In the drive, vehicles manned by Siruns from four different countries waited. Torin, Larkspur, and Antonio, left the warmth of the Manor, meandering the cobblestone drive. They took to the front seat of Carson’s silver Suburban, while Milos and three of the Midewiwins took the back. Headlights illumed the drive as the Suburban lunged forward, followed by Gage, a French Sirun and four Midewiwins in a black Ford Explorer.
From within and outside the manor, Iridescents from Germany and France stayed behind, standing guard over the estate.
Frankie with a sword in hand, dropped down from the roof and walked to the drive, steely eyes locked on the taillights as they slowly dimmed, then disappeared.
Through the night, they traveled, headlights cutting a swath through the dark. The next day, hours outside of Whitehorse, they stopped for gas and then with heightened anxiety, finished up the twelve-hour trek into the heart of the Yukon Territory. In the final hours, Torin interrogated the Midewiwins. Fearful of a second failure which could mean hundreds of lives in addition to over four hundred killed in the initial battle, plus sixty mutilated by the Seventh Miigis, he searched for answers, delving deep into the history of the Fire Circle. Larkspur added information from her years of study and while one Midewiwin would agree with her, another would contradict her knowledge.
Torin found himself unnerved, not only due to the inability of the Midewiwins to come to an agreement, but unbidden images of Donja’s battered face and his promise to bring Anna home alive. He suddenly feared his promise might not be realistic. He found himself clenching his fist, his gut like a churning cauldron.
Must save her, Donja would never get over the loss.
The Suburban came to a stop, his thoughts scattered. He got out, sucking the crisp cool air, the temperatures hovering around thirty-five degrees. He leaned on the vehicle, his mind a cacophony of emotions as the many gathered, swords distributed, tension high.
Minutes turned to hours awaiting the arrival of five hundred additional Canadian Iridescents traveling from every corner of the maple leaf country. As they began to arrive in groups of fifty to a hundred, Torin grew increasingly nervous. Six hundred French, led by a red headed Sirun, came in, fifty or more on motorcycles. Torin walked the growing army, confidence bolstered, yet in the back of his mind, the Midewiwins concerned him. He took to the hill and found them tightly huddled, relieved to see that they had finally come to an agreement. He returned to the Suburban and seeing Larkspur sitting atop the hood, smoking a cigarette, approached her.
“Don’t you know that’s bad for your health?” he joked.
“My being here is what’s bad for my health.”
“Are you sure you’re up to this?” Torin asked.
After a moment of indecision, she took a long drag and exhaled. She tossed the cigarette away and slid to her feet. “Yes,” she replied with a note of anxiety in her voice.
Torin spun her and bound her hands behind her back. “You know I’m going to kill him, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she breathed, “but you better take a number and get in line. Antonio’s set on his blood.” She dropped her head.
“You still love him,” Torin whispered, “I can smell your pain.”
“Matters of the heart are not easily dismissed,” she said softly. “I so wanted him to be a better man, prayed that he would be, he’s the father of my son,” she paused catching her breath, “but some things are not meant to be.”
“I feel your pain, God knows I’ve lived it myself and though the need for revenge is eating a hole in my heart, I can truly say I am relieved that it won’t be me.”
“That’s because you’re decent, Torin, you have integrity.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Perhaps I say that only because we both know that Antonio deserves that honor,” he took a deep breath, “but if he fails, I will have no choice.”
“Torin,” she pleaded, you do what you must, but please hear my plea which is not for Garret, but for my son.”
Torin’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know Larkspur, he is…”
“My son, and you promised.
Torin dropped his head.
She moved into his body so close he could feel her breaths. “I can tell you with a straight face that Zaroc never wanted any of this, never wanted power, his only desire in life was to be left alone to live his life with Miguel.”
Torin’s head jerked up. “Miguel?”
“His one true love.”
“I had no idea he was gay.”
“No one did because Garret couldn’t accept it and hid it from the world. He forced Zaroc into this…”
“But he accepted the Seventh Miigis!” Torin interrupted. “The Midewiwins told me the spirit can only enter the body of an adult who is willing, or the body of an Iridescent newborn gasping its last breaths.”
“But Garret forced him with threats of killing Miguel and my poor boy, he was so near death that he succumbed, not only to save his own life, but to protect the one he loves. Would you not do the same?”
“Where is Miguel?”
“Garret has him in the basement under lock and key guarded by Iridescents. He’s mortal, weak as a lamb and he and wouldn’t be alive today were it not that Garret fears Zaroc might be become so distraught over losing him that he would kill himself.”
“Zaroc loves this man that much?”
“He loves him just as much as you love Donja.”
“I see, well…I can respect that, and I will do what I can, but this is war and there will be causalities.”
“Thank you, you’re a good man, Torin Mancini. Donja is not only one of the last living females of the Durent Clan, but one of the luckiest to have you.”
“You didn’t always think so highly of me, Larkspur. I remember when you accused me of Anstosa’s death.”
“I was wrong,” Larkspur mused. “She was my sister and I was distraught over her death. Part of her hated you, Torin, you know that don’t you?”
“Yes, I have come to accept it, but tell me this. If she hated me so much, why did she willingly marry me?”
“Our mother forced her by guilt. She said that if she refused you, you would take Embly, mother’s youngest child as your bride. They fought for days and after mother spoke of killing herself, Anstosa agreed.”
“She ruined both our lives, and she killed our child.” Torin whined pitifully.
“But you have Donja now Torin, a female who sees what an incredible man you are. If you had not suffered the pain, would you have so welcomed true love?”
“I don’t know, but I do know that requited love is priceless. Donja was always my destiny. I just had to wait.”
“Can you forgive me?”
“I already have.”
“I hate to break this up, but we need to get moving,” Antonio said. “We have a war to fight.”
“No,” Torin said combing his hair with his fingers. “Change of plans.”
“What do you mean?” Antonio asked with furrowed brows.
“We need Miguel, Zaroc’s mate,” Torin replied, untying Larkspur’s hands.
“That’s crazy.”
“No, think about it,” Torin snapped. “Scarface has Anna, so he won’t venture into war, he’ll just let the lesser do his dirty work, but if we have Miguel, Zaroc might break rank, take over momentarily and come for him. Miguel may be the only way to lure them into the circle of Fire.”
“He’s right,” Larkspur chimed in. “They have been together for eight years and Zaroc has marked him.”
“But how the hell do we get our hands on him?”
“Easy,” Larkspur whispered. “He’s here locked away in the basement. There’s a secret passage from the docks down on the river. It’s poorly guarded. I know the combination to the inner steel doors which are impenetrable, even by Iridescents. Once inside, we disable the security and shut off power to the elevator which is the only entry from the main house.”
“How many guards?” Antonio queried.
“
Only four, the last time I was there.”
“Four, are you sure?”
“Yes, Garret relies on the infra-red scanners which are monitored on the main floor and keeps the whole of his army out front protecting the house…oh and the landing strip for his chopper.”
Antonio’s eyes narrowed. “Damn, and I thought we were prepared. Where’s the landing strip?”
“In the river gorge, south of the house. Just take the rocky precipice which is easily passable and you’re there, you can’t miss it.”
Antonio met Torin’s eyes. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“I’m thinking we send Iridescents to take out his chopper so that he can’t escape.”
“Agreed,” Antonio breathed, his chest heaving.
“And while that’s happening,” Torin added, “Larkspur, Milos and I are going for Miguel.”
“I agree,” Milos said with a wicked grin playing on his face. “We all meet back here afterward and force this bastard to the Circle of Fire.”
“All in agreement?” Antonio asked, eyeing the Siruns from France and Germany.”
They both nodded agreement.
Antonio turned back to Torin and Milos. “Don’t be a hero, just get in, nab Miguel and get the hell back here, with your heads intact.”
Torin, Larkspur and Milos turned to leave.
“Oh,” Antonio said, “protect Larkspur with your life. I need her to lure Garret.”
Larkspur sighed. “You give me too much credit, Antonio. Garret doesn’t love me, he only used me to become a Sirun.”
“I beg to differ, the bastard watches you with intent, I’m not blind,” Antonio said.
“Only because I’m his possession, he’s not capable of love.”
“You’re wrong. He cares, he’s just a ruthless bastard who’s used to getting his way. He’ll come for you, my dear, I’m counting on it.”
Death’s Embrace
Navigating a jagged rock bed which paralleled the Yukon River, Milos, followed by Torin and Larkspur, hugged the rocky walls, stealing past sentries posted hundreds of feet above. Back winds dispersed their scent, their passage undetected. Finding the docks where motor craft, jet skis and a party barge were docked, Larkspur pointed out a hidden ascension cut into the rocky wall. About fifty feet over the river, they found an alcove cut into solid rock. Just past a narrow passage they entered a cave. Torin heaved a breath, the earthy scent of wet dirt, limestone and sulfur wafting. He morphed to Iridescent, his green eyes illuming a swath through the dark. They cautiously eased through twists and turns, the ceaseless drip of water from stalagmites resounding. They spooked a brood of bats which took flight. Eventually, they came upon a small cavern where steel doors set in concrete occupied a wall. Milos ran his hands over the cold, damp exterior some twenty inches thick. “Damn, talk about security.”
“It’s impenetrable,” Torin said.
“Not quite,” Larkspur whispered. Moving to the left of the door, she slid her tiny fingers over the chiseled stone walls until she found a jagged section. “Here,” she said. “Remove this stone.”
Torin gripped the stone, the size of a footlocker and it slid from the wall, revealing an electronic key pad.
Larkspur leaned in beside him, her face silhouetted in shadows as she stretched her arm to the screen. Her fingers flew over the digits.
The door clicked.
Milos grabbed the iron handle and pulled, muscles bulging as the door slowly inched open. A blast of warm air, as well as the glare of fluorescent light hit their faces.
Just inside, Milos pulled the door tight and he and Torin, side by side, swords drawn, inched forward.
“Wait,” Larkspur whispered, “the right hallway leads to the elevator so take the left side, but you must be careful. It’s guarded by hidden infra-red scanners. Take to the ceiling, there’s a thin space in which you can pass undetected. When you reach a door on the right, you’re safe from the scanners, but it’s locked. You need to get inside that room, it houses the electrical grid. Disarm the scanners and the elevator. You’ll find a red master switch on a grid behind the door. Disconnect it and the cells will open automatically.
“Cells?” Torin whispered.
“Yes, Garret’s prison and a small torture chamber he uses for disloyal Affiliates. Just be careful,” she admonished. “Once you disable the master switch and the cells open, it signals an alarm. Be ready for the guards.”
“You stay here,” Torin said, “and if we don’t come back, run, find your way back to Antonio and finish this.”
In the hallway, Milos leapt to the ceiling and like a spider on its web, inched forward. Torin followed behind, eyes wary, his hearing keen. Past the scanners they dropped to the floor with a soft thud. They listened to the silence. Milos winked, and they inched forward. Finding the door, Torin fumbled with the lock until finally it broke free in his hand and he swung the door wide. Electrical wires and metal boxes occupied one wall. They disabled the elevator, ripping cords from the connections and then finding the grid labeled ‘Cellblock,’ Torin flipped the switch which snapped, followed by a soft buzzing alarm. They rushed out of the room and were met by three Iridescents, two with swords, the third with a double-barreled shotgun which he raised, aimed and fired.
Torin felt the lead balls penetrate his chest. The force slammed him to the wall. He growled his misery, but before he could recover, the Affiliate was upon him, fist swinging. Blood flew from Torin’s mouth. Dazed, he felt the Affiliate’s hands around his neck. Gasping, with a paralytic force sapping his strength, Torin looked over the shoulder of his attacker and saw Milos engage the swordsmen, their heads flying. Torin could feel his heartbeat slowing, his lower extremities numb.
Something in the bullets…damn, I’m paralyzed!
Torin glanced up and saw Milos ease up behind the Affiliate. Milos swung his blade, the Affiliate’s head flying. Milos kicked the body away then sliced his own wrist and offered the dripping nourishment to Torin. Torin fed on him like a starving beast, then leaned upon the wall. Recovery came quickly and he rose to his feet.
“Thank you,” Torin wheezed. “What the hell was that?”
“Hollow tip slugs filled with tranquilizer,” Milos said, sniffing the air. “Might I suggest you become a Sirun?”
“Yeah,” Torin said, stretching his arms.
They moved past the corpses and discovered a large room with a wall of cells. Torin faltered, his spiritless feet frozen in place.
“Can you believe this shit?” Milos said, as cell doors swung wide and twenty or more Asian boys, some as young as six or seven emerged.
“I had heard of Garret’s affinity for the blood of little boys, but I never suspected this,” Torin sighed.
“It’s who Garret is,” Larkspur said as she strode the hallway, stepping past the dead Affiliates. She walked ahead of them and they followed. Just beyond the boys they discovered a young man, perhaps thirty.
“Miguel,” she said. “Come, hurry, we must get you out of here.”
He moved toward her, lean and athletic with rumpled black hair and effeminate facial features. His cheekbones were chiseled and beneath his sculptured brows were dark, slanted eyes. “What are you doing?” He asked. “You’ll get me killed.”
“No, we’re saving you, Miguel,” Larkspur said, “hopefully you and Zaroc both.”
Racing for the exit, with the young boys in pursuit, Milos angled a look to Torin. “You take Larkspur, I’ll take pretty boy. We can put these kids in the party barge and they can float down river to safety.”
“Good idea,” Torin nodded.
~~~
Cold winds plagued the land and low-lying clouds which were ghostly white, blocked the sun. Antonio took a stance in the silver twilight, facing the Siruns and Midewiwins. “Damn cold,” he complained, arms folded over his chest, trying to mask his concern.
Damn it, Torin, get back here!
Fearing the worst, he paced relentlessly. “I think the temperature
’s dropping,” he grumbled, gust whipping his hair.
“Must be an artic front moving in from Alaska,” someone remarked.
“Yeah, well let’s hope it doesn’t snow,” Antonio replied eyeballing the sky. He glanced north, hoping to see Milos and Torin but seeing nothing, heaved his chest.
Damn, I knew this was a bad idea.
Now skeptical of their return he straightened his posture, shoulders tight to address the group. “Listen up! Garret’s aware of our presence by now, so I think it best that we get the fire circle going.” Affiliates!” he shouted. We need you on high alert, and once they attack, engage his army so that we can lure Garret and Zaroc. Any questions?”
“No, let’s do this!” Gage shouted as two thousand others raised their balled fists defiantly.
“Incoming!” a scout shouted.
Antonio spun to the ridgeline that spanned the river. He focused on Milos with a dark-haired male on his back. He held his breath, then exhaled as Torin, carrying Larkspur, topped the bluff, cutting the distance between them.
“You were successful,” Antonio gushed, relief evident in his voice.
“Yes, Torin said, but we disabled their electrical, so they are aware of our presence. We must act quickly.”
“Get them tied up,” Antonio ordered.
Milos spun to Miguel who protested loudly. Undeterred, Milos who seemed to enjoy his deed, bound him in leather.
I wonder how your blood would taste, pretty boy.
Torin tied Larkspur’s wrist behind her back. “Is that too tight?” he asked. She turned her head toward him. “No, it needs to be realistic. Perhaps a little blood on me and Miguel would be even more convincing,” she said, “set Garret and Zaroc on edge.”
“That’s just what I was thinking,” Milos said. “Rub dirt on her face to look like bruising, then feed on her and smear blood on her lips and neck. I’ll do the same for pretty boy,” he grinned eyeing Miguel up and down. “I’m rather intrigued by the eyes and lips of a woman on a male body.”
“Don’t you take any liberties with him,” Larkspur snapped, “he belongs to my son and he’s marked.”