Destroyer Rising (31 page)

“The Ghost Pack is no more, and their spirits no
longer speak with words for our ears. Their entirety was taken to
free the child, Vicky, but every soul honored the River Pack in
saving her, and in removing the Destroyer from our world.”

“I will miss them,” Alan whispered, echoing a
murmuring tone throughout the group. He wore a smile, but it didn’t
mask the sadness beneath it.

“Twice did Carter and Maggie die to save the pack,”
Hugh said, raising his voice and speaking in a slow rhythm. “Twice
did we lose the best of us, but they died in good company. They
pass with honor into the next life, escorted by thirty of our
brothers and sisters.”

I almost fell over. My hand shot out to stabilize my
failing posture. “Thirty?” I whispered. I leaned forward, fighting
a weight in my chest that threatened to choke me.

“Hush, Cub,” someone hissed. “They knew the price.
The decision was unanimous.”

I didn’t know who’d spoken. I didn’t care. I’d
destroyed thirty souls to save Vicky. I’d killed thirty … I’d … I
almost gagged on the emotions tearing up my mind, and I couldn’t
stop the tears from running down my face.

Hugh began naming them. Some part of my mind
registered that. I didn’t know some of the names, but Carter and
Maggie and even Jimmy cut me like a blade.

Why didn’t I know I’d killed thirty wolves? How? How
was that possible? I dug my fingernails into my shaking palms and
bit my tongue. What was wrong with me?

“Remember them,” Hugh said. “They have saved a child
who will be able to grow old, and live, and one day join them in
the Spirit World. Our friends will not be waiting there, longing
for those lost. They will not journey to find the ghosts and the
worm pipe. We are at peace, as are they.”

The worm pipe. Zola told me that story once, or some
version of it at least. It was a sad tale, and a potent warning
about failing to move forward with your life. I thought it was a
bit heavy-handed, coming from Hugh, like he was trying to lecture
me. I raised my eyes as Caroline broke down, sobbing into Gosha’s
shoulder.

I was a fool. Hugh didn’t mean it for me alone. He
meant it for all of us around that fire, and all of us who would
never join the pack again.

The drums were quiet and deep at first, playing a
steady rhythm while several of the wolves slowly bobbed their heads
to the beat. My eyes didn’t lift from the dancing fire in the
middle of the gathering. It swelled and receded, and I could have
sworn it moved in time to the music. A wood flute added a simple
run of notes, deliberate and sad. The winds picked up around us,
snapping the canvas above with a deep throbbing boom. Another set
of brighter toms joined the sound and the world moved as one.

I don’t know how long we sat there, but the humidity
and heat and flame built until the air itself felt as though it
might catch fire. The music stopped when the colors in the pit were
no longer those of a wood flame. I didn’t have to raise my sight to
see the spiral of blue and gold fires dancing in that place. They
bent and twisted and shaped themselves into something else. It
looked like an ancient face for a time, etched with deep lines and
a patient frown.

Something rustled in the trees above us, and the very
trunks shifted. Everyone’s gaze turned skyward, and the canvas dome
split at its widest part. An enormous eagle-like head eased through
the opening.

I stared at the Piasa Bird, and heard the whispers
around the fire.

Thunderbird.

Water dripped from the thunderbird’s beak. It touched
the fire, and the flames exploded into the sky. It was only then
that I realized the Piasa Bird wasn’t wet, it was tears dripping
into the flames. The fire looked to be standing up, holding
wavering hands out to the Piasa Bird. My pack marks burned and I
glanced from them back to the scene before me. This was the spirit
of the island. I knew it without being told. It mourned with us,
bound as it was in pack magic. Lightning flashed around the
thunderbird’s eye before he lifted his head out of the canopy and
released an ear-piercing cry.

Then there was only silence.

“The war is not over,” Hugh said into the quiet. “We
will lose more wolves. We will lose more friends like our brave
Cara, Sanatio of the Sidhe. More of our allies may become enemies
before the deed is done, but remember too our enemies that have
become allies.

“Remember the water witches.”

Alexandra came to her feet and Nixie rose to stand on
my other side.

“Remember the blood mages.”

Cornelius and Beth stood, and Alan stood with them,
wrapping each in one of his massive arms.

“Remember the vampires and the gods.”

Edgar and Sam and Camazotz stepped up beside
Hugh.

“They are friends to us. They are as close as blood
can be without being blood. Protect them as though they were your
own. Fight with them as though they were your children, for they
have done the same for us.”

Hugh turned his gaze to me. “Remember the boy Carter
watched over, and the man he would become. Remember the master who
trained him.”

Zola stepped up in front of the earthen platform.

“Remember Maggie’s words of kindness about a being
that should have been a sworn enemy,” Hugh said, his voice rising
as he held his hand out to Zola. “Remember our brother, our
necromancer. Remember his journey to the Burning Lands to save that
child! Without his help, Carter and Maggie’s greatest wish would
have died out before they took their flight into the Spirit World.
Now they rest easy in the knowledge a child will live, and the
Destroyer—she has met her end!”

I stood up, tears coursing down my face.

“Stand with us,” Hugh said, his voice rising to a
thunder. “Stand and show our allies the strength of wolves. Show
them the love for our families! Show them our power!”

Hugh shifted, fur and muscles exploding from his
form. I expected his clothing to tear off, but it stretched to fit
the wolf as his jaws opened toward the sky, and a terrible,
mourning howl cut into the night.

The mass shift that followed battered my senses.
There was so much power pulled through the pack marks and the fire
and the island itself that I thought the earth might split open.
Another scream joined that earth-shattering howl. The scream of
thousands of souls inside my head. They’d been quiet for so long,
I’d hope they’d been quieted forever.

What would that take, though? To be silenced forever?
Would they have to be destroyed like Carter and Maggie and the rest
of the Ghost Pack? Sent into an oblivion from which they’d never
have vengeance for their deaths?

If I had some say in it, they’d help me destroy Gwynn
Ap Nudd and bring Hern to his knees. They deserved blood from those
Fae, and I swore it as I drew the focus from my belt and channeled
in that cacophony of power.

A golden sword erupted from the hilt, licking at the
sky beside the flames of the pit, and the wolves grew louder.

After the ceremony ended, a few of us sat around the
pack’s massive couch in the underground bunker, clad in heat and
sweat. I rolled the Wasser-Münzen between my hands before tucking
it into my backpack. Beth and Ashley joined us, with Hugh and Edgar
and Zola. Sam and Frank sat quietly beside Alan. I was surprised
they hadn’t left to go home. I was still shaken up from watching
Wahya carry Caroline away from the fire. She was hurting bad, and
Hugh explained why.

“She buried her husband outside Falias two weeks
ago,” Hugh said. “The loss … it is something I truly cannot
imagine.”

“She lost both men she loved in the span of two
weeks?” Sam asked.

Hugh closed his eyes and nodded. “I am afraid she may
become reckless with the Irish Brigade. Time will tell. Wahya has
offered to help. It is a rare thing for an Alpha to allow someone
from outside the pack to help.”

“Wahya’s not exactly a normal wolf, though, is he?” I
said.

Hugh shook his head. “No.”

Edgar looked up. The golden mail hanging from his
helmet chimed against his breastplate when he moved. “What of the
dark-touched at Rivercene?”

“I have not heard from the innkeeper,” Hugh said. “I
assume that means things have been quiet. I expected to hear more
by now, but she may have kept her distance, knowing the ceremony
was tonight. Camazotz is on his way now.”

Beth stared at Edgar, her eyes tracing the
hieroglyphs carved in the man’s armor beside ancient runes and
symbols that had long been forgotten.

“Edgar,” I said.

He looked at me. “This is Beth.”

“I know Beth,” Edgar said. “Do not trouble me over
who the Watchers did or did not pursue.”

“Beth, this is Ra.”

Edgar raised his eyebrows and I heard a sharp intake
of breath from the blood mage.

“Oh my god, I mean lord, I mean … it is such an honor
to meet you. I’ve read so many of the old stories, your stories,
and they just, they just.”

Edgar’s head fell and he let out a deep sigh.

I grinned while Beth continued to gush about Edgar’s
past life. When she was close to five minutes of breathless
rambling—which was amazing in itself—Edgar turned his head to me
and smiled. The more Beth spoke, the more it became obvious that
she was a scholar, well learned in Ra’s mythologies, and even the
stories that were not mere stories.

“You flatter me,” Edgar said. “It is good to know
that some people still carry the old stories close to their
hearts.”

Beth pulled up the edge of her shorts, revealing the
deep scars around the eye of Ra. “Reading about you got me through
some tough places.” She tugged her shorts back down. “I’m sorry for
being so crazy right then,” she said, unable to wipe the smile from
her face. “It’s just, I mean, thank you. For talking to me, and for
helping my friends and the love of my life.” Beth grabbed Ashley’s
hand and squeezed.

Ashley raised Beth’s hand and kissed it before
covering it with her own.

“Thank you,” Edgar said, “for lightening the mood at
this dark hour. One day, perhaps when the war is done, I will tell
you the stories no one knows. From times when the Old Gods roamed
the earth, and only the immortals stood defiant.”

“I know those stories,” Hugh said.

Edgar crossed his arms and leaned into the couch.
“Indeed, you know several, but perhaps not all.”

We stayed there for a time, bantering with small talk
and stories of the lost wolves. One thing I was sure of, we were
all going to miss Carter and Maggie.

***

I walked to the back of the shop after Sam and Frank
dropped me off on the side street. Camazotz was off to Rivercene. I
wasn’t sure where everyone else was going. I’d have moments of
clarity where I remembered how important it was that we’d saved
Vicky, and then the Ghost Pack’s death would come crashing down
onto my heart once more.

I leaned against my old ‘32 Ford and pulled Wahya’s
flask out of my jacket. I smiled at the face carved into it, a
green man. The wolf either had uncanny timing, or a terrible sense
of humor. The whiskey burned going down, and I felt its warmth
spread out across my gut. It was woody and strong and slightly
smoother than paint thinner. I winced and said, “Damn, Wahya. What
the hell?”

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the necromancer with
all the dead friends.”

I froze before I realized it was our obnoxious
deadbolt talking. I narrowed my eyes. “I would have thought you’d
change back.”

“Why? Because one fairy died?” The ugly little face
twisted into a frown. “Maybe if
all
of Faerie died.
Hopefully her son will be next.”

I stood up and walked toward the door.

“Let’s be reasonable, now,” the little face said,
apparently realizing the error of his ways.

I smashed the toe of my boot into the deadbolt’s
face. It grunted and snapped open. I hurried inside before I acted
on a strong urge to shoot the fucking thing in the face, and
slammed the door behind me.

One more shot of whiskey calmed me a bit. I closed
the flask and slid it into my backpack.

Foster and Aideen sat on the little Formica table.
Foster’s wings shuddered and Aideen laid her head on his, wrapping
him up in her arms. I didn’t interrupt. There wasn’t anything I
could say right now. He’d lost his mom. Aideen cast me a sad smile
and nodded to me.

I held up my hand and started up the stairs.

Shiawase waited in one of the overstuffed leather
chairs, an old book propped up in his hands.

Vicky looked peaceful there, tucked into the chair
next to Shiawase, but my concern that she hadn’t woken up continued
to grow. I needed a shower, but dammit, if the kid was stuck here
asleep, I could stay here one more night.

“I can see the worry on your face,” Shiawase said,
looking up from his book as I walked up beside Vicky. “She is safe
here, and I will not abandon my post. When she awakens, you will be
the first to know.”

He hadn’t left her side in days. I guessed if anyone
would know, he would. “Thank you. I think I’ll just sleep here, if
it’s all the same to you.”

“I am in your home,” Shiawase said. “The choice is
yours.”

I pulled my backpack off, flopped onto one of the
deep leather chairs, and sighed.

Something heavy and bristly hit my thigh. I cracked
an eye open to find Bubbles staring at me. I smiled and scratched
her head. She chuffed and laid down on my feet. I probably wouldn’t
be able to feel them in a few minutes, but I didn’t ask the cu sith
to move.

Jasper chittered from across the table.

“Good job, furball. Good job.” I closed my eyes
again, almost welcoming the escape of another nightmare.

***

My heart hammered in my chest and I awoke, reaching
for the hilt of the focus, ready to cut through a possessed River
Pack to save Sam. The voices thundered through my mind, screaming
their own fears as pins and needles stabbed at my legs.