Rise of the Firebird (45 page)

“It’s a warning,” Eldon said, “beware to enter the Lands of the Mistress of the North…the usual elaborations of disfigurement, damming of souls and eating of faces.”

Anya nudged him playfully, “It does
not
talk about eating of faces.”

“Of course it does…you see this pictogram that looks like a squiggle and a rune? Definitely means face eating.”

“It wouldn’t be the Otherworld without some cryptic riddle on a rock trying to give directions,” Katya said cynically. “It would be okay to say ‘Pohjola’ and have an arrow…oh no, it has to be a riddle written in pictures and runes not one or the other.”

“Don’t forget the premonitions of doom,” Izrayl piped in until they were both giggling.

“You two are as bad as each other,” Aleksandra rolled her eyes. “Come on, we had best get going before the sun goes down, we would hate to miss the lights.” Mychal flinched as he stepped on the right sided path.

“What is it?” Anya asked.

“Nothing, I thought I felt something. I’m sure it was nothing.” He took Aleksandra’s hand. Everyone seemed to shrug it off, but Anya didn’t fail to see Mychal’s eyes check behind them.

A cold wind began to blow as they walked and Anya pulled the scarf tighter around her neck. It smelt unfamiliar and floral but it was pretty and warm. Trajan’s scarf was stowed safely in her bag, a token of his presence. He would have like Karelia too. Anya would never forget his voice reading her stories from her copy of the
Kalevala
. She knew he would’ve found it ironic and wonderful that her path had led her to Karelia.

“What are you thinking about?” Aramis asked as he walked beside her. She wrapped her fingers around his soft wooden ones and felt the purr of magic move through her.

“Trajan,” she admitted, “I’m sure he would be shaking his head at where I am right now.”

“I’m sure he is pacing and saying ‘What are you doing Anyanka? I spend hundreds of years protecting your family and now you are going to see the Mistress of Northland? Have you not learned by now’?” Aramis said in an eerie imitation, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s not upsetting, Aramis. He would be saying that. Grief is so strange. I don’t feel like I have swallowed a bag of needles when I think of him, or if I remember something good and happy. I miss him. I always will, but it is a different kind of pain.”

“There’re stages of grieving. Some days will be better than others will. Hold on to the good memories, Anya. Believe me, they are what makes immortality bearable.”

“Immortality…”muttered Anya, “No one is immortal. You all say that I’ve become one of the Powers, that the
elvianth
changed me, but it’s all words. I can’t even braid my hair straight or stop being so clumsy…nothing has changed.”

“It’s words to you now, but in fifty years’ time, you may feel very differently.”

“It seems that surviving the next fifty days will be a triumph let alone fifty years.”

“It
seems
, not what will be. Take heart at your accomplishments so far
hjarta systir
. We’ll be able to face anything and survive as long as we stand together.”

“Look there!” called Yvan ahead of them. Moving through the trees like a wall of shadow was a blue grey aurora.

“I have never seen one that colour,” Anya said uncertainly.

“Neither have I,” Katya pulled out a knife.

“There’s only one way to find out I suppose,” Eldon said. “I’ve been to Pohjola but through a different path. The shade of aurora will be the least of our worries.”

“That’s not reassuring,” Yvan grumbled.

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

“Enough,” Anya said and before they could stop her, she ran through the gate.

The hunters started arriving in New Orleans a week after Mama Lya’s funeral. Whether it was intentional or not, word of Harley’s defiance of the Conseil Neutres had ripped through the Neutral worldwide community. Isabelle and Hamish had contacted a few hunters they knew and trusted, but more and more were seeking them out. Isabelle was taking calls day and night.

“I don’t know why this is happening,” Isabelle flopped down on the white wicker lounge on Silvian’s back porch.

“The Darkness and the Illumination are brewing a supernatural world war, Isabelle. Everyone neutral is feeling the pressure from either side. The weak will cave in and pick a side but the stronger neutrals will stand together and make a side of their own,” Silvian said as he poured iced tea into tall glasses.

“Brilliant. When the battle comes to a head, there will be three armies instead of two.”

“It isn’t just hunters that are restless. Magic users from all over have been reaching out to find news on what is happening here in New Orleans. As you know, it’s a favourite neutral city, and to have one of our only safe places threatened by a power hungry and corrupt Conseil Neutres means danger for us all. Not to mention they made an alliance with Ladislav!”

“I don’t know what stupid Frankie has in his head, but siding with the Rogue black magic users can’t be the answer. They’ll turn on them or create another evil army.”

“Remember the days when all you have to worry about was whether or not you had a soul? Good times.”

Isabelle tried to smile but she found she couldn’t, even with Silvian stealing Hamish’s slang. “I don’t know what we are going to do about Harley,” she admitted.

“Why do we need to do anything? A person with new power must be left to discover it on their own. I thought your time with Anya would’ve shown you that.”

“Anya had the Twins. She had advice from Baba Zosia and Aleki. Aramis arrived like a magnificent silver god and took her as one of his own. Mama Lya accessed her power with vodou. It isn’t Harley’s way. She hated it.”

“Has she set anything on fire? Blown anyone up?”

“No, but I don’t want to be waiting around for it to happen.”

“It might never manifest in that way,” Silvian said before sighing dramatically in defeat. “Just
ask
Isabelle. I know you’re going to anyway.”

“You have already done so much, Silvian. We dragged you into our fight and now expect you to stand by us.”

“It was Aramis that dragged me into it and perhaps I wanted to be dragged. I was idle for far too long and one can’t drink and fuck their way through eternity. Believe me, I know,” he roared with laughter, as Isabelle turned red. She hated that he could do that.

“Will you please teach her? At least watch out for her…tips or something? It was never something she wanted even when Mama Lya tried to teach her. It was selfish of her to pass it to Harley.”

“Selfish or not, she did it as one final act to protect her. I’ll offer wisdom where I can, Belle, but I make no promises. I’m a magical being and therefore I don’t know if the same rules would apply.”

“She can’t go anywhere else. Abélard can help her only so far because Harley won’t have anything to do with vodou.”

“She’s wise not to. It might’ve been Lya’s power but it will change now that it has transferred to Harley. We all have the ability for magic inside of us, Isabelle, but we are the ones that shape it. Yours manifested to become a warrior, to protect others. Harley’s power could very well be channelled into making the most magnificent motorcycles the world has ever seen.”

“I doubt it, but it’s nice to dream. You saw what she did at Coliseum Street. She’s so angry-”

“She will not go Dark,” Silvian chastised. “Dismiss the thought from your mind this instant. I know evil, I can see what is inside of people and believe me, Harley is angry but she is good. Her power will settle and then she’ll be whatever she is.”

“I wish I could be as calm about it as you are.” Isabelle sipped her iced tea and felt her knees go warm. Whatever he had spiked her drink with was potent.

“There’s no point being anxious, Belle. We can’t control it. Where is Harley anyway?”

“She’s gone to the shop to see to the business. She can’t hide out here all the time no matter how dangerous the situation is. Hamish is on rounds with Cerise and they are going to check in to see some of the new hunters that have arrived. We are sectioning off the city and the greater area. More hunters covering the area means we might get some of the killing down.”

“Vigilantes unite for the greater good. Tis a beautiful thing.”

“It’s a fucking powder keg. They’re pissed off. First, this bitchy cat fight between Yanka and Baba Yaga, and now corruption in the Conseil Neutres? They will break the city if we do nothing.”

“The Illumination and the Darkness have ruled with intimidation over the supernatural communities long enough and for what? So Baba Yaga and Yanka can play their games. No, it is enough now. Anya and her Prince are the key to all of this and it will end here.”

Isabelle drove over to Legba’s Ladies late in the afternoon. Harley and Fox were fighting over a new design and for a few moments, Isabelle could almost believe that everything was normal. That was until she saw all of the extra surveillance cameras and the new protection signals. Harley had sent the staff away for unscheduled, fully paid holidays in an attempt to keep them from becoming targets. Finishing the orders was left to Blue Jay, Harley and Fox. Isabelle and Hamish helped out where they could in between patrols.

“Belle! Thank God, you are here. Can you please tell Miss Fox that it would look better having a tentacle wrapping around to encircle the fuel tank cap?” Harley passed her the design.

“What did the customer want?”

“He said to get creative.”

“I say check with him first. He might have sanctioned creativity but people can be very specific about how creative they like things. I’d worry that if you do a tentacle it would get scratched up when he unscrews the cap all the time.”

“Thank you!” Fox smirked and walked away. Harley huffed impatiently.

“What’s up Harls, you’re looking a little bit tense.”

“Of course, I’m tense! I have three bikes to finish off and I’m worried and frustrated. You know, the usual.”

“You are doing great considering. Where’s Blue Jay?”

“Delivering a bike,” Harley ran her hands through her hair, “I’m driving him nuts. He’s going to come to his senses and GTFO because who wants to be dating someone this high maintenance, with inherited unknown magical powers that half of New Orleans wants to kill?”

“I suppose it would depend on what the sex is like,” said a new voice. It was British and sharp as the blade the owner carried.

“Lovelace!” Isabelle exclaimed, as a woman in her thirties walked into the workshop. She had dark brown hair set in finger waves and pinned up tightly and elaborately. She wore a fitted three-piece men’s suit in a dark blue tweed pattern with a matching shirt, tie, and mother of pearl cufflinks. A sword hung from her left hip and gripped in her right hand was a dripping, decapitated head.

“Isabelle my dear, what shall I do with this?” she lifted the head. Harley grabbed a metal scrap bin and held it out. The head banged heavily into the bottom while Lovelace pulled out a blue silk handkerchief and delicately wiped the blood and dead man’s sweat from her hands.

“I caught the little Brujo bastard trying to do something naughty on the roof of the place next door. He was trying to scry out your defences when clearly he should’ve been concerned with his own. Are you Harley?”

“I am.”

“Lovelace Jones,” she held out her hand and Harley shook it. “I’ve heard a tremendous amount about you, my dear. Rumour has it you’re trying to take on the entire Conseil Neutres. I like a girl with pluck. Is it true that a Lilu saved you?”

“His name is Silvian,” Isabelle said.

“My, my, you’re travelling in some unique circles these days, Isabelle Blackwood,” Lovelace chuckled delightfully.

“So what brings you so far from your beloved England, Lovelace?” Isabelle asked. She was smiling, going through the pleasantries, but inside she was as tight as a bowstring. Lovelace was a magnificent hunter but her main concern was the United Kingdom. She had never paid much attention to what happened beyond her borders; much less felt the need to travel to the colonies as she had always referred to them.

“War is threatening my England, there was a bomb in London and the damn Ruskies are to blame. I’ve had as much as I can stomach of it. There’s been whispers on the winds and they speak of you, Belle. I tracked you because I need to know the truth. I’ll help you if I’m satisfied with your answers.”

“Shall I make tea?” Fox chimed from the office door. She had three small blades resting lazily in-between her fingers.

“Tea would be splendid!” Lovelace brightened, ignoring the sarcasm. “And believe me, you won’t need those knives. There are far too many enemies out there for us to fight amongst ourselves. Sugar and lemon for me, please pet.” Isabelle watched Fox’s face still. She eyed Lovelace’s sword and chose to ignore the tone. She shrugged and walked to the kitchen.

“I’ve let all my customers know that I’m closed, so we shouldn’t be bothered,” Harley said as they moved to sit around the beaten up coffee table.

“I do love your shop. I have a terrific BSA M20 that I inherited from my father. World War Two issue and still runs like a dream,” Lovelace commented as she admired the half completed bikes.

“I can imagine. Growing up, my dad had a poster of one in his garage at home. He always talked of importing one,” Harley recalled. Fox came in with cups balancing on a clipboard. There were three mugs and one delicate cup and saucer.

“Kinda figures you would be the type of girl who drank from china,” said Fox as she handed Lovelace her cup.

“And it is even Earl Grey, I’m impressed,” Lovelace said, her tinkling laugh filling the workshop.

“It may be a garage but it is one run by women. We aren’t above nice tea cups,” Fox said as she flopped on the couch so she was positioned between Harley and Lovelace.

“What do you want to know, Miss Jones?” Isabelle asked as she sipped her tea.

“This girl you follow, she is a descendant of Yanka’s, yes?”

“Yes she is. And we do not “follow” her, we believe in her.”

“Golly, you
believe
in her. Believe that she can do what exactly?”