All Hail the Shifter King
Title: Lords of Kensington, Part 6
Word Count: 2045
Growing up the smallest kid in the neighborhood - and, by extension, the smallest kid in school, oftentimes smaller than students a grade or two beneath her - had honed Katrina's flight instincts to near-perfection by the time she was ten years old. High school built on that social training, to the point that she could deftly discern threatening situations before they arose and get to a safe place before she became the victim of another cruel prank or vicious catfight. She hadn't been proud of running from danger every time it stared her in the face, but she'd learned to value her safety above her pride, and in the end it served her well.
But living in Rion Fell changed things. Running from humans was easy and oftentimes best if you knew you could outrun them - eventually the attentions of humans wander, especially children and teenagers, and they find someone else to torment. But in Rion Fell she'd run not from humans but from centuries-old predators, and her hasty retreats were often more a threat to her survival than simply hunkering down and waiting quietly for the danger to pass. It had been a hard lesson to learn but she'd adapted quickly, accepting that sometimes the answer was not to run, and not to fight, but to simply remain where she was and observe her surroundings.
So that was what she did. She settled herself onto her stomach in the snow beside the SUV, listening to Thaddeus and Crispin howl frantically from inside, and she waited. She could hear the sounds of other humans being picked off by whatever was hunting them - screams of horror, of pain, the begging and pleading and bargaining. She heard the ear-shattering howls of the monster that had smashed through the front of the gas station, but from where she lay she couldn't see it - something she was grateful for, really, as the small glimpse she'd had was enough to fuel her nightmares for some time. As she lay on the pavement a young woman - college age, if that, ran from around the back of the gas station and in a diagonal line toward the coffee shop, screaming for help as if she'd seen... whatever was in the station. She made it to the strip of covered grass before a crossbow bolt sank into her throat and she collapsed, clawing at the gushing hole in her neck.
Drops of water pattered onto the back of her bare, freezing hands - tears, she realized. She was crying and didn't even know it, a mixture of fear and anxiety and panicked desperation that settled in her stomach every time her eyes fell on Ryder's still form just ten feet away on the pavement. She willed him to move, to get up, anything - with his back to her she couldn't even tell if he was breathing, nor could she see the extent of the damage from the shots that had clearly struck him. Her muscles twitched to go to him but she knew that getting up would draw far too much attention to herself, and she wasn't certain she could trust the coin's magic forever.
"Get up," she whispered. "Please, get up, get -"
A short, stocky man rounded the SUV right in front of her and she gasped in surprise, shot to her knees with the weight of her sodden wool jacket flopping awkwardly around her, her hands raising to protect her face as if they would provide any actual defense against the savage compound crossbow in his hands.
But rather than attack her - or take any notice of her at all - the man walked past her and toward the back of the vehicle. He was covered head to toe in winter hunting gear, only his steely blue eyes and lips visible through the balaclava he wore.
"Nothing here," he called in a deep, raspy voice. "Where the fuck did she go?"
"Could have sworn I saw her go down there," said another man, this one younger and sounding very confused. He jogged up to join the first man and pointed to the spot where Katrina sat, her back pressed to the side panel of the SUV, but she could tell that for whatever reason he couldn't actually see her.
"Probably didn't hit her at all, did you Frye?" the short man asked, and shoved the younger one aside to stomp away. "You better find her," he called over his shoulder. "If Kaius don't get that gem, he'll have your throat for it."
"Fuck," the young man - Frye, she assumed - muttered as he watched the man leave. Silence fell save her rasping breathing and the sound of his boots squeaking in the snow as he paced back and forth, and then he uttered a louder, much more frustrated, "Fuck!" and slammed the heel of his boot into the side of the SUV so hard the vehicle rocked up on two wheels. Katrina backpedaled, more concerned now that she knew this man wasn't a run of the mill human, and as she scurried away from the van her hand fell on one of the bolts the coin-magic had managed to deflect. Clenching her fist around it, she pulled it to her chest, feeling marginally better for having a weapon. "Fucking Owens," Frye continued, kicking the SUV again. The keesin were barking savagely and throwing themselves at the windows, but he didn't seem able to notice them either. "Fucking hunting." He slumped against the hood of the vehicle and dug in his pockets for cigarettes and a lighter, his hands visibly trembling. "Fucking kin and their fucking -"
"Frye!" barked a new voice, this one female, from somewhere on the other side of the gas station. "Stop slacking and toss the fucking bodies!" When he didn't immediately reply, taking a long drag of his cigarette and blowing a plume of smoke into the air, the voice came again. "Frye! Are you fucking listening to -"
"I heard you!" he yelled. "Lords Above, I was just having a fucking smoke! Lay off!" He took another long drag for effect before tossing the cigarette to the ground and stomping it out with his boot, then ambled away from the SUV, toward Ryder. "Fuck's sake," he sulked. "Can't catch a break to save my fucking..." He paused, looking down at Ryder, and Katrina could see his brow knit. "Well, hello," he said, planting a boot against Ryder's shoulder to shove him onto his back, immediately brandishing the crossbow in case he moved. But Ryder was still, and as Katrina slowly eased herself to her knees, then her feet, she could see the pair of bolts protruding from his right shoulder. A wave of relief washed over her and she mouthed a silent prayer of thanks to any of his patrons that might be listening. As if in response, she felt the odd tickle of the magic that rippled in tight waves across her body, and slowly she began to circle around to Frye's left. "Jessup!" Frye yelled. "I think this one's kin!"
"You think, or you know?" the woman called back.
"Willing to bet beers on it!"
That was enough to bring the woman at a quick jog - like Frye and the other man Katrina had seen, she was wrapped in hunting gear with very few defining characteristics visible. Katrina had seen organization and coordination in the clans in Rion Fell, but not to this extent, and not with modern equipment. She knotted her fingers around the bolt in her hand as she advanced on Frye, convinced that he would hear her pounding heartbeat long before she reached him.
"Huh, ain't that weird," Jessup commented, crouching and leaning over Ryder's face. "He's kin alright. No idea where from, though."
"You think maybe he's Atticus'?" Frye asked, quite hopefully.
"Nah, he's no townie. Probably some nobody from down south, one of the immigrants or something." She tugged open Ryder's jacket, patted her hand across his chest, then placed her crossbow on the ground beside her so she could check his wrists. "No gems," she said. "So fucking fragile when they're not wearing." She wrapped her fingers around one of the bolts and tugged, hard. "Remind me to tell Owens we want bullets, next time," she quipped, working the bolt from side to side to try and free the tip from Ryder's skin, and -
She hit the ground on her back with Ryder on top of her, his hands closing around her throat so fast that she couldn't even breathe a cry of shock before her air was cut off. Frye reacted quickly, almost too quick for Katrina to catch him, but she managed to throw herself into his body from the side and knock him off balance before he could get his crossbow level - the bolt he released streaked up into the roof before clattering harmlessly to the ground. When he gained his balance again, she went at him with the bolt, burying it into the side of his neck and then wrenching it sideways, tearing a swath through his skin from which an arterial spurt of blood erupted across her face and chest, a startling heat in the numbing air. She staggered back, blinded and horrified, scrubbing at her face to try and clear her vision, and felt a hand grab her wrist.
"Come on!" Anya said, and she was dragged backward toward the SUV, still barely able to see, her boots sliding in the snow.
"No, wait!" Katrina tried to tug free, clear her eyes, and maintain her balance at the same time - Anya had none of it, shoving her into the driver's side of the vehicle.
"I'll get your boyfriend, you just get yourself together," Anya ordered, and slammed the door shut. After wrestling out of the claustrophobic embrace of her soaked jacket, Katrina used the heavy fabric like a washcloth to clear the blood from her eyes. The gas station had fallen eerily still, with not even the roaring of the monstrous thing to break the silence. Shivering uncontrollably, she curled into a ball on the seat and tried to rub some warmth into her arms, succeeding only in leaving sticky, disgusting streaks of Frye's blood across the sleeves of her sweater.
It wasn't until Thaddeus nosed at the underside of her arm with a pitiful whine that she even remembered the keesin were in the vehicle, and she twisted sideways in the seat so that she could lean over and embrace the creature, sighing into its warm neck.
"What have we gotten ourselves into, huh?" she asked miserably. "What I would give for a normal fucking vacation right about -"
Anya appeared at the passenger door while she was talking and yanked it open before shoving Ryder inside. Leaning around him - and he seemed none too impressed about it - she pointed a finger at Katrina.
"Are you done fucking around?" she demanded angrily. Her grey eyes were livid, a long gash carved across her cheekbone. "Because I, for one, am fucking sick of being shot at."
"What are you -" Katrina started, but Anya slapped her hand furiously against the dash and silenced her.
"Listen to me!" she snapped. "Get on the highway, and just fucking drive, okay? No stopping, no pulling over to regain your delicate fucking composure. Just drive." She hauled a napkin from the coffee shop from her pocket and half-passed, half-threw it at her. "I'll meet you here in three hours, okay? And after the trouble you've caused me you better show up, human."
She backed up and slammed the door, jarring Ryder's injured shoulder so hard he briefly folded over with a hiss of pain - he muttered some vicious curses at her as he watched her stalk away through the snow.
"Better listen to her," he muttered, digging the keys out of his pocket and handing them over.
"She's a psychopath," Katrina muttered, starting the SUV and backing it away from the island, keeping her eyes off the mauled bodies and the tracks of blood through the snow.
"She's all we got, right now," Ryder mentioned, and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. "I'd rather not get on her bad side, too."
Word Count: 2045
Growing up the smallest kid in the neighborhood - and, by extension, the smallest kid in school, oftentimes smaller than students a grade or two beneath her - had honed Katrina's flight instincts to near-perfection by the time she was ten years old. High school built on that social training, to the point that she could deftly discern threatening situations before they arose and get to a safe place before she became the victim of another cruel prank or vicious catfight. She hadn't been proud of running from danger every time it stared her in the face, but she'd learned to value her safety above her pride, and in the end it served her well.
But living in Rion Fell changed things. Running from humans was easy and oftentimes best if you knew you could outrun them - eventually the attentions of humans wander, especially children and teenagers, and they find someone else to torment. But in Rion Fell she'd run not from humans but from centuries-old predators, and her hasty retreats were often more a threat to her survival than simply hunkering down and waiting quietly for the danger to pass. It had been a hard lesson to learn but she'd adapted quickly, accepting that sometimes the answer was not to run, and not to fight, but to simply remain where she was and observe her surroundings.
So that was what she did. She settled herself onto her stomach in the snow beside the SUV, listening to Thaddeus and Crispin howl frantically from inside, and she waited. She could hear the sounds of other humans being picked off by whatever was hunting them - screams of horror, of pain, the begging and pleading and bargaining. She heard the ear-shattering howls of the monster that had smashed through the front of the gas station, but from where she lay she couldn't see it - something she was grateful for, really, as the small glimpse she'd had was enough to fuel her nightmares for some time. As she lay on the pavement a young woman - college age, if that, ran from around the back of the gas station and in a diagonal line toward the coffee shop, screaming for help as if she'd seen... whatever was in the station. She made it to the strip of covered grass before a crossbow bolt sank into her throat and she collapsed, clawing at the gushing hole in her neck.
Drops of water pattered onto the back of her bare, freezing hands - tears, she realized. She was crying and didn't even know it, a mixture of fear and anxiety and panicked desperation that settled in her stomach every time her eyes fell on Ryder's still form just ten feet away on the pavement. She willed him to move, to get up, anything - with his back to her she couldn't even tell if he was breathing, nor could she see the extent of the damage from the shots that had clearly struck him. Her muscles twitched to go to him but she knew that getting up would draw far too much attention to herself, and she wasn't certain she could trust the coin's magic forever.
"Get up," she whispered. "Please, get up, get -"
A short, stocky man rounded the SUV right in front of her and she gasped in surprise, shot to her knees with the weight of her sodden wool jacket flopping awkwardly around her, her hands raising to protect her face as if they would provide any actual defense against the savage compound crossbow in his hands.
But rather than attack her - or take any notice of her at all - the man walked past her and toward the back of the vehicle. He was covered head to toe in winter hunting gear, only his steely blue eyes and lips visible through the balaclava he wore.
"Nothing here," he called in a deep, raspy voice. "Where the fuck did she go?"
"Could have sworn I saw her go down there," said another man, this one younger and sounding very confused. He jogged up to join the first man and pointed to the spot where Katrina sat, her back pressed to the side panel of the SUV, but she could tell that for whatever reason he couldn't actually see her.
"Probably didn't hit her at all, did you Frye?" the short man asked, and shoved the younger one aside to stomp away. "You better find her," he called over his shoulder. "If Kaius don't get that gem, he'll have your throat for it."
"Fuck," the young man - Frye, she assumed - muttered as he watched the man leave. Silence fell save her rasping breathing and the sound of his boots squeaking in the snow as he paced back and forth, and then he uttered a louder, much more frustrated, "Fuck!" and slammed the heel of his boot into the side of the SUV so hard the vehicle rocked up on two wheels. Katrina backpedaled, more concerned now that she knew this man wasn't a run of the mill human, and as she scurried away from the van her hand fell on one of the bolts the coin-magic had managed to deflect. Clenching her fist around it, she pulled it to her chest, feeling marginally better for having a weapon. "Fucking Owens," Frye continued, kicking the SUV again. The keesin were barking savagely and throwing themselves at the windows, but he didn't seem able to notice them either. "Fucking hunting." He slumped against the hood of the vehicle and dug in his pockets for cigarettes and a lighter, his hands visibly trembling. "Fucking kin and their fucking -"
"Frye!" barked a new voice, this one female, from somewhere on the other side of the gas station. "Stop slacking and toss the fucking bodies!" When he didn't immediately reply, taking a long drag of his cigarette and blowing a plume of smoke into the air, the voice came again. "Frye! Are you fucking listening to -"
"I heard you!" he yelled. "Lords Above, I was just having a fucking smoke! Lay off!" He took another long drag for effect before tossing the cigarette to the ground and stomping it out with his boot, then ambled away from the SUV, toward Ryder. "Fuck's sake," he sulked. "Can't catch a break to save my fucking..." He paused, looking down at Ryder, and Katrina could see his brow knit. "Well, hello," he said, planting a boot against Ryder's shoulder to shove him onto his back, immediately brandishing the crossbow in case he moved. But Ryder was still, and as Katrina slowly eased herself to her knees, then her feet, she could see the pair of bolts protruding from his right shoulder. A wave of relief washed over her and she mouthed a silent prayer of thanks to any of his patrons that might be listening. As if in response, she felt the odd tickle of the magic that rippled in tight waves across her body, and slowly she began to circle around to Frye's left. "Jessup!" Frye yelled. "I think this one's kin!"
"You think, or you know?" the woman called back.
"Willing to bet beers on it!"
That was enough to bring the woman at a quick jog - like Frye and the other man Katrina had seen, she was wrapped in hunting gear with very few defining characteristics visible. Katrina had seen organization and coordination in the clans in Rion Fell, but not to this extent, and not with modern equipment. She knotted her fingers around the bolt in her hand as she advanced on Frye, convinced that he would hear her pounding heartbeat long before she reached him.
"Huh, ain't that weird," Jessup commented, crouching and leaning over Ryder's face. "He's kin alright. No idea where from, though."
"You think maybe he's Atticus'?" Frye asked, quite hopefully.
"Nah, he's no townie. Probably some nobody from down south, one of the immigrants or something." She tugged open Ryder's jacket, patted her hand across his chest, then placed her crossbow on the ground beside her so she could check his wrists. "No gems," she said. "So fucking fragile when they're not wearing." She wrapped her fingers around one of the bolts and tugged, hard. "Remind me to tell Owens we want bullets, next time," she quipped, working the bolt from side to side to try and free the tip from Ryder's skin, and -
She hit the ground on her back with Ryder on top of her, his hands closing around her throat so fast that she couldn't even breathe a cry of shock before her air was cut off. Frye reacted quickly, almost too quick for Katrina to catch him, but she managed to throw herself into his body from the side and knock him off balance before he could get his crossbow level - the bolt he released streaked up into the roof before clattering harmlessly to the ground. When he gained his balance again, she went at him with the bolt, burying it into the side of his neck and then wrenching it sideways, tearing a swath through his skin from which an arterial spurt of blood erupted across her face and chest, a startling heat in the numbing air. She staggered back, blinded and horrified, scrubbing at her face to try and clear her vision, and felt a hand grab her wrist.
"Come on!" Anya said, and she was dragged backward toward the SUV, still barely able to see, her boots sliding in the snow.
"No, wait!" Katrina tried to tug free, clear her eyes, and maintain her balance at the same time - Anya had none of it, shoving her into the driver's side of the vehicle.
"I'll get your boyfriend, you just get yourself together," Anya ordered, and slammed the door shut. After wrestling out of the claustrophobic embrace of her soaked jacket, Katrina used the heavy fabric like a washcloth to clear the blood from her eyes. The gas station had fallen eerily still, with not even the roaring of the monstrous thing to break the silence. Shivering uncontrollably, she curled into a ball on the seat and tried to rub some warmth into her arms, succeeding only in leaving sticky, disgusting streaks of Frye's blood across the sleeves of her sweater.
It wasn't until Thaddeus nosed at the underside of her arm with a pitiful whine that she even remembered the keesin were in the vehicle, and she twisted sideways in the seat so that she could lean over and embrace the creature, sighing into its warm neck.
"What have we gotten ourselves into, huh?" she asked miserably. "What I would give for a normal fucking vacation right about -"
Anya appeared at the passenger door while she was talking and yanked it open before shoving Ryder inside. Leaning around him - and he seemed none too impressed about it - she pointed a finger at Katrina.
"Are you done fucking around?" she demanded angrily. Her grey eyes were livid, a long gash carved across her cheekbone. "Because I, for one, am fucking sick of being shot at."
"What are you -" Katrina started, but Anya slapped her hand furiously against the dash and silenced her.
"Listen to me!" she snapped. "Get on the highway, and just fucking drive, okay? No stopping, no pulling over to regain your delicate fucking composure. Just drive." She hauled a napkin from the coffee shop from her pocket and half-passed, half-threw it at her. "I'll meet you here in three hours, okay? And after the trouble you've caused me you better show up, human."
She backed up and slammed the door, jarring Ryder's injured shoulder so hard he briefly folded over with a hiss of pain - he muttered some vicious curses at her as he watched her stalk away through the snow.
"Better listen to her," he muttered, digging the keys out of his pocket and handing them over.
"She's a psychopath," Katrina muttered, starting the SUV and backing it away from the island, keeping her eyes off the mauled bodies and the tracks of blood through the snow.
"She's all we got, right now," Ryder mentioned, and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. "I'd rather not get on her bad side, too."