Blood Rage, page 31
Meanwhile, Rayne is at my side, gently pulling my hair away from my dripping mouth. “You’re going to be fine,” she murmurs. “We’ll protect you, just this once. Will you let us?”
One more horrible heave and I’m able to stand.
Gasping, I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand and look at the people gathered before me. Werewolves, vampires, goblins, humans, and gargoyles. Well it’s certainly a powerful bunch of people.
All that edane energy in the air is enough to allow even me to feel it.
And there’s a witch, to boot.
Maybe, just maybe…
No. I stamp it down again. Hope is dangerous. I can’t allow it.
But as Rayne stares deep into my face, her eyes swimming with emotion, I don’t have the heart to deny her.
“Tell me what to do,” I murmur.
And so she does.
Quickly, Rayne takes me through the open space, explaining, with help from Fiona, what they intend to do.
I learn that Fiona has been cleansing the ground and the air as much as possible with a fine mix of clove, sage, rosemary, and cedar all ground into powder. Quite unlike her fake mixtures back in Moarwell, the stuff mixed into her tin smells wonderful and brings a strange stillness and ethereal quality to the air. Next, she sets out little pots of the stuff to burn in a loose, lopsided circle around us. The gentle curls of smoke drifting into the air are like white snakes winding towards the clouds.
Fiona shows me the space at the centre of the circle in which she intends to sit with me.
“It should be fairly simple,” she says, though her voice hitches just a little. “Tina will cast the circle and mark out the five points to evoke the elements. That should help to protect people on the outside. You and I will sit in the centre and, under the protection of those gathered, draw out the entity.”
“Is that it?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know how much more you want. There won’t be flashing lights, bangs, crashes, and an air full of sparkles if that’s what you mean. But I’m sure you’ll feel something.”
“Like what?”
Her hands tremble slightly. “Perhaps some pain, physical and emotional. This thing, after all, has quite a grip on you, child. Maybe you’ll feel nothing.”
“How will we know if it works?”
“Your mark will be gone, I assume.”
Despite myself, I find my hands reaching towards my back. “But it’s in my skin—how will it disappear? It’s like a tattoo or a brand or a burn.”
“But it isn’t a true part of you. The creature that put it there intended it as a marker. If we remove the marker, the master will have nowhere to go, so it makes sense to me that the marks will be gone.”
I lower my face to my hands. “You don’t actually know, do you?”
“I have no idea.” Her admission seems hard-pressed. “I’ve read a lot over the last day or so, and nothing there indicates that anyone has attempted something like this. The decision was always to sacrifice the infected person and leave the overall problem to the next psychic to come along. If I can help it, I intend to solve the problem, so no one else need make such a horrible choice.”
Fine. The quicker we do all this, the quicker it’s over and we realise there’s nothing more to be done. The one saving grace to all this is that I’ll get to spend my last night with Rayne.
She tucks her hand into mine, as if to think of her is to call her to me. Her body is tight to mine, a cool presence I want to fall into and hold on to forever.
“I’ll sit in the circle with you. You won’t be alone.”
“No.” Fiona cuts across that thought immediately. “You’ll need to be on the outside of the circle where it is safest.”
A frown. “I thought—”
“No. Only she and I will be in the circle.”
Rayne is ready to fight—I can see it in her eyes. “How can I help from out there? What if the creature comes in? What if it attacks? What if Danika needs to be restrained?”
“And what if I turn around and attack people?” I shoot back. “This is hard enough as is, and we don’t know what we’re doing. Can we at least follow the few rules we have?”
Her complaints are cut off by a roar from up the hill. It’s Maury, revving his motorcycle as he makes his way down, cutting a smooth curve in the gravel and dirt by slamming the brakes. He spies me but doesn’t stop, instead crossing the crowded space to make his way to Noel. I have no idea what the pair are saying, but the sight of him does give me pause to stop and look around.
Kappa. Many werewolves from various packs. Civvie bashers, SPEAR agents, and new acquaintances from Moarwell. But there are two obvious faces I can’t yet see.
“Rayne, where is Pip?”
She glances away, up the hill, before answering. “On her way. She and Jackson needed to make one last stop before coming out.”
“Are we going to wait for her?”
Fiona stalks by me then, carrying a bundle of candles and a small knife with a black handle.
Rayne sighs. “I don’t think we have time. As it is, we don’t know how long this will take, and at the least I’ll need to be under cover before sunrise.”
Well. If there is any risk at all that she will be stuck out here without shelter when this pointless task flops, I won’t stand for it. I make my way to the centre of the circle at once and face Fiona. “What do you want me to do?”
“Take your shirt off,” she says without looking at me. “I need to be able to see your back.”
Oh. Yay. So I’m going to be sitting in the middle of a circle of my co-workers and various allies showing off my bra, am I? Great. Just great.
The air isn’t as cold as I expected it to be. Maybe it’s the season, or maybe it’s the fact that I’m in the middle of a circle full of so many warm bodies. Werewolves run hot as a matter of course, but everybody else seems to be a normal level of warm. Except for Rayne, of course. She stands in an area of the circle that allows me to see her, her arms slightly spread to touch her fingers to those on either side—Noel and Maury.
Around me is everybody else, all the werewolves, my Kappa team, the small cluster of friendly faces from Moarwell, other members of SPEAR, Shakka too. The circle they form is tight and wonky but clearly a ring around me and Fiona, who sits in front of me with her legs lightly crossed.
I join her, my back itching with cold.
I can’t see the mark, of course, but now, more than ever before, I imagine I can feel it brushing against the straps of the bra Fiona mercifully allowed me to keep on.
Not that some of these people wouldn’t enjoy the show.
High above, clouds scudding across the moon occasionally change the light from a bright silver glow to the warmer, more orange tones of the electric lamps posing as flaming torches. Somewhere an owl hoots, and I catch sight of several bats winging through the darkness.
On any other day, at any other time, this might have been calm and peaceful. I imagine campfires built where I’m sitting right now and cheerful faces gathered around the flickering light to sing camp songs and roast marshmallows.
Pacing out her steps, Tina walks around me, shoving candles into the earth. More than once they fall, and she is forced to jam them in harder, packing the dirt around them with her feet and hands. Five in total, evenly spaced.
Then, knife in hand, she paces over to the inner edge of the circle and holds the blade high towards the sky.
“Is everyone ready?”
No. I want to yell it, scream it, but the determined looks from those gathered around me keep my lips pressed tightly closed.
Tina begins to walk clockwise around the inside of the circle. Not slow or even rushed, just at a casual walking pace as she gestures with the blade.
“A circle of protection,” she calls, “is a simple thing. We draw on our own energies to make a safe space into which we pour our intent. So that is what we’re going to do. I’ll mark the circle with my athame”—she gestures with the knife—“and all you need do is direct your intent to our safety and protection. Whatever we call out of Agent Karson tonight stays within that circle. And whatever interference may come from our side? Well, that stays out.”
Oh. I never considered that someone from the outside might cause problems. But then who? Surely there’s no one out there who even knows where we are, much less would come with intent to disturb us. Right?
There are some nods and murmurs of assent from those gathered around us.
“The rest of our intent”—she makes more patterns with the knife—“is to be focused on expelling negative energies.”
I hear a scoff from somewhere on my right. That might be from Shakka.
Tina rides right over him, though not without a stern look in his direction. “Whether you believe it or not, we are all powerful beings. Our will and our place in nature give us far more strength and power than any of us realise. And with enough of us gathered in one place, we have a good chance of providing enough energy to enforce our will.”
A chill breeze whips through the space. I shudder into it and fight to put aside thoughts of whispering voices predicting our failure.
“Feel free to call on whatever deity or deities you feel most comfortable with. I’ll be calling on the Triple Goddess.”
My head reels. I’ve never heard of that before. Sure, despite my Christian upbringing, I know full well that there are other deities some folk would consider their one and only. Or that there are multiples that people refer to, depending on what they need that day. There are those who believe in one, all, and none, all at the same time. Faith and everything related to it is almost as complicated as my day-to-day job, but the idea that anybody can draw on any belief to help is bewildering.
In front of me, Fiona closes her eyes and begins murmuring. I’ve no idea who or what she’s calling to, though I’m pretty sure I catch the word ancestor in there more than once.
Still Tina keeps walking, gesturing with the knife, which I now know is called an athame. “In the north,” she calls, “I call on the Guardians who reside in earth to watch over this circle.”
More breeze and I rub my hands up and down my bare arms.
“In the east, I call on the Guardians who reside in air to watch over this circle.”
A faint smell fills my nostrils. I’ve no idea what it is or where it comes from, but it is pleasant, like flowers or candied fruit peels.
“In the south, I call on the Guardians who reside in fire to watch over this circle.” Tina is moving slightly faster now, her arms making broader motions. Her forehead is creased with concentration, her free hand held before her with the palm down, like a guide. “In the west, I call on the Guardians who reside in water to watch over this circle.”
The ground beneath my rear rumbles and grumbles. Something large and heavy must be passing by on the road beyond the campsite if I can feel it so easily.
But now the air is very still and very quiet. Even the owl I heard earlier is gone.
As Tina makes her way back to the empty space in the circle, her voice rises higher and louder. “And last, I call on the Guardians who reside over spirit, the powerful force nestled deep in each of us. Under the watchful eye of the Guardians and in the sight of the Triple Goddess, bless and seal this circle.”
And that’s it.
As Tina takes her place and faces inward with the rest of us, I see nothing. I feel nothing.
Even Rayne, standing directly ahead of me, looks confused, glancing left and right as if to find something new or out of place.
But Fiona…Fiona sits across from me with her eyes wide open, her injured hands pressed flat to the earth, her head thrown back. Her breathing is fast and shallow, and even as I watch, sweat breaks out on her brow.
“Do you feel that?” she whispers.
I look left. Then right. “Me?”
“Tell me you feel it.”
I give an apologetic shrug. “Nothing. Sorry. Just cold, I suppose. But you’d expect that since I’m sitting in my underwear, right?”
She sighs. “It’s so strong. You have very powerful friends, child.”
“Yeah?”
“Their intent is palpable.” She does that thing with her hands where she feels out the air, as though touching against something that no one else can see. “I wish you could feel what I feel. Sense what I sense.”
I think back to her screams of agony and the way the marks fused her skin to my back. “Forgive me if I don’t agree. I’ll take my basic, normal mundane insensitivity all day, every day, thanks.”
“Are you always like this?”
I laugh. Can’t help it. “Actually, yes.”
“Well, stop it. I need to concentrate.” And with that, she begins to peel the bandages off her hands.
I open my mouth, meaning to stop her, but the look she shoots me is pure venom. It is the look of a teacher at her wits’ end with the class clown. So I snap my mouth shut and watch.
When she drops the bandages and inspects her hands, I find myself wincing in sympathy. Though clearly beginning to heal, her hands are still badly injured. Angry red patches slash across her wrists and palms, and thick black scabs are forming on each of her fingertips.
She stares at her hands for long, long moments, then steels herself with visible effort. Slow and measured, she walks around within the little circle of candles to stand behind me. “Are you ready?”
The snarky answer is ready on my tongue, but then I chance a look at the circle.
My friends and colleagues, all of them putting themselves on the line to help me. So many people putting all their will and energy into creating a circle of safety so we can even attempt this crazy feat.
“I’m ready,” I tell her.
“Then be still, child. Let me see what I can see.” And, with one last deep breath, Fiona places her hands flat against my back.
Chapter Thirty-two
Darkness. Instant, black, cloaking darkness.
I worry that I’ve closed my eyes, but I haven’t. I just can’t see. There’s nothing to see.
Then the eyes.
I suck in a breath or try to, but the air is close and thick.
My tongue forms a solid wedge of immovable muscle against the roof of my mouth.
Bright. Yellow. Eyes.
Again I try to breathe. Again my chest struggles with it.
Standing. Maybe that’s better. Maybe if I stand, I can trick myself into breathing just from the shock of it.
But I can’t do that either.
My legs don’t work.
Hell, nothing works.
Not my eyes, my legs, my mouth, my hands.
I’m locked in place, paralysed and helpless, as the garish Day-Glo yellow seems to float closer, closer, ever closer.
Fuck. Fuck, oh fuck.
Why can’t I do anything? Why can’t I move?
Straining does nothing. Struggling does nothing. Pushing and pulling with every muscle in me does nothing.
And still the eyes advance.
“Little bird?”
That awful, awful voice.
I remember it now, like thousands of marbles rattling through the interiors of just as many metal pipes.
“Ah, yes,” the eyes seem to say. “I remember you. I marked you. Are you enjoying my gift?”
No. Screw you. You and your gift can eat shit.
I want to say it. Hell, I want to scream it, but my mouth is still locked shut with nothing I can do to change it.
The darkness around me gathers into a shape. Not physically, but before me a void of even deeper black seems to form around the eyes to make the shape of a head. In it, the thin slit of a mouth opens to reveal still more empty nothingness. How is this creature able to work in varied shades of black?
“Didn’t think I’d see you before the time, little bird. Have you come to sing for me?”
Oh no, no, no, no, I remember what that means.
It did this to me before.
Last time, on the floor of the church of the Loup Garou pack, this mad creature sent me spiralling back into my memories and made me live the most painful moments of my life over and over again.
Please no.
I don’t want that again. I can’t do that again. Not now. Not when there’s already so much in my mind to tumble through.
It laughs. The damn thing laughs at me and extends a single clawed hand. I see long fingers with way too many knuckles, and sharp points at each tip that might be claws, might be talons, who even knows?
The hand closes over my chin, and the long fingers dive into my mouth. They force my lips apart, and between them, it flows inward.
I gag.
My throat flexes and convulses as though trying to swallow silk covered in sand.
No, no, no, please no. Please don’t.
“I tried last time, little bird, do you remember? But I was too weak, and your vampire friend stopped me before I could complete my move. But where is she now? Did she abandon you? Did all of your friends abandon you? There’s no one here but you and me, so this time you’re all alone. Just perfect for me to feast on. This will be so, so sweet.”
Before the creature moved as smoke. Now it is tangible and real with physical force and pressure. Or at least it feels that way. It slides down, down my throat, filling me slowly piece by piece, flooding my lungs with pain and suffering.
My body jerks from side to side. Tears fill my eyes.
“Alone. All alone, just you and me. The pair of us like this, wrapped together for eternity. How does it feel, little bird?”
It sucks. That’s how it feels. Rage builds within me, buried deep in my gut and heavy with its own weight. It bubbles slowly, rises like boiling water, travelling up and up, higher and higher until it bursts from my mouth in a guttural roar of fury.
