Dark Echoes Read online

  Father Ash still didn't know who had brought the charges, there was little transparency in shifter justice. He watched the council carefully now, but read nothing in any of their faces. His gut told him it had been Theodore, their rivalry went back decades, but he doubted he would ever have proof. 'You pleaded your innocence, and since then a thorough investigation has been undertaken. I gather that new evidence has come to light in the last twenty-four hours. We will hear it now.'

  Father Ash took a deep breath and steeled himself for what was to come. Flames-First-Guardian stood up from his seat to the left of the dais. Fortune finally uncovered his face and watched his pack mate descend the steps. He looked worried, Father Ash noted, his face was pale and clammy. Shadow's Step and Speaks-with-Stone were sat where Flames had risen from, and also watched him nervously. The Blue Moon had always been good to Father Ash, Flames in particular had long been his friend and ally. They were two of a rapidly diminishing pool of Scroll Keepers, Caerton's record keepers, and as such, shared almost all of the information they gathered. They would spend hours together in the Scroll Archive; making notes; recording stories of the deeds of fellow shifters; logging births, deaths and marriages. At times, though he was not a Hunter himself, Flames would assist Father Ash, as he had done the previous night.

  Flames strode into the circle and gave Father Ash a reassuring nod before turning to face the council.

  'Late last night, the real Spiral Hand was uncovered. Father Ash brought him to me and we executed traditional justice. An envoy of the court bore witness.' He indicated the ravens over the heads of the elders, and they all looked up. One of the ravens bobbed its head and cawed loudly. It ruffled its feathers and a few of them drifted to the floor.

  'He speaks the truth,' came a voice out of the croak. A collective gasp rippled around the courtroom, and chatter instantly broke out. Follows-the-Rain banged her gavel again; she had to do so several times before the crowd fell to order.

  'Who was it?' Theodore's voice called out over the remaining whispers. Silence fell, and Father Ash could feel all of the held breaths in the room.

  'Slips-Through-Starlight,' Flames replied, a slight break in his voice. The courtroom erupted again. Follows-the-Rain turned to Red Scythe, and the two of them whispered to each other, unheard amidst the sea of noise. Father Ash felt his palms sweating, and his collar suddenly felt too tight. He was determined not to show any sign of discomfort, so he forced himself to ignore the sensations. He swallowed the hard lump in his throat, and locked eyes with Theodore, whose eyes were narrowed to slits as he studied Father Ash.

  Fortune did not look shocked, Father Ash guessed that Flames had told him in advance what had happened. Perhaps it was Fortune that had informed the others of a turn of events.

  'Is this true?' Red Scythe shouted over the din. Grudgingly, the crowd grew quiet, to await Father Ash's reply.

  'It is,' he said, his voice holding steady. 'I met with my son last night, and found that his true name had changed. He was no longer Slips-Through-Starlight, his name was Spirals-of-Bright-Agony. He was ranting and raving about Ragnarok, his mind lost to the chaos he served. I sought out a witness and performed my duty.'

  'You executed your own son?' Theodore asked, his voice laced with scepticism.

  'I did,' Father Ash replied. This time his voice did crack, and he allowed himself to loosen his collar. It wouldn't hurt at this point for the court to see some emotion. There was more outcry around the court. Some of the demons looked positively gleeful at this news. Crimson and the rest of his pack gawked at him. His son had been one of their own, and this was the first they were hearing of both his betrayal and execution. He gave them an apologetic look, but it didn't seem to soothe them.

  'Order! Order!' Follows-the-Rain cried out. She was barely maintaining control of this session and everyone knew it. She was old, and although she was still respected, many of the younger shifters had doubts about her sanity. She was Alpha of the Storm Riders, who had long been keeping to themselves up there on the coast, different from the rest of Caerton's shifters. Yet she had sat in the centre of the council of elders for decades and her wisdom and insight were second to none.

  'You could have brought him before us, which would have been more compelling. If we could have seen him for ourselves, ascertained the change in his true name and seen his madness, it might have made for a stronger case.' Theodore spoke with his hand to his face, his long index finger caressing his cheek.

  'I wasn't thinking of clearing my name,' Father Ash replied. 'I was doing my job. He was my son. What I had to do was incredibly difficult, and I knew that I couldn't waver. It had to be dealt with swiftly. How do I know that had I not killed him, had I kept him alive to bring before you, you wouldn't have held that against me too?'

  'With all due respect,' Fortune spoke up, addressing the elders to his left, 'Father Ash's actions speak volumes about his commitment to his role as Hunter. In my view, he has fully exonerated himself.'

  'I agree,' said Red Scythe. Father Ash allowed himself to hope.

  'I must most strongly object,' Theodore said, shaking his head. 'It's a ruse, and a poor one at that. Even if his son was truly Spiral Hand, he is tainted by association. How do we know he didn't indoctrinate his own son? As far as I am concerned, he is guilty.'

  'There's no proof,' Ragged Edge said, an edge of frustration to his voice. 'Only speculation. We have not had one shred of compelling evidence that Father Ash is Spiral Hand, only hearsay and scaremongering.'

  Follows-the-Rain listened to her colleagues attentively. Technically, all voices on the council were equal, but everyone knew that it really always came down to her vote. Chief Justicar rose from his seat and floated down onto the gleaming floor. He bobbed across it towards Father Ash, who tried not to flinch as the tentacled demon approached. He set his jaw and waited for what he suspected was coming. The demon stopped two inches from him and snarled in his face. He sniffed hard, sucking in the air between them. He smelled rancid and Father Ash wrinkled his nose and leaned his head away from him. The demon clucked his tongue and slipped away from him, gliding back up to his seat.

  'He's guilty of something,' Chief Justicar called out, his voice booming over all of the hushed chatter in the court. 'He reeks of it. But guilty of what, I cannot say.' Father Ash closed his eyes and waited. His chest felt tight and he could feel his pulse pounding in his temples.

  'In light of this new evidence and lack of any conclusive proof,' Follows-the-Rain spoke, her voice soft but engaging. Silence fell. 'I cannot rule a guilty verdict.' The room erupted in noise, some cheers, but a lot of objections. Father Ash looked around to try and pick out the friendly and unfriendly reactions, but it was all happening too fast. 'HOWEVER!' The lead elder's voice boomed out. 'Due to the delicate nature of this case, and the genuine ambiguity over the accused's loyalty, I am ordering you into exile, Father Ash, effective immediately. You will not be permitted to return to your pack, you will be accompanied to the city limits, and are forbidden to return within your lifetime. Do you understand?'

  The reaction from the assembly was deafening. Father Ash could hear roaring in his ears, like holding a shell to them. He felt panic and devastation clawing at his chest and throat. A lifetime's work and dedication obliterated in an instant. Friends turning their backs on him, enemies smirking down on him.

  Thunder rose from within and the beast took control. His body shuddered and instantly transformed into a horrifying Agrius beast; half man, half bear. He roared, and the courtroom chatter descended into chaos and screaming.

  He blinked as his senses returned to normal, there was no screaming, he was standing in his smart suit, perfectly calm amid a sea of jumbled voices. He allowed himself that moment to imagine what he would like to do, then took a deep breath and adjusted his jacket.

  'I do,' he replied, his voice cool as ice. He turned and headed back towards the stairs, Mjolnir at his side. He didn't spare anyone a parting glance, it was too great a risk
. He accepted the judgement with the grace and poise for which he was well known. He knew where to go, he had a plan, he always had a plan.

  Dark Echoes

  1

  Shadow's Step slid between people bustling by, his shoulders twisting this way then that as he glided unseen through the throng. The faintest hint of the scent of one of his kind caught the air and he tilted his head to the sky. He stopped and closed his eyes. The crowd of passing people parted and flowed around him like water around a rock, seeming not to be aware of him.

  His eyes flickered open, glowing amber under the eerie orange street lights. A cluster of animated corpses passed him on the left, while a gaggle of doctors and nurses dressed most inappropriately for their professions scurried by on the right. A car moved past slowly, its headlights sweeping over the grotesque and humorous costumes that filled the street.

  Shadow's Step turned his head and sniffed the air. Female, and not yet changed. But if he could pick out her scent among all of these people, then she must be on the cusp of change.

  He turned and went with the flow of people, moving past those stood queuing to enter nightclubs and bars along the wide and brightly lit street. People stumbled off the pavement into the road, a glass smashed somewhere and a girl squealed excitedly. The night was filled with laughter and lively banter. An almost full moon hung high overheard.

  Shadow tracked the scent past scores of people, taking his time, wary of getting this wrong. The centre of the city of Caerton was unclaimed by his kind, anyone who came into their birthright here was vulnerable. They could be snatched up by any pack of shapeshifters that claimed the surrounding territories, or they could be slaughtered by demons before they even knew what they were.

  The crowd began to thin as he approached the end of the street. One last bar stood sentinel at the crossroads, red rope hung across the door. There she was, more easily identifiable now that she wasn't surrounded by dozens of people. She was young, barely legally able to enter the bar. She had a tall, well-built man on her arm and was dressed provocatively as some sort of dark fairy. A memory tugged at his mind, her face was familiar but he couldn't place it.

  Shadow watched her from a few feet away as she entered the private party, and went beyond his reach. She could change at any time, certainly within the next lunar cycle. He glanced around at the people bustling past and his gaze settled on the relatively quiet bar across the street. Jogging over to it, he smoothly slipped between slow moving cars on the busy street and entered the bar. It was quiet, no more than a dozen patrons, and a low murmur filled the air. Vodka tonic in hand, Shadow took a seat in the window.

  The alcohol warmed his insides as he sipped, but did little to fog his mind. He watched the revellers in the street, forever separate from them, yet here amongst them, unseen. Even the young man at the bar who served him his drink seemed to look right through him. It was one of Shadow's many special traits. His plain, dark clothes enhanced his ability to blend in, and his rich-coffee-coloured skin wasn't out of place in the diverse city. His amber eyes could be mildly hypnotic on certain people. He had spent most of his life perfecting ways to go unseen.

  He couldn't see much through the windows of the bar across the street, but every now and then he caught a glimpse of her among the crowd. More than this though, he felt a tingle up his spine at her proximity, even with two panes of glass and a street packed with cars and people between them, he knew she was there. He couldn't switch it off, nor would he want to. He had to know who she was, where she lived and if necessary, be there when she changed.

  It was only one month until the next blue moon; the rare event of a third full moon of four in a single season, where normally there were only three. It was his pack's namesake and a special time for them. They had recently been sent one new cub from out of town and had their eyes on another about to change for the first time, any day now, probably over the full moon. Shadow sipped his drink and considered the possibility that Luna was sending them gifts in preparation for the blue moon. Of course, it was really her Greek sister, Artemis who determined who changed and who didn't, they were her Chosen, but The Blue Moon had a special relationship with Luna, who almost certainly had a degree of influence.

  The night wore on, traffic on the streets thinned a little. Taxis glided past, scoping for business and the queues outside the bars dwindled away. Drunken youths stumbled by, shouting obscenities and chanting “Trick or treat”. Shadow's gaze barely shifted from the bar opposite. He searched his memory for her face, but without a better look at her he would continue to draw a blank.

  When he saw the door open and the young woman and her companion step out he was on his feet in an instant. He stood motionless at the window, watching them as the man removed his jacket and draped it across her bare shoulders. Her face was bathed in light from the bar and the street lamps, but last time Shadow's Step had seen her she was deep in shadow, peering through a window. He gasped as the memory returned to him. He knew now how he recognised her. She had seen him, the real him, and some of his pack. She didn't appear to have gone insane from it, here she was, socialising and happy. So she really must be on the cusp of change herself, it was the only way she could be functioning so well.

  The couple set off walking and Shadow moved swiftly to the door and stepped out into the cool night breeze. There was a hint of rain in the air.

  Shadow strode after them, keeping a few other pedestrians between them. She lived on his territory, she was his to protect. This meat-head with the showy tattoos may have looked big and strong, but he would soon shy away and abandon her. Few humans could stand the company of the Chosen of Artemis once they changed.

  He slipped down a dark alley, took a few paces into the black and shifted seamlessly from man to fox. It was a transition as easy to him as waving an arm or taking a stride. He was far older than the thirty or so years he appeared and had been a fully matured shapeshifter for many decades. He no longer felt the clunking of bones, the crunching of muscles, the cramps of organs shifting. He had lost all sense of his ability being an enormous effort quicker than he had lost his Indian accent.

  He sprinted for home, taking advantage of the small, hidden spaces that humans didn't notice. Relief flooded his veins as he crossed the boundary of his territory, St. Mark's in the north of the city. No shifter was ever truly safe outside their own borders, even on relatively friendly turf. Caerton's city centre was one of the most dangerous places to be, so he was glad to be home. He slowed his pace and jogged up back streets and alleys until he reached the place he had seen the girl before.

  He emerged from the alley opposite her home and stopped in the shadows. A moment later a sleek, black car pulled up at the kerb and the couple climbed out of it. Her scent was so crisp, now that he was in his fox form, there really was no mistaking it. He detected a familiarity to it now too, something else was at work here, though he couldn't identify what. Shadow shook his head and focused his gaze across the street.

  They were kissing. He let out a low snarl of irritation and averted his eyes. He had confirmed it, that was enough. He knew where she lived, he knew they needed to watch her carefully.

  2

  Five Years Previously

  'I hate Halloween,' Fortune snarled. He took a long drag on a cigarette; the smoke curled around his fingers and drifted up into the cool night air. The sky above was black and starless. 'So many ugly wannabes, thinking they know what lurks in the shadows. They haven't got a clue. If it weren't for us, the monsters duty-bound to protect them, the demons would crawl out and bring all of their nightmares to life.'

  Shadow's Step clucked his tongue. His Alpha was never one to mince his words. The pair of them watched a small group of costumed revellers make their way up the street, shoving one another, and passing a bottle of cheap wine amongst them. One of the youngsters bore a werewolf mask and shaggy carpet of a costume. Fortune grimaced and tossed his cigarette butt to the ground. 'I'm going to quit.'

  'You always say t
hat and you never do,' Shadow said with a smirk.

  'Yeah, yeah. Whatever.' Fortune ran his hands through his long, matted and greying hair. He turned and strode to the betting shop door. He flung it wide and went inside. Shadow watched the merry party drift further away down the busy street before following his Alpha inside. He flipped the sign in the shop door from “open” to “closed” and bolted the door. Fortune had already disappeared into the back room, where Speaks-With-Stone was counting the day's takings. She was a tall and athletic woman with auburn hair that fell softly over her shoulders. Shadow joined them and took a seat on a high stool next to Stone. She slid a pile of notes across the desk towards him and he dutifully set about counting them.

  'I have an idea,' Flames-First-Guardian said, bustling into the room from the back hallway. He had two books open in his hands and a stack of notes piled precariously on top of them. His cheeks were flushed and there was a dangerous glint in his eye. He was a tall and stocky man, with thick hair that looked like it hadn't seen a comb in some years.

  'What about?' Shadow asked, raising an eyebrow. Flames glared at him incredulously.

  'We know she isn't dead, we would have felt it. We know she didn't leave us, we would have felt that too. She wouldn't come when we tried summoning her, six times. She must be being held somewhere. What if we summon something else? What if we can summon an aspect of her? What if we can draw out part of her consciousness?'

  'That sounds.... intriguing.' Fortune took the notes from Flames and started skimming them.

  'Has it been done before?' Shadow asked, pausing his money count.

  'Yes,' Flames said, a grin spreading across his face. 'I found a record of it happening decades ago. Remember that pack that used to claim St. Catherine's about thirty years ago?'