Movement No. 33
Yasmeena
Tempest and I sneak through the carnival, the only light coming from the rides themselves.
We walk to the inside of the gate, thankful no one is here, as it’s not yet midnight.
She paints three claw marks onto the ground with some of my blood, and we watch as it seeps into the dirt.
We bring out a table from a nearby storage closet, and Tempest lays on top of it, holding the potion vial that Aida provided us with.
“I can hear their footsteps; they’re not here yet, but they’re getting closer,” she says, and I take a deep breath, trying not to let fear get the better of me.
“Promise me we will see each other again?” I say, my voice shaking.
Tempest nods. “One last kiss before I die?”
“That’s not funny,” I say, but I lean down and our lips touch. The kiss is soft, gentler than ever before.
She brings the glass bottle up to her mouth, draining it in a few swallows,, and I take it from her hand before covering her with a plain white sheet.
I run, hiding inside one of the neighboring stands, and wait for Pack Escalus to arrive. I can’t see or hear anything yet, and I feel like a sitting duck.
I’ll be the one to attack Cain. It felt like the right decision, but now my thoughts are filled with all the ways he might critically injure me if I’m spotted too soon. I just hope he doesn’t realize Tempest is actually alive before Draven can reveal himself.
Fucking great.
Gemma is inside the Ferris wheel itself, planning to act as a sweet distraction before she lures some of the men into a trap for Absinthe and Reina.
Rowan and Leo are going to take care of Fenris and the enforcers, eventually joined by Khalid and Baelor, and Aida will handle the rest. Hopefully, if all goes to plan, nobody but Cain and his second have to die.
If all of the wolves agree to follow Tempest’s orders, this entire operation will be smooth sailing.
But if they don’t, it’s going to be a bloodbath.
I love being a part of The Devil’s Masquerade, but I hate the violence.
I am strong and capable of defending myself, but I’m no fighter.
I know Absinthe and Reina enjoy these kinds of things.
Hel, I think Draven dreams of fighting in his sleep, but that’s not me.
I want to create art and perform, to hold secrets and make peace.
I don’t want to throw fists or sharpen my claws.
If I did, I would’ve tried to fight Cavan long ago, though that would’ve likely been a suicide mission.
More than anything, I hope this goes the way Tempest wants it, and that the future is better than the past—for both of us.
The large, iron gates creak open, followed by footsteps and heavy breathing. If Tempest were awake right now, she could tell me exactly how many hearts were beating, but I’ll just have to go on my own instincts. I count their steps, realizing there’s likely six or seven of them.
There’s a beat of silence, and I try to calm my racing pulse, holding my breath as I wait for something… anything to happen. The sheet rustles, and I hear a low gasp, followed by frantic whispering.
I peek out and watch as Cain clutches Tempest in his arms, howling at the sight of her body. This is everyone’s signal. Tempest knew they would howl, as is tradition when a lupion has fallen. I wait, but nothing happens.
Five lupion stand with their backs turned to me, and I wait for what seems like forever, time losing all meaning. Cain, Syxcorax, Adrian, and two other wolves I don’t recognize are here, so where’s Fenris?
A large, clawed hand grasps the back of my neck, yanking me out of the stand, and I come to the sudden understanding we’ve been out-fooled.
Fenris.
Every molecule in my body is screaming at me to wriggle out of his grip and run, but that wouldn’t save Tempest, or any member of Hel’s Carnival. Someone I don’t recognize drags Gemma from the Ferris wheel, and the two of us are thrown in front of where Tempest’s limp body rests on the ground.
“Did you think you could kill my heir and get away with it?” Cain spits.
Not his daughter. His heir. My blood boils, but I don’t say anything, I just let him talk, knowing that Draven and Khalid are on the way.
Rustling sounds come from all different directions, and it seems to throw Cain off, distracting him from his own fit of rage.
“Gregory, Sampson, go to the carousel,” Fenris commands, and the two lupion split from the rest of the group. One has dark skin and bright eyes, and the other has light skin with dark eyes, though I’m not sure who is who.
“I’ll go double check the Ferris wheel. See who else might be hiding around there,” Stephano says, and Cain nods.
This leaves Cain, Fenris, and his son Adrian against Gemma and me, since Tempest is still indisposed. We can’t win, but we can surely do something.
Cain and Fenris move forward, maybe only twenty steps, to watch Gregory and Sampson investigate the noise, and it’s just enough distance to make a difference.
Adrian is young, maybe our age, and he stands within inches of us. Like a guard dog, he puts himself between us and his leaders, but he’s close. Too close, and that’s his first mistake.
Gemma pulls a sharp pin from the bun atop her head, and her hair comes toppling down as she stabs him in the ankle. Adrian yelps, kicking Gemma in the stomach, before I punch the back of his knees, knocking him to the ground.
I help Gemma up and we start backing away as Cain and Fenris turn and charge towards us. Gregory and Sampson follow too, chased by Reina, and I can see Leo and Rowan running from another section of the carnival.
There’s a crackle of lightning in the air. The battle has truly begun.
My ears ring from the sounds of snarling, of snapping jaws and bones, and elemental magic sparking all around us.
Rowan, Baelor, Khalid, and Draven all come out to play just as six additional lupion file through the gate.
An arm crosses in front of my face, and I bite down, using every bit of strength I have to break through fur, flesh, and muscle.
Another lupion pushes me, and my head hits the table, blood dripping from my forehead into my eyes.
Using my magic to pull water from the air, I spray a lupion as hard as I can. It probably looks ridiculous, but it does the job as he coughs violently, shifting away from me.
Everything happens too fast. I’m holding Gemma up, her arm over my shoulder, trying to get her out of the fight, but I can hardly see through the blood, all of my senses heightened. I taste the metallic tang of blood as I get her behind the popcorn stand and prop her up.
Running back towards Tempest’s body, I take in the entire scene.
Rowan’s heavy, strong fist swings, managing to knock either Sampson or Gregory unconscious, leaving the other one to defend himself.
I don’t think it’ll be long before Rowan fucks this guy up, too.
Fenris is going against my brother, and Cain against Draven.
The four men fight with claws, teeth, weaponry, and magic, and I flinch with every bloody strike of flesh on flesh.
Cain’s lightning crackles, but Fenris hasn’t revealed his magic yet, too busy trying to dodge Khalid’s fireballs. I have to force myself to look away.
Draven was smart, ensuring those with access to magic fight one another, trying to keep everyone evenly matched to ensure our survival. Rowan might be the strongest physically, but he won’t make it out of this alive if Cain blasts him with lightning.
Baelor and Leo are further away, going against four of the other wolves, clearly struggling to keep up with their slashing claws. I cup my eyes with my hands, trying to see better, when I see Aida tail-whip a lupion and smile.
That’s our serpent.
Tempest is still on the ground, and I need to find a way to get to her without getting myself injured in the process. If I don’t act soon, one of the pack might grab her, and then there’s no telling what will happen to the treaty… or to Tempest.
“I demand to speak with Raph,” Cain says through gritted teeth.
“Raph can’t get to the phone right now, but please, feel free to leave a message,” Draven says, the sass reminding me of Baphomet.
It’s amazing how calm he is, given the situation, but I think he’s goading Cain, trying to enrage him further.
Magic seems to flow between them, like magnets repelling, bouncing off each other’s energy with large sparks. Flares of light dance across my vision, and I wipe the blood off my brow, unable to hear any more of what they’re saying from this distance.
I don’t fully understand Draven’s magic. Unlike those of us with atra markings, demon and half-demon power isn’t tied to an element; it’s untethered. Powered by magicite or their own life force.
Gemma once told us that on Earth, all the mages focus their magic on learning something incredibly specific.
Like Aida, they might learn to see visions of possible futures, or maybe they can help plants grow or speak to animals, but Draven’s magic is different.
She called it charms, but stated he uses his magic in a much more powerful way, stronger than anything she’d ever seen before.
He can move things with his mind, controlling physical objects as well as energy.
I never thought much of it before, had rarely gotten the chance to watch him fight someone with a matched level of strength to him, but now I can see clearly that she was right. I think the only beings stronger than Draven are full-blooded demons like Raph and Luc.
Ash fills the air, and I breathe it in. It should worry me—the potential damage to my lungs—but the ash instead ignites something in me. It’s part of my brother. It’s proof that he’s alive and his magic is working, and that is enough for me.
Draven is using all of his magic to keep Cain’s lightning at bay, and I wonder if Cain has more than one rune tattooed on his body, given the ridiculous levels of strength he’s displaying.
With how many pack members they’ve sent, I wonder if we should’ve called some felion in for backup, or even members of other lupion packs, but I fear that would’ve made it harder for Tempest in the long run.
I inch closer to Tempest, and I can hear more of Draven and Cain’s argument. They’ve escalated to shouting, and Cain makes no effort to protect Tempest’s body—corpse or not—leaving it wide open for me.
“You people betrayed me! You’re trying to kill off my bloodline!” Cain screams, but Draven doesn’t say anything.
His eyes dart around, clearly looking for Gemma, and I gesture to the popcorn stand. He nods.
A bloodcurdling scream comes from another part of the carnival, followed by a second, and I hear a body thump to the ground. I try but fail not to think about who that might be as I slowly crawl to Tempest.
I hope it was fucking Baelor.
Cain continues his rant on legacies and lineage, not caring about his daughter, never even mentioning her name.
“I’m going to take over Haeresis. It’s time for the lupion to reign. The era of the demon is over,” he says, everything coming out unhinged. “You might be able to kill my heir, but you won’t be able to stop me.”
The Legion at least wants democracy. They seek fairness between the demons and half-demons. This is simply hunger for power. The future Cain envisions is one of dictatorship—he’s a fucking fascist.
I don’t plan on letting any fascists live tonight.
When I finally reach Tempest through the ash and rubble, she genuinely appears to be dead.
Her skin is cold, body limp. I cup my hands, making water with my magic, and pour it into Tempest’s mouth.
The seconds feel agonizing, but I watch as, just like Aida said, Tempest’s cheeks regain their color and she gasps for air, beautiful and alive.