Reservoir of Power Ch. 07

Author's note: As always, thanks for sharing your time with me; I'm so thankful for those of you who take the time to read my stories. Feel free to make comments about the story arc, suggestions, requests, or whatever... while I have the ending prepared, I do occasionally add things based upon the comments of my readers. (Fleshing out characters or tying up loose ends, and the like.)

A quick warning for my newer readers: While I'm sure that everyone who read Artiface realizes that the two novels are taking place simultaneously, those of you have not read the previous novel have reached the point where the stories will begin to seriously intertwine. If you haven't read Artiface of Strength (yes, I know it is spelled, Artifice), this would probably be the time. You will have time to kill, I won't be writing over the next few weeks as I will be travelling for the holidays.

Thanks again to those of you who have sent me personal notes. If you've sent one and not gotten a response, I apologize. Occasionally my Spam filter decides that the invaders need to die.

SisterRobin

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Young one, the actions that you've taken, they end up defining you. This is true whether you've wanted this to be... or whether ye have not. Most of the things I've done in me life has caused effects that I'd... never sought. It seems that I'd reached for pleasure, but instead... another lesson I'd been taught. ~~ J. Milton O'Leary

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Reservoir of Power, Chapter 7

The old shaman was tinkering with his fetish again. He'd been at it for hours, but he was a patient man, so he hadn't minded that it had taken several months for the rattlesnake's rattles to dry properly. He knew there were quicker and more modern methods to affix them to the outside the main body of his fetish, but he was a stickler for tradition, and he honestly believed that the old ways were best.

He'd gathered the wild mustang tail for use in the bindings by himself. The shaman was ancient for a human, but his lore was still powerful enough to allow him to creep into a sleeping herd. A quick slash with his knife and the herd had bolted in a single instant, but the proud stallion had left most of his tail behind as the startled herd fled the coyote in their midst.

Ja-mul had smiled as he'd taken the proud stallion's hair without actually harming the magnificent animal. He knew that he'd never need to harvest from this particular herd again, but then again, he didn't believe in wasting the resources that Xwun had given to the People, so he'd left the proud animal alive and mostly undamaged for the use of the next shaman. The old ways truly were the best.

The old man and his many decades of wisdom hadn't been missed by the war chieftain while Ja-mul had been away. In truth, Jefferson had welcomed the old coyote's absence. Alpha Jefferson had even told his mate that it was the most relaxing two days that he'd had in months.

Carol, his long-suffering mate had merely smiled at her husband and made reassuring noises in an attempt to calm him in return. The two had been together for over a century and there was no way that she was going to engage with Jefferson if he might be preparing for yet another round of fantasizing about the most painful way to execute his irritating shaman.

Not that she was any fonder of the old coyote than her husband claimed to be, but unlike her mate, she'd made a separate peace with the old bastard. As the new Madam Alpha of all of the American Werewolves; she'd been careful to engage in duties that Ja-mul had zero interest in pursuing. She really did felt sorry for her long-suffering mate, but if it came down to Jefferson or herself having to deal with Ja-mul, she was more than willing to throw her mate under the coyote bus. Besides, as she rationalized to herself; Jefferson had no real escape from their Goddess' chosen representative anyway. He was the Alpha; he had to deal with the old fraud.

If Ja-mul was aware of the constant consternation that he caused in his Alphas, he was careful to keep his laughter to himself. In any event, the Alphas were quite pleased that the old man was currently all alone in his room, diligently working on his project. The shaman had spared no effort; he knew that very soon, he'd need the power that the fetish would provide. There was a reason that Xwun had directed him to harvest the rattles when Ja-mul been in the between place, and Ja-mul was nothing if not faithful to his deity.

The 'official' war between the humans and the werewolves had ended almost as soon as it had begun, but the shaman knew that the humans' so-called 'patriot movement' wouldn't remain in their box for much longer. The situation was steadily getting worse as scouts from both the People and the wolf packs had reported an increasing number of incursions into the areas that had been ceded to the Were. Not that this surprised anyone who'd been paying attention; no one had expected the militias or the ranchers, who pretended that they owned these lands-- where their herds had been grazing for free, to refrain from trying to take the People's land by force... again.

But try as he might, Ja-mul just couldn't make himself feel sorry for what was going to happen to these 'patriots' when they finally worked up their courage and came across the borders in force. For over three hundred years, men such as these had raped and killed his People and then stolen their land, but this time it would be different. They'd be met with the fangs and teeth of the Were.

He also knew that the Homeland Security Department within the human government was pleading with Jefferson for restraint when the inevitable incursions came. The war-chief had promised to keep the body count low as he could, but he'd made no other promises. Wolves were wolves, and they'd defend their land; they didn't have to hide what they were from the rest of the world any longer-- their secret was out, and the People were the wolves' cousins. They wouldn't be victimized again.

No, this time it would be different; this time the blood would be spilled from the veins of the Europeans. They'd be met with the only thing that they seemed to respect, violence and death... and try as he might, Ja-mul just couldn't feel sorry for these 'potato patriots', as he'd taken to calling them.

It was now the second Wednesday in November and the potato people's savior had just been victorious at the polls. Ja-mul knew that this would embolden them even further... and he was well aware that they were armed to the teeth. Ja-mul also knew, from his contacts within the human's security apparatus, that the human Government was not so secretly glad that the upcoming battles would take place where they always had—upon the lands of the People. Once again, the People were going to be forced to play defense, but this time, they understood their enemy.

Finally finishing the fetish, he gave it a satisfied look before reaching for his phone. It hadn't actually begun to ring yet, but he answered it anyway. He said, "Oh... Hello Jefferson... what can I do for my Alpha today?"

He listened for a few moments before he responded with an evil grin, knowing full well that his reply would make Jefferson shudder, and then he said, "Well... Yes, I can catch a train back to Reading, but wouldn't taking a plane be faster?"

Then, with an even bigger smile breaking across his face, he bit his tongue and listened to his chief begin to hyperventilate. After patiently listening to Jeff vent about a wolf's terror over the idea of leaving the earth, Ja-mul finally requested, "Can you make sure that they are not late when they pick me up; you know that my grandson is an idiot."

Still grinning after the phone call had ended, Ja-mul went back to examining his fetish. He had no need to hurry; he was already packed and ready to go. He'd been expecting this call; it's why he'd taken the time to upgrade the fetish in the first place. He was really looking forward to this trip; no shaman had ever performed this particular ceremony before. He had a feeling that his grandson's pack was going to be pretty upset by the whole thing, but this just made him smile even more disreputably. It was fun to be a coyote!

~~~

Lochlainn sat in the driver's seat of his van and Lena sat beside him, but she hadn't said a single word in over an hour now as the two of them had sat and stared at the church before them. Finally, she'd become impatient and shoved her door open with an oath. She stormed out of their van and headed directly for the entrance into the U.C.C. church and its attached gym where Honey Bea and her Siskiyou Rollerz were reputed to practice. Lochlainn had a brief thought of stopping Lena from stomping into the human church during their Sunday Night service, but a brief glare from her had caused him to rethink his position. He sat there with a bemused look on his face and thought, "I'm a bear. I am the fiercest apex predator in America and she still scares the bejeezus out of me. I find that I'm frozen with only a look from her."

...and then he had a better thought. Surely, this terror meant that she must be his mate. So he remained in his van, but now he was armed with a foolish smile plastered across his face, secure in the knowledge that everything would be fine... well, eventually.

Lena, on the other hand, was still highly agitated. Her moods had been highly volatile for weeks now, and earlier tonight, she had bitten Lucky hard enough that she had drawn blood. And yet, she didn't actually remember biting him; although she had no doubt that the bite marks on his neck belonged to her.

They'd arrived at the church well before the service started and they'd parked in the shadows in the back of the lot. It was a small church and they'd been able to see most of the churchgoers as the people had arrived for their services, but neither Lena nor Lochlainn had recognized a single player from the game with the Rollerz. Lena had grown increasingly frustrated and she was going to get some answers, and she was going to get them now!

She walked into the service a few minutes after it had begun and when she heard the sound of the parishioners singing happily, if mostly tunelessly, it gave her pause. She realized that these people had done nothing to her, so she took a deep breath and tried to find her center. She didn't actually want to hurt, or even offend anyone. As she stood in the narthex, she saw that she was before the church's bulletin board. Plastered directly in the middle of the activities was a reminder that there would be an open derby practice in the gym immediately after the service tonight.

The notice also proudly announced that refreshments would be provided and that child care would be available. "Well," she mumbled, "that wasn't so hard I guess."

Then she wondered what she could do to kill some time. The service didn't interest her at all, as Lena had never had any real interest in pursuing any sort of faith; she'd only been on the inside of church a few times in her entire life. As she stood there for a moment, she began to feel kind of foolish; she'd stormed inside looking for a fight, and instead, she had been met with an open invitation and an offer of free refreshments. Maybe these people would be happy to help her, and she knew that Lochlainn would appreciate the coffee. He was always down with free coffee.

So she stood there dithering, feeling guiltier than anything else, when the elderly usher spotted her and opened the doors to the sanctuary, beckoning for her to come inside. She was reluctant to enter into the unknown, but as she was feeling abashed by her earlier bout of temper, she meekly nodded, took the church bulletin that the man handed her, and walked into the main building. She crept inside and carefully took a corner seat on the rear pew, hoping that no one would notice her arrival.

Lena did her best to avoid making eye contact with anyone and immediately stuck her nose into the church bulletin still trying to keep a low profile, which was never an easy thing for a woman who stood six and a half feet tall. Fortunately for Lena, the parishioners were consumed with their service, and no one tried to speak with her. She received only a few polite nods and Lena slowly found herself sinking into the proceedings.

The service was something of a welcome revelation for Lena. She found that the music soothed her frazzled nerves, and that the pastor was engaging and funny, and best of all... brief. Before she'd even realized it, the service was over and it was time for everyone to leave. It was much too late to make her escape, for she realized that the pastor and his worship leader had walked to the front of the church and were now waiting at the exit to greet those who'd come to church that night. Lena realized that she wouldn't be able to make a clean exit without being forced to speak with the man.

"Pretty slick," she thought, "distracting us with a piano solo so he could sneak around behind us. Oh well, I guess that it's too late to escape now." And with this final thought, Lena rose and walked to the exit to speak with the sneaky pastor. She was still hoping to make her exit without too much fanfare, but she figured that there wasn't much hope for that; she was a new face in a small congregation.

"Good evening to you; I'm Pastor Dave," he said, shaking her hand enthusiastically. "Everyone is welcome here, and we are so glad to see a new face. I sure hope that you'll join us for coffee in the gym tonight. Our local roller derby team is here to put on a clinic for everyone. Most of the young folks brought their skates! Though, I'll be honest; I'm going to stick to the coffee and snacks."

Somewhat reluctantly, Lena introduced herself, and then promised that she'd come to the event and take a look, but she was saved from saying much more as the pastor released her hand to greet the next person in line, and she quickly made her escape-- making haste to get to the van before anyone else could stop her for a chat. She ran the last few steps and she managed to surprise Lochlainn when she jumped into the van and slammed the door behind her.

Lochlainn's eyes showed his concern when he asked, "What happened? Were the people rude to you or overly fearful of a newcomer? And why were you running?"

Lena let out a huge sigh before she responded, "No... they were just the opposite of all that. They were extremely friendly and their pastor even invited us to stay for coffee and dessert."

"Dessert," he said confusedly, "so what's the problem; why do you look so stressed?"

"I wasn't prepared for that. I went in there looking for a fight because I thought that I'd be met with enemies, but instead, they behaved as though I was a long lost friend."

"So did you learn anything?"

"Well, I guess that I learned that all churches are not the same, but I still didn't see anyone that I recognized. On the bright side, evidently the Rollerz are putting on a free clinic in their gym tonight. Pastor Dave invited me... well, us I guess. He said that all of the young people brought their skates."

"Our skates are in the back," Lucky said with a smile as he pointed to the rear of the van, "...and you did say they'd be serving coffee. That sounds like a huge plus. Shall we join them?"

Lena couldn't put her finger on exactly why she was suffering from this attack of nerves, so she merely agreed that it seemed to be the logical thing to do, and after digging their skates out of the pile in the back of their cluttered van, she grabbed Lochlainn's hand and let him lead her back into the church.

Once inside, Lena immediately noticed that while there was a women's roller derby team skating lazily around the gym, not a single woman was familiar to her. There were fifteen uniformed members of a roller team wearing Rollerz' jerseys, but not a single one of them had been a member of the team that had come to Kalispell, and worse yet, not a single one of them seemed to be much of a skater. These girls looked like a very inexperienced team.

Lochlainn was more intent on making a bee-line to the coffee, so he had been steering Lena toward the table that was piled high with home made desserts and huge urns of fresh brewed coffee. He didn't really notice the shocked looks that were being directed at Lena and himself. Evidently the parishioners were somewhat stunned by the appearance of the two huge visitors. But then again, it could have been the fact that the two giants were each carrying a pair of well-worn roller derby skates.

Being less intent on the free food, Lena saw the looks and grimaced. She wasn't really surprised; she'd been getting these looks her whole life. But then again, she supposed that the churchgoers might be shocked, not by her own size, but by Lochlainn's. After all, he was almost seven feet tall and his long red hair and beard did sort of stand out.

Then, she had another thought... It's the skates! Yes, that must be it! They'd shown up with old fashioned four-wheeled skates when all of the young folks had sets of inline skates. Their skates stood out! And intent on being wildly optimistic, and still searching the faces of the derby women, Lena never saw Pastor Dave until it was much too late. Once again, he had placed himself right in the center of her path.

"Lena, you came! I'm so glad," he said with obvious warmth in his voice. "And who is this that you've brought with you?"

"Lochlainn, Lochlainn Thorsson," Lucky supplied quickly, while holding one of his massive hands outward to greet the middle-aged pastor. "Lena said that there would be coffee and skating, and that we could stretch our legs. We've been on the road for hours and they both sounded wonderful!"

"Well... the coffee isn't exactly Starbucks," the pastor chuckled, "but it's hot and fresh-- the ladies just brewed it." Then, pointedly glancing at Lucky's skates, he continued, "I see that you brought your skates. Did you come for the clinic or was this just a happy accident?"

"Not exactly," Lena replied quickly. "But we do skate, although Lochlainn is still learning. When you said that there would be skating, we found that we couldn't resist. We had our skates out in the van, so it was easy to get our hands on them."

"Well then... come right this way," the pastor said energetically! "We'll get you hooked up with some coffee and pie before the roller ladies start their clinic."

Lena and Lucky both nodded and the energetic pastor was soon walking the young couple around the room, coffee in hand, introducing members of his congregation. Their names blurred quickly, but the couple vaguely remembered being introduced to a musical director, an organist, a youth ministry leader, and a social media outreach director- whatever that might have been.

The introductions would likely have continued, but before Dave could drag them any farther, one of the derby girls had grabbed the microphone and demanded the crowd's attention. "Members and guests of the Medford United Church of Christ, thanks for joining with us tonight as we thank you for allowing us to practice in your wonderful gym! I'm Road-rash Randi and I'm the coach and captain of the Siskiyou Rollerz, and we'd like to..."

But whatever Randi said next, it didn't register with either Lena or Lochlainn. Indeed, they were lucky that every eye in the place was upon Randi because the shock that they were feeling was clearly written on their faces. They were having the same thoughts; if this Randi person was the coach, and these women were all of the teammates on her Medford team, then just who exactly had come to Kalispell? It didn't make any sense to them. Why would anyone bother to impersonate a women's roller derby team? It wasn't like there was any real money involved, and besides, the Misfits were not exactly picky about whom they scheduled.