14. Paul #4
I paused, and I had a fleeting temptation to just… not. Not be vulnerable. Not open up in front of hundreds of strangers. Not reveal the sensitive and tender parts of me that were not ideal for a son in the chain of succession.
But if there was one thing that Cherry taught me, it was that emotions could be a huge unifier between people, a connection that bound everyone together intrinsically.
So, I continued.
“But what I wanted to talk about are the little moments in between, the glue that fills in all the gaps between the big events that makes up actual life. ” A slight rustling of surprise came from the pews, but I ignored it as I told them the same stories I’d told Cherry, just a little more polished.
Then I spoke about my father’s drawer of treasures, and how after Luther had his first shift, he went through a period of accidentally breaking things if he squeezed too hard.
It didn’t get outright laughter, but that was okay. I wasn’t looking for that. What I did get was a chuckle here or there, a positive shift in pheromones, and most importantly, slight smiles on my siblings’ faces.
I figured if I had felt so disconnected, then so did they, and I wanted them to know there was hope. I wanted them to know we could go forward as a real family who really saw and understood each other rather than the distracted and scattered cluster we’d become.
“I will miss my father and brother terribly, and the scars of their loss cannot be erased with our shifter healing.
That loss is a wound in our pack as well, and the ripples of this will no doubt stretch over multiple states.
Even with their flaws, even with all the choices and triumphs stolen from them, they will remain in our hearts.
“And I am happy to keep them there.”
There was a smattering of funeral-appropriate applause as I wrapped up. I was surprised by the sense of closure starting to creep into me. It wasn’t complete, and it wouldn’t be as long as the murderer was at large. But it was a microdose I appreciated very much.
I sat, and Penelope patted my hand before standing and marching to the podium, wobbling a bit in her heels.
“Fellow shifters,” she started, and I grimaced a little. I’d heard Penelope practice many disputes or opening arguments on the debate team, and that was much stiffer than her usual demeanor. However, it was a funeral and not a mock trial, so there was probably one or two differences between that.
Like, for instance, the dead people.
“We are gathered here today?—”
That was as far as she got before the world imploded.
One moment my sister’s face was drawn in a contrite but subdued expression of mourning, the next, the stained-glass dome of the roof above her shattered, raining rainbow shards everywhere.
People yelped, and we were all on our feet. But not before a cloaked figure dropped down and ran Penelope through with a silver sword.
“ Now! ” I cried, lunging forward to shift.
About a thousand and one things happened in the same moment.
Now largely everyone was screaming as they rushed out of their seats, most going for the doors but some moving forward toward us, and some even locked in place. Those with children were herding the young ones out, and our security team at the doors rushed to help them.
However, our other security, the ones well-versed in close quarters combat, began pouring in from all the side doors that didn’t lead to an exit.
The non-shifters among them were armed with various weapons for different supernatural entities, and all the shifters already beginning to take their animal forms.
The assassin, wrapped in cloaks and heavy robes, tried to jerk the sword out of Penelope. But her now-stony hands came up to grip the blade, holding it in place as her head turned all the way around.
“Bet you thought this was gonna go another way,” she said before blowing a raspberry.
The changeling we’d hired had a flare for drama. Probably a theater kid.
However, that theater kid knew when to get the hell out of Dodge, because when the assassin jerked back in surprise, the changeling let go of Penelope’s form like sidewalk chalk rushing away in the rain, returning to its somewhat gelatinous, eggy-colored neutral body and bending over backward to scuttle off and take another form.
It was far freakier than I had anticipated.
But I didn’t let that stop me. Even before my last bone shifted into place, I was already racing forward, teeth bared.
Although I didn’t often battle in my wolf form, something had awakened within me during our escapade in the criminal bazaar.
I felt more connected to my wolf than ever, and I was ready to finally avenge my fallen brother and father.
I wasn’t alone, either. Chris and the real Penelope had already shifted and were bounding forward, jaws snapping, along with the eldest son of the McElroys and the Chevaliers’ niece.
And… the Whisper?
It was almost enough to make me miss a step, but I managed to catch my stride and keep racing forward.
I wasn’t the first one on the assassin. One of the security members got there first, but he didn’t so much as land a single paw beside the podium before the assassin swung their sword and actual lightning lanced out of it, slamming into the hired wolf and sending him flying.
But it wasn’t just him.
Those same bolts of electricity spread to five of our closest staff around them, and they all collapsed into twitching piles.
“Watch out! A sorcerer!” I yelled out in shifter-speak. It could have been some other powerful magic user. I wasn’t exactly an expert.
While I knew quite a few magic wielders on a professional level, I didn’t know any without emotions.
Perhaps they used a spell to mask them. If that was a possibility, it felt like Cherry would know about it.
And there was no reason an assassin-sorcerer would pre-emptively hide their emotions with a spell because who in the world could possibly predict that I would end up hiring a?—
Well, a real psychic, but as far as I knew, we were fresh out of those.
Although I didn’t have a lot of experience fighting them, I knew that the key to fighting those who were adept at magic was to get them in close quarters and hit them with unrelenting physical attacks.
So, I homed in, aiming for their blind spot as they focused on our rushing security detail and Chris.
The Whisper was no slouch either. Somehow, she’d gotten halfway up a pillar, vines wrapped around her torso like a backpack, scaling the stone surface while thinner, thornier ones lashed down at the assassin.
I had no idea why she was fighting for us other than to secure an advantageous connection to my family.
Well, if she helped us through this, maybe I could look into returning the favor, provided no one innocent was getting hurt.
“Come on!” she shouted at the assassin, who had pulled some sort of orb out of one of the pouches tied to their belt. It exploded in a huge globe of blue fire when it hit the pillar just under her. “Quit using toys and fight me with your own skills!”
The assassin didn’t say anything, and as I closed the final distance between us, I realized they weren’t just cloaked.
They were covered from head to toe in a heavy robe, and beneath that, they wore thick body armor.
A mask obscured their face. This person didn’t just want to have their emotions to remain unknown, but also their identity.
Was that because we knew them or simply because they didn’t want to deal with any witnesses?
Whatever the reason, those questions fell to the wayside as I darted into the assassin’s space and sank my teeth into their arm with all the vitriol I had.
This emotionless, magic-filled monster was quite massive: taller than me and shoulders far broader than my own head, which was no small feat considering the size of my wolf. But I didn’t care how big they were. I was going to avenge my brother and father!
Teeth firmly lodged into place, I put everything I had into my jaw, clamping down and waiting for the warm rush of blood. But while I did taste something akin to pennies, there was no liquid. No give of flesh. No tearing of muscle.
I was biting into metal.
It was a distraction I hadn’t anticipated, and it was just enough for me to loosen my jaws ever so slightly.
However, even that small lapse was enough for the assassin to rip their arm out of my grip, then bash their metal fist into the side of my wolf head.
It rattled me, shifting my balance, allowing the assassin to deliver a blow on the opposite side of my skull.
My meager training and whatever natural instincts I had for fighting wasn’t enough for this honed instrument of death, but I couldn’t back down. I snarled, only barely jumping back in time as that damned silver sword sliced through the air in front of me.
“Get away from him!”
In a funeral of quite too many surprises already, the last thing I expected was for my sister Penelope, half shifted, to suddenly leap on the assassin’s back and pummel their skull while simultaneously trying to bite through their shoulder with her unnaturally elongated jaw.
That was the thing about little wolves, wasn’t it? They always went for the jugular.
The assassin was eerily silent; the only audible thing coming from them was their heartbeat and the harsh rasp of their breath. They didn’t even have a scent! Were we fighting some sort of machine? Was there a malevolent artificer hiding somewhere in the rafters, directing their inorganic golem?
More questions and still no answers. And I couldn’t devote any part of my brain to trying to figure it out, because the matter at hand was for all of us to stay alive.
The assassin backpedaled, slamming Penelope into one of the pillars that hadn’t been destroyed by their fight with the Whisper and pinning her there.