Blood Rage, page 7
That is excellent news.
After the Blood Moon pack visited Loup Garou territory with intent to force the female-only pack to join with them, most experienced memory loss, extended confusion, and heart problems when their alpha died.
Though Liddell himself couldn’t be saved when the strange, yellow-eyed, smoky black creature fled his body, the rest recovered slowly and gradually returned to whatever counted for normal life. They elected an alpha to lead them and retreated to a neighbouring village with a total population of no more than two hundred. The quiet seemed to suit most of them, but a small handful returned to Angbec in an attempt to reclaim what remained of their human lives.
Every one of those wolves had been turned within weeks of the showdown at the church. Whatever Liddell and that creature had been doing, they worked fast.
SPEAR and Clear Blood did what they could to help those displaced, but with so much memory loss and accompanying anxiety, there was little to be learned from them.
But now…
“I need to speak to them. As soon as possible.”
Hawk eyes me warily. “You’re on leave.”
“But I can still talk to them, right?”
He hesitates and heaves a sigh of relief when he spots Erkyan approaching through the main doors. He abandons my question to wave wildly at the sleepy looking goblin, who flicks a finger at him in return.
“Please, no loudness today,” she murmurs. “I tired.”
“Been drinking?” Hawk seems amused at the idea.
“No. You know not.” A wide yawn briefly exposes the sharpness of her teeth. “Research. Many books. Hard to translate.”
I want to ask what she’s researching, but before I can, Hawk draws me closer with a wing hooked around my shoulders.
“She’s been researching for days now.” The sarcastic stress he puts on researching makes me stare up at him in surprise.
“You don’t sound happy about it.”
“She won’t let me help. All she’s done is complain about how hard it is to translate from English to Goblin. But apparently it’s none of my business.”
“Maybe it’s not.”
He grunts. “Maybe. But she’s so cross all the time now. She’s no fun.”
“What happened?”
“No idea. We had a call out to Veranna about a disturbance at a bar. We brought the troublemakers back, and she stayed to handle the paperwork. Day after”—he waves his big hands around—“ghastly grumpy goblin gal.”
I smile. “No one likes paperwork.”
“Maybe, but she’s never snapped at me for trying to help before. She’s never snapped at me ever. You know how gentle she is.”
Actually, he’s right. That is unlike her.
I slip away from the grip of Hawk’s wing and approach Erkyan, who now seems to be fumbling with a cup of coffee, a notepad almost the size of her head, and several pens.
“Need a hand?”
“Not need,” she says, barely looking my way. “Just table.”
I follow as she struggles her way across the open plan office to dump the entire lot on her desk, which is also dotted with papers, still more pens, and a tarnished length of linked metal chains. Her desk, like mine and many other agents’, resembles a scattered bomb site.
“What are you researching?”
“History.” Her answers are less forthcoming than usual, and I begin to understand why Hawk is so frustrated.
“History of what?”
“Many things. Findings.”
I have no idea what she means by that. “Are you coming to the debrief?”
Erkyan pauses her study of the desk to flick her gaze my way. “Of the wolves? Yes. I come. But after. This first.” And with that, she sits on her stool, cranks violently at the handle to raise the seat level, and buries her face in the untidy stack of papers.
Across the room, Hawk throws me an I told you so sort of look.
I back away from the clearly preoccupied goblin and head for my own desk.
In my absence, the messy space has become something still worse to behold. Clearly my desk is now a dumping ground for the small tasks, jobs, and objectives SPEAR has decided are best suited to Kappa.
I get it, my team is the only wholly edane team within the organisation—except for me—but surely this can’t all be for us? And what about the Blood Moon survivors? Don’t they get some form of priority?
I lift a couple of the pages with wary fingers, very aware that I shouldn’t be working. I’ve barely lifted one sheet of paper before I spy Willow rushing towards me.
Willow is a willow sprite, tall, flexible, and slender just like the tree she is named for. She moves like branches gusted by the wind and seems to make the same sounds as she moves. It’s all the sound she makes, though, because Willow is unable to speak.
Some sprites, like the cave sprite at lock-up, are more than able to utilise their throats to form human or at least humanlike sounds, but Willow is not one of those. She communicates with sign instead and approaches now with her long hands moving swiftly through what I think is a sound scolding for trying to work while on leave.
I yank my hands away. “I wasn’t, I promise. I just wanted to see.”
“But you’re not allowed. You know that. You’re supposed to be resting.” Her signs are big and faster than usual, meaning she’s more upset than her facial expressions give away.
“You sound like Rayne.”
“I sound like someone who cares,” she claps back. “No touching. Listen, but that’s all.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I can tell she doesn’t like that, but instead of fighting, she simply threads her arm through mine and steers me away. And still she signs.
“Rayne said you would come, but I didn’t know it would be so soon. I saw you only an hour ago.”
“Hour? Did you say hour?”
“Is that the wrong word? More than that?”
“It’s been weeks, Willow.”
She taps the side of her head. “Maybe. I remember I ate something then. Maybe that’s why I’m hungry now.”
I shake my head with an amused sigh. I know time and its passage must be strange to her, given that she’s almost, well, a tree. But her forgetfulness and confusion around hours and minutes is actually quite funny.
“You’ve not eaten since we last met?”
“I can’t remember. It doesn’t matter. I’ve been busy with all the little rubber rings.”
I blink. “You might need to sign that again.”
She does. Slowly.
“Wolves. The wolves? Not rubber rings?”
“Yes. Good, Danika, you’re learning. Well done.”
I smile, and she treats me to a gentle kiss on the forehead.
Willow sprites are so strange. Gentle, but flighty. Kind but forgetful. Honest, but careless. Her sign for my name is a huge gesture, one that requires both hands to be near her chin and cheeks. When I asked her how she decided on such a sign, she told me, through much silent laughter, that it represented my big and powerful personality.
So nice of her to phrase it that way, when my mother might have said overbearing or aggressive.
By the time we get back to Hawk, Solo and Duo have also arrived.
The werewolf twins look more alike than ever before, with the same calm, steady expressions, same slight builds and stride. The one difference this time, which throws me off entirely, is their hair.
Still short, still neat, but that’s where the similarity ends.
Solo’s hair is red. Like bright, diablo red.
Beside him, Duo’s hair is coloured a clown-bright orange.
The pair come to a stop in front of me and draw their lips back in huge playful grins. This close I can see that they’ve even dyed their eyebrows in tones to match their hair.
I raise my hands. “Why?”
“Why not?” they shoot back in unison.
Hawk snorts.
Willow’s shoulders buck with silent laughter.
I nod. “If I had the balls, I’d go purple.”
The twins share a glance. “It would suit you.”
This time, I can’t help but laugh myself. This…I’ve missed this. Banter with my colleagues who have become so much more since our team of misfits was formed.
Solo slaps me on the shoulder by way of greeting, while Duo curls me into a gentle hug. Then they lead the way to one of the meeting rooms with Willow and Hawk in tow, while I try, without success, to rub the lingering sting out of my arm.
Chapter Nine
“…but I think we should investigate further with more interviews. Maury has already given us the go-ahead, so we can start today. Or at least, Solo and I will.” Duo finishes his rundown of Blood Moon activity by decisively clicking the lid onto his whiteboard marker.
The board in question is covered with his neat, precise handwriting, giving bullet points of each topic and subtopic of the last hour.
I press the back of my hand to my mouth to hide the yawn brewing there. “That’s a good plan—I like it. But what about the wolves you’ve already spoken to?”
Duo shoots a glance at his brother.
Like always, they seem to have a quick conversation without ever saying a word, and once more I struggle to decide if that’s a by-product of their identical genetics or the near hive-mind nature of their telepathic Fire Fang wolf pack. One, both, neither, it doesn’t matter—each time they do it, I feel a little weird.
Solo peers at me from behind the toes of his shoes, which are mounted on the table in front of him. “They don’t want to talk much. Still in shock or some shit.”
“But Hawk mentioned”—I peer at the board—“fear essence. Is that what they have?”
Hawk sniffs and shifts his glasses to rest more comfortably on his face. It’s always so weird to see him wearing them, even if he only does to read. I would have loved to be a fly on the wall during that optometrist session. His head is significantly wider than that of the average human. And he has horns.
“We don’t know what else to call it, but all of them seem to have it. The wolves we’ve spoken to, anyway.” He scratches the tip of his nose, making the glasses wobble. “They all have the memories, like what you had at the church, but now that the thing is gone, there’s a leftover unease and fear in their day-to-day lives.”
“Like an anxiety disorder?”
“Maybe?” Duo frowns at his notes. “But it’s not so much a mental health issue, but a direct result of what the yellow-eyed creature did to them. They seem to think that thing left a stain on them.”
“How is that possible?”
Solo shrugs. “How did it carve a sign into your back that healed like a tattoo but feels like a curse?”
“Curse?” I fight the urge to reach around behind me.
“Maybe you can’t feel it, but I can. It’s like a smell. Never had anything like that in my nose before. But it’s only when you’re around.”
“But I had a shower…”
“No.” He yanks his feet down to lean over the table at me. “It’s like leftovers. Or a…a…”
“Stain,” says Duo. He refuses to look at me as he says it.
I know my mouth is hanging open, but I can’t help it. I stare at him, then Solo, then Hawk. Then Willow. None of them seems willing to give me their gaze.
“Do you all feel it?”
Hawk clears his throat.
Duo stares at his fingers.
Solo grunts. “Sometimes. Not always. Not now, but there is a hint of something not quite right. And what else can it be but that mark?”
“But is it just you? Nobody has said anything to me. Not Rayne, not Pip.”
Willow thumps her fist against the table and, when she has our attention, begins to sign. “Do you really think they would? Besides, they live with you, they are close. More than us. Maybe they don’t feel it?”
I want to know more. Hell, I’m desperate for more, but Erkyan chooses that moment to make an appearance, slinking through the meeting room door like a small, timid mouse. One hand tightly clutches a small mug of what is probably coffee, which she holds close to her chest as she moves.
She starts when she notices that we’re all watching, slopping her beverage all over the carpet. She clears her throat. “Is meeting finished?”
I shake my head. “No, I—”
“Yeah.” Solo cuts across me and grabs his brother by the scruff. It’s not a rough gesture, exactly, but he clearly means for Duo to follow, which he does, at once. The pair of them scoot around the table towards the door, calling over their shoulders as they go.
“We’ll get started with the first batch of interviews.” Duo scrambles to keep hold of his pen and papers.
“The rest of you get some rest.” Solo opens the door. “I know you were working all night.”
With that, they’re gone, vanished like puffs of red and orange smoke.
Hawk and Willow eye Erkyan uncertainly.
“You okay?” Hawk speaks softly.
She nods, gnawing on her bottom lip. “Sorry I missed meeting.”
I smile in as reassuring a way as I can manage. “The notes are all on the board, so don’t worry about it. Willow, Hawk, those two had the right idea. Why don’t you get some rest?”
Hawk opens his mouth as if to protest, but Willow jabs him hard in the ribs. Her eyes are wide and filled with warning.
“But—”
She jabs him again and quickly herds him towards the door, signing expansively as if to mask his protests.
Good. She was always quick off the mark.
Erkyan looks a little worried as the door closes, leaving the pair of us alone, but I widen my smile and gesture to the nearest seat.
“It’s okay. I just wanted to check on you.”
“Check how? Check what?” She doesn’t sit but instead grips tighter at her mug.
Okay. Gently, gently does it.
“Hawk mentioned you’re in the middle of some research…”
“Private,” she says at once. “Favour for friend. But doesn’t take from SPEAR work.”
I lift my hands, palm out. “It’s okay, honestly. I just wanted to know if I could help.”
Her eyes narrow. Never before have I seen such a caged expression on her small, warty face. “Help how?”
“Hawk mentioned translations. My Goblin isn’t great, but my English is. Perhaps between us we could figure out what you’re reading.”
“Not hard. Only diaries for missing thing.”
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
She winces.
“That’s fine,” I assure her. “Honestly, but we’re a team. If we can help each other, don’t you think we should?”
“Not for team. Goblins only.”
My fingers stiffen in mid-air. I stare at her more keenly, but now she refuses to meet my gaze. If anything, she seems more uncomfortable than before, as though she’s said too much.
Goblins only. History.
I think again of Hawk and his brief mention of a disturbance in Veranna. Veranna, otherwise known as the West End. Where Bloody Mary’s bar is located.
There’s no way, is there? Really?
I lower my hands. Look her dead in the eye. “The Blade of Glal.”
Erkyan drops her mug. It shatters. Her drink—definitely coffee—slops everywhere, drenching the table legs, the chairs, and my boots. “How do you know this?”
Well, if I doubted it before, I no longer do. “I—” The words die on my tongue. Erkyan has been deliberately cagey with me to this point. Did Shakka not want anybody else to know? But then, why would he tell me? And why is Erkyan looking?
I lick my lips. “Shakka told me.”
Her eyes grow wide and round. “Shakka? Our Enk’mal?”
I blink at her. “Your what?”
She recovers fast, stooping to gather the broken mug fragments. “Nothing. No thing. Don’t worry of it.”
“No, no, I will worry about it. My Goblin isn’t great, but I know that word. Your leader?”
Erkyan mutters something, too quick and too low for me to catch it. When she next looks at me, her expression is calmer, though her fingers shake ever so slightly on the fragments of her mug. “If he told you, then I can say. Is fine. Yes. Glal’s Blade. We found it.”
“The cave sprite?”
She nods. “You saw?”
“Shakka called me to lock-up last night. That’s why I’m here so early. He wants me to go find it.”
For the first time all morning, her eyes brighten. She smiles, showing off her tiny pointed teeth. “So glad you go. Our history returned for first time in many years. Thank you, Danika. Thank you very—”
“Wait, wait, I’m not actually going.”
A frown. A stutter. “You not?”
“Of course not. He’s trying to send me out into the hillbilly villages of the country like some slave who jumps at the snap of his fingers.”
“But…” She bites her lip. “He told you.”
“He called me out of bed at stupid o’clock, yeah, he did.”
“Enk’mal tells no one. It is secret.”
I gently pluck the broken mug fragments from her hands and begin to overhand toss them into the bin by the door. “He told me. And you really need to stop calling him that. It’s weird.”
“Not weird, true.” She stares at me as if a second head has sprouted from my shoulders. “You not know?”
I shrug.
“Enk’mal. Not lord, like your lord. Enk’mal is distant king.”
My last throw struggles and the chipped mug handle lands several inches short of the bin. “King?”
“Not king now, but children of king.” She frowns. “Have not the word. Child of child of child of old king. What that is?”
