Chapter 13
From the cover of darkness Fay peered out at the dilapidated cabin, the windows shattered, forming a twisted grin. It mocked Fay, as if to say, I have secrets you’ll never get. Her mouth twisted defiantly. Whatever answers lay within she’d pry them open with her own claws.
She strode across the moonlit clearing and up the front porch. The step creaked beneath her weight. Stilling for a moment she strained over the sounds that wound around her; the shuddering groans of the house as the wind pushed against it; the rustle of the thick forest enclosing it; the birds that roosted, whom stirred restlessly in their nests, subconsciously aware of the monster amongst them.
With a deep breath she continued up to where the front door once was and stepped inside. The darkness enveloped her, drawing her deeper inside with a soft, alluring whisper. Her eyes cut out the details of house; the gutted kitchen off to the side, the hallway leading off to what might’ve been a bedroom or two, and the living room, where her eyes fell. On the floor was a large circle drawn in blood, dried nearly black, and symbols drawn around the rim of it in ancient Greek. Fay circled it, eyeing the details, and the dried pool of blood in the middle. She knelt down and pressed two fingers two it; in a blink she vanished from the cabin and appeared inside a temple. Like the one she’d seen before, yet there was a woman whom stood off to one side, covered in blood. She stared absently at the wall, eyes cold and hard, ravaged of any humanity. Her hands were shaking violently. She suddenly screamed and threw her fist into the wall, sending cracks splintering up the wall.
“Are you done?” A young woman asked, stepping from the shadows, swathed in religious robes. “Or are you going to tear down this temple, Andromeda?”
Fay saw Andromeda properly for the first time as she spun to the woman, her eyes blazing. “I want to tear down Olympus, Antiope!”
“You’re angry,” commented Antiope calmly. “Why? I told you they’d come for you. You were born as a pawn in their game, just like everyone else.”
“You said if I mastered my power I could fulfil your prophecy, that I might be strong enough if and when they came after me.” Andromeda’s hands shook violently as she struggled to control herself, to quell that raging storm within her. “I know this power is killing me. Gods, I know my best chance is to be Immortal, to steal it if I have to. I thought I’d have more time…” She looked up to the oracle, searching for an ally in those calm, considering eyes. “Teach me what I have to do.”
Antiope seemed to consider Andromeda’s request very carefully. Was she cautious of teaching? There was something terrifying in Andromeda’s raw, volatile power, how it rolled off her in thick, suffocating waves. She was a wild storm, a force of nature unto herself, and she was at her breaking point. Antiope must’ve seen it but she didn’t seem too afraid; she went to Andromeda and touched the blood-soaked dress.
“Whose blood is this?”
At the question Andromeda splintered herself. Her eyes watered but she seemed to fight the tears, fight the grief surging inside of her, hungry to consume her. There seemed to a great deal of effort to not say anything, as though to utter the name was to affirm something horrible. Something she wasn’t willing to accept. Yet Antiope was not to be defied. She asked again.
“Abrahams,” said Andromeda in a low, shaking voice. “Zeus killed him. He made me watch as he cut his throat in front of me. I couldn’t save him. For all my power I couldn’t even save him.”
Antiope turned away, her dark eyes brooding. Troubled, she seemed to consider the request carefully. It was as though the two of them stood at the edge of a choice; one, to enter into a war with the Gods, or to dissolve back into the shadows and pray that no revenge was sought. Antiope seemed to lean more to resistance, whilst Andromeda’s eyes – wild, grieving, and furious – seemed to consider the prospect of war seriously. Hunger for it, even.
“You want my help.” Antiope’s voice was calm again; however ruffled she was at the news of Abraham’s death – which Fay felt was far too gnawingly close to Abe – the oracle seemed calm once more.
“I know my brother warned you away, threatened you but I can’t trust Zeus not to go after him. He’s all I have left. So, I need to attain Immortality – fast – and fulfil the prophecy. I need to make them fear me, tremble at my name.”
When Antiope looked up she seemed to consider Andromeda in a different life. She sighed and nodded.
“We’re both doomed anyway but maybe I might make a legend out of you yet.”
Fay gasped as the vision ended. She was standing back in that hunting cabin, wrapped in shadows, icy air nipping at her skin. Something cold swept through her, curling icy shards through her bones. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around her waist and wandered the room. She tried to focus on the symbols, on the cabin itself but she found herself torn between the past and present – two lives tearing Fay in two, splintering her mind.
Her hand fell down to her back pocket, to her phone but she didn’t grab it. Though it was tempting to call Abe, ask for his help, she’d only receive questions as to why she was at the cabin. Alone. Hell, she hadn’t even contacted the pack. If they found her who knows how they’d react.
In the end, she drew out her phone, took pictures of everything and, when she was done, made her way back to the front door when a sudden creak of the house stopped her dead. She slowly turned and looked up the heavily shadowed hallway. With a deep breath she let her eyes bleed to blue. The shadows before her thinned and a slender figure was defined, hovering there in darkness, watching Fay. She sniffed but found it didn’t reek of death.
You’re not a ghost, so what are you? Fay thought and held out her hand, trying to summon the shadow energy to her hand once more, if only to prompt a response.
The spectre recoiled back, as if startled and dissolved into the shadows. Fay had felt ghosts try to reach out to her before, beg to be taken away to rest. This felt different, somehow, in a way she couldn’t quite pin. Like a connection had been made. Something had reached out to her but what?
Shaking her head, she went to the front door and froze. Four dark wolves stood at the edge of the clearing, watching her with dark eyes. Her ice blue eyes stared them down, unafraid. Gone was the girl who cowed before werewolves.
“Did Ryan send you? Am I in trouble?” She asked mockingly. “I’m sorry. I trespassed but, really, I’m a hellhound – what did you expect?”
The wolves shifted, growling viciously, their teeth gleaming in a shaft of moonlight. One by one they moved forward, slowly. Fay’s hand shot up, by instinct, black threads of energy bursting through her fingers. The wolves didn’t stop.
“Really? Magic not scaring you?” Fay said, disbelievingly. “Fine, the hard way then.”
She reached down deep and screamed into the dark abyss, summoning her demon side. It roared back, delighted and shot up, pain and power exploding through her. She leapt off the porch, shifting mid-air, landing on all fours before the wolves.
They attacked.
The demon purred, delighted.
She jumped back, dissolving into shadow. In a blink she leapt out beside the closest one, clamping her jaw around his throat and sinking her teeth in. Warm blood filled her mouth; then it began to burn her. She jumped back, spitting the blood, looking up, startled. Before her mind had time to process they were on her, all four, a blur of fur and fang. She dodged, shadowing, but as she leapt out, one got her. Teeth clamped around her back leg. She screamed as hot fire filled her leg, unlike any bite she had before. Digging deep, she shadowed out of his bite, lingering for a moment in the shadows. Her chest heaved heavily as she looked at the wolves. She’d assumed she’d tear them apart easily, leave one alive for questioning. That she’d win. Only, normal wolves didn’t have blood that tasted like acid or bites that felt like fire.
There was something different about them.
She wanted one to pick apart but how?
The wolves moved in sync, a lethal machine. One mind. She glanced between them, wincing at her throbbing leg. Which one of you is boss? She wondered if the leader was even there, if they were somewhere else, watching. Her mind flickered back to the source, whoever it was, who’d been controlling the poltergeists.
At the beach, she had Abe. Now, she didn’t have him. He could only teleport over short distances, not to her. She was on her own and the approaching dawn, the first wisp of red curling over the horizon, was rapidly chasing her escape routes away.
One last effort to grab one. She drew a deep, shaky breath and shifted back to her human form. Energy crackled in her hands. She stepped out of the shadows and hurled a bolt at the nearest wolf – it hit the wolf, dissolving into the thick, dark fur. Nothing happened. The wolf looked up and she swore it was smirking at her. Mocking her! Something inside her hissed defiantly, claws flexing. Not her demon side. No, something else. Something else far more savage.
She raised her hand again, feeling a darker energy roar within her, when a distant howl split the air. The wolves looked up suddenly, their eyes to the distant horizon.
“Hey, Fay, get down!” Ben’s voice cut the air, startling her.
She spun around. Ben strode from the tree line, holding a spear, gleaming silver in the morning light. Her demon side recoiled instinctively, whilst the human twisted in shock.
Olympian Steel?
Ben, like a warrior of old, hurled the spear as the wolves turned to him. It whistled through the air and hit the wolf in the chest, sinking deep. Gold blood bled out as the wolf crumpled. The other wolves, startled, started to advance on Ben when he drew two swords from his back, gleaming silver. They stopped, hissed and turned around, bolting without another word.
Fay stared for a moment until the wolves vanished completely from sight. She exhaled deeply and dared to look back at Ben, hardly caring she was naked. He’d seen it all before. Yet, he unbuckled the straps on his chest, holding the sword sheaths on his back, and dropped it. Then he handed her his shirt. She eyed his nicely toned chest for a moment, then grabbed the shirt and slid it on. It was big on her but it covered everything.
“Thanks, but I had it handled,” she said grudgingly.
He smiled faintly, which fell abruptly as she winced, her hand falling to her thigh. Dark blood oozed from the wound. Her senses sharpened at the smell of blood.
“You’re hurt,” he remarked. “I-I can help.”
She stared at him sceptically. “You’re a wolf.”
His eyes flickered up from her wounded thigh and crinkled slightly. “Neither of us are just anything anymore. Anyway, I have a first aid bag in my car. Nothing fancy but can bandage it up before Mel has a look at you.”
Fay gaped. “Mel, as in Siren Mel?”
He nodded. “Yeah. It was her wards you tripped on your approach, probably leftover wards from the guys that just attacked you. Probably how they found you so quick.”
She bit down a hiss, her pride stinging. Looking away, she rubbed her arms. Behind her lay her shredded clothes and her phone. She bent down and picked it up. In the fight it had been completely destroyed. She sighed and glanced at Ben.
“Can I borrow your phone? My partner is probably losing his shit right now,” she said with a short laugh.
Ben, whom seemed to look rather different in the morning light – like a warrior of Olympus, not like her, a demon of the Underworld. He nodded.
“Sure; then, can we talk? I think we have a lot to clear up,” he said quietly.
Fay nodded and set off with him back to the car. Yeah, we do.
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