to mention that they were very dangerous. The elf carefully wiped down his bow and began selecting the various gems and arrows he thought he would need. The girls really didn’t like him using a weapon that stood out so much but, even though he was a dead shot with anything that had a bullet, a dart, or an arrow, he hated guns and crossbows with a passion and would have absolutely nothing to do with them. He also disdained using the heavy kevlar the girls favored so much. It slowed down his movements to nothing and the vests really only worked on bullets. The girls had even admitted that they would never hold up to a good blade and Dan trusted his chain mail more on that account. The armor he wore was more discreet and would stop damn near anything. Besides, he couldn’t count on all the bad guys to be gun bunnies like the Sirens seemed to be. Blades didn’t need reloading, after all.
The van pulled to a stop right outside of a seedy wharehouse that looked even more questionable than the last one they’d been in and Dan readied himself for combat, as the girls got up, suited up in their kevlar, loaded their weapons, and packed their permits, ammo, and private investigator licenses.
At first, the girls looked at Dan incredulously, especially when he again refused kevlar, and tried to talk him out of coming with them. Alex, seeing the set of the elf’s jaw and the look on Danthias’s face, shook her head and addressed her friends.
“Don’t bother, mes amies, he’s comin’ whether we like it or not.”
The tone of her voice was one somewhere between cynical amusement and resignation. Dan would have given her a worried look, but the side and back doors slid open and the women began filing out, all but Linnelle, who remained to back Jenny up if she needed it.
“Alright everyone, quick sound check,” Jenny said, her voice coming out loud and clear in Danthias’s ear as if she had been standing right next to him. It still was amazing to Danthias that the little nearly invisible device attached to his collar could transmit sound and images to Jenny’s little computers but he stuffed down his awe and concentrated on the task at hand.
“Argent, here,” he said, using the nickname Al had given him as a codename, “All clear.” The elf thought the nicknames and codenames were a bit silly but the women had insisted, claiming that if they were monitored they wanted no one to know who they actually were. It made Dan feel like an undercover operative but he remained quiet.
“Six, here, online and ready t’go,” came Lyra’s breathless voice.
“Black Cat, ready to prowl,” chimed in Angie and Dan couldn’t help but smile at the stifled groan of annoyance he was sure was coming from Linn in the van.
“Banshee, all eyes an’ ears ready,” she merely muttered, her brogue thick with annoyance.
“Blademaker, signing on,” Jenny said, “You guys are all patched in and ready to go. Nightingale and Dragonwing’ll be ready to show up, if we need them.” While Sarah and Marissa had been given the task of assisting O’Brian at the other wharehouse, Dan had no doubt they would be there if needed.
“Alright, Wildfire, here,” Alex called, snapping ammo into her twin guns, Éclaire and Tonnerre, Lightning and Thunder, “In position. It’s showtime, girls.”
She moved ahead of the crowd, like a small, sleek shadow and Danthias had to admire her skill. Even with all of his training, it was still hard not to lose sight of her in the darkening night. Pulse pounding with adrenaline and excitement mounting, Dan moved forward, falling in behind Al, and waited for whatever was behind the wharehouse door to show itself.
The door to the wharehouse slowly creaked open. Alex had tried to find a door that was not as obvious as the front but each and every door they had looked at was about as abandoned and neglected looking. The locks came off easily enough and Alex reached back to hand Dan a spare pair of night vision goggles but Danthias shooed them away. His sight, even in the dark, was better than a human’s in broad daylight. He slipped through the door behind Al and fell into step several paces behind her, maintaining the distance as easily as breathing, and moved like an echo of the woman’s steps. He was keeping up with no words needed.
Through the odd green lighting of her goggles, Alex could see that the wharehouse was one of those tall ones with a nearly cathedral like ceiling. On and on it stretched, some fifty feet, as if it were trying to touch the sky. Alexandra was wondering how many people AFH had to have in the local area to need such a big place. She knew they were a national organization but the sheer largeness of the place they were in astounded her. Right now, though, with all the lights out and only shadows and street lights for illumination, it seemed pretty unrealistic.
“That’s odd,” Al murmured, almost silently, “This place should be packed this close t’the meeting time. Where is everybody?”
“Not sure,” Dan said, “but I really don’t like this.”
“I’m not seeing any movement,” Jenny said, her voice barely distorted at all from the headphones, “If the blueprints I got are correct, the main meeting hall should be dead ahead.”
Angie and Lyra moved up slowly behind Dan and the three of them moved as one to help flank Alex as she inched cautiously towards the large double doors that Jenny had indicated. Not a breath of air seemed to stir as Al easily and noiselessly pulled open the left hand door, pausing to check if the coast was clear before turning to her companions.
“Ah think we just beat the rush,” Alex said confidently, “Ah say we set up shop an’ listen in on their little meeting.”
Slowly entering the room, Alexandra motioned for Dan and the others to follow. The miniscule bit of light that was shining through the open door from the street lamps outside was nowhere near enough to illuminate more than a small sliver of the cavernous room’s interior. Inch by inch, the companions crept into the room. Angie was last to go through. Just as her feet crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut behind her.
Danthias didn’t need to be a lycan to smell the small spike of fear and adrenaline that shot through the room as total darkness spilled over the group. The elf’s sharp eyes could still just barely make out movement among the shadows and he tensed, hearing the shuffle of many feet that he was certain was completely silent to the ears of his more human companions. Before he could properly take note of sounds and try to reason out how many opponents there were by the sound of their shuffling feet, the lights in the room all snapped on just as suddenly as they had been extinguished.
Dan heard several angry hisses as the world exploded into light, bright as the sun after the dim twilight of the previous moment. Alexandra and her companions quickly removed their night vision goggles, wincing, and readied themselves for whatever lay ahead.
There was no preamble, no warning. One moment, brightness exploding, the next, there were bullets erupting everywhere.
Danthias and the Sirens hit the floor as bursts and halos of thunderous sound erupted above their heads. Dan's preternatural speed gave him the advantage in recovery time and he was on his feet and moving in a blur of motion, however, the girls were almost as fast as he was. Alexandra launched herself into the air, using her gifts to fly onto a narrow catwalk overhead. Her guns were out and flashing before she even landed. Éclaire et Tonnere screamed once, twice, vibrant points of light and sound, bullets ripping toward their intended target. One of the shooters, a man from the sound of it and dressed in black with a black mask covering his face, howled momentarily in pain, clutching his wrist as his gun tumbled from his grasp. The second bullet caught him in the shoulder and he spun slightly, his right arm now hanging useless at his side. The gunman dodged artfully behind his armed comrades, nursing his injuries and using his allies as cover. Alexandra mentally hissed in annoyance but at least he wasn't shooting anymore and, perhaps, if he survived, he could be made to answer questions. Jenny was calling frantically from over the wireless connection but Alex had no time to respond. Crouching down so as to make as small of a target out of herself as possible, the southern belle quickly slinked along the edges of the catwalk, carefully bringing herself in line for another shot.
Angela grinned the moment the action began. Using her teleportation abilities, Angie flashed herself up onto the catwalk where the AFH flunkies were gathered. The catwalk ran on all sides of the building and Angie thought she caught a glimpse of Alex kneeling down somewhere on the other side of the building. When one of the men dropped his weapon and cursed, Angie grinned in confirmation. Now it was time to even the odds a little and as the notorious catburglar, the Black Cat, there had been no one who had ever managed to catch her. Confident that no one had seen her teleport up to them, Angie's hands flashed into motion. Suddenly, a knife appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and just as quickly it was flying through the air. It streaked from Angie's outstretched hand with deadly accuracy and buried itself into the gun hand of one of the thugs who was attempting to reload his weapon.
The man grabbed his hand and dropped his weapon in shock but Angie gave him no time to recover. Flashing over to him, she ripped the knife from his hand violently and spun around in a dizzying arch, delivering a sound kick to the side of the man's head. The thug grunted and staggered, trying to remain upright, but the force of the blow carried him sideways, pellmell, over the edge of the catwalk. He was too surprised to even make a sound as he fell. Angela spun around, recovered knife in hand and slashed viciously at the man who stepped up to point his gun at her. The hood reached out for her but Angela's entire body became suddenly as intangible and hard to grasp as the air itself and the former thief dodged nimbly out of his way, nearly laughing at him in her glee. Taking a quick glance to ascertain their odds, the young woman was not pleased by what she saw.
"Guys, we got about twenty goons up here," she said, swiftly countering an opponent's bullet with a dodge and a knee to the groin, "They're all armed and it looks like they came packin' some major heat. Be careful out there!"
With the confusion and all the noise, Angie wasn't sure if they had heard her or not, but as the man she'd kneed staggered and cupped himself, she could only hope that she had gotten through. Flashing out of the way of another barrage of bullets, Angela quickly became absorbed with simply trying to survive this fight.
Danthias heard Angie's shouted warning loud and clear over the din, as he quickly ducked out of the way of an immense spray of gunfire and readied an arrow. He wasn't sure if the others had heard what they were up against or not but Dan had and he could smell the silver casings on the bullets that had embedded themselves into the wall not far from where he had been standing. This was bad. Lyra, moving as quickly as her legs would allow, had dived behind a mound of boxes and was using them for cover as she attempted to pick off the snipers. The elf wasn't certain just how good of a shot she was and the redhead didn't look like much of a combatant. If someone didn't end this soon, it was going to get really ugly, really fast.
Drawing back his bow from the cover of another of the many mounds of boxes and crates, Danthias aimed an arrow dead center of one of the thugs' bodies. A whisper quiet zipping sound and the arrow had found its target. The man's gun tumbled from his hand, as he clutched the arrow embedded almost completely through his chest. He gasped as blood began to well up and staggered once before finally collapsing to the ground. He did not get up again.
"That's one," Dan thought, another arrow primed, "Time to clean house."
Alexandra saw the black arrows fly through the darkness and one of the goons dropped just as he was reaching for a huge automatic rifle. Taking advantage of the momentary confusion the shot had caused, Alex positioned herself at the corner of the catwalk and, using the edge for cover, squeezed off several shots into the mass of hoodlums. One man dropped to his knees, a bullet having torn through his ankle, and another caught a bullet just in glancing on his side. Alex had little time to congratulate herself, however. A shot exploded not two inches from where her head was and the Latina quickly jerked back behind a large stack of crates, ducking to where she had at least some cover from the deadly barrage. She heard at least two more bullets whiz by where she had just been and quickly readied her guns to meet her attacker. She was not quite fast enough, however.
He came for her in a barrage of motion that was both swift and decisive. A hail of bullets exploded around Alex's body like a deadly halo and, suddenly, his fists were flying at her face. Alex was able to avoid the first punch, just barely, with a quick jerk of her head but the next one, aimed at her collarbone, caught her hard in the left shoulder. Al gasped, clenching her fist tightly to keep from dropping her gun, and tried hard to ignore the sharp starburst of pain from her shoulder. A vicious roundhouse came out of nowhere and Alex had no time to defend, as it connected with her jaw. The sheer force of it jerked her head back and toppled her to the ground, head reeling. Alex slammed into the ground with a bone jarring impact and Éclaire et Tonnere flew wildly from her hands, despite her frantic attempts to keep hold of them. She pushed herself up onto her knees and shook her head, desperately trying to clear her mind to regain control of the fight. Alexandra glanced up just in time to see the fist heading straight for her.
Reactions engrained bone deep simply took over. Grabbing the man's fist before his momentum could slow, Alexandra twisted her body and planted her feet solidly in the man's stomach, doubling him over. The man attempted to punch Alex in the face, as he lost his balance, but the woman snagged that fist out of midair too and continued into a textbook tomoe nage throw. She released the man's hands at the last instant and he flew as swiftly as one of Dan's arrows, crashing into the brick wall behind them. The man's head connected first and he crumpled to the ground, unmoving.
Alex tucked her head and somersaulted onto her feet and glanced over to locate her guns. Shots exploded into the silence and Alexandra felt several bullets rip past her and slam into the wall inches from her head. She tucked and rolled, snatching her weapons from where they lay, and came up into a defensive crouch, her back against several large crates for cover. Her guns were cocked almost as soon as she touched them and she took in a deep breath, as she peered carefully between the cracks of the crates.
The gunman stood twenty feet away, a long barreled rifle loaded, cocked, and aimed expertly in front of him. He was all in black like the other thugs and appeared no different than any of them on the outside but the manner in which he held himself, held his weapon, marked him as especially dangerous. Nothing escaped his gaze and he swept the barrel before him in a professional, no nonsense arc. Alex grinned. A challenge at last!
Moving with speed born of practice honed on deadly streets and back alleys, Alex leapt to the top of the crates above her, using a small telekinetic push to help her momentum and cushion her landing. She touched down as silent as a cat and crouched low, slinking and inching her way to the edge of the crate's top, her head peeking over just enough to catch sight of her prey. With silent, practiced ease, Alex clicked back the hammer on her gun and waited ever so patiently.
It wasn't long before the assassin was moving through the boxes, gliding forward on feet just as noiseless as Alex's own. He moved like a shadow, all subtle, deadly grace, and peered cautiously around the corner where he was expecting the Latina to be. Alex paused until he had committed himself fully to the movement, then leapt into the air like a graceful bird. Somersaulting end over end in midair, the woman landed solidly behind the black clad assassin, her body instinctively lowering into a kneeling position. The assassin whirled to meet the noise behind him but Alex was not where he expected her to be.
Shots rang out, one, two, then three. The silent aftermath was almost more deafening than the roar of the guns and, for a moment, there was no movement, no sound. Then, Alex slowly stood and crept soundlessly to the unmoving form on the floor. The man lay facing Alex, arms splayed out above him. Both of Alex's shots had connected, one through the heart and one dead center in his third eye. He was still and blood was still running from his wounds. Enough of it had pooled around the man that, even without the gaping hole in his forehead and sightless stare, Alex knew from sheer common sense that there would be no getting up for this man ever again. Glancing briefly behind her, Alex glimpsed the other body sprawled against the far wall. That one had been good too. The stray bullet that had flown from the assassin's gun had lodged soundly in his throat, penetrating all the way through and instantly rupturing his jugular. Alexandra said a silent prayer of thanks that her training had made her fast enough to dodge both the assassin's bullet and this gentleman's unluckily timed ambush attempt.
There were no further targets in sight so Alex quickly gathered her wits about her and moved towards the sounds of combat elsewhere in the wharehouse. So far she had escaped with just a few bruises but who knew if her friends were having the same kind of luck. Images of Dan, Angie, and Lyra lying as still and stiff as the men behind her spurred the woman into motion and she fought back the ghosts threatening to haunt her as she moved forward, all the while praying she was only projecting.
Angie heard the gunshots from the other side of the catwalk and fought down the panic that rose in her brain, wondering which one of her friends was being shot at or possibly killed. Concerned or not, however, she was in the middle of too much heat right now to even contemplate helping out elsewhere. The man she had kneed had recovered his weapon and he had about four friends with him, all of them aiming weapons right at her. The catburgler lost count of how many times she had narrowly avoided bullets by going intangible and how many vicious fates she had avoided with her quick teleportation. Sweat gleamed off her brow and she fought to concentrate as the prolonged adrenaline rush, fatigue, and the strain of the near constant use of her gifts in this encounter began to take its toll.
Her vision was not quite what it should be, blurry with sweat and exhaustion, but she still managed, somehow, to get her arm up just in time to block a brutal kick that would have knocked her flat on her ass. She could feel the muscles in her arm go numb just from the impact of the kick and didn't want to imagine what it would have felt like connecting with her ribs. Apparently, this goon wasn't happy about being racked and he actually had some talent, despite being temporarily out of bullets.
"Give it up, freak!" he yelled, the voice sounding even colder through his mask, "Sooner or later, we won't miss."
"Bitch, please!" Angie scoffed, "Y'all can't hit the broad side of a bright red barn!"
Her fist flew fast and true, blasting dead into the man's right cheek. Angie felt his head snap to the side and heard the breath leave his body in a startled oomph. She felt and heard sensitive bones cracking and tried not to grin in triumph. This was one man who'd be needing some serious corrective surgery. Not letting up, she followed up with a lashing knee to the stomach and a solid backhanded fist. The man went down in an ungraceful heap but, to Angie's surprise, pulled himself up almost immediately. The thug reeled as Angela danced and bounced out of the way of his pathetic attempts to retort. While he might be skilled and tenacious, he was wobbling far too much to put up an effective defense, let alone any kind of counterattack. Angie worked quickly, trying to conserve what strength she had and taking advantage of the man's weakness. A quickly delivered spinning kick to his knees sent him sprawling and Angie quickly followed it with an elbow that rocked his head right into the concrete. The man bounced once, just slightly, then didn't move.
Angie had no time to prepare or celebrate. Gunshots blossomed around her like angry, screaming demons and she snapped away, teleporting with the speed of thought out of the line of fire.
"That was close," she thought, glancing at the torn edge of fabric at her shoulder where a bullet had torn through it a split second before her escape.
Not wasting any time, Angie took a few deep breaths. Her stamina was rapidly fading and it would not be long before she would be unable to manage such miraculous evasions. Brandishing her knife, she quickly blinked over to where the men were gathered, searching for her frantically. Fleet as lightning, Angela's knife slashed out of nowhere, catching one of the men at the wrist and forcing him to drop his gun. Moving before he could think to physically attack her, Angie's hand flashed and a small, metal baton was suddenly in her hands. Two quick snaps of her wrist and the baton was fully extended to about two feet long and headed straight for the man's head. A split second before impact, Angie flicked a button on the handle and small sparks arced from the tip of the baton. The young man had no time to react, deflect, or dodge. His eyes simply widened in dawning horror, as Angie clocked him square in the temple. The thug jerked perhaps four or five times in rapid succession, then collapsed at Angie's feet.
The remaining three men turned at the sudden noise but Angela was already among them before they could even see what had become of their friend. Working frantically, Angie swung hard right into the thick of the men, hoping to down them before her failing energy completely gave out. One of the men was not quick enough to get out of the way of her initial barrage and caught her stun baton right in the stomach. The air rushed out of him in a great whoosh of pain and he simply dropped, like a puppet with the strings cut. The other two thugs, however, were more saavy and much faster than their friend.
Hopping ungracefully out of the way, both men raised their weapons and aimed dead center. Two shots rang out, loud as thunder, and the teleporter gasped, as she felt blood running down either side of her hips. Sudden pain bloomed all along her ribs and hips and Angie staggered drunkenly, nearly dropping to the floor that instant. She could almost feel the quiet triumph from the thugs in front of her and glanced up to see that they were pulling their triggers again.
Angie was already going intangible before she had even consciously thought of it and moving forward as the shots echoed everywhere. The two men stared at her with utter shock and surprise, as she suddenly phased back into full reality. The baton flew three times in rapid succession, striking kidneys, throats, and stomachs. Both thugs gasped, coughed once or twice, then dropped to the floor in a near boneless collapse. Angie stood for a moment, reeling. Her head was woozy and she felt surreal, almost not there. She put a hand to her temples and moaned. The wharehouse was spinning and everything was just suddenly out of focus, like some kind of dirty lens. Then, she was falling, though she didn't really register that it was happening. It was as if she were watching it happen to someone else in slow motion. Angie's body fell in an almost graceful collapse. Like a comet or shooting star, she came to earth. By that time, she felt nothing, a mere floating, and welcomed the calming blackness.
Lyra raced behind a corner and hunkered down as shots sang out everywhere. She cursed vehemently as several bullets embedded themselves in the wall directly behind where her head had been a moment before. It took a lot of Lyra's stamina to harness the air currents around her to speed up her retreat and redirect the bullets but it bought the redhead a few moments to regain her strength before facing her opponents. Lyra could see the two men on the other side of the room. It was a large area but the young woman knew it was only a matter of time before the two thugs got impatient and started gunning for her in earnest. Checking her gun to see how many bullets she had left, Lyra closed her eyes and concentrated. While it was very bright in the wharehouse, the thugs hadn't eradicated every shadow, despite their best attempts to leave nowhere for their enemies to hide. Carefully, as if she were weaving a blanket, Lyra began to pull, tug, and warp the shadows around her with her mind. She pictured herself as completely invisible and felt the darkness at the edges of the room subtly shift and respond to make her mental reality into physical fact.
When she opened her eyes, Lyra could feel the shadows around her, clinging like an old, comfortable coat or second skin. Crouched down as she was, it was as if she were simply a part of the crate behind which she hid, just part of the natural darkness created by the absence of light. She could easily see out of the illusion she had created but knew that it would be nigh impossible for the men with guns to be able to see through it with their limited vision. Lyra could hear the men approaching and her heart sped up a little. Their steps were almost silent and it was only through the virtue of her Fae blood that Lyra was even able to hear them. She saw the gun barrels before she saw the men. They were carrying fully automatic weapons, assault rifles.
Lyra waited until she had a clear line of sight for both men, then took aim and pulled the trigger.
One of the men dropped instantly. He fell face first onto the floor and didn't move. His companion barely had time to register his friend's collapse or the neat bullet hole in the back of the fallen man's head. Lyra squeezed the trigger again. Just as the man was glancing down at his comrade's prone form, her bullet caught him in the shoulder, whirling him halfway around, and he cried out in pain. The redhead moved swiftly, before he could recover, and aimed her last bullet in the general vicinity of his chest.
The goon was now more aware of her presence, however, and Lyra was forced to rush her shot, trying to catch him before he reacted. The bullet went wide, shrieking off into the distance and the man started to raise his weapon, just as the shadow that was Lyra moved. With a quick gesture born of desperation, the woman threw out one of her hands and gathered all the air currents around her, whipping them into a dense, lightning fast force. The air slammed head on into the thug, just as he had the muzzle of his gun halfway raised and he flew back, propelled as if shot from the rear of a jet's exhaust. There was a sickening crunch of impact, as his head collided with the wall hard enough to recoil, then he simply plummeted to the ground and didn't move. Lyra released the shadows and whipped her head around quickly, looking for more goons. By her count, she knew there should be more and she was out of bullets.
Not wanting to make herself any more of a target than she already was, the redhead moved swiftly towards the wall, hugging it and the dubious protection the corners seemed to provide. Ever so carefully, Lyra began making her way forward, inspecting every nook and cranny that she could. There was still gunfire echoing throughout the wharehouse and her friends were unaccounted for.
Rounding another group of boxes, Lyra suddenly collided with a very solid form. She nearly screamed, until she glanced up and noticed that the form was Dan. He didn't bother glancing behind him to confirm her identity. He seemed to already know who and where she was, as his silver eyes scanned endlessly for targets.
"Stay low and back me up," the elf said, readying an arrow.
Danthias didn't hesitate. In one fluid motion, three arrows flew from his bow and embedded themselves directly into the chests of three goons who came rushing out of the distance, guns blaring. There was a moment of horrendous noise and Lyra began to form an air shield around herself and Dan to protect them from the bullets but the noise was gone almost as soon as it had begun. Though she could hear the bullets flying, they landed nowhere near her or Dan. The men who'd fired the shots all collapsed on the spot, all pierced through the heart.
The elf moved like lightning. In a burst of speed that no human could ever hope to imitate, Dan was just suddenly halfway across the room and already taking aim at two more men who were moving forward to avenge their fallen comrades. Lyra was thanking the Higher Powers for her mutant abilities, as she used her air manipulation to flash to Dan's side. She doubted she would ever have been able to keep up with the elf otherwise. Danthias had two arrows pulled back to his cheek already and the sound of the bow's release occurred just as Lyra came up beside him. The arrows flew true and struck their targets hard. Both men were on the ground before they even realized they were dead. Lyra looked on stunned, as Dan nonchalantly retrieved his arrows and moved quickly towards the steps that lead to the catwalk. The elf had made it all look way too easy. Moving quickly before she could be left behind, Lyra followed the lycan upstairs.
Dan reached the top of the stairs and nearly ran into Alex who was heading in the opposite direction. Her face was a tight tapestry of anxiety and excitement.
"We gotta find Angie," she said, "We got a lot o' wounded that're startin' t'come to an' Ah haven't seen hide nor hair o'her."
"Let's go," Danthias replied gently and, just like that, they were off.
As they hurried across the catwalk, Dan carefully scanned the area for enemies.
"How many are left?" he asked.
"Eight, Ah think," Al replied, "I can only confirm four though."
The elf nodded, as if in thought, and rounded a corner with Alex and Lyra following him.
Shots rang out, clanging all around, as Dan, Lyra, and Al all tried to duck for cover. The elf immediately readied his bow and was around the corner as the women were loading their ammo. Two shots fired in quick rapid succession, creating a melody with the twanging of the bow's release, then there was silence.
Danthias was like a bolt of silent lightning, moving towards the location of the shots. Alex and Lyra followed as best they could, stunned and amazed at the man's amazing, fluid movements. He ghosted to his destination and paused, his body suddenly tense. Al reached his side first and was about to ask what was wrong. The look on Dan's face was rather frightening but, as Alex glanced around, she saw the reason for the grimace and cried out.
Angie lay sprawled in a heap amongst the bodies of five very dead men, four of which appeared to have recently sprouted Dan's arrows. Alex bolted to Angela's side without a moment's hesitation, all caution forgotten in her worry for her friend. Danthias practically snarled in agitation at her lack of forethought but took a quick survey to make sure the area was safe before he allowed himself and Lyra to join Al at Angie's side. The dark skinned woman was unmoving and limp and there was a jagged tear in her catsuit on the left hip. Angie looked, for all the world, like a plastic doll, as if someone had simply cut her strings and let her fall.
Alexandra held her friend tenderly and spoke softly and urgently to her in Spanish, rocking her gently back and forth all the while. Alex's eyes were glazed over with unshed tears and Dan could feel her panic rising, assuming the worst, but Dan knelt down and firmly but gently pulled Angela from Alex's arms and laid her back down flat on the cold floor. Danthias found Angie's pulse almost immediately. It was steady but fading fast. Carefully he examined the wound, hissing at what he saw. The bullet had gone all the way through, luckily, but the blood was moving sluggishly from the wound and it was very close to her kidneys.
"She's alive but we need to get her to a hospital now," Dan said, scooping Angie gently up in his arms, "Knock out and gather up whoever's left if you want someone to question but do it fast. We need to get her out of here before she goes into shock and she doesn't have much time left."
"Right," Al said, her face going grim with purpose.
Jerking her head for Lyra to follow, Alex lead the redhead over to where she had fought her share of the thugs. The man she had knocked out with her hand to hand techniques still lay sprawled near the dead gunmen but she could still hear rustling. At least one more gunman was out there, waiting for them. Readying her weapons, Al approached the area slowly. As she and Lyra inched forward, Alex looked down and happened to notice the man she'd shot in the side laying unmoving on the floor, his eyes fixed in a permanent, glossy stare. Al winced a bit, her conscience not liking the thought of having left a man to die slowly from blood loss, but she said a quick prayer of apology and moved on, knowing there was nothing she could do.
Shots rang out on both sides and Alex and Lyra both turned as one and pulled their triggers. Two men, both of whom Alex recognized as men she'd faced earlier, suddenly collapsed to the floor in front of her and Lyra. They didn't move again. Not wasting any more time, Alex quickly hurried over to the unconscious thug that remained and grabbed hold of his collar. When Lyra saw what she was up to, she rushed to aid her friend.
Alexandra was just about to ask Lyra to help her carry him when the man's eyes suddenly snapped open. The outright disgust, shock, and hatred in his eyes blazed forth and stunned Alex for a moment, then he spoke weakly, his voice grim and angry.
"He's coming for you, freak," he whispered, "He's coming for you all!
Al's mouth fell open in surprise and, as she glanced down to demand to know what he was talking about, the man's head lolled to the side and she saw them plain as day. There were two perfect puncture marks at the side of the man's neck.
Cursing in French and with much feeling, Alex readjusted the man's weight, just as Lyra looked over at her questioningly.
"It's nothin'," Al said, accent thick with irritation, "This sucker's heavy. Let's jus' get outta here."
Alex and Lyra redoubled their efforts, pulling and dragging the thug between them. They met Dan near the doorway, where the lycan waited with Angie in his arms. He was dancing on his toes in impatience and kicked the door open for them as soon as he saw that the women were behind him. They wasted no time. Feet pounding hard on the pavement, they raced to where Linn and Jenny waited with their transport.
The blonde threw the door open, eyes wide with concern and fear, as soon as Dan and the girls were close. She gave a little gasp when she saw Angie's condition but, thankfully, didn't waste time or lose her cool. She simply helped Al and Lyra strap in and restrain their prisoner and quickly rearranged seating as best she could so that everyone could strap in and Angie could still be laid out flat. Jenny produced a nice warm blanket to help stave off Angela's shock and helped settle her in Dan's lap before rushing up front.
"Linn, hospital, stat! Angie's hurt!" she cried.
The van was lurching into motion before Jennifer had even had time to scramble into her seat and strap herself in. Danthias was no expert on the laws here, especially not ones governing traffic or how the Gnomish death machines were to be run, but he was pretty sure Linnelle was breaking quite a few of them on her way to the hospital. The whole time everyone in the back remained eerily quiet, everyone in their own way praying for Angie to be safe, while Jenny activated the intercom and softly filled in Marissa and Sarah on everything that had happened.
The whole time, Dan simply held Angie's head in his lap, willing his friend to live, to be alright. He could feel her pulse slowing and her body beginning to go cold with shock and numbness. As much as he wanted to rip apart the remaining thug for what he had done to his friend, he forced himself calm and focused on their journey. Lyra he knew was having the same dilhemma, especially sitting not three feet away from him but her face was a mask of calm and focus, as if she were willing Angie to survive by sheer force of will.
The van wheeled around a corner at frighteningly high speed. Dan gripped the edge of his seat with one hand and Angie with the other, gritting his teeth. Gods how he hated these death machines! Just as he was about to let loose a string of Dwarven curses fit to make his friend, Kern, blush, there was a horrid screeching, as the van attempted to stop.
The sound was unimaginable. Danthias had never experienced anything like a car crash before and had nothing to compare it to so, to him, it was a nightmare straight out of Hell. The bone jarring crunch of metal meeting metal, the high pitched screams of panic, fear, and shock from the women, the crunch of broken glass, then the world went end over end too quickly for Danthias to even count how many times they might have flipped before they settled with heart stopping, silent finality. The elf shook himself back to full awareness moments later and immediately began to struggle against his bonds. The van had landed upside down and Dan could see where Angie had tumbled from his arms and lay sprawled beneath him. There was no movement from Jenny, Lyra, or the AFH goon but he could hear Linn groaning from the cab and there was absolutely no sound from Al. Dan was frantic to get loose but his head seemed to have taken more of a beating then he'd thought. Every movement was pain and felt more sluggish than it should have.
At last, the elf succeeded in freeing himself from his seat belt, only to tumble headlong to the roof of the van, narrowly avoiding crushing Angie in the process. Dazed, Danthias just lay there momentarily, then began the tortuous ordeal of trying to crawl towards his friends. He didn't make it far.
The last sensations to register before he blacked out were the sounds of sirens in the distance and the sight of black booted feet heading towards the truck. Then, Dan finally lost his battle with consciousness and sank gratefully into oblivion.

Many apologies

I know it's been a damn long time coming but I assure you, I am working hard on Chapter Thirteen of Obsidian Gate. I'm hoping to have it done and up in time for Halloween or at least All Saint's Day. I have been hard at work on character profiles and editing, however, and, if you skim through the earlier chapters, you'll see that I've done a bit of tweaking here and there. I've added a new twist to Dan's missing necklace problem that I hope you all will like so be sure to skim through those changes so you don't miss or misinterpret the next couple of chapters. I've got some major surprises for everyone and I truly and humbly apologize for taking so long to update. Procrastinators should never try to set their own deadlines. grrr! Well, hope you all have enjoyed these so far and really would love to hear your thoughts and inputs on anything you see here. More will be coming, I assure you!

Obsidian Gate - Chapter Twelve

*Thought you all wouldn't mind a bit of double duty, as this means I have to get cracking on Chapter Thirteen. Here's Twelve and I hope you all really enjoy this*

Chapter Twelve

Danger on the Horizon and More Plots Abound

~ Solaris ~

It was nearly midnight and the pale illumination from the streetlights of Branneth poured into the antechamber of Lord Brenden Karsis. He was sitting in his favorite chair by the fire, a scowl marring his face, and his chin resting on his right hand, which was, in turn propped up by the elbow on the arm of his chair. His dark beard, hair, and eyes all caught small glints of the firelight as he sat but betrayed none of its warmth. A book lay open, forgotten, in his left hand, resting now on his thighs. He had been reading but his attention simply had not seen fit to stay fixed upon his tome. Karsis had no need to wonder what was troubling him. He knew only too well.
de Wynter. That haughty, arrogant, cold, snippy bitch had managed to escape justice one more time. No matter how hard he tried, there just seemed to be nothing that he could pin on this woman, nothing that would stick. This time he had been sure there was nothing the little snipe could do to wriggle her way out of the chopping block, yet she had managed to do just that. Naturally, her lawyer had been brilliant but that wasn’t what had bothered him. It seemed as if nothing had mattered, after the woman had taken the stand and trotted out the sordid details of her marriage for the world to see. The jury had simply bought every word of her story. It was a travesty of justice, but there you had it.
Sighing, Karsis was about to retire for the night when he felt an unseemly draft gust in through one of the windows, which he had cracked to allow some fresh air to permeate the room. Karsis fastened the window shut tight but, as he did, a particularly strong gust made its way through the room, blasting back the curtains and sending the fire all in an uproar. The Lord worked quickly to shut the door but, as he turned, the fire, which the wind had upset, abruptly winked out, curls of flame, sparks, and smoke all vanishing in a moment, as if they had never existed, leaving only cold embers.
Startled at the sudden darkness, Karsis froze, momentarily uncertain, consumed by that slight dread, panic, that sets in when one is unexpectedly plunged into darkness. Shadows filled the room, leaving only blackness and vague shapes. Karsis cursed softly and allowed his eyes a moment to adjust. When he thought he was able to distinguish the indistinct forms of his furniture, the man began to slowly make his way towards the door, fully intent on simply heading to his room and calling it a night.
Halfway there, he paused in confusion. The darkness in the room was very palpable but, all of a sudden, it took on a cloying, dense character, somehow sinister. It had been hard to see but now it felt as if the whole room had literally been swallowed by shadows. Karsis made another motion, as if to continue for the door and then froze, this time in absolute terror.
He was not alone.
Karsis jumped, feeling unseen eyes all around him, and was concentrating so hard on getting his eyes to adjust that he never saw the shadow detach itself from the wall. The Lord barely had time to turn, as the sound of a sword being drawn filled the room, followed quickly by Karsis’s harsh cry. Then there was an abrupt, chilling silence and, after, all was still.

2.

Alexandra Lee sat in the lonely hospital room, occupying the only chair and absently flipping through a magazine, barely registering the various articles about what star was dating which model or a particular star’s mental breakdown. The young woman did not notice the patient that occupied the room, nor did she really acknowledge Landen, who had been set to guard the room. She was actually staring out of the room’s only window, lost in thought, unconsciously fingering a slender braided chain of white and yellow gold around her neck from which dangled several rings. One was a matching wedding band set, a man and a woman’s, both genuine gold, with an intricate design of roses and thorny vines etched onto it. The other rings were part of another wedding set. The man’s was a large gold band with a small, rampant lion holding a rose engraved onto it and the woman’s was a modest, but exquisitely cut, imperial diamond with two small sapphires on either side of it on a white gold band. This attached to another white gold band imprinted with small alternating stars and crescent moons.
Charlie Hutton lay in the hospital bed next to her and watched her fingers fiddle with the rings, an amused smile on his face. The first degree burns and small lacerations on his face did not pain him very much, as he forced himself into a sitting position, though he did grimace once.
“Yer thinkin’ about ‘im, aren’t chya?” Charlie asked gently.
Alex jerked out of her trance like one pinched at the sound of his voice.
“Who?”
Charlie chuckled heartily.
“You know who I mean.”
Alex seemed about to deny it for a moment, to demand to know what he was talking about, then sighed and went back to staring out the window.
“Ah wanna help ‘im, Charlie.”
“Helpin’ ain’t the only thing on yer mind where that boy’s concerned.”
Al colored and gave the bartender a scathing look, as if she wouldn’t bother to dignify that with an answer. Charlie merely laughed.
“Don’ gimmie that!” he said, “You don’ fool me, Al. I’ve known you since you was just a punk kid, nineteen, without a hope or a prayer. You like that boy a Helluva lot more n’ you’ll admit.”
“He’s a client, Charlie,” Al replied, “It ain’t gonna happen.”
“How many times you said that in yer life?” the bartender rebutted gently, “’s how you wound up on my doorstep six years ago, if I recall.”
“An’ Ah was wrong den too! If Ah’d had de sense God gave a goat, Ah’d’ve jus’ sworn off men right den an’ dere!”
“Since when’s that ever stopped you?”
“Since Ah grew up, Charlie.”
Alex looked over at the bartender with such a sad look of wistful longing and heartbreak that it wrenched at Charlie’s heart to see it.
“Ah always thought love was de grandest thing on Earth. Dat was de thing dat made life worth livin’. What dey don’ tell you is love hurts, too. Life’s harsh an’ sometimes, love’s jus’ too delicate a thing t’survive.”
“I know yer grievin’, Kid. That don’t mean ya gotta give up.”
“Charlie, be realistic!” Alex shot, “Even if Dan and Ah were dat compatible, we’re from two different worlds. Literally. It wouldn’t work. ‘Sides, it’s bad form t’get involved with a client. Makes de business look bad.”
Attempting to change the subject, she added,
“De hospital called Kevan right after y’all were admitted. He should be here within a couple o’ hours.”
“I know my son’ll get here as soon as he can,” Charlie said, “Don’t try t’avoid this, Al. It ain’t healthy for ya.”
“Neither is leavin’ mah heart open f’one more loss, one more scar dat’ll never heal. Mah heart ain’t strong enough f’dis anymore, Charlie. Ah’ve got more important things t’worry about den de next person who’s gonna leave me cryin.’”
The bartender simply shook his head sadly.
“You can be more stubborn than Linn sometimes, an’ that’s sayin’ a lot,” he muttered softly.
“She sure can,” said a cheery voice from the doorway.
Both Charlie and Alex spun to see who the speaker was, then broke out in wide grins as two young women entered the room. The woman who had spoken was African American with pale, well cared for skin for that race, dark, luminous, chocolate brown eyes with long, soft lashes, and straight, thick, black hair that fell elegantly to just past her shoulder blades. She was five six and appeared to be in her early twenties with lush lips and soft cheekbones. Her long limbed figure was clad in a tight, black leather catsuit and her long, nimble hands were planted at her hips, a big grin on her face, as she regarded her best friend. She was beautiful and she knew it.
The woman who followed her was as sharp a contrast to her as could possibly be. Though they shared the same height and age, the resemblance and any similarity between them ended there. The other young woman was fair-skinned, pale as milk, with a spray of tiny freckles across her nose and cheeks, which were much more delicately formed than those of her companion. Her nose was also a bit smaller and straighter, almost haughty, but the woman did not carry herself with such an air. Her hair brushed just past her shoulders, hanging straight most of the way before springing into large, soft, yet wild curls, and was the vivid red/orange of an open flame. She wore a light blouse of palest, vivid blue that only served to bring out the blue in her unusual eyes, which were a startling, bright teal the color of deep Carribean water, and a simple, elegant navy blue skirt. Along with sensible pumps in a matching shade of navy, some light make up, and neutral colored pantyhose, she was a marked contrast to her more aggressively dressed cohort. While her companion had a lean, attractive, lithe, and athletic figure, this paler skinned person had more curvature and seemed more slender at first glance. She moved with an unconscious grace that the African American woman didn’t bother to imitate, eschewing that for a more free and light step. Both women broke out into delighted grins at the sight of Charlie and rushed over to see him.
“Hey, Charlie, howya doin’?” asked the darker skinned woman, giving him a light hug.
“Better,” he said, “I just wish these damn doctors’d leave me alone, though. What are you an’ Lyra up to today?”
“Comin’ here t’see you, of course!” the woman replied, then, turning to Alex, she grinned.
“Hey, Al! How’s it goin’? You manage t’spring that hot little number from jail yet?”
“Oh, please, y’all ain’t even met Dan an’ y’all’re already hittin’ on ‘im,” Al muttered, rolling her eyes.
The woman merely laughed.
“Looks like Sarah’s right,” she said, “This boy must be some pretty slick piece o’work t’have you all up in a huff like that.”
“Y’all’re dreamin’!” Al shot, irritated that she was being so easily read.
At her vehement protest, both women merely shot each other a look, then smiled, which only served to peak Alex’s ire more.
“Ah hate it when Sarah pulls this crap, Ah don’t need it from you too, Angie!”
The African American woman merely looked at her friend and laughed.
“Fine, we’ll play it your way,” she said, “We came t’tell you O’Brian an’ Landen been lookin’ fer the guys that did this but they ain’t found nothin’ yet. They playin’ it real cool too. I can’t get nothin’ out them boys ‘bout who they lookin’ for or nothin’.”
“So, ‘dere officially on de case, huh?” Alex prompted.
Angie nodded briefly.
“Not that they’re in a sharing mood or anything,” she scoffed.
“’Dat’s alright,” Al said, sighing, “We got our own investigation t’deal with an’ a client that need us.”
Angie’s cavalier smile returned.
“So, what he look like? He as hot as Sarah says he is?”
Alex gave her friend a scathing look to which Angie replied,
“Please, girlfriend, I know you better than that! Is he a hottie or what?”
Reluctantly, Al’s face softened a bit into a smile and she nodded. The woman then proceeded to recall all of the events that had transpired, including Dan’s handsomeness, agility, and general demeanor, all the while being vehement in her denial that she had any interest in the stranded elf beyond normal human sympathy for his plight and compassion.
Landen, sitting near the door, caught some of the conversation and smiled, rolling his eyes, and went back to reading his comic. He glanced up briefly from his newspaper, then paused, as he saw a group of individuals heading towards the nurse’s station at the end of the hall. Keeping himself calm, unassuming, and as alert as possible, Landen fingered the walkie talkie at his side and prepared to call for reinforcements.
The group of people paused briefly at the station. The nurse on duty greeted them with a polite smile then shook her head, politely but firmly, at something one of the men said. Something angry seemed to come from the individual she was talking to and the nurse frowned, her face deepening rapidly towards a scowl. Suddenly, and violently, one of the younger men in the group pushed his way rudely past the young nurse, striding with arrogant confidence towards Charlie’s room. The nurse squawked indignantly as the people pushed past and rushed to the phone at her station, trying to get word to the hospital security.
Landen, meanwhile, simply pushed the button on his walkie and radioed for backup.
“Stevens, you’d better call reinforcements now,” he said softly, “An’ get yer ass over here. We got ourselves a situation.”
He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and assumed an incorrigible smile not a moment before the angry mob of people was standing right before him.
“Somethin’ I can help you guys with?” he asked jovially, his cocky grin in overtime.
“You can move out of our way,” the leader replied nastily.
“Sorry, pardner, no can do,” Landen said jauntily, “Care t’try again?”
“Get out of our way!” another yelled.
“Not gonna happen.”
“You just gonna stand there and protect that freak lover?” a woman out of the crowd yelled and Landen froze.
All of the good humor leeched out of his face and he fixed the speaker and her crowd with a look so cold they all nearly turned and fled right then.
“That “freak lover” happens t’be a friend o’ mine,” Landen said icily, any traces of humor completely gone, “He’s a good man an’ if you punks wanna make an issue out of it, be my guest. Wouldn’t recommend it, though.”
Subtly, the detective reached down and displayed his gun and badge, fixing each and every one of the people in the crowd in turn with his level gaze.
“Now pay attention, people, ‘cuz I’m only gonna say this once,” he said, “This badge and this gun mean if you try anything stupid, you’ll be goin’ t’jail for assaulting an officer. I’m not joking an’ I don’t give second chances. You walk or you pay. Simple as that.”
“How can you defend someone who harbors those abominations?” a young lady from the crowd demanded.
“’Cause those abominations ye be talkin’ about’re human too,” came a reply from the other side of the door.
Landen smiled at the sound of the think Scotch/Irish brogue and relaxed a little as Lyra came to stand beside him. The redhead’s face was a dark storm cloud of fury and she folded her arms, glowering at the angry mob.
“They don’t look human t’me, lady!” one of the men shouted and was immediately quieted by the look of pure disgust on the woman’s face.
“I don’t know ‘bout you, girlfriend, but that sound like an insult t’me,” Angie called, coming to stand beside Lyra.
“Yeah, tell me ‘bout it,” Alexandra said, joining the group as well, “Ah always thought we all looked pretty normal. If Ah was y’all, Ah’d be pretty pissed.”
The smile that had been growing on Landen’s face grew in proportion to the smirk on Alex’s as he saw all three women barricading the door to Charlie’s room and folding their arms. They meant business and Landen could only hope the crowd realized they meant it.
“You ladies packin’?” the officer asked casually.
“Always,” Angie replied, “A girl can’t be too careful nowadays.”
“Permits and licenses?”
“Good t’go, sugah,” Al responded, smooth as honey, “You jus’ give de word an’ we back you up.”
“Cool, lock an’ load, ladies,” Landen replied.
All three women made a very nice display of cocking their weapons and placing them back in their holsters, each with their own little flourish, and Landen glanced back at the crowd, smiling.
“Let me break this down for you,” he said, “These ladies’re fully armed detectives. They aren’t police but they have licenses, permits, an’ my permission t’shoot the first one o’ you stupid enough t’try an’ hurt our buddy in there. Go home. Now.”
“You freak lovers too?” a man in the crowd demanded incredulously, looking Alex, Angie, and Lyra up and down.
“Honey, we are the freaks,” Alexandra said sunnily, “Now be a good boy an’ do what dis nice officer tells ya.”
Landen suppressed a groan as an angry mutter went through the crowd and hunkered down, ready in case the crowd decided to rush them. Suddenly, from around the corner, a small group of men in suits with sunglasses and badges came striding around the corner, purposeful looks on their faces and guns drawn. They strode up through the crowd and the mob parted like water around them, as if uncertain of what to do next. The leader of the crew, a stern looking man in a charcoal gray suit strode up to Landen and presented his badge.
“Agent Smith, FBI,” he said, “Backup is on the way and we have the situation under control. This is now our jurisdiction and anyone not complying with our wishes will wish they had never been born.”
Landen didn’t know whether to laugh or groan. As much as he hated the Feds, at least their timing was impeccable. Before he could express any kind of gratitude or complaint, however, the young man identifying himself as an agent turned and raised his arm, pointing something at Landen. There was a loud, sharp bang and Landen gasped, as fierce pain exploded in his chest. He barely heard the girls scream or saw the small trickle of blood that was pouring down. He simply slumped to the floor in an unmoving heap, as the man who had shot him glanced over at the women, cold and calculating as he tried to size them up.
Alex never even thought to reach for her guns. She just leapt for the gunman without thinking, her body instantly going into takedown mode. Launching herself into him with all her weight, she rode the assailant hard to the ground and pinned him as fast as she could. Turning her head only slightly, she called back to the girls,
“Plastic gun,” she said, “Be careful. Dere might be more o’dem!”
Gripping the man’s arms, Alex began to attempt to manuver the man beneath her into an arm bar to prevent him from getting up. To her surprise, the man struggled and wriggled like a snake, nearly bucking her off, as he strained to reach his hands down into the pockets at his sides. Al wrestled with the man viciously, trying to gain the upper hand and prevent him from drawing a weapon but he was just too strong and too determined. In a quick flash of motion, his hand came up, slicing towards Al’s neck, and the Latina reached out just in time to grip his wrist and twist it painfully before the blade in his hand could connect with her throat. The knife was oddly shaped and didn’t shine the way a normal blade would. As Al battled to remove it from the attacker’s hand, he made a sudden lurch and the woman was pitched forward onto the floor.
In a heartbeat, the man was on top of Alex, pinning her down and the woman snapped her arms up, barely stopping the crude blade as it came down towards her. The knife was balanced inches above her face and Alex groaned with the effort of keeping the man at bay. There was suddenly a loud explosion that seemed to rock the whole floor and the other two Sirens, Lyra and Angie, paused, where they had been about to engage the other members of the mob, startled. The man straining above Al grinned, teeth shining, in a cold, hard smirk, as he looked down at her.
“That’s the signal,” he called, “Tear them apart!”
Alex’s eyes grew wide as she saw the mob arm itself with knives, guns, scalpels, and surgery implements from out of nowhere, chrome, steel, ceramic, and plastic all coming to bear with deadly force. Lyra and Angie drew their guns and assumed a guard position around Landen, while Alex frantically clawed at her assailant. The man, however, just grinned down at her.
“You’re finished, freak!”
“Ah think not,” Al replied silkily.
With all her strength, the detective brought her knee up hard into the attacker’s groin and pressed up with all her might. The man above her yelped and Alex’s fist flew into his jaw, as he dropped off to the side, collapsing into a little ball. Al shoved him as far away from her as possible and kipped up onto her feet with blinding speed and drew both her pistols, a pair of silver plated Browning Louis IVX models, from their thigh holsters. Aiming high and weapons in hand, Alex charged into the fight, spinning hard into a whirling round kick that sent a man careening into the nearest wall. He hit his head hard enough to make a small dent in the wall and collapsed, sinking to the floor, as Al rejoined her companions.
“Divide and conquer, girls, y’all know the drill,” Al said softly and the other two women nodded, each picking out their targets.
The first man that came rushing at Al with a scalpel received a vicious kick to the face and the woman immediately noticed that the quarters were getting a bit too close to try using guns. Someone was going to get hurt. With a quick, practiced flip, Al’s guns were holstered again, safety locked, and she had a hold of her attacker’s arm. She wrenched once, viciously, and felt his elbow give way as he screamed in pain.
Lyra and Angie both fought viciously, kicking, clawing, and punching at their assailants, though Lyra was somewhat hampered by her heels, which she quickly used to crack an opponent over the head, continuing the fight barefoot. Alex meanwhile, was finally able to corner the man who had started the whole brawl. She faced him squarely but he turned tail and ran, giving her an impudent grin as he did so.
Cursing viciously in Spanish, Alexandra gave chase, barreling up the stairs after the perpetrator. He was very nimble and agile of foot but Alex spent at least two days a week jogging and one day a week running up and down stairs at the local stadium. She was able to gain on him quickly and caught up with him just as he shot out of a door at the top of the stairs and onto the smoker’s balcony. The open air, bright light, noise, and blue sky was a jolt to the system after the sterile quiet of the hospital but the recovery was swift.
Alex wasted no time in leaping madly at him, knocking him flat to the ground and coming down hard with her fist. The man blocked the shot but just barely. He was winded from the running and starting to show the strain. He put all his strength into one final heave and Alex tumbled off him just far enough that he staggered to his feet. He was swaying and unable to focus but he was upright. Alex brought him down with a quick kick to the face and threw him roughly on his back, pinning his arms behind him.
As she finally wrestled the last of his resistance from him, the door to the smoker’s balcony crashed open and Lyra, Angie, and about five officers came spilling out. Lyra was favoring her left leg a little from the rush up the stairs and Angie appeared to have a tear in the sleeves of her catsuit but they were both fine and looked over at Al concerned.
“You alright?” Angie called.
“Fine,” Alex said, as the officers came forward to read her attacker his rights and handcuff him, “Everything alright?”
“We got ‘em all,” Angie replied, “The officers showed up just in time. Landen’s in bad shape but they got ‘em sedated and the doc’s lookin’ at ‘em right now. We should know soon what’s goin’ on.”
“Any word on who dey are or how dey did this?” Alex asked.
“Nae,” Lyra said, shaking her head, “but me cousin’s in trouble! I heard the officer’s talkin’. Linn’s place’s under attack! O’Brian’s on his way there now!”
Alex’s eyes grew wide in panic.
“Dan and Sarah are there, too!” she gasped, “You an’ Angie help the police guard Landen an’ Charlie ‘til this’s all sorted out. Ah gotta go help them!”
“but Al!-” Lyra gasped.
Before they could say a word, Alexandra had already turned and rushed for the edge of the balcony. The officers saw what she intended and tried to stop her but the woman leapt nimbly over the edge, like an eagle taking flight, and plunged into the air seven stories above the ground. Angie just put out a hand to stop them and smiled, as she saw Alex swoop up and soar like a bird, without the aid of wings or props, and blast off into the air, literally flying as smoothly as a jet plane. The officers all stared openly, unprepared for the sight of the mutant flying away and when they glanced over at Angie, she just shrugged.
“That’s our Al for ya.”

3.

Danthias came to quicker than he had expected. Blinking, he was on his feet in a moment and glanced around, cautiously sizing up the situation. The fight had only progressed slightly and he could see that Sarah Lee was standing in front of him, viciously fending off any attackers that would have jumped him while he was unconscious. Cammo man was several paces away, nursing what looked like a compound fracture in his arm.
“Nice work,” Dan commented, readying his bow.
“It is the least he deserved,” Sarah replied, not taking her eyes off her current opponent and not even breaking a sweat as she sent a vicious kick to his ribs, “Are you alright?”
“My throat feels like it’s on fire but I’ll be fine,” he said, releasing an arrow that connected solidly with Cammo Man’s foot and sent him screaming curses to the ground.
Suddenly, there came a violent scream from the house and, as Dan’s head whipped around in that direction, Linnelle’s face paled.
“Jenny!” she gasped.
The trio looked up to see the front door of the house wide open and a young man in fatigues dragging Jennifer, screaming and struggling, from the house with a gun pressed to her head. Dan’s eyes narrowed down in anger and Linn snarled like a cat, shoving all her current opponents away in a bid to reach her step-sister.
“You let her go,” Linn hissed, “or I’ll be makin’ ye sorry ye were ever born!”
“One move and she’s dead,” the man responded, clicking back the hammer.
Linnelle, Dan, and Sarah all froze, each carefully considering the situation. After a moment, they all slowly began to disarm, too concerned for Jenny’s welfare to really care about the outcome of the fight. Before they could even make a move or decide, for sure, what course of action to take next, a golden blonde colored streak shot out from the open door, tearing across the lawn to where Jenny was being held captive. As the group watched on, stunned, Max leapt at the man who was holding Jenny and attached himself to the man’s arm, chomping down and snarling for all he was worth. The man quickly let go of Jennifer and reached around, attempting to get a good angle for a shot at the dog. Max twisted and jerked, putting more pressure on the man’s wound to make it harder for him, while Jenny frantically scrambled around in her pockets. The blonde quickly came out with a small, black device in her hand and pressed it directly into the back of the man’s neck. Dan could smell a flash of ozone and saw a small blue arc hit the man squarely. The man screamed once, then dropped at Jenny’s feet like a stone hitting water. The blonde gave everyone the quick thumb’s up, then grinned. Max yipped a little, as a small bit of the electricity jumped to him as well, then settled by Jenny’s side, ready for anything.
Danthias was about to suggest the blonde move out of the line of fire when another camoflage dressed assailant suddenly grafted onto Jenny from behind, several of his friends moving up to back him. Jennifer wriggled and jerked, screaming, as she tried to get loose. Three things happened then in a blinding flash. Sarah leapt forward, aiming one of the most vicious jump kicks Dan had ever seen straight at the head of the man holding Jenny, Danthias himself sent an arrow straight into the leg of the man right behind the leader, and Linnelle triggered her wards.
The elf had seen magic countless times on his world, watched priestesses, clerics, paladins, mages, druids, and sorcerers of all kinds weave their spells and incantations but he had never seen anything like what Linn Cassidy did then. There was no command word spoken, no rite, no chanting, and no flashy display of power. The woman simply closed her eyes for a moment and Dan felt a tingle start up his spine, the kind of thing meant to raise hair on the back of the neck. The air became thick and heavy, hard to breathe, as the witch focused her will.
The attackers all of a sudden paled, as if they had seen a ghost, or taken suddenly ill, each one obviously struggling violently to remain upright and in control of their own faculties. Some of them had taken on a decidedly greenish hue and Linn smiled at them almost sweetly, a look of pure venom in her eyes.
“Ye should nae ‘ave come here,” she said softly, “an’ ye should know better than t’threaten a witch an’ her kin in their own home!”
Then, in a violent surge of motion, Linn dropped into a crouch and placed her hands upon the earth. Danthias had seen a circle of protection many times but never expected to see one actually manifest on Earth. It was like blue waves of electricity just suddenly formed around Linn, arcing out in a fifty foot radius from where she knelt, pelting back anyone the Fae witch did not want near her. The power actually bled over into the visible spectrum, a bright, almost white, blue as Linn’s will and power gathered. Then, with a cry that could put fear into the heart of any sane man, the woman let loose her will and a bright streak of pure, vibrant green energy shot from where she knelt. The earth itself trembled, shaking violently and rocking to and fro, the mini earthquake surging outward toward Linn’s enemies. As Danthias watched her, the woman’s aura bled over into the visible spectrum, the same green as the grass and earth at her feet. Her eyes were glowing like twin jade jewels and it seemed as though moonlight had been thrust under her pale skin. Her blood red hair billowed around her like rubies and garnets tossed carelessly in the wind and when she spoke, it was with a power that Danthias knew and feared, that of the true Fae.
“Attackin’ one o’ the Tuatha de Danu is folly,” she hissed, “Ye fools should well have remembered that.”
The men and women who were left trembled and whimpered, as the very earth at their feet seemed to rise up to thwart them and vines of clinging ivy, seemingly from out of nowhere, rose to entangle their legs and hamper their arms in a vise-like grip. Several tried to struggle to no avail and Dan could smell fear and defeat emanating off of them in waves. The heart had gone straight out of them. The elf turned to congratulate Linn, then stopped in mid-motion, as the sound of marching feet reached his overly keen ears.
Following the sound, the elf jerked towards a little used side street that let out onto Linn’s avenue and stared, as what appeared to be nearly thirty armed men and women marched straight out of the alley and directly towards Linnelle’s house. They were all dressed similarly to Cammo Man and the elf mentally cursed himself for celebrating too soon. Before the Dwarven curse on his lips could actually vocalize itself, however, there were fully automatic rifles and machine guns pointed at the four defenders and, while Danthias was not familiar with guns, hating them as a rule, he knew when numbers simply overwhelmed all odds. Very slowly putting his hands into the air and cursing again at his own helplessness, Dan prepared himself for the worst.
The elf quickly began plotting various escape scenarios in his head but none of them looked pretty. Just when he was about to go into one of his more desperate idea modes, a large gout of fire erupted from the sky, seeming to split the ground at the feet of the invaders. The orderly assailants quailed and faltered, as the first rush of heat and searing flame rushed up to meet them. Dan glanced quickly at the sky and smiled at what he saw.
Alexandra Lee was flying, hovering above the enemies in mid-air, flames still dancing about her fingertips as she grinned down at her enemies.
“Now, now, y’all play nice!” she tsked, reaching her hand back and actually lobbing a small ball of flame directly into the center of the crowd.
Several of the mob screamed in panic and ducked out of the way, as the sound of sirens filled the air. Grinning the Southern belle looked back at Dan and winked.
“The cavalry has arrived,” she chimed merrily.
“Ye’re lucky it won’t take long fer me t’regrow that grass!” Linn shouted up, “I’d make ye pay t’replant it if me magic weren’t enough t’do the trick!”
Not taking their eyes off the threat that remained, Dan, Al, Linn, Jenny, and Sarah all assumed what they hoped were impressive poses, as red and blue flashing lights suddenly surrounded the house. Out of nowhere, policemen appeared, lead by a dark skinned woman in a black catsuit and a red head that looked eerily like Linn. In a sudden fevered rush, all the criminals who had gathered instantly scattered to the four winds as fast as they could. One man tossed a smoke grenade and was followed by several others, until the lawn of Linn’s house was a Fae twilight of mist. Try as they might, the police were only able to catch one or two suspects, as they began to disappear into the fog, melting away as if they had never been.
As the police were wrapping up booking those criminals they had been able to catch, the two unfamiliar women sauntered up to Al, big grins on their faces.
“Nice exit there, Al, we almost couldn’t catch ya,” the dark skinned woman quipped and Alex broke out into a big grin.
Seeing both women eying Dan curiously, Alex took the opportunity to very quickly introduce him. The African American woman with the diamond eyes and thousand dollar grin was Angela Hawk and the woman who looked eerily like Linn turned out to be her cousin, Lyra Kelley. At first, Dan could see why he had mistaken her for Linn at a distance but then noted all the differences there were in appearance. Lyra was only five six, a full inch shorter than her cousin, though you couldn’t tell it with her heels on. Her hair was much shorter, barely shoulder length, and a much paler, more natural shade of red and her curls were somewhat looser. Her eyes were slightly thinner and had a slight blue tinge to them, her lips were paler and somewhat thinner, and she had that spray of freckles across her face. She also appeared smaller, more demure in build, demeanor, and stature. She had long, manicured nails, and dressed in skirts, like a professional businesswoman, unlike Linn in her tunic style shirt and pants. Lyra also seemed much more softspoken and more ladylike and her brogue had more of a Scottish lilt to it than an Irish.
Danthias spent several moments chatting with the two women, as the blaring sirens that announced the arrival of the EMT’s commenced. Despite his horrible protests, Alex, Sarah, and Linn all wrangled Dan into letting the med-techs examine him. When he and all his friends were given the all clear, the weretiger, sighed, stretched and turned to Sarah, who was just heading his way from a conversation with Linn and Jenny.
“Looks like the fun’s over,” he commented casually.
Sarah fixed the elf with a penetrating, fathomless stare that said she was seeing things the lycanthrope could not even hope to comprehend. Her face pulled itself into a sad, knowing smile and she shook her head gently.
“No, Danthias, you are wrong,” the telepath said softly, “I think this has all just begun.”

4.

- New Orleans -

The sounds of Ella Fritzgerald drifted softly through the air, the queen of scat just doing her thing, as the vampire lounged lazily by his computer. Old and technophobic as he was, the man had to admit that some of these modern conveniences were damned useful.
He glanced indolently at the screen, only half paying attention to the data flitting across, blue eyes half closed and crooning along with Ella, tapping away at his keyboard. Then he suddenly stopped mid-verse and sat straight up, staring, unbelieving, at what he saw. The vampire blinked twice, rubbing his eyes, then stared intently to confirm what it was he was reading. After several moments of confirming current reports and double checking his information, he reached for the phone next to his computer and hit a single button. The other end was picked up after only one ring.
“Get the boss. Now.”
He hung up as soon as his terse message was delivered and went back to his data, feverishly making sure that he had not erred somehow. Within moments, the vampire felt the unnatural presence of another, much more powerful, vampire fill the room. The younger vamp cringed, moaned, and shuddered violently at the approach of his Master, as a profound unease settled over him, a foul miasma that stole his breath and his will, like a weight on his chest. The Master of the City had arrived. As he struggled to recompose himself, the elder vampire glided into the room on silent cat feet, radiating all the stillness and death that five centuries of undeath could grant.
“What is it, Edward?” the elder vamp demanded, smooth, scathing, cultured French tones like a whip, “Nicolette was rather upset about your rude summons. This had better be good.”
“Nicolette can be as snippy as she wants,” Edward said casually, stifling down the urge to remind his boss to call him Zane, his chosen moniker, “I’ve found her, Master.”
The elder vampire went deathly still, the way only the really old vampires could and regarded Zane intensely, his gaze a veritable dagger. The younger vampire squirmed and writhed uncomfortably under that gaze. Every vampire in the city owed this man fealty, especially those that had been Sired by him, and he was the type to make sure his presence was felt. It certainly didn’t help that Zane felt like a country cousin standing next to him. With his bare feet, faded, ripped jeans, wrinkled and sloppy white button up shirt, and wild, short, black hair, he knew he didn’t even rate in the same category with his Master, yet it still ticked Zane off to no end that the SOB could come storming into his lab and pull this whenever he wanted.
“Are you certain?” was the Master’s only response.
Zane nodded, knowing full well what would happen if he should lie to his boss.
“She’s still in New York, like you thought,” the younger vamp said, “We widened the search to fit the perameters you suggested and set surveillance in motion. She’s used several aliases over the years but all her important information is registered under her real name. Everything is going almost exactly as you predicted it.”
The older vampire did not waste a moment. With a curt nod of his head, he spun on his heels and headed for the door. He paused only once to call out to Zane over his shoulder.
“Have Nicolette prepare my private jet,” he said, “She won’t be escaping this time.”

5.

Lady de Wynter sat in her favorite chair, gazing out at the star strewn night, her mind far away, pondering the events of the day and how close she had come to the headsman’s block. It felt good just to revel in her freedom and know that she had somehow managed to avoid that fate. It was not long before her thoughts were interrupted by a polite knock, one authoritative rap, and then silence. A small smile etched its way into the Lady’s features.
“Come,” she called simply.
The door swung open noiselessly and a large, lithe figure made its way into the room, closing the door behind them. The man padded silently over to where the Lady sat and stood by her side at attention, patiently waiting to be acknowledged.
“Is it done?” Anya asked.
“Aye, Milady,” came the reply, short and to the point.
“Andarius, I do hope you haven’t been up to anything illegal,” the priestess scolded teasingly.
“Nothing that will hold up in court,” came the modest reply.
“I am still somewhat amazed that you managed to sway the jury the way you did,” the Lady commented, “That was brilliant, even for you.”
“My Lady is too kind,” Andarius said, bowing his head a little, “I merely did what had to be done. You would be surprised how far a few veiled threats and a little bit of money can go in this city. Seems a few of the jurors feared for their family’s lives and would rather take a bribe than risk being visited by you or I.”
“Imagine that,” Anya murmured, a slow smile spreading across her face.
For a moment, she simply allowed herself to bask in the freedom that she had so newly acquired and then she stood.
“Have you alerted those of your Order, as I requested?” she asked.
“Yes, Milady,” he said, “They await only your command.”
“Good, I need them and as many others as will come at the next esbat,” Anya replied, “I sense that something very monumental is about to happen and I want to be ready in case that something isn’t what I hope it is.”
Andarius bowed shortly.
“It shall be done, Milady.”
Satisfied with his response, the Lady stared out into the dark night for a moment more, then turned back to her grim companion.
“Come, Andarius,” she said, “There is much to be done.”
Andarius inclined his head in acquiescence and fell wordlessly in behind the Lady as she exited the room. Behind them, there was nothing but shadow and the boom of distant thunder, a deadly storm on the horizon.