“I didn’t see him.” Natalie hadn’t had time. She’d barely made the absurdly painful connection to the future when the apparition disrupted her concentration.
The ghost returned suddenly. With a roll of her eyes, she directed her thoughts once more to Natalie. My husband is battling three wolves in the Graveyard right where the canal ends. You know, that place where hell begins? She glanced off to the side, pensive. I think I died not far from there. Jesus.
The ghost gave herself a shake which sent the vapor trails moving across each other and disrupting the blond woman’s appearance. Natalie was surprised by the vivid colors she created: the dark blue of her jeans, the light blue of her eyes, the autumn gold of her hair. She wore it parted down the middle and straight. She wasn’t wearing shoes. Seemed like an outdoorsy, athletic type.
The ghost made a mental scoffing sound then telepathed, Why are you still here? If you don’t get the lead out, that woman’s going to die. She’s fae, like you. Doesn’t that mean anything? As I recall, you fae-types were all about Revel and nothing else.
Natalie’s turn to snort. As though the other alter species didn’t put their territories first. Half the problem with the Five Bridges was how often the different species tangled based on territorial loyalty alone.
She could admit, however, that she was no different. She responded telepathically to the ghost. I take it I’m headed to the small access bridge at the edge of the Graveyard.
That’s right. And in case you’re wondering, my husband is important to Five Bridges. He needs to unseat Kryder. That bastard’s a real psycho.
Natalie knew about the alpha of the Meldorin Pack. He had one of the worst reputations in Savage.
The ghost continued, In case you’re wondering the woman in the Graveyard stopped screaming a good minute ago. She wrinkled her ghostly nose. A lot of blood. I forgot how visceral this world is.
Natalie had lived in Five Bridges long enough to know the ghost was serious about the timeline. If the woman’s husband, whoever he might prove to be, was battling rogue wolves in the Graveyard, then she needed to get her butt over there.
Natalie nodded. On my way.
‘Bout time. Good luck. The facetious tone of the latter remark didn’t give Natalie much hope. But she’d do what she could, for a fae-sister, just as her visitor had said.
Once more the ghost disappeared.
Natalie plucked her client’s purse from off the small round table next to the oversized chair and handed it to the woman. “We have to reschedule, Terry. I have an emergency.”
“But what about Jim’s investment?”
Natalie spoke as she turned around to the cupboard behind her. “Sorry. Can’t help you right now. I gotta go save someone. We’ve talked enough about Five Bridges for you to have a basic understanding of our world.”
She opened a cabinet door and secured her Glock and holster. She’d had too many intruders over the years not to be armed.
She buckled her holster over her silk smock. She wore leggings and flat shoes. Not the best gear to go into the cactus-infested Graveyard. But it would have to do. At least she could levitate.
Though she was a strong futurist, she rarely consulted her gift on her own behalf. Knowing the future could be a real pain in the ass, something she avoided like the plague. She gave wolves a wide berth as well.
“Go home, Terry. I’ll be in touch. Lock the door behind you.”
She was levitating by the time she reached the door of her studio. She heard Terry’s protests trailing after her, the usual something about how she’d paid ‘good money’, blah, blah, blah.
Natalie resisted the urge to flip her off.
She flung her studio door wide, scanned the skies then shot into the air.
~ ~ ~
Grant kept the battle away from the woman. She’d passed out again, thank God, but he had no confidence she’d make it. She’d lost a helluva lot of the red stuff. He’d even gotten a heavy swathe of her blood pouring down his arm when he tried to lift her out of the Graveyard. But the wolves had returned for another attack and he’d set her back down on the ground, so he could face her attackers again.
The three rogue wolves in front of him were Neo-Nazi skinheads which seemed like putting a cliché on a cliché. Each had lengthening muzzles which meant they intended to shift. They were also hopped up on a variety of flame drugs evidenced by the different colors of flames on their necks and cheeks. The problem was, given the level of drugs, if they shifted, Grant would be up shit creek. He could battle mano-a-mano since he had a blade on him. But he doubted he could survive a three-wolf onslaught in full fur.
They’d brought the woman to the Graveyard, so they could do what they wanted without being seen. The Graveyard, a no-man’s-land that separated all five territories, was a dumping zone for Five Bridges, and was meant to keep the territories separated. Debris of all kind littered the rocky, weed-and-cactus strewn ground.
The dying woman had blue flames all over her body. Grant had no doubt she’d been shot up with sapphire flame, but why? She’d been mauled, not used for her futurist expertise, which was the general purpose of the drug these days for gifted fae.
The wolves began to spread out.
More fur a