For the umpteenth in the past few weeks, Seth watched the road leading to the forest by the Olson’s lake-house go by. He was spending more time out at the lake now than when he had dated Madeline. Made sense, he supposed, if she was cheating on him for so long. Brett took the left hand turn, and a few minutes later, they parked on the small grassy area by where the denser woods started.

“We’re really meeting them here?” Asked Seth.

“Yup. They said you’d know how to get to the stones.”

Seth sighed. “Yeah, sure do.”

The two of them disembarked the vehicle, both wearing the same vests they’d worn the previous night. Seth had the knife and his pistol. Brett carried a tactical shotgun with the butt-stock currently folded down, and very mean-looking metal slugs in the sidesaddle. He motioned to the forest. “Lead the way.”

Seth walked into the forest yet again, Brett close on his heels as he turned on the flashlight on his vest. The light illuminated the forest well, chasing away any hint of a menacing aura, though Seth didn’t like the fact that the shamans could see them approaching. As they moved through the forest, and Seth tried to find the way, he began to notice the woods not opening up to him. They stayed closed. Secretive. The sacred unseen roads refused to reveal themselves to him, and what normally was an easy meander turned into a difficult woodland trek, the hill feeling steeper, more difficult to get up with the foliage snagging on their pants and shoes.

After a solid half-hour, they crested the first hill. The cloud cover tonight kept the moon from reflection off the lake, or any of the stars from shining. Without the flashlight, it would be near pitch-black—aside from a lone window in the lake-house that shone with light. Seth could see someone through it, though at this distance, making out any sort of detail was impossible.

“Sucks if this gets violent,” said Brett. “Whoever’s there’s gonna hear some noise.” He patted his shotgun.

“You think it will?”

“I think you’re right when you said there’s a possibility they’re like animals backed into a corner.”

They continued across the small plateau and up the next hill into the woods, the sacred unseen roads refusing to reveal themselves in this section of the woods as well. The foliage got thicker, tougher. Near-dead brambles tugged at them, holding them back like a mother on her child’s first day of school. The woods were not welcoming. As the hill evened out, the actual path through the woods opened up, twisting and winding its way to the King’s Hall. No other light source filtered through the trees, no floating blue-white fire.

After the path redoubled several times, they came to the clearing where sat the thrones. Four men and two women stood there, as well as the leader of the shamans. They turned as Seth and Brett approached.

“And who is your heavily-armed friend, Seth?” Said the leader.

“John,” said Brett. “And you are?”

“Hey,” said one of the women as she leaned on one of the throne-rocks. She was a sharp-nosed brunette with the body of a Crossfitter, clothed in only jeans and a tee shirt despite the October chill in the air. “You’re that National Parks agent.”

Brett smirked. “Guilty.”

The leader held up a hand to calm the woman. “Peace, Gretta.”

She bared her teeth. “They’re witch-friends, Arc.”

“This just seems to me,” said Arc, “Like you’re just allied with the coven, Seth, and that there is no point to these negotiations.”

“There’s a point,” said Seth. “I need you to let Andrew go.”

Arc chuckled. “Why would I do that when your friend is having such a good time?”

Gretta stared at Seth, grinning in an altogether unsettling manner. The other shamans had similar predatory looks as they sized up Brett and Seth.

“Because unless you let him go, I won’t join you.”

Arc shook his head, crossing his arms under his broad chest. “Other way around, Seth. We’re the ones he’s with now. And honestly, I don’t think he’d want to go even if we allowed him.”

“Boy’s making himself comfy,” said Gretta.

Seth looked to Brett. “You wouldn’t have to have leverage if you weren’t scared,” said Brett. “Maybe you’re not scared of Seth, and maybe you’re not scared of the coven, but you’re definitely scared of them together. We’re here because we found out the coven is not as good as they said. Seth made a mistake in allying with them, and he’s here to correct that. He just needs you to prove that you’re good before he does.”

Arc stroked his beard. “Afraid isn’t the right word, John. And what’s more is that if you wanted to pretend you had leverage, the two of you shouldn’t have come alone. There’s six of us, and two of you, and as capable of a fighter as Seth is, I’m pretty certain I know how that ends.”

“You don’t,” deadpanned Brett. “But feel free to test the waters. Four of you couldn’t take Seth, and if I recall right, you fled his house with those cute little bear tails tucked right up your puckered assholes.”

Gretta stood up off the rock. Arc again held his hand up towards her. “I can recognize stale magic when I see it. That wasn’t Seth’s doing, and I’m sure he doesn’t have the ability to do it again.”

“Who do you think gave him the spelljar?” Asked Brett, sticking his chin out.

Arc hesitated.

“Like I said, feel free to test the waters. My magic was good enough to trick you all into seeing a National Parks badge, and aren’t shamans supposed to be good at psychic magic anyway? That should tell you something about what will happen if you feel like throwing down.”

“Then why the gun if you’re such an accomplished mage?”

“One, I’m a goddamn sorcerer, you mid-tier bitch,” said Brett, barreling through his bluff without so much as the tiniest flicker in his poker face. “And two, maybe you should take a look at what the slugs are made of, shifter. Why would I waste my breath on you when I can deshift you with a squeeze of my finger?”

Thick tension filled the air of the King’s Hall, the six shamans behind Arc all bristling. Seth’s fingers brushed the handle of his pistol.

Arc took a step towards them, now less than five feet away from either Brett or Seth. “Andrew will be given the choice of freedom… when Seth joins with us against the coven.”

“Other way around,” said Brett.

Arc ignored Brett and stared into Seth’s eyes. Seth met the shaman’s intense gaze, refusing to swallow or look away or even blink. He reached deep down into his void, pulling up his anger like a bucket out of a well. “Let my friend go,” growled Seth. “Or so help me I will hunt every single last one of you down and piss on your graves.”

He heard Brett blow a puff of air out of his nose.

Arc leaned towards Seth. “I don’t accept your terms.” He turned his back on them and walked back to the other shamans, placing his hand on one of the thrones. “You have about three weeks. And then Andrew becomes one of us. On the night of the full moon, which, I believe falls on Samhain this year—we will impart the spirit of our ancestors to Andrew. There will be no going back for him. And honestly, I have no intention of allying with you. You violated ancient law when you killed on sacred ground. I think I see the truth of what my spirit guide showed me. I think you will make us stronger… through battle. Brothers and sisters. Kill them.”

The shamans began to transform.

Seth’s hand only gripped his pistol by the time Brett has his shotgun raised.

BLAM!

A blast echoed throughout the woods and one of the shamans’ skull splattered over one of the the thrones. Seth finished drawing his pistol and fired off two rounds, both going wide as his less-than-trained marksmanship failed him.

The shamans finished transforming and charged.

BLAM!

Gretta, now a compact and vicious-looking black bear, fell without a leg, the near-human cry of pain ringing in Seth’s ears as she writhed in bear form on the ground. Her face warped and twisted as she struggled to hold onto her shifted shape. Seth fired off two rounds, missing again, then holstered his pistol and drew the cold-iron blade as he backpedaled. Brett glided backwards as he racked his shotgun again.

BLAM!

Gretta went silent as a metal slug burrowed through her skull and sprayed blood into the air. “Run!” Shouted Brett. He fired off one more round, grazing the closest bear on the shoulder as they turned and fled through the densest portion of the trees, putting cover between them and the bears. In a smooth motion, Brett fed a slug into the tube of the shotgun, racked it, then pivoted mid-stride and fired off a round. A roar of pain resulted as they continued their flight downhill through the woods.

The vest felt a lot heavier as Seth ran, the extra weight on his torso just enough to add an unfamiliar clumsiness to his steps. He tripped, smashing his shoulder into a tree, and fell to the ground.

Brett snatched the back of his plate carrier and hauled him to his feet before Seth could even get his hands on himself. “Watch your step,” growled Brett. He fired off another round through the trees. Seth heard the crack of metal on wood, but no cry of pain. Brett racked his shotgun as they ran. As they reached the first plateau, Brett took one hand off his shotgun and produced a small, round object from a pouch on his vest, tossing it to Seth. “Squeeze, pull and twist the ring, and throw.”

Seth stared at the olive-drab grenade in his hand. Its surface was unexpectedly smooth, and it had the weight of a couple of baseballs packed into one. He nodded, squeezing the lever with his free left hand, then twisting and pulling the ring with the hand that held his knife.

“Chuck it and run,” said Brett.

Seth hauled back and threw it into the woods, despite not being able to see the shamans moving through the trees, then turned and ran with Brett. There was a clap of thunder behind them as the grenade exploded and they rushed deeper into the last section of woods, high-stepping almost the whole way to avoid the tangle of foliage at their feet. Movement caught the corner of Seth’s eye as Arc blazed out of the darkness in human form and spear-tackled him into a tree. The back of Seth’s head hit the trunk and he saw stars.

A hand clenched around his throat and knuckles pummeled his face.

Seth blindly swiped with his blade, finding flesh. The hand let go and Arc disengaged. Seth stood with his back to the trunk, and Brett stood a few yards to his right, shotgun at the low ready. Arc stood between them, holding his hand over a long cut on his stomach. He looked to Brett. “Shoot and Andrew dies,” he growled. “You think I agreed to meet without a failsafe?” He straighted himself and pulled his hand away from the wound, looking at the red blood glistening in the darkness.

“The blood of my brothers and sisters is flowing. It has been flowing since you showed up, Seth. It’s time to end this.” Arc moved with inhuman speed, one hand outstretched towards Seth. Time slowed.

Seth could see electricity crackling in Arc’s palm as he reached for him, his hand moving towards Seth’s skull. Brett was moving his shotgun, but not fast enough. Seth, his mind accelerating, wondered if he could take the same blast that Matron Dianne had, if that was what was about to happen. If he couldn’t, he’d be dead, and probably so would Andrew. It would be his fault his friend was dead, just like it was his fault his friend got dragged into this. Seth unfroze as his anger boiled.

He snapped his hips forward, unloading the force of his movement down his leg and cracking it forward like a whip, the heel of his augment finding home in Arc’s chest. Time sped back up.

Arc blasted backwards off his feet, flying through fifteen feet of air before he impacted into a tree trunk like he’d been shot out of a cannon. The shaman slid to the ground, unconscious.

Brett scanned the treeline. “Quick, we’re taking him as a prisoner. Help me move-”

The wasp-sting of pain lanced through Seth’s skull and he felt an impression of heat, searing heat, cutting through both of them and burning everything around. “Get down!” He dove and tackled Brett to the ground.

BOOM!

A blast of lightning passed overhead, hitting a tree with a thunderous boom and lighting it ablaze. Brett and Seth stood to their feet. The other female shaman, the darkness too thick to discern her features, lowered her hand. “Touch him and you die,” she shouted at them.

Brett raised his shotgun. “Back it up, Seth.”

The two of them slowly retreated backwards, Brett keeping his shotgun trained on the woman until she disappeared between the trees. They turned and ran the rest of the way out of the woods to where Brett’s SUV waited. Seth climbed into the passenger seat as Brett turned the ignition and the vehicle revved to life. With a sharp J-turn, they sped down the road out of the woods. Seth smacked the dashboard. “That went nowhere.”

“No,” said Brett, as he whipped them past the fork that split towards the Olson lake-house. “There’s two less shamans to put down, now.” He pressed a button on the stereo.

“-roger, ETA is fifteen minutes.”

“Police scanner,” explained Brett. “Whoever is in that lake-house definitely called the cops.”

Seth shook his head. “Yeah.”

Brett kept his eyes on the road, but raised an eyebrow. “You know them?”

“My ex’s parents own that lake-house.”

“Huh. Small world,” mused Brett. He turned the car onto the main road, going the opposite direction of town. The trees moved past on their right as the clouds in the sky parted for just a brief moment, revealing the moon, down to almost two thirds. Three weeks until it happened. Three weeks to rescue his best friend. Seth gripped the door handle, white-knuckling it. He’d meant what he said, he would kill every last one of the shamans if that’s what it took, and he wouldn’t regret it. But that wasn’t what worried him.

What worried him was that deep down, he knew he’d enjoy it.