Path of the Necromancer - FACTION WARS

Chapter 8.4 - Ian

Ian remained as taut as a drawn bow as he tracked the Shifters with his otherworldly senses. An oblique three-dimensional view of the surrounding buildings, allotments and courtyards mapped themselves in his mindseye. He couldn't describe the picture. He could feel it, it's dimensions sharp yet muted. Only the signatures of the Werewolves remained clear until they slipped over the unknown event horizon. Despite no longer feeling their presence, he found it impossible to relax.. The muscles of his back, particularly between his shoulder blades, ached from how forcibly he'd been holding himself. Cool slender fingers attempted to interlace with his, but he shirked out of the touch. He disguised his movement - after catching the hurt in Eris's doe eyes - by banishing the spirits.

As the muggy warmth replaced the terse chill, "What the fuck was that all about?" He demanded. His shout froze a few underlings halfway through dismounting. That seemed to be the catalyst for everyone to begin talking at once.

"We're missing something," Val offered with a shake of the head.

"No shit," Ian snapped. A trembling hand combed thick hair. It didn't stop the tremble.

Val's features pinched. "There's gotta be a hidden angle." Closing with her brother, "Let me see the message."

"Seems the flea-bag's got it in for you," Grim mused simultaneously. "Where's Red Riding Hood when you need her?"

"Hah!" Ember laughed. "That stuck up bitch was always manipulating fools to do her bidding."

Grim spluttered. "You mean that shit's real?" He gawked.

"Pretty much," Ember shrugged. "'Cept for Hansel and Grettle. What self respecting Witch uses Blood Magic?"

"As interesting as that is," Ian grouched. "Can we get back to the - oh, I dunno - the renewed tag on my head?"

That killed the spiralling colloquy; the pregnant pause dawdling alongside Ian's meandering strides. He wasn't aware of where his feet took him. Even with his eyes scorching the grooved concrete, he took none of it in. Instead everything was directed inwardly. Anger, irritation, frustration at the injustice of it all cramped his fingers. He closed his eyes, tried taking a breath, but instead was presented with the flashback of his sister's casual mutilation.

"So...," Dani attempted to draw the Romero siblings back into the conversation. "Are the Were normally this," She groped for the word. "Bold?"

Mei got to the answer first. "Not hardly," She yawned. Arms stretched overhead, she shifted her hip and closed the door behind her. "Can we go yet? I'm bored and didn't agree to doing charity work."

That earned dirty looks all round. All aside from Ian. He maintained his own council.

"What she said." Bobby advised. "They like to keep to themselves."

"So why this?" Dani extrospected.

"And more importantly," Ember tacked on. "Why us?"

Ian was aware of heads swivelling in two directions. It was telling how much of a divide still existed between the established order and the fresh initiates. It oddly struck Ian like two rivalling architects sizing up an unsuspecting plot. One with the ideas of grandeur, stone gargoyles and sculpted arches; the other composing wide open interiors made bright by a polished glass exterior. Those that hovered around the Night Watch vehicles - trucks, vans and a couple motorcycles - had, until then, been doing their best to blend with the environment. They eyed one another with caution, yet the hostility and suspicion landed squarely at his, Mei's and Eris's feet. The invisible shackles of loyalty dictated it. Didn't mean Ian wasn't resentful of it.

"They're feeling threatened and lashing out." Val contemplated. To Ian, she didn't seem convinced. "From what I know about their habits, they're testing us."