A few days earlier…

Barbara and I were nestled on her couch on a cool late winter evening, the remnants of a cozy fire still warming the room from the fireplace.

“Scottish Rite? That’s a good-sized campus.”

She nodded. “We’re to the point where it’s mainly big facilities left to deal with. We’ve covered the small- and mid-size places – social service organizations, orphanages, places like that.”

“So it’s the usual four of you… who are you getting to anchor the wards?”

She blushed a little, which surprised me. “Well, we were hoping that you would come and give us a hand?”

I was taken aback by the tone behind her question, as if she expected me to say no. “Of course! I’ve been worried that I’ve been completely cast out by the rest of the Confederacy – I can hardly get anyone to talk to me anymore.”

“Well, since Donna’s coup, most everyone is keeping you at arm’s length. She spooked them pretty good.”

I shrugged. “I get that. Between the coup and whatever happened to the Red Court back at Halloween, I’m scared to go out and about sometimes. I just still can’t believe that she was able to undo the progress I’d made so quickly”

She smiled sadly and kissed me. “You’ve still got me.”

I looked at her seriously. “And don’t you ever think that’s not enough for me. It-“

She placed a finger on my lips and nodded. “I know… your mission. For now, let’s get some rest.” Her full-on smile returned as she stood up. “Stay tonight?”

I got up as I nodded, and we headed for the stairs. There wasn’t anything pressing that I needed to be at my apartment for, and we’d be able to start work on planning out the wards the next day. The fact that her bed was a heck of a lot more comfortable than mine was a fringe benefit. “But you know the rules.”

She pouted prettily. “I know, I know. Sleeping only.” Then she gave me a smoldering look, dropping her voice into a husky register. “How much longer will you make me wait, Matthew?”

I coughed, sputtered, and tripped up the stairs, her laughter leading the way.

Today…

Barbara and I pulled up in the park next to Scottish Rite just as the sun set on Ash Wednesday. “Pallas has been giving me all kind of grief about your choice of day,” Barbara said as we got out of her car.

I shrugged as I opened the trunk and began unloading it. “He should know how this works by now. Each practitioner has his or her own style and sources of power. You want the holy caster to do the wards, we get more bang for our supernatural buck on a holy day.”

“I know, Matthew.” We each hefted our backpacks. We also carried a tarp with additional supplies between us, and headed across the park towards the hospital. As I’d noted when she first asked, Scottish Rite was a good sized hospital campus. To get a warding around it was going to require a large ritual, with the ability to capture and distribute significant power – without disrupting the technology inside.

“Well, hopefully he brought the other things we needed too.” As we set our things down under the tree line just short of the hospital property, a large black bird swooped down in front of us and landed behind a tree. I grimaced. “So, how much of our conversation did you overhear, Pallas?”

There was a bit of rustling, and then a pale, lanky, half-dressed figure stepped out from behind the tree, shirt in hand. “Don’t you fret,” Pallas smirked, “I did my part.”

We heard movement from the other direction, and saw a young woman in overdone Goth gear approaching from the hospital parking lot. I turned my attention back to Pallas, and he motioned to a large pile next to where he had landed. “It’s a lot more supplies than we’ve needed before. You sure you’re up for this, Captain God-Squad?”

“Pal-las,” Barbara chided as a very dainty snort came from Claret – a type of laugh I didn’t associate with the Freakshow’s Mistress of Potions and Pain – maybe Erica’s influence? At any rate, when Barbara had finally revealed the appellation that Donna used for me, I honestly couldn’t decide whether or not to be offended by it. I’m still not sure, but I wasn’t surprised that Pallas had latched onto it.

I held in a sigh, trying not to escalate our infrequent and chilly relationship. “Different strokes, Pallas.”

Another car screeched up next to where Barbara had parked, and the last member of our group jogged up. We hadn’t met before, but the shared greetings from the others let me know that this was Tom Kazansky, even though he barely acknowledged me.

I understood a little, thanks to Barbara – Tom was an Iraq veteran with PTSD, which manifested as being standoff-ish. I walked up to him anyway. “Tom? I’m Matthew. Good to finally meet you.”

He took my offered hand – his were ice cold, which I suppose I should have expected from a cryomancer. He shook once, and gave me a terse, “Preacher.”

I looked around. “Well, we’re all here. I know you’ve been doing this for a while, and I truly appreciate your efforts. When I approached Belle about this kind of work last year, I couldn’t imagine that it would come this far-“

“Blah-blah, preacher.” Pallas cut me off, and motioned to the sky. “We need to get to work before the uglies come out – save the platitudes for later.”

I took a deep breath. Crass, but he was right. I nodded. “Ok. Here’s the plan…”

Two hours later, we were nearly done. Barbara, Tom, and I were in the final stages of empowering the wards. Pallas and Claret couldn’t help with the ritual itself, but they were keeping watch after helping to lay out the huge circle around the campus. Claret had also provided a couple of her signature potions, which would be consumed by and integrated into the wards we were creating.

We’d been taking it slow, allowing the power of the wards to build at a rate the three of us could easily control, but we nearly lost it when Pallas started frantically squawking from his perch on the trees in the park. I gave a big nod to indicate that we’d heard, and we pushed through the final stages of the ritual as the sound of motorcycle engines became overwhelming. I scuffed through the smaller circle surrounding us, releasing the energy fully into the wards. The larger circle of sand and salt we’d laid out shimmered upwards, and the vials of potions and holy water set into it shattered and dissolved into the wards as well.

All of us were catching our breath, but Barbara grabbed my hand and squeezed it as I looked over to Tom and we nodded to each other. It was a well-crafted but subtle ward that should discourage the wyldfae from poking too close.

Pallas and Claret joined us as we faced a trio of bikers directing their cycles over the curb from the hospital parking lot and into the park towards us. Pallas just muttered, “Not bikers.”

“Spread out.” I stated as we moved apart, and away from the wards. Claret stayed at the back of our group even as Pallas stepped forward. Barbara, Tom, and I just gave ourselves some room to maneuver.

The bikers left their motors rumbling as the leader sneered at Pallas. “Stand aside, mortals – what gives thee the right to come between our hunt and rightful prey?”

“Drop the glamour, goblin,” Pallas snarled. “You and your ilk aren’t welcome here.”

Their language had already clued me in, but it wasn’t until Pallas called them out that I could actually see what the three bikers really were – goblins, astride huge wargs. They obligingly dropped the glamour, causing Claret to squeak, and I heard her fumbling for something. Barbara gasped, but at the same time I heard her shaking loose her bracelet and earrings – her magical foci. Tom cracked his knuckles, but no other sound came from him.

In response, the wargs snarled and pawed at the ground and two of the riders drew axes and shields, banging them together as they issued their own guttural battle cries. The third was a bit larger and wore a bronze hunting horn – as it spoke, it was clearly the leader. “We hunt where there is prey,” it stated simply, sniffing the air. Its eyes widened a bit in recognition, and it addressed the others. “These are the ones who have hidden our prey from us! We know their scent…” It bared its teeth as it continued to test the air, and we could barely hear it over the snarling wargs as it finally hissed to Pallas, “Especially you, Ergi…” Then turning to Claret, “…and you, filthy little volr-rytter alchemist – your concoctions won’t serve you here.” Claret squeaked again as she continued to fumble in her pouch, and even Pallas seemed disturbed by the term the goblin had used.

Tom suddenly thrust his hands downward, icy water blasting out of them, surrounding him in a cloud of condensation. Moments later, in a scene straight out the comic books, he was covered from head to toe in what looked like icy armor. “I love this cool winter weather.” His voice had changed subtly, with a hiss to it that reminded me of sublimating ice. “Gives me chills.” He scraped icy talons together as he leered at one of the subordinate goblins, and it ceased its racket. “Does it give you chillssss?” His sibilant extension of the final syllable was the last straw, and the unnerved goblin ducked and cowered as it faded behind the leader.

Claret stopped fumbling, and I noticed that she’d finally gotten out a potion. She appeared to settle somewhat as she drank it down, and she started bouncing a bit on the balls of her feet. “My @#$% concoctions have already served – you @#$^% losers are too late to stop us.” Whether from her potion or Tom’s display, she seemed to have recovered some of her composure.

I was heartened by this turn of events, but despite Tom’s apparent victory, I didn’t like our odds in an extended conflict. However, I also knew that I couldn’t go all spell-slinger this close to the hospital – it would spell disaster for the technology, and possibly the patients inside. I stepped to the side into a small circle I’d prepared earlier and it snapped into being with a silent pulse of my will. Taking advantage of it being Ash Wednesday (a High Holy day) for a boost, I quickly spoke a pair of Bible verses to give ritual form to the energies I was gathering, “The Lord laughs at the wicked, and the joy of the Lord is my strength.” I felt the energy in the circle infuse my body with more strength than I would normally have, at the price of a minor throbbing in my temples due to pulling it together so quickly.

Barbara, meanwhile, directed her attention to the leader of the group, cocking a hip with all the Latina attitude at her disposal. “Chasing children might be all that you’re good for. You’ve obviously never tangled with prey that’s prepared for you.”

Pallas shifted into his raven form, pants falling empty to the ground as he flew around the remaining subordinate goblin, flapping wings and loose feathers providing a distraction. Seeking to evade the pesky were-raven, it directed its warg to charge at Tom, both creatures continuing their growls and snarls. Amazingly, Tom stood his ground, and the goblin’s axe connected solidly. However, instead of biting into the cryomancer, it simply bounced off with a loud chiming noise, and Tom just laughed, that otherworldly hiss providing extra malice. “You can’t touch this!”

In the aftermath of that charge, the goblin leader moved in and took a solid swing at Pallas, who was distracted by the departure of his original target. The axe bit deeply into his raven, and he dropped to the ground, unmoving at the warg’s feet. Claret, meanwhile, pulled out another potion and shattered it on the ground. It immediately burst into a purple-grey smog with smells to match, filling the area.

I broke out of my circle and rushed up to the goblin facing Tom, using the fog as cover. I found an opening provided by Tom’s immunity to his attack and some remaining raven feathers, and drawing power from the latent holy energies of the hospital site, let my faith infused might power a solid punch to the goblin’s chest. My fist landed like a thunderclap, my very touch burning the creature, and it blew the surprised goblin right off its mount onto the ground, unmoving. I let my momentum carry me forward to confront the goblin leader as Barbara snapped off her laser light spell into the now-riderless warg. It joined its rider, senseless on the ground, both dissolving back into ectoplamic goo.

The leader and his mount turned their attentions to me now. The warg paced around me, and I didn’t turn quite quickly enough as the leader swung at me and connected with its axe. My enchanted cassock absorbed some of the impact, but still felt the blade bite into my side and I grunted as it hit my rib cage.

Tom laid down a slick coating of ice under the warg’s feet as Claret cheered from the back. “Yeah, you’re not so tough now that you’re on your own, you ######!”

Before it could pull its axe away, I desperately grabbed the handle and yanked on it. With the slippery footing and other distractions (including the proximity of my own holy energy, which could hurt it), I actually came away with its weapon! Barbara was able to land a strike on it with her laser light spell while I had the axe in my hands, but the warg snapped at me again, and I lost my grip as the goblin reclaimed its weapon.

An icicle shot over my shoulder, driving through the goblin’s shield and into its shoulder as Claret continued to harangue the goblin. With Pallas taken out, my companions quickly using up their energy, and my own wounds piling up, I needed to end the battle quickly. I stepped back and spoke one of the simplest, yet most powerful prayers at my disposal: “Lord God, shine your blessings forth on your faithful servant, in this our most desperate hour!” Fueled by my faith, a burst of holy light radiated out from me, washing harmlessly over my allies but hammering solidly into the goblin leader and his mount like a shockwave. The warg collapsed in the wake of the blast, and the goblin was seared by the holy energies. Barbara followed up with another light blast, and the goblin retreated back to its remaining companion, pushing the subordinate out of the way and mounting the warg. I simply stood and watched, panting slightly at the physical exertion, starting to feel the effect of the wounds that I’d taken.

The goblin snarled, favoring the still-smoking wounds that I had inflicted on it. “I did not recognize you before, but I do now, Thothritter. This battle may be yours, but this prey ground is too large for you to be everywhere, and you will not always have claim-”

I interrupted, managing to keep my tone even, “Make your mistress aware of this, goblin: the White God has claim to all – baptized or not – and I am Go’el to all he claims. Should I find you hunting, I will oppose you. Your new hunting ground is not without defenders – or predators.”

The goblins, astride the remaining warg, once again disguised themselves as bikers and rode off into the night, and I turned around to see to my companions.

Tom had returned to his normal form, shaking off the remnants of his icy armor and seeming none the worse for wear. Claret and Barbara were also physically unscathed, but Pallas was another story – the women had retrieved his raven form, which was still unmoving on the ground between them.

As I walked over, I caught the end of their conversation. “-than it first looked – and I don’t have any of my unguents with me!”

Barbara grabbed Claret’s hands. “It’s ok, chica.” She looked over at me as I knelt over him. “Right?”

I looked over Pallas’ form. There was still motion – he was breathing – but the leader’s axe had taken a huge chunk out of him. I tried not to grimace at my own wound as I pondered his. “I think so. Claret, can you put him in my circle?” She nodded, cradling the raven and placing him in the circle that I’d recently used in the fight. “Just give me some space and a bit of time. As long as we don’t have any more violent interruptions, he’ll be fine.”

I gingerly knelt down on the grass over Pallas inside my small circle, preparing myself mentally to request the aid that he needed. Pallas was pretty much a jerk, but a scrappy guy who was out putting himself on the line for those in need. He had to know that he wasn’t a match for the goblins, but instead of running with his transformation ability and superior speed, he got into the mix to give the rest of us a shot at taking them down, and he nearly paid for it with his life. I gathered all that sentiment into a prayer, surrounding it with more traditional scriptures and pleadings. The power I needed poured through me into him, beginning to close and shrink the giant wound.

Suddenly, the raven shuddered, and he began to shift back to his human form. I stood quickly and hopped back, finishing the ritual and breaking the circle before his growing form could disrupt it. On a man, the wound was somewhat smaller, but was still showing the signs of healing. Claret came back, Pallas’ clothes and a water bottle in hand. Barbara caught me by the shoulders as I staggered and led me away for both of us to recover.

Later, after we finished cleaning up the remnants of the ritual, we were packing up into our various vehicles to go our separate ways. As we were saying our good-byes, Pallas pulled me off to the side, and shoved a CD case into my hand. “I don’t owe you anything,” he snapped in a terse whisper. “We’re even, got it?”

I was taken back. “What… owe me?”

Pallas sighed, rolled his eyes, and pointed at his side where bandages hid the now much smaller axe wound, and then to the case. “We’re even, got it?”

“Pallas, you don’t owe m-“

He poked my hand emphatically again. “You’re right. I don’t. Glad we understand each other.”

I gave up and nodded as I opened the CD. It was from a German band I didn’t know of – E Nomine. But on top of the CD was a folded slip of paper. I unfolded it, and it was simply a name and a phone number. I looked at him quizzically.

“Got the CD in Germany. Not my style.” He poked at the paper. “But when you call, tell him to give you my discount.”

That was helpful. “For what?”

He glanced meaningfully over at where Barbara was waiting in her car. “You do right by her. Get me?”

Still somewhat confused, I nodded. “Of course. Why wouldn-”

“Cause if you don’t, you know Belle and I will be there for her. Savvy?”

I nodded. Pallas felt indebted to me for saving his life, so this… whatever this was, was supposed to even things up. “Thanks.”

He waved his hand noncommittally as he turned away. “See ya round, Cap.”

I just shook my head, pocketing the slip of paper as we headed our separate ways.