Fury Rising (Fury Unbound Book 1) (13 page)

I found my voice first. “What the hell happened here?” This was no pleasant,
spend-Saturday-morning-at-the-diner
town, at least not anymore. “It looks like a war zone,” I whispered. I had never expected anything like this.

As we entered the clearing where the town had stood, we could see that what had been the center square was now a field of rubble. Buildings were half standing, roofs blown away, windows shattered, brick and stone and siding littering the streets. People were sitting on chunks of stone or folding chairs, staring aimlessly as the medics went from person to person checking for injuries. It was as though the tornado had taken a direct path along the street, uprooting everything in its wake. An ugly scar raced through the center of Bend, a gaping wound through the heart of the small town.

“Bloody hell,” Jason said under his breath.

As we watched, rescuers dug through the rubble. I wanted to join them, but I had my orders. I tapped Jason on the arm, still unable to pull my gaze away from the destruction.

“We need to meet Tigra. Can you find a way around this to the Casa Café Shop?”

Jason glanced once more at the rescue efforts, looking like he wanted to be out there, too. He nodded and readjusted the GPS. “Yeah, as long as this mess doesn’t go forever.”

He pulled a U-turn and turned down a side street. Ten minutes later, we found the diner, still intact. Jason parked near the door. The restaurant was full, and it looked like people were gathering in small groups in the parking lot. We were about to head inside when a voice behind me caught my attention.

“You’re Fury, aren’t you? I’m Tigra.” The woman moved toward me, holding out her hand. As I clasped it, I noticed her grip was firm and cool. She was tall and sturdy, muscular as all get out, and her hair was streaked, golden blond with black highlights. Her skin was pale yellow, with faint black chevrons lining the flesh. Older weretigers tended to show their true nature more than the younger ones, and the chevrons would darken with age.

“Do you think there’s room in the restaurant for us?”

She shook her head. “I doubt it. We probably couldn’t hear over the uproar, even if we could find a table. I had no idea the destruction was this bad. There’s a park across the street where we can talk, if you don’t mind sitting outside.”

We followed her over to the park. The swath of green had remained undisturbed. Here and there, we spotted someone sitting, dazed. The picnic tables were still standing, and the rest area was intact, its roof still in one piece. The trees swayed gently in the wind, but otherwise we would never have known that less than a half-mile away the town had been trampled.

As we settled at a table, Tigra brought out her tablet and began tapping in notes, her fingers flying over the screen. She finally turned back to us. “I take it you’ve seen the storm’s aftermath?”

“When we drove in,” I said. “Hecate filled you in on everything that happened?”

“Yes, she called me about the Thunderstrike. I called her this morning to tell her about the tornado.” Tigra glanced around, then inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly as she closed her eyes. I could sense her searching around on the astral plane. After a moment, she opened her eyes.

“The energy around the town is supercharged. While tornadoes leave behind residual energy—most storms have some form of sentience—this one left a magical footprint so big a giant could have made it.”

I glanced at Jason, who was taking a few notes of his own. “Then it was magically created?”

“No doubt about it. The storm was generated by magic.” She paused, then cleared her throat. “Here’s the thing. Lightning Strikes is aware of a groundswell movement. A number of the more powerful UnderCult magicians are angry over the restrictions on weather magic, as well as several other limitations. They worship Chaos, and they’ve formed a worldwide order called the Order of the Black Mist.”

“Chaos?” Jason asked.

“The primal force out of which came Gaia, Tartarus, Eros, Nyx, and Erebus. Chaos is more of a force than a god. Chaos predates most of the gods. The Order of the Black Mist believes that too much order has thrown the world into a tailspin, and they resist limitation. They work with other forces than meteocramancy, so they aren’t simply out to begin another Weather War. This is just a show of force to remind us that they refuse to be controlled. But we have to find that disk and get it away from them before they cause much more damage, because if we don’t, Gaia will take matters into her own hands. That means that whoever stole it will be brought up on charges.” Her voice drifted off, but both Jason and I could fill in the blanks.

Meteocramancy was expressly forbidden and punishable by death. Usually, it was only an outlier here or there who decided to rebel. But a dedicated movement could do far more damage.

“Does Lightning Strikes suspect any one nation of harboring them? Or of funding them?”

She frowned, then shook her head. “No. They’re spread out in pockets across the world. We doubt any government is behind this. The corporatocracies are greedy, but not stupid. Add to that the fact that too many countries are struggling just to keep their people alive. No, we doubt this is an officially sanctioned act. Famine and war have depleted the population in so many places.”

“Wouldn’t famine be a good reason for invoking weather magic?” Jason asked.

She shrugged. “Possibly, if the famines were due to drought, but most of them are caused by crop poaching and food wars. What magicians the smaller countries still have under their command are focused on protecting food supplies. No, if there
is
any government connection to the Order of the Black Mist, it’s well hidden. For one thing, nobody in power is going to want to rock the boat, and if another Weather War breaks out, Gaia will step in and end things.”

“True enough that,” I said. “A number of kingdoms are barely scratching out an existence. Another round from Gaia would obliterate them.”

“Precisely.” Tigra frowned. “Two weeks ago, there was a theft in Bifrost, over in Scandnavaland. Four ancient grimoires from the Museum of Magica are missing—four priceless volumes, all on chaos magic. Three guards were killed, and a fourth’s body was found two days later. We contacted the Fates, but at that point, they couldn’t pinpoint whether this was linked to the Order of the Black Mist or not. Yesterday, they confirmed it. While the Fates still can’t read the future—the threads are still unclear—now we know the Order is out to upset the balance.”

I already knew that the Fates were involved. “What about the gods?”

“We have begun talks with the priests of Thor. We’ll swing into high gear tomorrow. We have to walk cautiously when approaching the various pantheons to avoid insulting anybody or engaging two gods together who hate each other.”

Dealing with the gods required a delicate balance. The Fates were bound by cosmic law and could only intervene when situations grew dire. If they stepped in, the Norns would follow, so it made sense to talk to the Norse pantheon next.

“Well, Hecate told me to help you in whatever way I could, so here I am.”

“I’m grateful.” Tigra frowned. “Would you—” She paused, staring off into space. “
Hell.
Follow me, please.” She was on her feet, racing to her car. Jason and I followed, heading to Jason’s car. As Tigra peeled out of the parking lot, Jason and I went zooming after her.

Tigra was a scary driver—and she drove manually. Her car nipped in and out of tight spaces like a metal dancer. She flipped on flashing lights and we chased behind her. Five minutes later, we were on the outskirts of Bend, and she swerved onto the shoulder of the road next to a wide field that sat beneath a tangle of forest at the base of a foothill. The field had a crater in it as large as a small pond that had been blasted into the ground.

Tigra jumped out of her car and headed out into the field, motioning for us to follow. I slung my sword over my shoulder. Jason slid a thin blade into his belt before exiting his car.

The weretiger slowed as she neared the crater, and we hurried to catch up to her. The woman was quick—she had darted through the field faster than a sprinter on race day. At the edge of the hole, she slid to a halt, staring into it with a look of alarm.

“What’s wrong?”

She glanced at me. “Tune in. See what you can feel.”

I closed my eyes and let the energy in the field wash over me. Next to me, I could feel Jason slipping into trance, as well. He was the first to gasp, and after a moment, I could feel it too—the sensation of creeping worms, long tangling knots of them, dragging themselves out of the crater to slither onto the field. Once they were in the field, they were suddenly airborne, silently streaming past us toward the town. They felt sickly and rotten, like the worms squirming out of a rotten apple.

“What the fuck—?” I was trying to put a name to them but was coming up empty.

“Astrigators. Energy suckers, and they breed at an incredible rate. They piggyback on people who don’t have much magical energy and feed on even the tiniest slivers of magic and psi powers. Once sated, they divide like amoebas. I guarantee you that we’re infected already. We’ll have to go through decontamination before we leave the town.”

I shuddered. “I hate parasites.” The thought that I was being fed on by a bunch of psychic worms turned my stomach. My dislike of parasites had become almost a phobia over the years, and it was all I could do to remain calm and not vomit up all the chocolate and pastries I had consumed.

Jason rested a hand on my arm. His presence steadied me. “We’ll get rid of them. Meanwhile, breathe, and try not to use your powers. It will only attract more of them if you do. Drop out of trance.”

As I pulled back my feelers, a cold chill washed over me, a final present from the creepy worms, no doubt.

“How do we go through decontamination, and how soon? I still have work I have to do tonight, and Hecate’s not big on patience.” None of the gods seemed to be, actually. Plus, I was already tired, but I still had to go after the Abomination down in the Bogs. All I really wanted to do was go home and sleep. I was running on fumes—adrenaline and sugar.

“It won’t take long. I’ve put in a call to headquarters. They’ll be here within half an hour. Meanwhile, something else you should be aware of. Astrigators not only drain energy, but they can store it up and transmit it to the person who summoned them. They’re a favorite tool for magicians who want to siphon off a great deal of energy without being noticed. The creatures can swarm through a populated area and steal energy. This will allow the magus to use higher power spells—ones that she or he can’t normally attempt.”

“So you’ll have to quarantine the entire town? What about anybody who has left since the tornado hit?” I couldn’t imagine what kind of job that would be.

She nodded. “Yes, the
entire
town. I’ve called in the D-Com unit. They’ll be here within the hour. Trust me, they have sirens and know how to use them.” She paused. “I need to speak with the Regent of Bend. You two stay here and wait for D-Com to arrive. They’ll start decontamination procedures so that you can get out of here as soon as possible. I’ll be in touch. I have your number—Hecate texted it to me.” With that, she snapped her tablet shut and stuck it into her bag, heading back to her car.

Jason and I wandered over to a rock the size of a bench and settled ourselves on it. I glanced up at the last of the fading light. Out here, the sun set earlier, and night seemed to arrive quickly. I let out a soft breath, trying not to think about the frenzied rush of astrigators who were swarming us even as we waited. The thought of them made me itch.

“What do you think they’ll do to us… The decontamination squad, I mean?” I wasn’t sure what to expect. “Will we be stuck in some tent and fogged over with some chemical or…” I had no idea how magical decontamination worked.

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. I would use a crystal grid or my wand, but Lightning Strikes is a sophisticated organization. There’s no telling what they’ve managed to come up with. I’m sure it won’t hurt,” he added.

I shrugged. “I’m not really worried about that.”

After a moment, I lapsed into silence, staring at the crater where the storm had touched down. The force inherent within weather magic was terrifying—mind-bendingly powerful.

“Penny-cash for your thoughts.” Jason glanced over at me.

“Just thinking about the past—history. Who would be stupid enough to chance setting off another World Shift?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at the horizon. “A lot of people. Those who think they could possibly manage to come out on top. If the Order of the Black Mist has decided to just basically throw a bunch of wrenches in the works, then they’re short sighted and stupid. Not to mention arrogant. But I had another thought. What if they are trying to overthrow the current governments in order to seize control rather than incite anarchy? They—the magicians—used to work behind the scenes for the various kings and lords. Now, what’s to stop them from trying to erect their own governing structures?”