Those Wonderful Toys: Preternatural Chronicles Book 7 (The Preternatural Chronicles) Page 6

  I saw Hayley zoom in, very carefully, to the house’s backyard where we had created a small walled-in area that passersby wouldn’t notice if someone happened to look over the privacy fence.

  With the press of an icon, a light washed over Ludvig, and he was transported to the house, safe until we returned.

  “What the hell was that thing?” Hayley asked in a flat tone, wrapping her arms around her chest in a sign I knew to be one of vulnerability. Given her long, lean frame and lack of sizable breasts, Hayley was able to grab either shoulder with her hands and squeeze her arms tight. The symbol of the Council squished together as the warden tried to—without directly meaning to do so—make herself a smaller target.

  “I don’t know what that thing was,” I answered her question as she looked down to the ground and I scanned the horizon. I was still siphoning the energy from the sun to refill my tanks. “But I think it was some sort of hybrid.”

  “Yeah, how the fuck did it move so fast?” Hayley demanded, dropping her arms to her sides as she raised her scowling gaze to mine.

  “I can’t be certain, but I think that wolf had cheat codes on or something.”

  I began walking to the road, soaking in the sun, and Hayley jogged to catch up to me.

  Removing her wand, she waved the end over her body and cast a glamour that made it seem as if she were wearing normal clothing rather than the bull’s-eye that was the gray cloak of the Council.

  Looking Hayley up and down, I glanced at my own frame, and my armor shimmered from view, leaving behind my black Fae outfit complete with my custom-made trench coat and gray beanie.

  After a few minutes, we made it to where we had stashed our rental car and climbed in. I opted for the passenger seat as my mind replayed the events of the morning. Hayley seemed content to drive in silence with not even the radio playing, only the steady hum of the electric vehicle.

  As my mind repeatedly informed me that the monster was, in fact, overpowered even for the three of us, I briefly wondered if Depweg was doing well in Faerie.

  The lights of the city street shut off one by one down the line as the morning sun tripped the sensors, relieving them of their night shift duties.

  3

  Depweg - Faerie

  Depweg sat on a stump at the edge of a clearing with one elbow posted on a knee, his bearded chin resting on his fist. The field was green and ripe with flowers that tickled his nose with their scent as the wind gently glided, creating emerald waves.

  His free hand twirled the crystal that hung around his neck, absently feeling the ridges beneath his fingertips.

  Depweg’s eyes were unfocused as he took in the beauty of Faerie, not content to gaze at any one thing.

  The bright sun was warm on his skin, even through the clothes Taylor had made for him. Where John’s had been made for protection in battle, Depweg’s were loose and constructed with the intent of coming apart when he shifted. Sections of the black pants and tank top were held together with magic, though to Depweg they resembled simple magnetic strips. The idea was that when he needed to shift into his giant wolf-suit, the clothes would simply fall away, ready to be reclaimed and worn again rather than torn to shreds. Depweg hadn’t asked King TalGoid for the custom clothing with the nifty features, but he was appreciative all the same.

  A fairy—of the traditional Disneyesque spelling—landed on the knee that wasn’t holding up Depweg’s elbow. Lifting his tightly trimmed dark beard from his fist, he looked at his new friend and smiled.

  “Hey there, little buddy. What brings you here?”

  This particular type of fairy, though spelled the Disney way, was far from anything belonging on a children’s animated movie. John the Vampire had learned that the hard way when he’d trespassed on their fields.

  But Depweg wasn’t a vampire. His Lycan affliction stemmed from nature itself, and the creatures of Faerie could sense he was a friend to all the living things of the forest.

  The fairy, who buzzed its wings and moved in short jerks—almost like a hummingbird—quickly climbed up Depweg’s massive arm and began whispering into his ear.

  “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. They are, huh? Okay. Thanks, little buddy.”

  As the fairy took flight and hovered in the air just in front of the werewolf, Depweg lifted his fist, and the little creature returned the gesture by tapping his fist against the were’s. Then he zipped away.

  Depweg smiled and inhaled deeply, letting the crystal drop from his grasp to hang loosely around his neck with a leather cord some would say was far too long.

  A hand reached up to his shirt and tugged at the material, which came apart down one side as both straps separated, allowing the tank top to fall to the ground where the pieces reattached as if of their own volition.

  Depweg’s ear flinched, and the were jerked his torso to the side right as a wooden spear whistled through the air to lodge into the ground.

  Returning to his neutral standing position, Depweg smiled as his other ear twitched and he bent over at the waist right as an arrow flew past. Grabbing his pants, he once again lifted himself into a standing position while yanking the material apart, dropping them to the ground next to his tank top.

  Now completely naked, Depweg closed his eyes while letting his senses flow around him. The air became sharper, each smell having its own identity rather than being an amalgamation of scents.

  Ears continued to twitch as bushes rustled just inside where the woods began at the edge of the clearing. The wind glided across something that made a whistling sound, and Depweg knew it was caused by the huge nostrils of a troll.

  As practiced, Depweg turned and lunged toward the tree line, dropping to all fours as a twelve-foot wolf burst from where the man had just been. It had taken over a year of constant meditation and repeated exhaustive shifting in order to learn how to control the beast with absolute authority. John had shown him that it could be done when the vampire let Depweg tear him in half, nearly killing him and starting the apocalypse. It wasn’t until he stared at his dying friend that he was able to fully wrestle control from the monster inside his head. Though it angered Depweg to think about it, he knew his best friend had been right in his actions.

  The last year had been spent working on the instant transformations to the point that Depweg could swing a fist and have a clawed hand the size of a cinder block strike at the intended target. It took an immense amount of energy to do even a basic transformation, but as John had once described his ever-deepening well of power, Depweg had learned to focus and grow his own power base. Though instead of the well that the vampire made in 1480 had associated with storage, Depweg’s mental projection was a simple sand hourglass. He had always been fascinated with them after seeing one in a shop back in Germany when he was just a kid. Where John used the well to gauge his power, Depweg used the sand to determine how much time was left before the feral wolf started to gain control in much the same way it had happened in Mexico. As time passed, the hourglass grew larger, but there was still a limit to how long Depweg could remain in his feral form and still remain Depweg.

  Using Taylor’s guidance, he had learned to better steer using the control room of his mind in much the same way as John. Perhaps it was the simple act of imagining control over the beast that allowed Depweg to remain in the driver’s seat. Or maybe there was something to the metaphysical projection actually being a station from which to steer his body. No one knew for certain, only that it worked. Then again, John had mentioned that mortals had empty control rooms in their minds that weren’t being utilized.

  By the same thought, Depweg understood it was a symbolic thing when the vampire said he had an information city in his mind where he stored every lived moment of his long life. Surely he didn’t actually have a city in his head; it was merely a symbol that provided a means of control.

  Whatever the reason, it was working for the werewolf who had learned to tame the beast inside his mind.

  As Depweg bounded in the direction of his attack
ers, yellow eyes with black slits down their centers scanned the tree line as nostrils flared.

  He caught the scent of wood that didn’t share the same smell as the trees around it. He recognized it as the aroma of spears and arrows pulled from the ether instead of being born from the dirt.

  The crystal—which was now tighter around his enormous, muscular neck—bounced lightly against his chest as he bounded.

  An arrow came from the shadows of a particularly large tree, and Depweg launched himself through the air, turning as he dove. The arrow passed over his fur, slicing a few strands as it did.

  As Depweg righted himself in midair, a troll burst from a camouflaged net covered in foliage and positioned his spear against the ground with the tip ready to impale the giant wolf.

  Depweg swiped his powerful, nimble hands before bringing his elbow down to strike the troll in his chest, cracking ribs and sending the creature to tumble down to the ground like a rag doll.

  Three arrows whistled out of the dark, and Depweg raised his muscular arm to take two of the bolts in his forearm. The third pierced his pectoral muscles, severing the leather cord that held the crystal.

  Depweg noticed immediately and held up his hand while barking out, “Wait! Wait! I lost the crystal.”

  Sensitive ears heard the unmistakable sound of a bowstring being slowly eased back in place as footsteps, which had been as silent as a shadow’s, started to crunch the leaves and twigs.

  “I told you to have Taylor fasten it with Fae silk. It would have stopped my arrow,” a young, feminine voice lightly chastised.

  Depweg removed the arrows from his forearm and chest while barely acknowledging they were even in his flesh. To him, they might as well have been mosquito bites.

  “I didn’t want to bother him,” Depweg said in his wolf voice, though, to be honest, it wasn’t all that much different from his usual speaking tone now that he had learned to control the beast.

  “Bother him? I think it would do him good to pull himself away from his work. I barely see my uncle anymore.”

  “You know what he’s doing is important, Ghleann,” Depweg said as his eyes searched the ground.

  The elven lady, Ghleann, stepped forward and, without missing a beat, reached down into a thick mound of grass to retrieve the crystal.

  She lifted the necklace up for Depweg, all the while trying to hide a grin.

  Depweg placed both of his massive hands on his hips and tilted his head at the young elf.

  “I’m just playing, silly wolf,” Ghleann giggled while using her much smaller, nimble fingers to tie the leather string back together.

  Once complete, she handed the repaired necklace to Depweg, who placed it over his thick neck again, tapping it twice as the crystal rested in its usual place.

  “I wonder how much time you lost because of that,” Ghleann tittered playfully.

  “Not funny. I can’t afford to lose any time on Midworld with the dilation between planes.”

  “Then why are you even here?” a young male voiced asked as a troll limped to where the pair was standing, his ribs popping back in place. Trolls had exceptional healing, second only to vampires. Even Depweg took a little bit of time healing broken bones compared to the troll before him.

  “To be better than I was yesterday,” Depweg responded honestly.

  “Don’t listen to Ruak,” Ghleann countered while giving a friendly scowl to the young troll.

  “It’s Russell. You know I want to be called Russell.”

  “What’s wrong with Ruak?” she asked with a wry smile.

  The young troll—whose bottom tusks were still able to fit in his mouth enough to not give him the typical troll lisp—moved his thin, dark hair out of his eyes. It was a gesture he did often.

  “I chose Russell. I like Russell. I want to get used to it before I move to Midworld, Ghle,” the young troll said, sticking his head out and shaking it slightly as he said her name.

  “I like Ghle,” Depweg said.

  “I do too, because my father gave it to me before he...” her voice cut off and she turned her back on the pair, leaving Depweg and Russell to glance at one another knowingly.

  Depweg rested a huge hand over the entirety of the small elf’s back, being extra gentle to the point where he was still holding up his own hand rather than resting it on her frame.

  “Taylor told me your father died a hero, Ghle. He said that when it came time to destroy the portal when the Shadow Court attacked, your father and the men he led didn’t even hesitate. They saved all of the Seelie Court.” Depweg left out the part about saving John’s life, too, because the young elf blamed the vampire for being the cause of the worst day in Faerie’s history: The Day of Night. What was worse was that Depweg couldn’t convince himself it hadn’t been his friend’s fault. John’s actions had led to the consequences that nearly wiped all of Faerie off the map. Countless were dead, including both the Summer and Winter Queens who had ruled in harmony for thousands of years.

  Ghle wiped at each of her cheeks with terse gestures that bordered on anger before taking a shuddering breath and turning back to her friends. Depweg let his hand drop to his side.

  “At least you still have Taylor,” Russell said barely above a whisper, as if he were trying to hold back the words but they had slipped past his meager defenses to leak out of his mouth.

  Ghle shot daggers with her eyes as they landed on the troll whose skin was almost pitch black. Then her expression softened as she understood that he was right. Russell had lost everyone during The Day of Night, and the elf knew her friend hadn’t been the same since.

  A single gong from a small bell indicated it was time for breakfast.

  Depweg began shifting back to his man-suit, a much more painful transformation than growing into the wolf. Bone, muscle, vascular tissue, and everything else had to contract into a vessel that was half the size of the feral wolf-suit, and it freaking hurt. Even though he was used to the pain and anticipated it, it still stole his breath every time the transformation began. One of these days he would focus on making the shift back into his man-suit as fast as that of going feral. Every time he tried, the pain was so intense it stole his focus and drowned his determination with agony.

  Ghle and Russell knew this, and moved toward the castle to give Depweg a modicum of privacy in his most vulnerable state.

  “Why does he need that stupid necklace?” Russell asked, wondering why the time dilation mattered for the werewolf.

  Ghle had a basic understanding of the truth, having picked up bits and pieces from overheard conversations or papers left out on Uncle Taylor’s desk, but she didn’t know enough to explain it to her only friend. Well, only friend except for the human, Magni.

  “He...he has friends on Midworld and doesn’t want to have a big difference in time whenever he goes back. I think Uncle Taylor said that the stupid vampire was here for six months but three years passed on his plane. He also lost...I think he said ten years when he was only here a few hours the first time.”

  “What? Did he not use a portal to shift planes the first time?”

  “I don’t think so.” Ghle thought about her conversation with Taylor. “Uncle didn’t tell me exactly what happened, but I think the idiot somehow got lucky and barely made it without using a portal.”

  “Hmph,” Russell responded, clearly processing what Ghle had said.

  They came to the castle entrance and stepped through the side door.

  Russell went through first, and then stopped to look at his friend with a puzzled look on his face.

  “How does someone get to our plane on accident? That...that doesn’t make sense.”

  From over his short friend’s shoulder, Russell could see Depweg putting on his clothes while evidently lost in his own thoughts.

  “Like I said, I don’t know everything. It’s so annoying that Uncle Taylor won’t tell me!” Ghle’s eyes moved past Russell before they lit up in excitement and she squealed, “Magni!”

&
nbsp; Russell’s heart plummeted at the display of affection that Ghleann had for the human. And not just any human but a human that hunted supes.

  Before he could stop it, an animalistic growl spilled from his mouth, but no one noticed.

  A large hand was dropped on the young troll’s shoulder, and he jerked his head to see Depweg staring off at the energetic couple who was already lost in the ocean of new love. It had taken Magni over a year to even talk to Ghleann, making the excuse that his studies were more important. Taylor and Depweg had gotten together and formulated a plan where all the youth would begin training together. Where each citizen of Faerie had traditionally trained with their own respective kind, it had been decided that a change was needed in order for the remaining species to survive.

  Even after pairing them up on a private class just for the two of them, it had still taken Magni six months to build up the courage to express his feelings for young Ghle.

  She’d about knocked him over with an energetic hug, and the two had been all but inseparable ever since.

  Depweg leaned into Russell and whispered, “I get it. But you’ll grow out of it and find the right girl for you.”

  “She is the right girl for me. The human needs to be with his own kind. Don’t werewolves follow a similar path?”

  Depweg smiled, but it was only a mere curving of his lips that couldn’t quite reach his eyes. He patted Russell twice and then walked past, ignoring the lovebirds who were excitedly telling each other about their days.

  Russell watched with a tight chest and clenched teeth as the human, Magni, walked hand in hand with the Lady Ghleann. The crystal that acted as the twin to Depweg’s glinted in the light around the mortal’s neck.

  With a feeling of darkness swallowing his heart, Russell turned and began making his way to where the common citizens of Faerie resided. Though he was friends with the king’s niece, he knew he didn’t belong within their walls or at their dining table.

  Opening a servant’s door, Russell turned one more time to see the joyful Ghle disappear into the castle.