The Walls of Jericho

Scuffles

“Where’s a dragon?” Ferdi demands as Damien staggers to his feet and backs away from us.

Great. Just my luck that I frighten the conveniently located doctor compliments of Amber’s little blast from the past at exactly the minute when the playboy werewolf decides to make his grand entrance.

There’s no dragon. It was some kind of vision. Jericho—stumbled into—something. It let her see the past.>

Well, I guess that’s not entirely a lie.

Ferdi’s ice-cold gaze shifts from Channing to Damien.

I seriously beg to differ, Channing> Damien retorts. I know what I saw. Her eyes were glowing like a dragon’s.>

Coughing and choking on the dust of ages, I roll weakly to my side. Channing wraps an arm around my hips, helping me get my knees under me. My eyes water as I struggle to breathe. Still, there’s no mistaking the ghostly exit of times past leaving my lungs with each violent coughing fit. It’s almost as if I was submerged in it.

That thought makes me gag. God knows what was in it.

My mate must still have Amber, because she’s absent on my right hand, but SOFie is still there on my left. I need her help, and I need it fast.

Was what I saw of the past true?> I demand.

Immediately, SOFie answers with a bright twinkle.

The mage, Jillian. She’s the grandmother of Liza, who gets renamed Mia? The woman who was me?>

Another bright twinkle.

So I had a sibling. The memory of a blonde-haired, tear-filled blue-eyed child staring up at me at the orphanage hits me. We’d been separated that day the dragon came for me, adopted me, and I’d never seen my sibling again. It’s another memory I’m dusting off to consider again.

Her eyes were glowing like a Luna’s, Damien. She’s my mate. An Alpha’s mate.>

Alpha glow isn’t the same, Channing, and you know it> Ferdi says. We know there’s a dragon still in existence. That means there’s also a dragon’s mate somewhere too. Were her eyes glowing like a dragon or not?>

Damien answers immediately. They were>

Channing vaults to his feet, stepping over me and standing protectively between me and Ferdi and Damien. He’s a big guy, and a strong fighter, but if his alpha control over them languishes even a slight bit, I don’t think he can stand alone against both Ferdi and Damien should they opt to attack.

Dammit, Damien! They were not! There’s no way she can have dragon blood in her. I gave her were venom. Weeks ago. She’s your Luna. And she has amber-colored eyes. That’s how alpha glow looks on her, but if you want to do some more thorough research on the topic, I’ll be happy to order you into the field.>

Don’t be a jerk, Channing. Damien has every right to question. Our jobs as leaders of Avernus—your job as Alpha—is to protect the wolves of Avernus. Are you protecting all of us? Or are you thinking with your little head and just protecting her?> Ferdi’s ice-cold eyes land on me, hard and unforgiving.

I realize suddenly that I’m Ferdi’s strategy. If this comes down to a fight, I’m Channing’s weakness. And if I’m killed or die, as my mate, so does he. I need to put a stop to this nonsense immediately.

Channing’s head tips to the side and his stance gets decidedly aggressive. ’Thinking with my little head’? That’s rich coming from the guy who hasn’t spent a single night in the last five weeks in his own bed. Not just in Ireland, but at home too. Don’t presume to tell me how to do my job, Ferdi. I’m Alpha. If you don’t like it, man up and challenge me for it. Don’t level threats at a helpless woman like a coward.>

Damien snorts. She’s not helpless. Not even remotely. She’s the most powerful mage we’ve ever encountered, assuming it’s mage magic we’re seeing at all. It could just as easily be dragon magic. It’s not a game, Channing. It’s us or the dragons. If you’ve made a mistake, be the Alpha. Take action immediately to mitigate it.>

The dragon? I claw at the back of Channing’s pants, trying to get to my feet. SOFie, the dragon, Cadmus. Is he still alive?>

A murky, sickening wave washes over me in response.

Without taking his eyes off of Damien and Ferdi, Channing extends a hand to me, dragging me to my feet behind him. Immediately, Ferdi shifts, taking a few steps to one side. A ten-alarm clang starts up in my head. He’s positioning to attack me—we’re in serious danger here. What’s more, despite the fact that nothing audible to the humans surrounding us has been exchanged, the aggressive stand-off between these three big, attention-getting guys has more than just Fia watching what’s going on closely.

Channing, this is bad> I warn. Still huffing occasionally, I subtly start to gather energy from the environment to defend us.

Stay behind me> he orders, his argument still running with Damien and Ferdi too. You’re their Luna, Jericho. If they raise a hand against you, strike them down hard>

They’re werewolves. They’ll heal.>

‘They’ll heal’. I roll my eyes. If there’s anything worse than macho male mentality, it’s macho male werewolf mentality. It doesn’t have to be a fight!>

There are people here, Channing. Witnesses. We can’t do this. Convince them to let me touch them. I can show them what we saw.>

Now’s not the time, baby—>

Channing doesn’t get the chance to finish that sentence because in that second, Damien bolts left and Ferdi bolts right, both of them angling for me. I hear sudden screams, and peripherally, see the few people who’ve either been watching this little idiocy unfold or have accidentally stumbled into it, scramble, running for shelter. My magic surges, the pressure of it nearly painful. “Channing, duck!” I shout.

As he drops to the ground, I raise my hands. The percussive wave hits Damien and Ferdi square in their chests, throwing them backwards twenty or so feet and knocking them flat.

Rolling to his feet, Channing bolts towards Ferdi with preternatural speed.

At a right angle, I race towards the flailing Damien. His mousy brown eyes go wide as he sees me dashing towards him and he scrambles. He staggers to his feet much more quickly than I’d hoped, just as I get close enough to slap a hand to his forehead. Instantly, the picture in my head of Cadmus, of the mage Jillian, of the Belfast shipyard, it’s all transferred to his brain.

“Noooo!” The word roars from off to the side of me.

With an agonized groan, Damien collapses under the magical barrage. I whirl to see Ferdi struggling violently against Channing’s restraining grasp. “Let him go!” I shout.

The instant he’s free, Ferdi vaults forward, the stone-cold killer plain to see in his ice-cold eyes. I wait, timing my magic perfectly, clapping it around him in an invisible and unbreakable vice. His eyes roll wildly as he stiffens into attention, then center on me as I approach the last few steps. He gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head, the limit of movement my magic will allow.  

Reaching up, I rest my palm against his forehead, zapping the same picture I gave to Damien into him. Ferdi drops like a rock, hitting the ground hard. His bulky body twitches as the image coalesces in his mind. My fingers splayed, palm down, I press and hold him in place.

“What the hell is the matter with you two assholes?” I shout furiously. Extending an invisible magical tentacle, I wrap Damien and drag him to us across the pavement, dumping him on the ground beside Ferdi and restraining him the same way. “Who was Cadmus?” I demand as Channing lopes up beside me.

“D-d-dragon,” Damien sputters softly, regaining his head more quickly than Ferdi since it’s not the first time he’s had to shake off my magic.

“Cadmus?”

Both my and Channing’s heads swivel towards the voice. Fia stands about fifteen feet away, watching me warily. Remarkably, and to her credit, she doesn’t seem overly surprised to have witnessed anything she just did, bizarre as it must have appeared.

“You know what I’m talking about?”

Impossible as it seems, she nods her head. “Cadmus Boyle. He was descended from Lord Donegall. A good man. He ran a linen mill on York Street. Brought in hundreds of spindles and power looms. Employed thousands here, paying good wages. He helped his workers take care of their families at the turn of last century.”

And doesn’t that just sound an awful lot like Drake Kemp and KDS in Crossroads and nothing like what I’ve been led to believe about dragons? On my finger, SOFie shoots a twinkly tingle into my finger. “What happened to him?”

On the ground, Damien chokes out a single word. “Wolves.”

“Aye,” Fia confirms. “Something terrible strange. A pack of wolves killed him and his housekeeper. Lass named Jillian. They say she was fae. Witch-eyed with the Sight. Like you.” She jerks her chin my direction.

I look down at Ferdi and Damien, still pinned to the ground with my magic. “You just saw what we saw,” I hiss through clenched teeth, my magic roiling and begging to be unleashed. “Are you done misbehaving, boys?”

“Why—why did you send Channing back alone?” Damien forces the words past mostly magically bound lips.

“Because I didn’t know how I’d get out unless I did. Are you satisfied?” I demand. “Or are Channing and I continuing this exploration on our on and I’ll leave you two stuck to the ground out here to wait out the next few hours of rain?”

In my periphery, I see Fia shift onto one hip and cross her arms over her chest. “As your guide, I’d rather like him back, if you don’t mind.” She jerks her chin at Damien.

The instant the words leave her lips, I flinch, struck with a second flashing vision. Fia and Damien. She’s the mate he’s been waiting for. It’s enough to make me smile. No wonder she likes his awkward flirting.

“Here that, Damien?” I loosen my hold on him so he can turn his head and look at Fia. “She’s advocating for your release. Have we settled this issue?”

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation and Channing extends a hand to help him to his feet.

I smother a laugh, slowly, cautiously, easing the magic off of him. It never ceases to amaze me how quickly a male’s little head will subjugate the brain-filled one.

“Ferdi?” I question, shifting my gaze to him. He’s three different shades of green and looks like any second now he’s going to sick up all over himself. “Are we done with this frackus?”

Careful, babydoll> Channing warns. He’s Rebecca’s brother. Handle him with the same caution. If you can, I’d keep yourself charged and ready.>

“Yes.”

Ferdi scrambles to his feet as my magic eases off of him, eyeing me warily. “What the hell are you, Jericho?” His icy blue eyes rake me from head to toe and he jerks his chin towards Fia. “She says you’re a witch. Or a fae. Not really sure around that Irish accent she has going on. Damien says you’re dragon. Channing says you’re wolf and a mage. Which one is it?”

“I don’t know if it’s just one or if it’s a combination of those, Ferdi,” I reply honestly. “I didn’t get a user guide or any training to be what I am, so I’m winging it here. What I can say with absolute conviction is I’m on your side. You want rid of a dragon. So do I. It’s only going to get harder for both of us if I have to work against you and you’re tearing Avernus apart on the inside to do it. So what’s it going to be? Are you going to trust me enough to let me explain before you jump me next time? Or is it going to be shoot-first-ask-questions-later and you’ll hope you come out on top like you did this time?”

Ferdi snorts, acknowledging he got his ass handed to him. He extends his right hand. “I cede, Luna.”

Don’t shake that> Channing cautions. Against me, I feel the pressure as his alpha compulsion swells.

Before us, Ferdi physically shrinks, standing down. “I’ll earn your trust then,” he says softly when I don’t take his hand. He shifts it to Channing. “Alpha, I apologize.”

Since we seem to have reached a truce, I pivot towards Fia. Damien has managed to hobble to her and stands patiently while she dusts off his clothes with hard slaps and pats, muttering under her breath angrily in Irish. I’d almost feel sorry for him if I didn’t know how good it feels to be with your mate—that girl’s going to run roughshod over him for the rest of her days.

“Where can we learn more about Cadmus Boyle and the woman, Jillian?” I ask her.

For a last good measure, Fia shakes her finger under Damien’s nose, admonishing him to behave. “Ulster Museum. I’ll take you there whenever you’re ready.”

“Let’s go, beefcake.” Nudging Channing with an elbow, I head towards Fia.

Over his shoulder, Channing orders, “Fall in, Ferdi.” Why did you send me back without you?> he asks of me through the wolf link.

Because the dragon wouldn’t talk without you and I needed answers.>

Channing phrases it as a question, but it’s not. He wants more answers.

So do I. I hope the Ulster Museum has them.