Chapter VII: Streetwolves

AN:

Hey there, Fan-fic-folks!

Short AN today, on account of time. Hope you like this one. Also yes, Irish names are that weird.

Thanks for reading and, as always, please review.

MaxNeverMaxine: Probably. I'd be pretty overwhelmed, being stuck in the middle of a magic battle with no way to defend myself. I think there actually is one of those, come to think of it. I vaguely recall something similar to that on popping up around when I started writing here. Haven't the faintest idea what it was called though. Thank you, and I hope that curiosity is answered with this chapter.

"Aaaugh..." I groaned as I rolled over.

Ok... This is weird. I'm in a bed. A hella big one. Definitely not my bed. I opened my eyes and looked around. Yep, definitely not my bed. This one is way too fancy. It had those four weird pillar things and freaking curtains around it. Did I pick up some Victorian chick at the bar last night?

If I did, she got up before me. I stretched out a bit and moved one of the curtains.

Wow. Wherever I am, it's a hella nice place. The room was like one of those fancy lodges rich pricks go skiing at. Even had a fucking log fireplace in one wall.

But the big-ass wood door was closed, the curtains were closed and there wasn't a clock. I got up out of the bed and headed over to the window. I looked out. What the fuck? There was a foot and a half of snow out there! It was October, how is it snowing in October?

I tried to remember what the fuck happened. Last thing I remember... we were in Scotland! We'd gone to see Max's bosses and... shit. They got attacked. There was that old lady! She went off to get Max... Yeah, that's all I got. Fuck!

Well, I'm not gonna find out shit just sitting around in here. I hopped out of the bed and pulled open the door. The thing was hella heavy, but I got it open. I ended up in a long hall of doors. Every fucking one of them looked the same.

Shit! A door down the hall creaked open. I tried to make myself scarce, but there were fuck all places to hide and I had no chance of getting back to my room, so I just sorta pushed myself up against one wall and hoped that whoever it was wouldn't see me.

A tiny chick in a brown leather jacket crept out of the room, holding a little stick in front of her. I relaxed when I saw her face. "Max!"

She whirled, pointing the little stick thing at me. Maybe it was a wand? Those are a thing, right? I tried to remember from the books, but I got nothin'. When she saw me, she nearly dropped it, which was kinda funny. "Chloe!"

I grinned and hugged her. It was hella good to see a friendly face. "Where the fuck are we?"

Max shrugged. "I have no fucking clue. I woke up in there." She waved at the room behind her. Her too? This is so weird...

I frowned. "Shit. What's the last thing you remember?"

She thought for a sec and… "The fight. I think. I was with the Boss and…" She shook her head. "Fuck. That's it. Maybe someone pulled us out?"

"Yeah." I nodded. "But who? The old woman? Who even was she? Was she one of yours?"

She tapped her little brown satchel thingy. "No idea. I don't know the whole council, there's like, hundreds of us. If they're an enemy, they don't know about foci, or they'd never have left me with my stuff." She shrugged. "Well, we're not gonna find out hanging around in the corridor. Let's go poke around."

I nodded. "Um. You go first."

She stares at me. "Seriously?"

I nod. "Hella yeah. You're the one with the mojo!" I wiggled my fingers.

She paused. "Good Point." She reached into her little satchel and pulled out another little stick. She saw me looking and explained. "They're wands. They help me make with the magic."

I grinned. Wands were something I'd spent a hella lot of my time reading about. They were like sniper sights. So, instead of blowing up a building, she can just smash the window. Hella cool.

We ambled down the corridor. Max pushed open the door and we went out onto an L-shaped balcony in the corner of a huge room.

We were at the top of a big staircase running down into this massive hall full of round wood tables and stools. There was a huge fireplace down there in the far wall, and a seriously big door, like twice my fucking height, over to one side. On the opposite side, there was a bar with a tall, tired looking guy standing behind it cleaning glasses.

I followed Max over to the edge of the balcony and looked over.

The old woman in the hood was sitting by the fire. Max stormed down the stairs and over to her. She looked seriously pissed off. I trailed behind her, still kinda lost. "Who the hell are you?"

She kept looking at the fire. Hella rude, bitch. She talked calmly and hella smoothly. "I am Weatherwax and I am your rescuer. Tell me - what do you recall of what happened?"

I frowned, shared a look with Max. We both shrugged. What the hell, right? She's right, she did kinda help us out, might as well give her a shot. "Last thingwe remember was the council. Some fuckers burst in, started smashing the place up. The lights went out and you came over. I passed out. What the hell happened?"

"After the council was attacked, I rescued you. You demanded I rescue her, also." She nodded over at Max. Max smiled at me. "She did?"

Weatherwax nodded, finally looking at us instead of the fire. "She did. You two were the only survivors." She looked at Max. "That was three months ago."

Max and I yelled at the same time.

"Three fucking months?"

"What happened to Dresden? Did he get out?"

Weatherwax's mouth curled again. It was kinda sour, like she'd sucked on a lemon. "He did not. He perished in the fighting. I was… unable to rescue him as well as the two of you. And yes, your injuries were severe. I brought you to this place and you slept."

"You were unable to rescue him." Max threw the old lady a hella scary glare. She looked like she was gonna choke the old bitch to death. "Fucking unable to rescue my friend!"

Weatherwax just sat there, calmly watching her. "Indeed."

Max tried to fucking launch herself at the old woman, but I held her back. "Max, calm the fuck down. She saved us, remember? We need her!"

Max wriggled a hella lot, but I held on tight. Hella good thing about having a cop-dad and a veteran step-douche. I know holds hella well. She stopped wriggling and growled. "Let me go, Chloe!" I... yeah, I should let her...

Max suddenly backed into me, like she'd been punched. "What the fuck?"

Weatherwax eyed Max. "Please refrain from mental magics on Miss Price. Especially here, where such things may attract attention you would wish to avoid."

Max sagged and nodded. I let her go and she sank to the floor slowly, like a deflating balloon. I sat down next to her, patting her on the shoulder as she cried, feeling hella useless. What the fuck do I say to her after that fucking bombshell?

I leant in and started talking in her ear. Nothing hella specific, just kinda general reassurances and shit. "It'll all be alright" or "Don't worry.". That kinda shit that people say, but don't really believe.

They said that to me after Dad died...

I shook my head.

No surprise, it didn't really work. I'm hella bad at this emotional shit. I do not do reassuring. Witty banter, yes. Sympathy and shit, hells no. But, it was Max, so I gave it another shot. "Come on, Maxie. You gotta keep it together, 'kay? We got shit to do and I can't do it without you."

That was what pulled it together. Max kinda just blinked up at me and smiled.

I pulled her up and looked at Weatherwax. "So, where are we, anyway?"

She smiled. It was weird. Most people smile when they're happy or someone tells a hella good joke. She smiled like a tiger or a wolf or something. Like it was a threat. It was hella scary. "The Erlking owes me a favour. Thus, we have a base of operations." She opened her hands, like a magician finishing off a trick and smiled. "Welcome to The Mill."

Max gaped at her. "The fucking Erlking owes you a favour?"

Weatherwax smirked. "He does indeed."

Max shook her head. "How the fuck did..? No, wait. Not going to ask about that, pretty sure I don't wanna fucking know." Weatherwax's grin said she probably wouldn't tell us even if we asked. "So, what do we need to know about this place?"

Weatherwax's hand flicked and the fire, nearly burnt out, roared up again. She thought for a second. "This place is in the Nevernever, on the border of the lands of the Winter Sidhe and those of Goblinkin. So, follow the usual guidelines for dealing with the Sidhe and you should fare adequately. As for the building itself, there is little to say. There are rooms for each of us and more for any companions you may find. The bartender can provide food and refreshment upon request and many amenities can be found scattered around. Here, we are protected from most those who might wish to harm us."

She shifted and looked off towards the bartender. "That is Sutter. He owns and runs this establishment." The guy from the bar gave us a nod and kept cleaning. "Should you require anything, he is the being to speak to."

Max frowned. "Being?"

Weatherwax shrugged. "Merely a verbal misstep. He is as human as you, wizard."

Max frowned again, but stayed quiet.

"And this" Weatherwax continued "is Quaver." A tall, redheaded girl just appeared next to Weatherwax. She was fucking gorgeous. She was like a supermodel's supermodel. Max and I jumped, but Weatherwax, fuck her, didn't even blink. "She is here to..." Weatherwax's mouth curled up in another hella sour-looking grimace. "aid you."

Wait, what? I stared at Weatherwax for a minute. "Quaver? Like the fucking crisp?"

Max rolls her eyes. "C-A-O-I-M-H-E, Chloe. It's just pronounced Quaver."

The redhead, Caoimhe, smirks at me. "Ya ain't an Irish gal, are ya?"

I shake my head. "Nah. I'm hella Oregon." But she definitely was. The accent was so Irish you could give her a pot of gold and call her a fucking Leprechaun.

She smiles. "Americans. Ye've no appreciation for the old world."

I glare at the girl and she sticks her tongue out at me. She grins and I can't help but grin back. Fuck me, I actually like the girl.

"You're Sidhe, aren't you?" Max asks.

The other girl grins and nods. "Yep. Only for the last century though, that's why I'm not all thee and thou." She rolls her eyes. "Gods, the older Fae think changin' with the feckin' dialect would kill 'em."

I look over at Max. "Sidhe?"

"Ah, jaysus, have ye not heard o' us before, cara? We're the rulin' class o' Faerie. All the most powerful Fae in the Nevernever. Your boss," She thumbs over at Weatherwax. "called in a couple favours wit' mine to get me here, so here I am."

Max turns to Weatherwax. "So, what the fuck do we do now? If the Council is gone, what fucking hope have we got?"

"We find the Warden-Captain. She will be aware of the location each council member fled to, no?"

I looked to Max. She shrugged. "Probably. If anyone was gonna, she would." She looks over at Weatherwax. "It's a longshot that she's even still alive though."

Weatherwax curls another predatory smile. "The situation is indeed dark, but still there is much to hope for. We must locate her, reunite the White Council and find allies to face this new threat." She turns and walks up the stairs, with the little redhead following her hella close behind.

Max and I share a hella confused, kinda irritated look and follow her too.

We go up the stairs and into one of the rooms around the balcony bit. The place was dominated by the hella huge glass table in the middle of it. Weatherwax walked to one side, and put her hands on it. We all stood around it and watched her mutter to herself for a second, casting some spell. When she stepped back, the table shimmered and a hella detailed flat world map appeared on it. Weatherwax waved another hand and the map zoomed in to some warehouse in Boston. She tapped a long, hella bony finger on the warehouse. "If we are to bring the Council back together, this is where we must start. The Warden-Captain is being kept here by a band of werewolves as a reward for their service."

Caoimhe frowns. "What kind of werewolves?"

"Lycanthropes." The old woman's eyes flick to me and Max. "They are not werewolves in the traditional sense, but rather act as channels for primal spirits, those of rage and violence. They are strong, fast and heal faster than even you or I would as wizards."

Shit. Fucking werewolves? I'd read up on the guys, they were fucking badasses. Like big, furry tanks. "This group call themselves the Streetwolves. They pretend they are like any other street gang, dealing in drugs, women and violence. I would suggest you avoid them. They are uncontrolled thugs. Lycanthropes lack the enhanced sensory capabilities of most other werewolf breeds, so stealth remains your best option."

She waves to Caoimhe. "She will be coming with you. Where three may be discovered and one may fail, two may succeed. You must go now. We have delayed too long already. It is time to strike."

Max and I looked at each other. I shrugged. Max nodded. Ok then, guess it's decided. Max looked back to Weatherwax. "Fine. Let's get this shit done before I change my mind."

We followed the old woman outside to a shitty little clearing a few minutes walk from The Mill.

Weatherwax swiped at one of the hella thick bramble bushes around the clearing and muttered something. My head suddenly started fucking killing me as this bluish circle started spreading from where she swung, revealing a gap in the bush. She turned to Max and Caoimhe. "The Way forward is clear. I will keep the gateway open and instruct you upon reaching your destination."

Max nodded, grinned at me and stepped through. Caoimhe shrugged and hopped in after her.

We stepped out of the Nevernever and found ourselves outside another dockside warehouse. Why do all bad-guys set up shop in fucking warehouses? Half the reason I liked the White Court, at least fighting those guys meant we could do it in some awesome real estate. This warehouse was apparently a 'garage', as the large neon crescent moon sign declared. There was a regular door beside the pair of big, roll-up garage doors. Both were closed, so I decided to try the regular door.

I walked up to the door and moved my hand to open it. Caoimhe was off behind me somewhere. Neither of us were really sure who to expect inside. Weatherwax hadn't really let us know how organised these 'Streetwolves' were. I hoped the gang was out somewhere, tearing up a bar or whatever the fuck they did for fun.

Weatherwax's voice appeared in my head, like I was listening to her through earphones. I grinned. I'd have to get her to teach me that trick. "There is much energy in the room beyond. I suspect you have enemies awaiting you there."

What? How the fuck does she know that?

I concentrated and thought back. "Weatherwax? I can't…"

"You cannot?" She hmmed. "Cast aside your sight, cast aside what you see and instead reach out with your will."

Eh. What the hell. Worth a try. I closed my eyes and went through the ritual calming steps Dresden… the Boss had taught me. I reached out and…

My eyes shot open. I can feel them! No clue what the hell they are, but I see them in the other room. Well, I could sort of see them. It's hard to describe. It's more like I could see their… existences. What they actually looked like was still a mystery, but I knew they were there!

Weatherwax's voice oozed through my mind again. She sounded almost proud. "Ah, you can feel them. The creatures have an energy to them, do they not? Almost echoing outwards…"

"This is so cool!"

She chuckled. "The ability does have some use. Extending the Sight outwards has it's risks, but if used well, it can reward you greatly."

I turned and looked back at Caoimhe, who grinned and ushered me forwards.

I pulled a scrap of parchment from my bag and held it, stuck my other hand through the door and closed my eyes.

I manipulated the energies, carefully channelling everything to the paper. It was all going so well... until Caoimhe appeared at my shoulder "Whatcha doin'?"

I muffled a squeak and glared at her. She stared back, one eyebrow raised. I glared harder. She shrugged, looking completely lost. I rolled my eyes and shushed her, then went back to the spell.

She didn't interrupt again.

When the spell was done, I took a look at the paper. Oh... fuck. The entire room was filled with fucking lycanthropes. They were lying all over the place, sleeping.

I leaned over to Caoimhe and showed her the paper. She frowned down at it. "So, what's this then?"

"The other room. All the assholes are sleeping in there."

She frowned back down at the paper, then grinned in realisation. "Oh yes, I see it now! Shite..." She looked down at her armour. "I am not gettin' through there any time soon."

I shrugged. "Then I guess I'm doing this myself. You stay outside. Play lookout."

I concentrated for a moment, then veiled myself. Caoimhe smiled, then skirted off around the corner of the building. Probably looking for a window or something.

I opened up the door and walked into the wolf's den.

The place was pretty much pitch black, so I could barely see anything. I had a limited night vision spell, but it'd only let me see a little bit. Like looking through really foggy glasses.

I crept through the room, step by step. It all seemed to go pretty well. Until I pulled my foot up and a guy rolled over and his hand fell right under where I was gonna step. I froze.

I wobbled there, swaying back and forth, trying so fucking desperately not to fall, but then... Shit! I knocked a can or something metallic to the floor with a clang.

Ohgodohgodohgod... The lycanthropes started to stir, grumbling and wobbling awake. Shit! Fuck my fucking clumsiness! I turned to run, but "I would advise against that, Ms Caulfield." Weatherwax's voice sounded strained. "I am holding them back for now, but I would suggest you hurry."

I nodded and kept going, rushing as quietly as I could towards the back door.

I eased it open, pausing to check back on the other assholes. Good, still sleeping. I went through into a small corridor, with a couple of doors halfway down, one in each wall, then another at the end. "Weatherwax." I thought. "Which door?"

"The Warden-Captain is through the farmost door."

I headed over and opened it up. Luccio and two other Wardens, still in their tattered grey cloaks, were tied up in the back room. Shit, they looked like they'd been through hell. When I dropped the veil, they immediately started to talk, all doing the alpha thing of demanding they get freed first.

They weren't happy when I shushed them like a grade school librarian. But they shut up and I got them all untied. "Weatherwax, I've got them." I thought.

Her voice appeared in my head again. So fucking cool. "Then you must leave. The exit you entered through is clear, although I am uncertain how long it shall remain so. Do hurry."

I waved to Luccio and the Wardens as they stood up and threw off the ropes tying them. I whispered "Follow me. I know a way out."

Luccio stopped me and glared. "One thing first. Where the hell have you been?"

I rolled my eyes. "Is that really somethin' you wanna talk about here? I'm all for it, but the fucking werewolves in the next room might have some objections to us using their place for chitchat, 'kay?"

She stared at me, and her brow furrowed, but she let it go. "Fine. But we will discuss this later."

I snorted. "Awesome. I promise once we're away from the big angry people who can rip us to pieces, we'll talk all you like. Now, can we fucking go?"

She looked at me, archly. "There's no need to be snippy, young lady."

I scowled and walked back through the corridor to the main room. I was about to walk through when Weatherwax's voice appeared in my head again. "Extend your senses once more, apprentice. I believe the occupants of the next room have woken."

I did what she said and... shit. The little glowy ball things had moved. I stuck out a hand to stop the others. "The assholes are all in there. We can't just go in."

Luccio frowned. "How did you get through?"

I shrugged. "They were asleep. I veiled. But that won't work on a werewolf that's awake." I frowned. "Will it?"

"I have no idea." She turned to one of the other two. "Anna? This is your field."

Anna looked at me. "Do you know what type of werewolf?"

I handed her the drawing. "Lycanthropes."

She grinned. "Seriously?"

I nodded. "You guys have been here for months, have you not seen them?"

She shakes her head. "No, just a bunch of angry bikers."

"Those guys are the werewolves."

The other guy, a kinda bookish looking black dude, chimes in. "So? Will it work?"

I let them argue among themselves and focused on my inner voice. "Weatherwax? Can you put them to sleep again?"

"I don't believe so. Even my power has limits. You will have to find a way past them yourselves."

Well, fuck. That's no help at all. Come on, Max. Ideas, Ideas. Gotta be something we can do.

I turn to the others. "Can you make a shield?"

I clicked my fingers when we walked in, generating a flashbang-sized glow of light above my head. I'd made sure to place it high enough that the three Wardens keeping the shield up around us wouldn't get blinded. That would kinda ruin things. The lycanthropes screamed and cowered from the light. I grinned. "Hey guys. Just wanted to say thanks for the hospitality. But we'll all be going now."

Weatherwax's voice pops into my head, sounding more than slightly amused. "An... interesting solution, if incautiously direct. Let us see how this plays out."

A gruff voice barks out from the back of the room. "You aren't going anywhere, Wizards."

A ripple of mutters flickers around the room. "Wizard. Wizard. Wizard."

I grin, utterly confident and unfazed by the raging monsters around me in the dark. One of Dresden's first lessons. A Wizard should always remain calm, cool and collected even if the world is disintegrating around them.

"Killthemkillthemkillthem!" More and more of them join in the chant as it gets faster and louder. I can feel them dashing restlessly around us.

There's a sort of energy welling up along with the chant, a heavy momentum building up like a river through a breaking dam. We keep moving, rotating slowly towards the door. One or two of the lycanthropes throw themselves up against the shield, bouncing off and making all of us shake in an effort to keep the thing up.

We're maybe halfway when a particularly determined jump from a lycanthrope knocks Anna too hard and the shield flickers again.

Then, it drops completely.

The disappearance of the shield triggers a frenzied howl from the Streetwolves and they come surging towards us, all feral rage.

Shit.

We run for the door, bursting out of it and never slowing down. The Streetwolves charge out after us, that strange primal energy pushing them to pursue.

Until Caoimhe just sorta appears next to the lead guy, plants a shotgun barrel against his stomach and pulls the trigger, sending the asshole flying off. She blasts a couple of the other Lycanthropes and yells "Now that was a bag 'o swag, wasn't it? Get back in your gaff and we'll be on our way."

One of the lycanthropes tried to charge her, but screeched to a fucking halt when she levelled the shotgun on his head. "Ah jaysus. Jest give et up, ya gobshite."

She doesn't take her eyes off the werewolves, yelling out to us "You seem ta have done quite well for yerself, eh? We should prob'ly be goin'."

We don't think twice. We run into the Way, Caoimhe covering the rear, and we get the hell out of dodge.

Luccio rolled out a world map on one of the tables in the central room. "Ok, so." She tapped a circle. There were six others on the map. "The Council have designated final retreat zones only I am aware of."

Anna came over and stood by the table. Bookish black guy stayed standing off in the corner with Caoimhe. Chloe was next to me still. She'd stuck with me ever since I got back.

"So, we've got to find them. Where do we start?"

I tapped the one in the jungle. "Ebenezar. Dresden trusted him." I looked to Luccio. She shrugged. "Sure. We'll find the old goat."

Weatherwax's mouth curled in another wolfish smile. "Then to the jungles we must go."

Translations

Cara - Friend