Omens
Hummingbird heartbeat. Marcus recognized it before the door closed. The shrouded figure slid into the dingy, out-of-the-way dive bar with more shadows than light. From his corner, he could see the comings and goings, and still missed the movement until there was a weather-chilled body seated across from him, thick gloved hand on his own glass. "You're damn hard to find." The faintest kiss of an ancient land accented the soft voice. "We need to talk."
"It's much easier if I want to be found." There was a stilted pause. "In this case, you got lucky."
"I've been two days behind you for six months, Marcus. What're you running from?" The shroud lifted enough to reveal the second scarf covering down to brows that framed eyes the color of quality bourbon, pale brown and full of worry.
"Running? His eyebrow rose. "Not quite. You forget, there's not much that bothers me anymore. If I wanted my reasons to be known I would have left plenty of notice." He took a long draw from his drink. "Contrary to the gossip mill, running is a useless and trivial response. I just choose to fight certain battles with a less obvious approach."
"You might be interested to know that Volterra fell two moons ago." The voice spoke softly, "Whether the inhabitants are destroyed or prisoners I do not know. If there are survivors, I also do not know. I've been preoccupied with tracking you."
"That's news." If he was the least bit shocked by the revelation, he didn't show it in face or body language. "And from whom did you swindle that information, if you've spent all this time tailing me. And why have you been tailing me in the first place?" The tone was more idle curiosity than ire.
"I have long been a fringe associate to Theron of many names." She raised one hand signaling the passing waitress. "A glass of Medovukha, please."
To the waitress' credit, being summoned to the table of a predator… no… Marcus remembered grimly, small as she was, this was no ordinary being, did not make her quiver with fear. What her proper name was, he didn't know. What she acknowledged was Raina with any number of surnames. In his eyes she was as dangerous as her allies, if not more. With a brisk nod, she strode off and quickly returned with the requested glass of liquid several shades darker than her eyes. She disappeared only after she was paid.
Taking a sip, he saw a notch of relaxation crease her brow. "Are you going to answer or play games?"
"From whom did I learn of it? I have contacts, quite literally everywhere." Her tone was patient, "But this particular source came from The Grey Witch in Rome. As for why I was tailing you?" She paused for another sip, "Well that's between Draedyn and I."
"Ah," He considered the answers. The ring on his finger clinked against his glass as he took a moment to observe the patronage and the group of fur clad males that were now making unnecessary ruckus at the bar. His gaze returned to her. "There are perils to tailing me when I have business that I wish to keep top secret. My ire would be one of those perils should your tail have blown my cover. The slavers would have been the very least of your worries in that case." A tempered smile broke his features for a fleeting moment. His fangs glimmered in the smoke-laden light.
"When you're ready," The cool, calm response sent a shiver of warning down his spine. Despite being encased in a fragile mortal shell, before him sat one of the deadliest foes his kind faced. "Might be fun to play such games with you."
"This isn't the place for petty games. Besides, you should know better than to test his patience when he's been busy dealing with the scourge of the lowest levels of hell." Afton's dead-pan tone broke the building tension. He slid into the vacant seat, giving her a veiled nod of greeting and gliding his glass onto the table in front of him. For the briefest of moments, his gaze met Marcus' and a pointed but silent conversation was spoken with such subtly that if one weren't paying attention it would have gone totally unnoticed.
Amusement briefly lightened her features, "Afton, I know when to play and when to pull. Besides, I'm not interested in paying to repair this place and make the associated legal difficulty disappear."
Afton gave a nod, "Good to know." He stirred his drink, blending the contents to a dark crimson before taking a long sip. "So do you plan to follow us out of here? Or did you have business to discuss before we move on?" He flagged down a waitress and ordered the table another round. "On me this time." When the order arrived, he tipped the woman nicely with payment and gave her a good word before she sidled back to the bar.
"That depends on him." She seemed unperturbed by the bluntness. "As I said, Volterra has fallen. Even our spies cannot, yet, root out what or who has taken it hostage."
"You can rest assured that I plan to take note of that information. And don't worry, you will get credit for providing me with it." Marcus tapped the table with a finger. "It's not a problem that can be handled from here. A snap of the fingers won't do it but it is one that is on the top of the priority list. I have always been meticulous in the way I handle my business and until this point, the problem with the Slavers was and will continue to be a priority until their kind no longer exists. I am sure that you understand as I know well enough that you have no love for Slavers either."
"I don't need credit," She spun the glass in her gloved hand, "Better in fact I am forgotten once we do part ways." Her eyes skimmed to the rowdy group of men at the bar, "We will need to vacate this location soon. They're brewing a brawl. I'd hate to shed blood."
"They already incited one before they came inside." Afton revealed, his tone cold. "Harmless drunks are dangerous drunks. They are all armed with concealed blades." He grinned. "No need to question how I know."
"I assume everyone I meet is armed." She chuckled softly, "Most of the time they are. Drunks are always an unpredictable hazard." This time her eyes focused on Marcus, "I do not suggest returning to Italy. Death awaits…"
"I will heed the advice." Marcus finished his drink. "Returning to Italy wasn't the immediate plan and knowing what I do now, the plans will need to be further modified." He let his gaze survey the crowd at the bar. "Degenerates."
"They have their uses." There was a hint of pure amusement in her tone, "Entertainment at times, and at others, cover." A disturbance over Afton's shoulder drew her attention, shifting from relaxed to attentive.
"Lady?" Afton shifted recognizing the gleam that brightened her pale eyes. "What is it?"
"Trouble's brewing." She slid her glass aside as the sound of glass breaking cut through the rowdy laughter.
The racket was punctuated by a high-pitched scream and frightened chatter. One of the men slammed his fist down onto the bar. The stool that he had been sitting on toppled as he reached and grabbed the now terrified female by the hair and jerked her back against him. His free hand roamed down over her buttocks. "Your participation wasn't a choice, it was a demand lovey." He spun her into him and slapped her face. "I guess I'll have to teach you some manners."
Afton shifted out of his seat to allow Marcus to move. A blur of charcoal and blues and a glance across the table revealed Raina had already moved in. "Fuck." He muttered under his breath. "She's going to get herself killed."
"Unlikely." Marcus turned to focus on the small woman now standing hands on her hips well within striking distance of the slaver.
"Hey, asshole, strip club's down the way. Paws off the lass." She didn't quail beneath the murderous glare. "Don't make me have to hurt you." Neither needed to see her face to know her smile was predatory.
The man licked his lips and fondled the lady again, this time pinching her butt to incite a reaction. His gaze lifted to the female that had interrupted his fun. "Aw, come 'ere firefly and I'll do the same for you." He tightened his grip upon his prize, gaining ego as those he'd come in with began to goad him on.
Her head cocked to the side as her hands slid up her sleeves, "Nah, I don't think so. I do better at giving orders, asshole. Let her go."
"No," He pulled a blade from concealment and cut her cheek. "She doesn't get a choice." His gaze moved over those nearby, stalling as he noticed the two cloaked figures now standing in plain sight. Again his grip tightened and he jerked her sobbing, bleeding form back against him, planting the blade of the knife at her throat.
"Really needs to lay off the swill," Afton shook his head, knowing full-well that Marcus wouldn't stand aside much longer. His eyes caught the glimmer of steel as several of the other men subtly drew their own blades. "Degenerate doesn't quite describe the lot of them, does it?"
"No, it doesn't." Marcus agreed in a low voice, "Nor do any of them realize what they've invited."
"Death." Afton breathed, "Agitating the Spider's Bite is never wise. Should we …"
A low, throaty hiss was the response. It was a warning that Marcus was quickly growing tired of the situation. "Afton, guard the door. He's not leaving with her. If that means he dies then so be it but she is not his property."
Afton shifted position so that he could see both the dark-clad woman and Marcus. A fire was brewing and he knew it.
"I'll give you thirty seconds to decide that death isn't worth trying to get out the door with the lass." Her tone evoked the idea she had simply stated the color of the sky.
"If she doesn't come then I spill her blood right here." He pressed the blade of the knife against her flesh. Those that were with him began to move, closing their ranks as if to shield him from anyone who would try to steal away his prize.
"Release her." Marcus didn't move but the timbre of his tone crawled over the space like the threat from an angry viper. "Unless you'd rather perish, along with the bunch you came with."
"I'd listen if I were you." Afton stepped back, putting his frame directly in the path of the door. "He doesn't play well with others. Especially when they piss him off."
The crowd now attempting to shield him snickered loudly. Blades flashed in the dim light. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and dug the blade of the knife into her chest; the pressure from it brought a trickle of blood. "I don't like your odds. She's mine."
Folding her hands before her, the woman rocked on her heels, "And how precisely do you expect to get past him." She tilted her head toward the door where Afton stood, "Or past me to get to the kitchen, to get out of here, with your life? Inquiring minds would love to know."
Two of those in his crowd, at his silent behest, moved to confront her. He shifted, roughly pushing his bloody and terrified prize in front of him; using her body as a shield between himself and those that stood between him and the door. His blade moved up to nick her neck over the jugular. "She belongs to me or she dies right here right now." He began moving toward the door leaving his crowd to keep his back.
She ignored the movement at her back. "If she wasn't scared of your itty-bitty blade she'd kick you in the knee." Sensing the approach of not one but two, the woman pivoted on one heel and landed a sharp kick in the knee.
"Bitch!" He hissed, the blow throwing him off-balance. His hand slid down her arm to her wrist. He yanked her backward, pushing her arm up behind her briefly before sinking the blade into her shoulder.
She gasped. Her knees buckled and she sank to the floor in front of him. The instant his grip loosened against her arm, she jerked it free and tried to scramble to the safety of the hooded figure standing nearby.
Before her captor could take hold of her again, Marcus reacted. His grip was firm but without harm as he pulled her up and lifted her over the vacant table between them. He set her down behind him, between his position and Afton's. "She is not your property. If you wish to argue that point, you will need to go through me."
Afton stepped forward to quickly check on the terrified, now rescued, hostage. "Easy, sit still. He tore you up good." He put a hand on her shoulder and with a swift, straight motion, pulled the knife from the wound. Her hand, he took and placed it against the puncture. "You'll be fine. Just stay seated. You're now safe."
"You cost me my prize, you'll take her place." The man staggered to his feet and propelled himself forward only to be blown backwards by an open-palm strike.
"I don't take orders." She side-stepped a blade singing through the air aimed for her throat. A lightning fast scissor-strike sent the blade clattering to the floor. "Try again."
"Hey! Don't destroy my bar! Take it outside!" The bartender hollered over the drunken laughter and threatening posturing of the group of men.
"Marcus, he wants these troublemakers gone." Afton cracked his knuckles. "Shall we?" He turned his focus briefly to the one who had been accosted. "Just stay here. They won't harm you further." He moved to engage those that were now harassing the bartender.
"I said take it-." The order failed to finish as a well-aimed right hook caught the bartender directly in the temple. Laughter roared over the walls as one of the men moved to pick up the now limp body and pitch it over the bar.
"You've had enough. Time for you and your buddies to vacate the premises." Afton spun the drunk sod into his grip and escorted him outside. A few moments later, he returned to help Marcus dispatch the rest of them. He realized he'd walked into bloody mayhem a split-second before a howling, bleeding body sailed toward his chest. "What the hell?" He swatted the body away in time to see Marcus twist a man's head nearly off his shoulders.
"Pretty sure he touched her breast." Marcus revealed matter-of-factly as a blur of dark colors cut the divide. "Don't think she liked it."
"Well, you get what you deserve." Afton locked his grip around one of the remaining troublemakers and shoved him through the still open door. "A good soaking should help that temper." A loud clap of thunder broke the ruckus as the storm outside made its presence known. He turned back to the melee now taking place around where Raina was currently standing. His gaze shifted as the bartender, still half dazed rose from the floor to hunker behind the bar.
"Good point," Raina climbed the back of one of the men who'd turned to follow the dazed bartender. Using the hilt of one of the short, curved blades, she rapped it against on the man's skull. "Nighty-night." She leapt down, spun and sent the same blade sailing past Afton's shoulder, sinking it into the attacker about to throw an axe at him.
"Damn it, I'm glad to know that wasn't aimed at me." Afton felt the spray of hot blood hit the back of his neck.
Raina ducked a right hook and stepped closer to Marcus "I don't normally miss."
"Afton, let's get rid of the rest of them. If they don't cooperate, kill them." Marcus had officially had enough of the current ruckus. He intended to set the bar right afterward but he also intended for the trouble to be gone for good.
The three drunken men that were left joined forces. They made a beeline toward the table where the injured woman sat shivering in fear and pain. Shoving the other patrons aside, they aimed to either re-capture or further injure their prey.
Marcus moved with purpose, stepping in front of the horde to block the table and the target. He turned briefly to her, "I won't allow them to further harm you." He stood unmoving, his expression dead-pan, daring them to test his fraying patience. "If you want her, you will have to deal with me." The words rumbled over the space, sending the room into deathly silence.
"Drunk and stupid." Afton moved to provide Marcus some back up without leaving Raina exposed in case this finale turned into a real blood bath. He didn't give warning when the three men pulled weapons.
"Like you could stop us." The one in the center finished off the bottle of ale in his hand then broke the neck of the bottle off against a nearby table. He waved the now jagged edged bottom of it menacingly as he lunged in Marcus' direction. The other two brandished blades and did the same.
"Marcus," Afton's admonition came about the same time the reaction. For a split second, the air around them seemed to grow cold. Time seemed to slow as he watched Marcus step back to avoid being sliced open by the jagged edge of the broken bottle. "Mar -. "
The drunkard staggered. He raised his arm, throwing a backswing strike with the broken bottle.
Startled screaming and the crash as the table toppled over created a moment of distraction. Marcus stumbled backward. The forward momentum of his attacker forced him off balance just enough that he didn't catch the flailing upper cut. He gave a throaty hiss and shoved back in order to create space. His eyes darkened as his anger boiled over. "You must have a death wish."
"Now you've gone and done it." Afton quickly helped the girl up from her seat and out of the line of fire. He knew when Marcus slid his hand along the scratch on his chin what was coming.
"Property. Two new ones and you're being a fool." Came the slurred response swaying to his feet, bottle shard somehow still in hand.
Behind him, just in Marcus' line of sight he saw Raina move. He dodged the swipe of one blade as another zinged past his shoulder. "I don't think you want that one." He pointed behind the man. The other attacker sank to the floor, the still vibrating hilt of the blade protruding from his side.
"She'll break and serve jus' like the res'." The man glanced back.
Marcus reacted, grabbing him by the throat. With a lightning fast motion, he snapped the bottle from his hand and then knocked the man unconscious. "She's not property to anyone." He released his grip and allowed the limp body to sink to the floor at his feet. HIs gaze lifted to sweep the room. "Any others that feel the need to try my patience?"
For what seemed like an eternity, no sound nor movement came from the patrons left within the walls of the building. Blinking pin pricks glittered in the smoky lighting. All eyes were glued to the one who stood waiting for further ruckus or outright confrontation.
"Well?" Afton saw the motion before anyone else. Two half-drunk males stumbled from behind the bar. "Drop the weapons." He watched as they made their way to the open space created from the previous brawl.
They didn't hesitate but for a split second, long enough to fumble with their clothing in order to find the concealed contraband and pitch it onto the floor in front of them. They raised their hands. One of them made a flailing gesture toward the door.
"That's all up to him." Afton left the decision as to whether they were allowed to leave without any sort of repercussion to Marcus. His gaze shifted to meet Raina's. Even in the dim light, he could see the amusement tickling the corners of her mouth.
"Could always bring them to heel before Lord Theron." She kicked several blades away from the men, this time the subtle sigil of the Black Widow Clan peeking out of the layers of scarves she wore, "I doubt he'd be as pleased as we to deliver spoils."
"The odds weren't in your favor," Afton spun his own blade visibly in his hand, pitching it up into the air and catching it easily by the hilt. "You should have made better choices." He took a step forward, fully blocking the door. "Marcus? You want to lug these two to Theron and let him scare the piss out of them or should we give them an evening to remember?"
"Lord Theron has no love for slavers. He finds amusement in letting them rot in his dungeons." Marcus paused, allowing the words to hang stale in the air. "He tortures them until they no longer hold his attention and then terminates them." A sinister grin appeared, his fangs glowing in the smoky light. "He drinks their blood."
"Now, now." Raina spoke up in a silken tone that sent a shiver through the room. "No need to play so rough with them." Even in the dim light her eyes gleamed with amusement. "Unless of course, there's more."
They shook their heads but gave no verbal response. Neither of them moved other than nervous fidgeting. It was obvious by their expressions that they knew Theron's name even if they had never actually met him.
"We could just as easily slice them open and let the wolves have them." Raina suggested coldly. Seemingly on cue, there came a loud clap of thunder followed by a cacophony of eerie howls. "They never turn down a meal."
Afton slid to the side almost before Marcus could give him the signal. "If you aren't out of sight by the count of ten, your existence will be forfeit. Better move quick." He motioned toward the door. "Oh and don't come back. We'll know and you'll regret it."
"One-two-." Raina paced before them. "Three- you better get your ass in gear. These two had just as soon bleed you dry." Without warning, she took a quick step toward them, letting the heel of her boots make noticeable noise against the wooden floor. "Four—boys you're running out of time." She made a clicking noise and shook her head.
"Intelligence just isn't a trait." Afton held his position as Marcus moved toward them. He knew exactly what Marcus was about to do. If that didn't scare them then maybe they should meet Theron after all.
"Five-she said get lost!" Marcus lunged forward in a blur of robes and took the one closest to him by the throat. He slammed the now terrified male up against the wall, toppling over two tables and a slew of chairs in the process. His fangs lengthened and crimson film overtook the white of his eyes. "It is not wise to provoke me, do you understand?"
A terrified nod of understanding was the only response. The smell of fear merely fueled Marcus's tenuously harnessed instinct to feed. The other male, seeing what was happening to his partner, took the warning seriously and made a mad dash for the door.
"Remember, it's not polite to do that in public," Raina spoke up in a quiet, dangerously seductive tone. "You could always get a room." She stepped out of Marcus' line of sight and closer to Afton.
A low growl throbbed over the space. Marcus let his fangs tickle the neck of his prey, giving the impression that he had no intention of releasing him without first draining him dry. Without warning, he stepped back and slammed the male against the wall again. "Get the fuck out!" He lifted the shivering form from the floor and flung him across the space toward the door.
"Six-seven-." Afton opened the door, letting the male scramble outside. "Eight- you'd better run! Nine-." He gave a guttural hiss. "Ten. I'll have to find him later. Shouldn't be too difficult. Just follow the stench." He turned then to Marcus, watching to be certain that the blood rage was subsiding to a point that there was no danger to those patrons that still remained inside.
The warbling vibration of his phone startled him from a restless pseudo-nap. He fumbled with it briefly before managing to get it where he could answer. It had not been his intention to doze off. His gaze swept the room. Felix was resting and seemed to finally be satiated enough to be somewhat comfortable. "Demetri." He didn't give details because frankly he hadn't recognized the number to begin with.
"It has been a long time, Demetri. It is quite unfortunate that we have not had the chance to speak other than as foes in the past."
'Theron, leader of the Clan of Black Widow'. Demetri recognized the silken, firm tone almost immediately even if he'd never actually spoken to the Widow leader via phone before. "Theron. Challenging times make for interesting alliances."
"Of course. Carlisle mentioned that you and Felix were currently in hiding and that there had been some trouble within the city of Volterra." Theron didn't mince words. His tone made it clear that he was well aware of the gravity of the situation.
"Volterra has been taken by an unknown hostile force. Felix and I managed to escape. I don't know about the others, whether they are still alive or-." He just couldn't come to terms with the idea much less make it an option. "Marcus has been M.I.A. from Volterra for months with no contact."
"I am aware of Marcus' absence from Volterra," Theron's tone calmed, "Recently, I dispatched one of my own to locate him. I have complete faith that she will either successfully locate him or gain further information."
"We can't remain here. We've yet to be confronted or followed but-," The concern bled into Demetri's voice. "I don't know if it's even possible to retake Volterra. There was no time to even mount any sort of resistance."
"Nothing is impossible. The odds may not be favorable, but it is not impossible. What is your most immediate need?"
"Get the hell out of Italy and get Felix proper medical treatment. Unless you know a miracle-worker I'm going to succeed at one of the two." In the background, Demetri could hear insistent voices vying for attention.
"A moment, please." Annoyance bristled in Theron's tone. "I'm being requested even though I am on the damn phone." The irritating silence of a muted phone followed.
"Manache." Demetri muttered to himself, resigned to wait until Theron resumed their conversation. "There had better not be anything else going to fucking hell."
"Relax," Felix's raspy, exhausted voice broke the tense quiet. "If shit had gotten real, he'd have hung up."
Five minutes felt like eternity before Theron returned to the conversation. "My apologies, I rarely allow an interruption when I am on the phone. The news was important and will be of interest to you."
"Oh?" Now his concern was infused with curiosity. "Unless you've found Marcus or found out who or what has taken over Volterra-." He paused a moment. "My list of interests is rather short. Of course I could say the same about my patience, considering the situation."
"Patience is often more a trial of discipline rather than a virtue." There was understanding in the tone. "I mentioned previously that I had dispatched one of my own, some time ago to locate Marcus. She has finally reported that he has been found. She will escort him here. And, like you, she asserts that Italy is a dangerous place."
Relief sang through Demetri at the news. Marcus, had evaded whatever fate had befallen Volterra. "Here, being to the mountain refuge?"
"It is my contact's belief that he, like yourself, is a probable target. I trust that judgement. I will likely alter her directives before tonight is over."
"We can't remain here more than another day, maybe two. Whatever force overtook Volterra will surely know by now that there are members of the coven missing. It's only a matter of time before a hunt will ensue."
"Exactly, where is here?" Theron inquired over the faint scraping noise in the background, "And what is Felix's current condition?"
"Florence," Demetri didn't give exact detail over the phone even though he knew that the information would be safe with Theron. "Felix really isn't able to travel, but he's managed thus far. He needs more than just field treatment of his injuries. As for myself, I'll manage until our situation is a bit less tenuous."
"So an extraction team could be necessary." Theron sighed, "I was afraid of that. Do you have a reliable way to receive data or contact?"
"Only via my phone." Demetri let his gaze sweep the room, splitting his attention for the span of time it took him to use his own gift to check for spies. "If we must travel alone without assistance then so be it. I had rather not put any of your own at risk if there isn't a dire need at this point. Felix's condition is, for now, relatively stable, but if something should happen in transit- that is a concern as is being followed or worse found here by members of the hostile force."
"I have contacts worldwide. Some of whose specialty is just this sort of situation. I do not unnecessarily leave others in harm's way when I have the means to do otherwise."
"Getting out of the country unnoticed may not be as easy as it seems," Demetri paused to collect his thoughts and also dampen his growing concern. "Carlisle has already agreed to treat Felix's wounds. It's just making that trip when neither of us is at full strength physically."
"And what is physically ailing you?" The words were deceptively phrased as a question in a subtle tone of authoritative warning.
"My own physical injury can wait. I will manage until the current danger has been neutralized." He knew well enough that his own injury wasn't exactly one of a minor nature. His well-being was far from top of the priority list at this stage. He would need to focus wholly on their safety if either of them were to make this journey successfully.
"That is not my question. I did not ask whether it was dire but rather of its nature." There was a note of impatience in Theron's tone. "I want to ensure that the incoming aid is optimized to raise the odds of success."
"It's an injury to my ribcage. " Demetri glanced at his watch and then over to where Felix was resting. "I have only been able to acquire enough in the way of sustenance to barely sustain myself and Felix here. The current amount, even severely rationed would be far from enough once we begin travel."
"Leave the planning to my people. Focus on safety. If something changes call me immediately." Theron let cool confidence radiate from his tone, "We have successfully triaged some catastrophic situations in the past. I expect this to be no different."
"We are safe for now where we are but I fear it won't last. I can't risk leaving Felix to acquire supplies. To leave even for a short time would only put us both in more danger." Demetri ignored the growing knot in the pit of his stomach. "I know nothing about the hostile force. Short of my own gift and instinct, I have no reference for visual recognition if they were to be in the vicinity. Those that remain within the confines of Volterra may already be forfeit."
"Approximately how many hours do you have in supplies for both of you?" A hint of danger laced Theron's tone.
"I have only the supplies that the manager and his staff are able to acquire. They work in a discreet fashion to supply my needs when I visit and this time has been no different. However, their supply chain as far as acquiring the necessary sustenance for one such as myself and Felix is always limited. Luckily, the manager and I have past relations so he is willing to do his best to try and satisfy our needs, at least temporarily."
"Plan for twenty-four hours, with the possibility of it being less than that. It will be travel time that will prove to be the delay, should there be one."
"Of course," The weight eased from his shoulders. "In this case, the last thing I wish to do is place those that work here in danger with our presence. It is the least I can do to pay back the staff and the manager for their service." He cleared his throat. "Theron, those that remain within the confines of Volterra- is there some way to know for sure if they still exist?"
"At this precise minute, no. Not without placing a gifted individual in a perilous position. I know a few who could easily slip into the most heavily guarded compounds completely unnoticed. And those same individuals could also quickly wreck the place if need be." A faint edge of amusement tinted his tone.
"The coven has caused much trouble in the past. Even with that knowledge, I can't just let Volterra fall to an unknown enemy. It's just not in my nature, Theron." He had never been one to really open up when it came to such situations but the growing concern and the weight of the unknown was beginning to happily munch away at his own resolve.
"Volterra has fallen temporarily but it is unlikely that this fall will be permanent. Demetri, the current circumstances may seem insurmountable but all things will come to pass as they were meant to be in time." Theron's voice was one of calm assurance. It was a voice of reason when all that he knew seemed to be crashing down around him.
"I am more concerned with the fate of the inhabitants." Demetri said slowly, "A building can be replaced, rebuilt or moved. The inhabitants, for good or ill are not so easily replaced."
"Time is of the essence, most certainly," Theron could sense that the overall situation was weighing heavily upon Demetri. "We will do what is necessary with both speed and patience. All in time." There came a brief pause and a hiss of static interrupted the connection. "Time is a formidable foe but it is one that is easily manipulated if one is careful. Right now, the focus is on safety in regards to you and Felix. This is yet to be a lost cause but to rush into battle will only create further chaos and bring further danger to those who are still within the walls of Volterra."
"Currently, I'm not planning on rushing anywhere that isn't an exit plan." Demetri conceded quietly, "How will I know that it is someone on your side when they approach?"
"You are familiar with the sigil of my Clan." Theron reminded him patiently, "Each will have it on their person, in some way, some more subtly than others."
"Secretive and logical usually always works." Demetri agreed, his tone answering the veiled question as to whether he knew that particular sigil. "Does the pack of the Wolven Elder have a specific crest as I'm guessing that at some point, they will also be involved?"
"A blood moon with the wolf's slash crossing diagonally from right to left. And a fair guess," Theron acknowledged, "I had in mind to ask assistance from two of them."
"Other than yourself, do I need to expect contact via phone from any others from your ranks?" His mind drifted briefly to a quote that he'd memorized from a book. 'Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt. (Sun Tzu).' The leader of Clan Widow had a similar philosophy when it came to war. It was a belief that he had always admired. "I can give you Felix's number as well but there is no guarantee that he would be able to answer it."
"It will be simpler to leave me with one number," Came the steady voice, "And yes, very likely there will be someone else contacting you for information when the extraction time draws near."
He provided Theron with the information necessary to allow for future contact. The fact that Theron was a calming force and he was being explicit and clear about his own view of the situation seemed to help Demetri's nerves even if it didn't totally ease the odd feeling of dread.
"Afton, I take it you found him?" Raina looked up from her work with the injured to see the dark amusement radiating from Afton. He didn't bother shutting the door but rather moved to help Marcus reset the toppled tables and chairs and clean up the rest of the mess.
"Of course I found him. I followed the stench." He glanced over to where she was field treating the victim's wounds. "I found him plus two of his buddies. And before you ask, not one survived."
"I wouldn't expect them to." She finished an efficient field dressing on several cuts on the dining room patron's arm from a few minutes prior. "And, one could say you took the trash out."
"Taking it out was easy." Afton studied Marcus closely. He could see without asking that Marcus's temper was sitting on slow boil. "Raina, is she going to need more intensive treatment other than just the field dressing over that shoulder wound? The medical center isn't too far from here."
"She's going to need sutures to close the puncture but the field dressing should keep the bleeding to a minimum at least for the temporary. The others have minor wounds that shouldn't need more than just the field treatment." She took a clean cloth bar runner and using her blade split it down the center. With that, she fabricated a make-shift sling and carefully adjusted the woman's injured arm within its confines before tying the ends so that her arm would have proper elevation and immobilization until she could be seen and treated at the medical center.
Marcus moved and took a knee in front of the woman. She was still shivering. Her cheeks were flushed and dampened with ruddy streaks from her tears. "Calm yourself." He put a gentle hand against the sling, careful not to cause her further discomfort. "Give me your name?" He studied her, his expression softening as the depth of her fear became known.
She took a ragged breath, tensing in reaction to the pressure of his hand. Her gaze fell to the floor, too fearful to meet his own. "C-claire." Her voice barely broke a credible stage whisper and cracked even before she could finish. "T-thank y-you-." A brief coughing spell overcame her; a lingering symptom of stress from her ordeal.
"Claire," Raina spoke while ripping the next clean cloth in hand into pieces suitable for bandages. "You need your wounds checked, decent food, and rest and pretty much in that order. One or both of them can go with you, to ensure there's no further incident. I can handle things here."
"I'll see to it that she gets taken care of." Afton moved to gently help her to her feet. She swayed and her color paled as just the effort of standing set the world spinning. No verbal exchange was made between him and Marcus. He just knew what Marcus' intent was without question. "Come on. Let's get you taken care of before that wound festers."
"She is lucky we intervened when we did or she would have been either enslaved or killed." Marcus watched as Afton, bearing most of the woman's weight, exited the building once more. He moved to continue the task of cleaning up the mess made during the melee.
Folding the makeshift bandages with the same ruthless efficiency that she'd made them, Raina looked over at him as he flipped a series of barstools upright and in their places. "More than Claire are lucky this night."
"I want to be sure that she has what she needs. That she is safe before we depart." Marcus reset the tables before moving to the bar to discuss further ways that he could help with the bartender. "If we must remain to accomplish that task then one more day isn't going to change what has already happened. Rushing into war is just as deadly as the war itself."
Raina's eyes narrowed. She reached into the many layers of cloth wrapped around her and came up with a cellular phone from the depths of them. Her scowl deepened before she answered briskly, turning her back to Marcus. "Yes?"
A momentary silence as the connection cleared, "How are things?" Draedyn's tone was calm and, as usual, unruffled by the pending answer. "Are there any dire issues that I need to report to Theron?"
"Things are … interesting to say the least. Between finding him, finding slavers and helping wreck a tavern it's been an eventful day." Raina kept her voice low. "Might've either saved or damned a few souls depending on how the remainder of the night goes."
"Slavers would be one of those issues that Theron would be interested in, however, I suspect that Marcus has already dealt with them in a swift and deadly manner." Draedyn snickered softly. The sound came as more a hissing of air over the phone. "I take it there have been no major problems other than that?"
"Nothing major to report, other than maybe sending a cleanup crew in case the slavers decide to come back." Raina confirmed. "Same assignment as before?"
"I will inform Theron of the situation. And yes to your question. Do you have a timeline as to when Theron needs to expect Marcus' arrival?" Another momentary silence and there was faint conversation in the background. "A reminder that there is nothing of a dire need that would require emergency haste on your part. However it is imperative that your journey here is a safe one. I wouldn't suggest spending too long but if there are pressing needs there that can be efficiently handled in a couple days' time, considering the circumstance, the holdover shouldn't cause further problems or damage."
"Wouldn't hurt to stick around a few days, help make sure that they don't decide to try razing the place like they did Mirny a few years back." Raina agreed. "Anything new for me before I get back to it?"
"Nothing of note that would be distracting enough to prevent you from seeing the current mission to completion." There was more conversation in the background. "Let myself or Theron know when you leave for your journey here so that we can have the final preparations ready for your arrival. Tell Marcus that if he needs to contact Theron that he has permission to do so at any time. If you need assistance make contact immediately."
"I'll ensure he has the proper channels arranged." Raina assured him, turning when the door to the tavern opened again. "Better go, looks like trouble found us." She hung up and turned on one heel.
"Where's Pyotr? He's late? Last report I got he was here." The man's booming voice shook the walls. The way his arms spread out took up considerable retail space. "He owes me money and product."
"I don't know, and I don't care." Raina calculated the distance between herself, Marcus and the man. She knew one of them would have him before he made much of a mess. "Don't know a Pyotr. I know a Mik and an Olaf but they're not here."
"Since he's not here and I ain't got no product," He eyed her. "I'll take you as a replacement."
"Didja bring an army, love?" Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Marcus take a step back. "Because you're gonna need one."
"If you insist, I will bring you Pyotr's cold, severed head in from the dumpster outside." Marcus didn't move from his position, nor did he turn to look. He knew that Raina was quite capable of taking care of herself. He was close enough that if she did need assistance he could provide it in plenty of time. "Otherwise get lost or be dead."
"I'll get lost as soon as collect my prize." The man took a step forward just as a small throwing knife zipped through the stale air. The blade missed scalping him by the width of a hair. The remaining patrons scattered to safety. "You missed pretty girl." He taunted over the twanging of the knife planted in the wood behind him.
"Did I?" There was a note of danger in her tone. "I've other blades that sing just as pretty."
"You bitch!" He lunged toward her, intent on claiming her one way or another.
"Are you trying to hurt my feelings?" Raina purred, the tone silky and firm, "Because that really didn't help your case any. You still don't have an army."
"He doesn't need an army. He's going to die." The sound of Marcus' phone against the wooden bar as he set it down was like a bomb going off. He slid the stein he'd been drinking from to the side and turned to face the situation. "If you don't kill him, I will. I feel the need to satiate my thirst." His gaze locked then on her, his temper sparking.
"It's on my agenda," She answered sweetly, without ever turning her attention away from the man.
"There is no army that he could muster that would save his life." Marcus shifted his weight off of the bar, rising to his full height. "Not even one made up of the dead." His robes billowed slightly as he moved.
With astonishing speed the man took two steps and grabbed hold of one of the dark blue scarves wrapped around her like a cloud. "Bitch, you wear too many clothes, you'll learn…"
She shoved him backwards. "I don't like you." Using the element of surprise, she leapt from his grasp only to pop up in front of him. A gleaming blade poised within inches of his nose.
"You'll learn." He backhanded her hard.
Recoiling, she pivoted and sank the blade hilt-deep in the base of his throat. "Don't fucking touch me!" She gave a disgusted snarl as spurting blood stained the floor.
Marcus watched the pool of blood grow beneath the corpse for a few minutes before turning back to the bar. He took a long draw from his drink. "Raina, the scum didn't cause any physical damage to you did he? I would hate to have to break that sort of news to the leader of the Widow Clan."
"Nothing more than a bruise," She gingerly rubbed her cheek, "Perceived property is valued higher, undamaged."
He gave a nod as he glanced at his watch. Another long draw from his drink, he then turned to begin the process of cleaning up the newly made bloody mess. It was apparent that his temper was still sparking even though he did a fine job at hiding that fact.
"I'll report the slaver's nest and request a cleanup crew to handle the leftover trash." She picked up the ruined scarf with the set of fireplace tongs and tossed it into the fire before retrieving her blade from the throat of the buyer. "What's the plan for this?" With her booted foot, she gave the body a firm nudge.
"Same as the other trash." Marcus shook his head, "His corpse isn't really worth the time but the stench can't remain here. It would sour the mood."
"Besides being gross and unsanitary." Raina cleaned the blade of her knife and put it back into its sheath. "We should begin coordinating the process of moving on once this situation has stabilized. I am also considering asking that the clean-up crew arrive before our departure."
"Wise move," Marcus downed the last of his drink and ordered a snifter of blood whiskey. The liquor was, at least for now, dampening what would be an explosion of his well-harnessed, well-controlled temper. Those that knew him, knew that his pent up ire was not directed at them. He again glanced at his watch as the bartender slid the snifter of whiskey down the bar to him. His gaze shifted as his hand eased the snifter to a stop, "Give the lady another round on me."
The bartender obliged with the requested order. He gave the patrons a wary glance from his place behind the bar. It was apparent that he was still unnerved by the earlier events. The fact that there had been Slavers present within the walls of his establishment left a sour taste in his mouth and a hard knot in the pit of his stomach.
Chiming, the noise enough to catch the attention of most of those still in the building only because the previous events had sucked much of the life from the tavern. The chiming grew in intensity and volume until Marcus silenced it with a flick of the screen on his phone. He knew the caller even without checking the number. "Afton? I was beginning to worry that you had forgotten to check in."
"You should know well enough that my memory is far better than that." Background noise interfered with the connection briefly followed by a moment of peeling static. "I have news that will be of interest to you. However, it may not be the kind of news you were expecting in regards to the stability of this current situation."
"We have managed thus far, I'm most certain we can continue to do so." Intensity mixed with a hint of general annoyance colored his tone. "Give me a status update?"
"I have procured us temporary housing which surprisingly enough took a good bit of finagling." He paused briefly to collect his thoughts. "That's the good news. The rest of the story isn't quite as good. Claire isn't leaving the hospital, at least not tonight. The injury required surgical repair. It has been repaired successfully but she had a nasty reaction to the anesthetic. They are keeping her overnight for observation as well as to treat the reaction, balance her blood count and work on managing her pain." There came another brief silence infused with static and background noise. "When they release her tomorrow evening, they insist that she not stay alone for at least two or three weeks due to the nature of the injury. On top of that, the Slavers will just come back for her once they know she is alone. Marcus, she's terrified while also being rather gifted. No, I'm not suggesting we make her Volturi but she can't remain here. We should get her out of this country and find her a safe place to disappear and go on about her life."
"She has no family, Afton?"
"No, they are all dead. Killed by the evil filth that has taken root here." He let the weight of his words sink in before continuing. "The bartender has been keeping watch over her. He lets her stay in the upstairs loft and if it weren't for that she'd be on the streets."
A throaty hiss put an exclamation on Marcus' thoughts. The sound caught Raina's attention as she took a seat next to him at the bar. Her gaze shifted to him, her expression a mixture of curious concern. She didn't interrupt the flow of conversation but she could see the tempered emotion and simmering ire in his eyes. "Afton, text me the address for our temporary accommodations. If you feel like she needs to have someone stay with her overnight then do so. We will see to her future once she is released from the hospital."
"Will do."
The conversation continued for a few minutes more before Marcus gave final instructions and allowed the call to end. He downed the quarter of whiskey in his glass and poured another. The smooth heat of alcohol was keeping him from an unexpected blood rage while also allowing him to process the information Afton had given him.
"Not going to plan?" Raina kept her tone calm as she watched the emotion skitter over Marcus's expression.
"No."
The fact that he didn't immediately go into detail told Raina all she needed to know about the recent phone conversation. She knew better than to press for information. "We will do what we can. Safety, purpose and management of the situation should be the focus."
He checked the message on his phone, memorizing the address that Afton had sent him via text. With that he finished off the snifter of blood whiskey and generously paid and then tipped each of the working bar staff. "We'll be back tomorrow to make sure things are under control here. If there's trouble tonight," He scribbled his number on a blank tab paper and handed it to the tavern owner. "Don't hesitate." With that he gave a nod and motioned Raina to join him in exiting the establishment.