Chapter Two

 

 

 

“Where are you? I’m dyin’ over here.”

Rolling his eyes as he debated whether or not to answer his brother, Gage let out a long-suffering sigh as Tree continued to telepathically complain, “I swear, I’ll leave without you. Jenny’s BBQ is the best in the state and she’s only in Ft. Davis for one more day. If you make me miss this…”

“Do it. Go on without me,” Gage mumbled, his attention zeroing in on a spot of earth and sand that radiated, really vibrated with a wonky, off-kilter kinda vibe that made Wolf, man, and Dragon incredibly uneasy. Pulling the reins to the right, directing Lucy, his favorite mare on the ranch, a little closer to the disturbance, he groaned as Zach burst into the ongoing mental conversation, demanding, “Where are YOU? We’ll just come pick you up. We’re all already in the Expedition. This is a matter of life and death, Butthead. This is the one-and-only Jenny’s Barbeque. Do you know how long she slow smokes that brisket over mesquite?”

“No, and I don’t give a good gosh damn. Just go on ahead. I’m not hungry. There’s something I need to look into.”

 “It can wait. Nothin’ can be as important as three or four big ol’ brisket sandwiches with a side of pulled pork and a couple of roasted chickens. Just tell us where you are,” Heath playfully demanded before chuckling, “Don’t make me use my Jedi mind trick on you.”

“You know he’ll do it, Bro. The boy just can’t be trusted with all that power. Give it up. Make it easier on all of us,” Colton, the youngest MacAllen brother and Heath’s twin, laughed.

Telling them where he was, if for no other reason than to shut them up, Gage acquiesced, “I’m past the north fields, just outside Valentine.”

“What the hell are you doin’ all the way out there?” Tree groaned. “That’s the other side of the frikkin’ county from where we’re headed.”

“I’m well aware. Why the hell do you think I told you to go without me?”

“Because you’re a stubborn asshole?” Zach snickered.

“Yes, I am. Now go, and leave me alone.”

Slamming his mental shields shut with a resounding thud of enchantment, the oldest of the MacAllen brothers breathed a sigh of relief. For almost a week, he’d seen that exact piece of desert in his thoughts any and every time he let his mind wander. Hell, it even popped up in his dreams. Then, the moment his feet had hit the floor, before the sun was even up, he’d quite literally been forced out the door and into the desert to find out what was going on. One way or another he had to know, and more importantly, needed to make sure nothing threatened his family.

Sliding out of Lucy’s saddle, he sent a mental command to the mare for her to stay where she was before turning towards the anomaly. With every step he took his senses heightened, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and the Dragon King and Alpha Wolf with whom he shared his soul growled louder.

Reaching for the bill of his well-worn Stetson, a sure sign his nerves were getting the best of him, Gage stopped ten feet shy of the discolored sand, and forced his eyes to examine the farthest most point. Pushing his enhanced senses as far as they would go, he let the sights, sounds, and scents of the past, present, and future flow through him like a cool breeze on a hot summer day.

Blood had been shed. Pain had been inflicted. Lives had been lost. Darkness plotted and planned, then savagely ripped something infinitely precious from good, honest, innocent people…those with strong magical ties to the Dragon’s world…to his kin.

Fate and Destiny played no part in this loss of life. Had actually done everything in their immense power to stop it, only to be brutally rebuffed by something old, ancient, and evil.

The murders of the innocents had not been the Great Creator’s plan. The Heavens demanded justice. Gage, as one of the Universe’s Chosen Warriors, was to act as Hunter, Judge, Jury, and if need be, Executioner.

“Balance must be restored.” He spoke the resounding premonition in Tsalagi – the language of the Cherokee.

Taking a step forward, he let the veil of his preternatural sight slip into place. Scanning the perimeter of the site, it took less than a second for him to recognize the shape of a lazy star.

“Well, shit, that amounts to less than a hill of beans.” Blowing out the breath he’d been holding, he continued to mumble to himself, “Stars are part of damn near everything – especially magically. Good, bad, indifferent…” Wiping the sweat from his brow, he added with a strained chuckle, “Hell, this is Texas, we love our stars as much as we love Friday night football, the Cowboys, and ice-cold beer.”

Examining damn near every grain of sand, he stopped, retraced his path, went forward and backward and forward again before BAM! Like a boulder dropping right on his head, he saw it. Remnants, little more than faint echoes of a dark, unknown mysticism, its power dormant but still very much alive and pulsing with the need to be set free.

Why hadn’t he felt it before? Why hadn’t any of the MacAllen Dragons noticed the disturbance? Why hadn’t his grandfather, Cheveyo Thorntree, Principal Chief of the Thorntree Wolf Clan of the Cherokee Nation, sensed something evil invading their borders? Nothing got past the ‘old man.’

“It only happened a year or so ago,” he mused to himself. “We were all here. Nothing weird was going on. No one was distracted. Everything was normal as it ever is. Something just isn’t right.”

Tipping his head as Lucy snorted and pawed the ground in response, he took another step forward before calling to his father, “Dad, you got a minute?”

 “Sure do, Son. Whatcha need?” Owen, his father, and one of the strongest Dragons Gage had ever met, answered.

Opening his mind’s eyes to the older Dragon, the oldest MacAllen son asked, “You see this?”

Standing perfectly still, he readily accepted the feeling of his dad’s mind merging with his own. Giving up the control of his preternatural sight as Owen followed the same path he had was instinctual and just what he’d been taught to do for all of his life.

Paying close attention, hoping to pick up something he’d missed before, Gage eavesdropped on his dad’s thoughts. It was oddly comforting to hear the older Dragon asking the same questions and drawing the same conclusions he had. No, it wasn’t getting them any closer to answers, but at the very least Gage knew he’d done the best he could.

“You’re right,” Owen confirmed, his frustration growing with every word. “Three people died here. Their souls have gone to the Heavens, but they are not at peace. They long to protect another. One who is still among the living.”

“Nothing that occurred here was natural or accidental. These people were targeted…murdered for murder’s sake the best I can tell. I just don’t know by who.” There was a long pause before the older Dragon went on, “I think you need to call Carrick. Either he or Zachary are the only ones I know who might be able to tell you who or what caused bloodshed on our land.”

Another long silence during which Gage felt his father holding back his anger at the injustice that had occurred so closely to their home made the younger Guardsman respect his father all the more. Thoughts of his family’s safety were always first and foremost in the MacAllen patriarch’s heart and mind even as he sifted through centuries of memories and knowledge, continuing to search for answers.

When he finally spoke, his tone emoted a contained violence that Gage had only seen a few times in his long life. “I’ve got nothin’. Never felt this taint before. I’d tell you to holler at your Granddad, but this isn’t anything he’s ever talked about or written in the tomes. Besides, he and your mom just left for the Cherokee National Conference in Vegas.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot they were headin’ out today. Do you think Vegas is safe?” Gage forced a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. “Or your bank account?”

“All your mother would say was ‘What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

“Oh damn,” Gage snickered, still hoping to cool his father’s temper. “You’re in deep shit, Old Man.”

You know it,” Owen finally laughed. “And that’s Mr. Old Man to you. Now, call Carrick and let me know what he says. I’ve got to get the paperwork ready for our trip to City Hall tomorrow. Don’t forget, we’re leaving at seven-thirty, and that’s AM, for those of us who tend to stay up until the wee hours of the morning.”

“Will do. I’ll be ready.”

“Thanks, Son.”

And with that Owen was gone. Taking one last look before doing as he was told, Gage moved closer still to the tainted ground. Looking, seeking, searching for answers, he latched onto the spindling vines of malevolence– echoes of the stain left behind by whatever evil had dared to kill upon MacAllen and Tribal lands.

“I’m gonna find you, you sick bastard. If it’s the last thing I do.”

Creeping along the dissonant tunnels, inspecting grotesque formations and misshapen growths formed from burnt sand and dirt, ash, and lava, bile rose in the Dragon’s throat as he made out the faces and bodies of the insects, lizards, and other creepy crawlies who’d been caught in whatever horrific ritual had been performed on the surface.

Images – blurred and twisted, faded in and out of focus. Time bent and twisted, flashing from the present to the past, back and forth, over and over.

Magic – ancient, pure, white as snow – reached for his own. Feathers, soft and velvety, floated in the ether between Gage and the remnants of evil, brushed his face, arms, and chest leaving behind protection. Eyes, a deep, warm brown, outlined by long, full lashes, eclipsed the blue, purple, and golden feathers, as a warning rose in their welcoming depths.

Standing firm, he pushed through the stench-filled omen at the same time that his Dragon forced feelings of familiarity and acceptance to the forefront of his mind and his Wolf howled his welcome. Refusing to be denied, the ancient Kings demanded Gage pay closer attention to the feathered beauty’s forewarning.

“I …have to …do this,” he growled through gritted teeth, the muscles in his legs throbbing from the effort it took to push through the tangled miasma of death and black magic without the aid of magic. One foot in front of the other, his body shaking, sweat pouring down his face and arms, he adamantly refused to give up.

It was there. He knew it was. A clue, a spec of something that would lead to more., give him answers, at least point him in the right direction.

Just a bit more.

One more metaphorical step.

A summoning of power. A mighty roar. And…

YES! There it was. He could almost reach it as he stretched out his arm. The core, the beginning, the spot from which the evil had emanated, drawn its power, and laid the trap for three unsuspecting souls.

“I have to know…”

One more shove, a push of Dragon and Lupine magic, one more…

Agony! Hail! Fear! Chaos!

Driven to his knees by the sheer magnitude of power, magic, and emotional overload, Gage shouted to the Head Elder of the Golden Fire Clan, “Carrick! C-C-Carrick, can you f-f-feel this-s-s?” He stammered, struggling to speak as he once again roared, “C-Car-rick!”

A flash of light, a roll of thunder, and the switch was flipped. The pain was gone. The fire extinguished. The fear held at bay and the chaos although still visible, left seething behind a mighty wall of powerful white magic.

“Kill…Feed…Kill…Blood…” The entity snarled, a cacophony of dissonant growls and demanding roars stabbing at its mystical cage, thirsting for another taste of Gage’s psyche.

“Gage, long time since we’ve talked.” Thank the Heavens the voice of an ancient Guardsman, one of the few still alive who’d fought alongside the Dragon Kings and the Knights of the Round Table, chuckled. “Looks like you’ve found a Hotbed.”

“A Hotbed?” Gage croaked, his throat raw from mere seconds of battling a shadow of what the malicious intruder had left on the MacAllen’s little piece of paradise.

“Aye,” Carrick’s Celtic brogue filled Gage’s mind. “A Hotbed is left behind when multiple Magicks, those that should never be combined, are forced together and then used in a way that defies not only the laws of Nature but also the laws of physics, time, and space.”

“And kicks my ass without breaking a sweat,” Gage snorted, his ego still stinging from what he considered a significant loss.

“Dinnae be discooraged.” The Elder’s voice was laced with equal amounts of steel and encouragement and his brogue so strong it took the younger Dragon a second to comprehend. “Any of us woold’ve bin at a disadvantage had we bin in yer place.”

Shaking his head, Gage sarcastically chuckled, “Thanks, Carrick. Is that your way of saying ‘I’m not bad for a young’un?”

“Nae.” His answer was quick and sharp, but it was what came next that knocked Gage on his ass, “It’s mah way of sayin' that it was ye mate’s family who died there an' 'er Rain Bird what was tryin' tae shield ye.”