Chapter 31
JAX
I stand staring at the demountable that used to be my office when I was a peripheral minion. There is cargo banked up everywhere in containers, ready to be transported to Sparkle City.
But this cargo will be going nowhere.
No more bangles and baubles.
No more fine fashion.
No more perfumes and make-up.
No more whitegoods.
No more raw materials.
And no more munitions.
The portal elevators are about to deliver a very different type of cargo to Sparkle City.
Two green sheriffs, father and son. A half dozen deputy sheriff shifters.
And scores of tough warrior wolves.
Oh yeah—and me, Jax Summers, the newly appointed High Priest of the Dawnwrought Coven, with the portal cape draped around my shoulders.
Marsha Winters’ plans are about to be scuppered.
The portal elevator doors open and we pile in. All along the rows of metal elevators, as far as the eye can see, dozens of Trojan wolves march inside.
Dozens of metal doors clang shut.
And then, we strap in. Press the control panel buttons and wait.
In moments, the elevator doors spring open again, but this time the barren landscape of the Periphery meets my gaze.
The long wide roads, the storage containers piled high behind barbed-wire fencing.
The trucks waiting to take goods to the center of Sparkle.
and the towers, where the armed guards watch the portal elevators, day in, day out.
Another life.
Lived by another Jax Summers.
As if on cue, the lights dim, just as predicted by the runes.
All around us, peripherals stop working. They look around them, stare down at their clothing, at each other. Their faces are no longer blank, but full of surprise.
And then they amble away, sit down, propping themselves against fences. Some fall forward onto their knees, asleep; others manage to lie down first.
The dissociative fugue has fallen on them like an invisible curtain.
We pass sleeping soldiers at their sentry posts, workers slumped onto their elbows as if daydreaming. Drivers asleep at the wheels of their trucks.
On we march, through the swirling mist of the Crossroads, the place where the illusion of Sparkle City turns into the dark wastelands of the Periphery.
Soon, I think, gritting my teeth. Soon this whole place will be exposed for the sham it’s always been.
The mist swirls heavy around our band of monsters, obscuring our vision, but it doesn’t matter. We know where we are headed.
Out the other side of the Crossroads, we stride along streets where the buildings get taller and grander, glittering glass and metal, until we’re in the very heart of the city.
As we walk past the municipal building, the lights dim.
We approach DeVines department store and the same thing happens.
Every building, every street becomes dull and murky. Humans sit on benches, heads in hands, or wander aimlessly, somehow not bumping into anything. The fugue will keep them safe from harm.
Only the lights of Devine Tower blaze out, neon bright, signaling that whoever is in there is not surrendering
As we approach, we realize the doors are locked. Barred with thick pieces of metal.
We grind to a halt.
Everyone’s eyes are on me, looking to me for guidance.
Fuck.
I gulp hard. Then I say the words that Mom taught me last night before we left the Vault.
“Sheram Depa Potana.”
And the doors, the bars, the whole structure of the ornate entrance, melt away. We all surge inside. I take the lead.
A part of me feels uneasy as we make our way across the polished marble floor.
Sure, I know the magic is strong, but we’ve encountered absolutely no opposition so far. The malefic powers have held us imprisoned for centuries, and managed to overthrow our previous rebellion. Isn’t this a little too simple? Too easy?
Otis feels it too. He pauses turns and speaks to Traggar, who halts. Then addresses the assembled warriors.
“Take the stairs and get ready to shift, lads. There is likely to be resistance. Jax and the sheriffs, take the elevators. We’ll meet you up there.”
The Opal Office would usually be accessed by code only, but as soon as we are inside the elevator, the doors close and whoosh us up to the top floor.
When the doors spring open, there’s an eerie stillness.
Otis, Silas, Kazmo and Brody move forward stealthily. I follow, equally cautious, even though I am invisible now.
The stairwell doors open and the wolf warriors surge out. The corridor ahead is empty.
“SHIFT NOW!” I hear Traggar order, and suddenly there are no men, just monsters, huge and fierce and ready to fight to the death.
Traggar’s intuition was right. They’ve shifted just in time. Because suddenly out of the air-conditioning vents, creatures appear. They are hideous beyond my wildest imaginings.
Vile beings, with claws and scales and curved fangs, land from all angles, clawing and biting and flapping their veined and mottled wings.
One hits me as it passes, sending the cape sideways.
As I lean against the wall, both me and the cape regaining equilibrium, I see Kazmo, in his lion form, bat one of the creatures against the wall with a huge paw. It sinks down, limp and lifeless, its scaly neck broken, its one red eye protruding from the middle of its forehead.
I shudder.
Brody the bear, huge and shaggy, rears up on his massive hind legs and takes on another three of them in one go, with a huge roar, snapping their reptilian legs like twigs.
Silas rises above us on flapping wings, cawing hoarsely, and warding off more of them. It’s the first time I have ever seen him as a raven.
But the creatures keep coming, oozing some noxious substance from their pores, their one huge eye protruding from their wrinkled skulls. All over them are growths, like spiky warts, and they belch out an acrid-smelling smoke that manages to infiltrate the cape with a putrid smell.
Everywhere there is fighting, the sounds and sights of battle. The punch of a fist cracking on a skull. The squelch of a wolf’s dagger or claws taking out the vitals of one of the hideous beasts.
One lands on Otis’s back. He roars and tries to shake it off, but it’s attached, its wings around his shoulders. Silas swoops and drags it off. His beak gouges a huge lump out of its flesh and the creature screams, then fizzles into a puddle of rank acidic black oil.
To say the scene is ugly does not do it justice.
It’s clear though, that the demons are being held at bay, and I have another mission to complete.
I need to move on.
I need to find Marsha.
“Ta de Ka,” I order the cape. “Take me to her.”