The Keeper Ch. 06-07

Chapter Six

A furious pounding on his front door woke Quinn from a sound sleep. The clock on his bedside table read 3:00 AM. He stumbled to the front door. A stocky nude Amerindian woman stood on his porch holding a puppy with green eyes. Her voice was ragged, she looked to be on the far edge of exhaustion.

"Take my baby, Keeper. Protect my baby." She thrust the puppy into his arms. Her form blurred, and she shifted into a black timber wolf. Her head rose, nose up to taste the scents in the air, and dashed off into the rainy night."

"HEY, wait a minute..." The wolf-kin had disappeared into the dark, long gone before Quinn hollered.

He cuddled the wet, shivering pup and closed the door.

"What the hell am I going to do with you?" The pup was soaking wet and shivering so Quinn set her on his couch and went to get a towel.

As he was briskly rubbing her down, the runes that had been spelled into his back flared hot and shocked him fully awake--they sensed some major spellcasting outside. A triumphant shriek sounded from the backyard.

"Sweet mother, now what..."

Quinn dashed to the kitchen, flipped on the yard lights, slid the patio door open, and stepped out onto the cold, wet grass.

A woman stood at the edge of his yard, half in and half out of the mass of rain-soaked rhododendrons. She wore a dark green raincoat open at the front. A drooping slouch hat covered her hair and a heavy silver and turquoise necklace hung outside a gingham patterned blouse.

Cold malevolent eyes glared at him out of a bone-white face. A shapeless animal body lay twitching at her feet. As he looked closer, he realized it was the wolf-kin woman who had been at his front door.

The witch, with a flare of magic surrounding her, held a black knife in her right hand. She eyed Quinn and reached down and slashed the black wolf's side.

The copper smell of blood magic told him instantly what she was-- a Blood Witch, An immensely powerful one as well--maybe a Twelfth or Thirteenth Circle adept.

A fucking Hag in my back yard.

Another form flickered into being behind her, a seven-foot, stick-slender elf with huge amber eyes with vertical slitted cat-like pupils.

Sweet Mother, a Dökkálfar prince in my backyard.

"Hail human," the tall elf sang in fluting alfar.

Quinn collected his wits and answered back in the same singing whistle clicks. "Begone Erendriel, you are not welcome in this realm. Go lest the dirges sound at your House lamenting your true death as they did for your brother."

"Shadow Walker, I will end you soon," the elf's perfect features curled in hate. His form flickered.

"You have the shifter whelp," the hag-witch interrupted. "I need her. She is mine. Give her to me."

"Get lost witch," Quinn said, "if I had the shifter, you two would be the last people, I would give her too. BEGONE."

Her eyes rolled back in her head. One hand clutched her necklace, the other held the bloody knife. She chanted out again, her voice girlish, shockingly at odds with her appearance.

A wave of powerful magic pulsed out.

Quinn was hit again with a sudden smell of apricots overlaying the stench of blood. His back flared white-hot as the glyph wards again activated.

Her eyes widened as she saw her spell-craft did not affect him.

"What are you," she shrieked. And began her casting again.

By now, Quinn had finally gotten his shit together. He twitched his wrist and reluctantly awakened the lethal symbiote weapon that the troll women had gifted him--a dragon lizard razor whip that wound around his right arm like an ornate full sleeve tattoo.

The symbiote unfurled itself from his arm with a shriek.

The activated symbiote in turn awoke the Other from its long sleep in the back of Quinn's mind.

"Kill? The Other was not gifted with nuanced reasoning. When it perceived a threat, it went directly to the killing."

At the sight of the whip, the elf's eyes widened, and he finger-signed a spell then disappeared.

Quinn caught a movement out of the corner of his eye.

The two teenage witches who had been following him earlier stood at the other end of his yard, side by side with their athames in hand. With faces as pale as chalk and eyes impossibly wide, they held hands and began chanting.

Sweet Mother of All, they were going to try to bespell the Hag, the idiots. They had no chance of facing an Adept of this level.

The Hag muttered and gestured again. Quinn smelled the sharp scent of apricots again and again his glyphs flashed as the magic washed by him and flowed over the girls. It froze them in mid-chant--their mouths and eyes wide open in soundless panic.

"Enough," Quinn shouted to distract the witch before she could do them harm. He moved across the yard toward her.

The symbiote voiced a rising shriek as it anticipated a kill.

The Hag looked desperate now. She muttered another spell and gestured again.

Quinn's wards flashed white-bright more once and the spell dissipated.

The Hag's fingers signed a cantrip and she too disappeared along with the body at her feet.

"Sweet Mother of All, he's a warlock."

Quinn turned toward the sound of the girl's voice. Both girls were cuddled close together like two little scared kittens. They gaped at him with terrified eyes, then turned as one and ran from the yard like the devil himself was present.

Quinn sighed tiredly, he knew very well what he was and though he had tried his best to make up for it, he would always be a monster. His alter-other hovered at the edge of his conscious, alert and quivering with battle-lust. The fight had awakened it after all this time. It wasn't going to be put back to sleep easily.

I need to watch my temper now.

He shivered, the rain was pounding down hard now and he was soaked to the skin. Quinn was disgusted with himself. He could have saved that poor woman if he'd had his shit together. The troll women would have flayed the skin off his back for an effort like that-- and he would have deserved it. He absently curled his wrist back and the whip obediently wound itself back into its lair in his arm.

Quinn walked a wide loop around the yard that ended where the Hag had stood. The blood magic smell was rank here but there wasn't as much blood trace as he feared so maybe the wolf-kin woman still lived. He knelt to examine the knife, an eight-inch shard of razor-sharp obsidian. Careful not to touch it with his bare hand, he took off his t-shirt and carefully wrapped it around the black blade and made his way into the house.

"This is exactly the kinda shit that happens when you get involved with these people," Quinn muttered to himself.

**

The little wolf pup lay curled tightly against the armrest of his couch her ears drooping as her eyes warily watched him enter. She was sounding a constant almost soundless whine.

"She is scared Lanie," a tiny voice whispered. "You have to help her, Lanie. Promise you will."

Sudden cold sweat beaded his face. His heart hammered and the sudden storm of a panic attack began to build.

"I will, Annie. I will. I promise," Quinn croaked. "Annie, are you happy wherever you are? Won't you tell me please?"

There was no answer.

There never was.

The low whimpering of the little wolf pup called him back from the edge.

"Drive on, you pogue," he muttered to himself.

He stumbled to the couch and knelt.

"Easy little one, I won't hurt you--I won't let anyone hurt you," He ignored the sharp little milk teeth that snapped at him and picked her up and cuddled her to his chest murmuring soothing nonsense words as he petted her.

That's all it took, the wolf pup snuggled into his chest and sighed. Quinn imagined it seemed relieved to be comforted. He snagged the towel he'd been using on her earlier and continued to give her a brisk rubbing, as much to dry her off as to prevent any stress shock that might be lurking. He stood and carried her into the brighter light of the kitchen to check for injuries.

The little gray pup blinked her green eyes at the brightness. Quinn knew his life had now grown infinitely more complicated. He searched his memory for information on young shifters. Should she have shifted back by now? Was it healthy for her to stay in her wolf shape? He was going to need some help. He put her down on the couch and began to pace.

"You're a pain in the butt, little one."

She twitched her ear and watched him with wide eyes from the couch.

After securing the obsidian blade in a Ziplock bag. He cut up a piece of the rib-eye that was supposed to be tomorrow's dinner into bite-sized chunks and put them into a salad dish. He filled another bowl with water. He set both down on the floor by his couch.

She jumped down and gobbled it up, drank some water, and retreated to the couch.

Quinn put the dishes in the dishwasher, turned off the lights, and went back to bed. He didn't object when the whimpering little wolf jumped up on the bed and snuggled into his back.

She was still shivering so he flipped on the light again and got out a t-shirt, wrapped it around her, and fell back to sleep.

Chapter Seven

Quinn was startled awake by the fixed green-eyed gaze of a little girl. He stared back, still groggy from a hard sleep.

The little wolf-kin had shifted back during the night. He smiled; his t-shirt looked like a tent on her.

She frowned, pointed to her mouth and then her tummy.

"All right, little one. The remote is on the table next to the couch. Go watch TV while I get dressed. Then we'll see about breakfast. It's Sunday, and that means it's waffle day. I sure hope you like waffles."

She gave him a solemn nod and ran out of the bedroom.

**

Quinn spooned the batter into his waffle iron, all the while eyeing his visitor, who sat at the kitchen table looking back at him patiently waiting for breakfast.

After closing the waffle iron lid, he poured her a glass of orange juice and set the table.

"Just so you know, lots of people, even the King of Bulgaria are crazy for my world-famous sour cream waffles. You are so lucky you came to visit waffle day. You are in for a treat. Do you like waffles?"

She stared back at him, deadpan.

"I know. I know. You already didn't answer that question. Not gonna talk, huh? My waffles are gonna make you blab like a monkey or even a hippopotamus." No grin, not even a tiny one. "Well, you're a hard case, that's for sure. My jokes are known far and wide--but I guess they're wasted on sourpusses."

As he waited for the waffle to bake. He sipped his coffee and shifted into planning mode.

"I need to call somebody about you. Niamh would be perfect, but she didn't think to leave her number. I bet Gus knows some shifters in Oldtown I could talk to. I guess I should tell the Aunties about the blood-witch as well."

"Well, hello there, 'Mr. I Talk to Myself' because I'm a nut job.'" a voice came from behind him.

Gustaf Hope, his oldest friend, stood looking through the patio screen door with a grin on his face. Gus was a burly man with a big bushy brown beard who invariably walked around with a smile on his face. Packing an uncrushable sunny disposition, he figured strangers were friends hadn't yet met. He was a furniture designer, who like the other crafters in Emory, used the magic to enhance his considerable talents. They'd been best friends ever since the old man assigned him to old Finn's furniture shop. Gus' furniture graced the offices of the wealthy, worldwide. The White House had one of his rocking chairs.

"Hey, Hopeless, you're just in time for breakfast. I was just gonna call you. What are you doing down here in the big city?"

Quinn plated a waffle. Cut it in half. Handed half to the little girl and snared a plate and put the other on it and handed it to Gus.

"Whoa," said Gus as he caught sight of the little girl. "You have a visitor. Who's your little friend?"

"She's my guest for a while, an honored guest. She hasn't laughed at even one of my jokes."

"Well, that isn't the shocker, you think it is, Lan," Gus's booming laugh filled the kitchen. "Let's get some more waffles cooking so your honored guests get to eating."

He pulled out a chair and made waggle eyes at the little girl.

"Damn," Gus said grandly, waving his fork. "You are the king of waffles. In fact, I'll give this one a nine on the Gus scale of goodness. Don't you agree, little one? Lan, why haven't you set the table with some of that strawberry jam you canned last year?"

Gus whispered to the little girl, "Nobody likes a stingy strawberry jam hoarder. No wonder you don't talk much, honey. I bet you're appalled by his stinginess.

"By the way, did you know that you have two apprentice guardians watching your house? You should let me talk one of the sisters into coming down and putting some wards around this place. Keep out the riff-raff."

"No way. I'm letting those crazies around my house and besides, the only riff-raff that comes around here is you."

Gus grinned and mimed stabbing himself in the heart with his fork. "Now that was hurtful."

"I spotted the girls a couple of days ago. Do you know 'em?"

"Yeah, they belong to Althea, I think. Sabina Coven girls."

"Huh. Anyway, I'm glad to see you. Surprised, too. What's up?"

"I got a commission from one of Sven's lawyer friends. Had to sign the paperwork. Also, Anna sent me to talk to you. She said you were to come see her right away. Personally, I am hoping she'll convince you to get your head out of your ass and come home. I miss my fishing partner. By the way, if you come to Emory for a visit and don't stop by the shop and see my mom, there will be trouble."

Gus came from a big boisterous family. He had six brothers and sisters. As Quinn was growing up, he often thought that Gus' house was what heaven must be like. Gus' mother had been one of his teachers. She owned a bakery in Emory.

"Hopeless, there is not a single chance in hell of me moving back there. If I go, it'll be for a day to get to the old man's will reading and then I'm back here where nice normal people live."

While he was eating, Gus had been giving the little girl speculative glances. His mouth dropped open.

"Sweet Mother of All. Your little guest is wolf-kin. What in the Hell's name are you doing with a baby shifter? Are you insane? All you need is to have some pack's alpha pair decide you have besmirched their honor by kidnapping one of their pups."

"Quit yelling, Gus. You're scaring her. That's why I was just thinking of calling you. I need some help. I had a visit from a woman last night. A shifter woman. She left her with me. Told me to take care of her."

"Why you?"

"Don't have the slightest idea. Anyway, next thing, there is a Hag in my backyard looking for her."

"You're fu... joshing with me. Seriously, Lan? A Hag. Are you sure? The last one I heard about was before you and I were even born."

"I know what I smelled. She was using blood magic. Spells were high circle adept quality, twelfth or thirteenth circle maybe more. I need to get in touch with one of the Aunties and let them know. Maybe you could tell Anna. Also, do you know how to get in touch with Niamh?"

Gus stared at Quinn, his mouth opening and closing like a beached carp.

"You want me to help you get in touch with Fucking Niamh Harpe," he said reverently. "I just wanted to stop by and say hi. Maybe have a bite of whatever new experiment you were baking. Deliver Anna's message. Now, you sit there and casually bring up Niamh Harpe. She is trouble--sixth circle of hell trouble. If she knew you had a little wolf-kin here, she'd tear off your arm and beat you with it. Hell, she might do it just because she was in a grouchy mood. Why are you involving me in this? I don't need this kind of excitement. It's bad for me. I have a delicate constitution."

"You're about as delicate as a steel blacksmith anvil. All these events are for sure connected to whatever is going on up there in crazy town. This shit has all the markings of the Covens and the Kin messing with each other. I'm down here minding my business, all fat, dumb and happy, not bothering a soul. Now I got witches following me. The Aunties decide to cast a summoning that catches me in the middle of my poker game. Then Charming the Annoying shows up speaking all kinds of mysterious warnings. And now a Hag is trying to harvest me in my backyard." As Quinn listed the last day's events, his voice raised to a shout.

"Okay, okay, settle down Drama Diva. You're scaring our little friend." He turned to the girl who was looking panicky. "It's okay honey, big Uncle Gus will protect you against this meanie."

The little girl gave him a tiny smile.

That's Hopeless for you every time. I practically stand on my head for a smile, and he gets a smile with one sentence.

Quinn dished up another waffle for his friend.

Gus took out his phone and called up his contacts. He grabbed a scrap of paper and scribbled a couple of names and numbers. "The first name is a guy who is connected with the Council. I think Niamh works for him. Call him. Maybe he knows how to get a hold of her. If he can't help, call the second number, and ask for Kirk. He's Ursa-kin, but maybe he can help you."

Quinn nodded thanks as he put the note in his wallet. Then he shot Gus a look. "Anna wanted to talk to me, huh?"

Gus sighed. "Things are messed up. Althea was attacked and is in the hospital. Ever since the old man disappeared, the Covens have been nervous. They know change is in the offing and they don't like it. That's why Anna wants you back, I think. But now you have kidnapped a shifter pup. That's sure to cause trouble with the damn shifters."

Quinn gave him a pained look. "Rescued, Gus, the word is rescued."

"Dude, you are the dumbest smart person I know."

"Now don't be hurtful, Gus. You're better than that. If I can't get a hold of Niamh, what's this Kirk guy like? Is he going to automatically try to kill me when I try to talk to him?"

Gus looked thoughtful. "He lives in Oldtown. He's a fishing guide here in our world. Better be careful, Ursa-Kin are deeply paranoid, especially with mundanes."

"Nice. Okay, next thing is Emory, can you hook me up with someone down here who can tell me a little more about what's going inside the covens. The Aunties will not stop calling until I go up there. I'll go visit Anna. Probably have to take the little one to her, anyway. But I don't want to walk in blind to whatever has them all stirred up."

"Well, that's easier." He looked thoughtful, then frowned. "I might know one person, but you won't like it."

Quinn looked at him and then suddenly realized who he meant.

"Seriously, Gus? That's who you came up with?"

"Sorry Dude, she's the closest. She's down here, doing an audit or something. She's a big-shot lawyer slash investigator now. Everyone else is back home. Look, now that I think about it, it's a terrible idea. I'm sorry I thought it. Don't listen to me. You know Katie, she holds a grudge forever. She's gonna snap your neck the minute she sees you."

"Okay, thanks. There's a cheesecake in the refrigerator. You can take it with you and share with Saria if you promise to not let it anywhere near your mom. It's nowhere near her standards, and I don't want to get her stock lecture about using quality ingredients. I used the cheap ricotta cheese in it."

The little wolf-kin girl took this moment to speak.

"Who's Annie?"

Quinn stiffened.

Gus gave him a sympathetic look and asked:

"Why are you asking about her, honey?"

"I dreamed about her. She said everything was gonna be alright. She has a stuffed Tigger, just like mine."