“So?” Ashlynn flew to meet them, and they turned their flight back to the direction they had been heading before the portal opened with Etienne, Charon and Blaise following.
“Incubus and succubus,” Dior told her. “They have allied with the human population and some stray minor Others. And, apparently, with your father.”
“That would not surprise me,” she replied. “My father is as much a politician in his own way as Elior is. The lead alpha pair must be. He would be looking to forge alliances with the nearby towns.”
“He is growing food,” Dior watched her face to see if that was something she knew.
“Yes,” she agreed. “I know what you are thinking, Dior. The reason why Elior has not begun to trade with my father for his crops, is that there is not sufficient to feed the city, and the logistics of transportation is complicated.”
“If the werewolves can turn their runs into farms, it is possible for others to do so.”
“If they have half a coven of warlocks and witches to maintain the wards and glamours required to protect a wide expanse of exposed land,” she pointed out. “Alatar and his people are the exception, not the rule. Witches and warlocks tend to work for themselves, and not for others.”
“Perhaps it is time that we change that,” Dior replied. “Perhaps the opportunity exists to explore that option.”
“You are an optimist,” she laughed at him. “And we have arrived.” She began to descend, landing on a gravel road before what appeared to be an open expanse of arid fields. Dior felt the resistance of a ward as he followed the hybrid woman off the road into the field, the suggestion that he turn back rather than walk further causing his steps to lag, followed by a foreboding that he should not walk further.
It would be enough, he thought, for most who entered the area unwary to change their path. They passed through the edge of the glamor and approached a gate where a group of werewolves watched their approach, machine guns held ready. Their guard eased as they saw Ashlynn and smiles widened.
“Hey!” She called out in answer to their greeting as they opened the gates to admit them. Dior was astounded by the sight beyond the chain link fence. Fields stretched in every direction. He was no expert in crops, but he recognized wheat.
Ashlynn led them up the road towards where a large house sat on the horizon. To one side of the house was a field of caravans and mobile homes, and solar panels mounted to their rooves glinted in the sunlight.
The fields were busy with people with scythes, harvesting the crops, whilst others moved between them offering water and food. He could see a windmill being constructed in the distance.
Children ran out of the fields, seeing them, and raced ahead of them, kicking up dust beneath bare feet, excited laughter and squeals tumbling back to the gargoyles.
“They have never seen gargoyles this close,” Ashlynn was amused. “They are spreading the news to all their friends, no doubt.”
“They are building a mill,” he commented, impressed by the industry and skill.
“Yeah, the land here is good for wheat, so a mill makes sense,” she agreed. “Dad’s big on longevity. They’re negotiating with another pack who have an operating canning factory. Transporting the fresh produce from the other runs to the factory will be difficult, but dad thinks it will be worth the effort.”
There was a large fire pit with a clay brick oven behind it, and extensive vegetable gardens closer to the house.
Dior saw that Raiden and Cecelia waited in the shade of the veranda of the house for them, alerted to their arrival by the children who appeared all around, wide eyes and excited faces peering at them from every direction.
“Go on,” Raiden told them. “Back to classes or where-ever you have come from. You can look at the gargoyles later, we need to talk to them. Sorry,” he stepped forward to greet them. “Kids. Ashlynn,” he caught his daughter against him in a fierce hug. “It is good to see you.” He kissed his only child on the cheek before releasing her to her mother. “Apologies for the staring hordes,” he continued.
The children still lingered, although they had withdrawn, some hiding in the gardens and peering around the corners of the building in compromise.
“We do not mind,” Dior replied, amused.
“We like children,” Blaise added with a grin at them.
“We hope to have many ourselves,” Dior agreed. “Which is why we are here.”
Raiden’s eyebrows raised. “Okay,” he drew the word out. “I am not sure how we can help you with that.”
Dior snorted his laughter. “We are looking for Alatar,” he explained. “He stole our mate.”
“Okay,” Raiden repeated blankly. “That is even more confusing. Come in and have a drink. We don’t get to see Ashlynn often, and the day is growing old, the evening meal is not far from being served. Will you join us?”
“Thank you,” Dior shifted into man-form and paused to collect his clothing from Charon. The werewolf waited for the gargoyles to dress before leading them into the house. “We encountered a succubus and incubus on our way,” he said conversationally as his mates arranged themselves around the generous couches.
“Ah,” Raiden nodded. “Sabrine and Davien. They have their town very organized.”
“Indeed, their defence was very impressive. The coven of our city, or what remains of it, proposes to launch a return attack on the winged hellions,” Dior sat next to Charon and placed his hand on the man’s knee, sensing the winged man’s unease with the conversation. “If such a thing were to be effective, I think it will need the combined forces of all the various Others of this realm.”
A muscle worked in the corner of Raiden’s jaw. “I do not like being held hostage by an invading force,” he admitted. “But to return attack from our weakened position seems…” he shook his head. “Unlikely to succeed. Costly.”
“Indeed,” Dior agreed with both statements. “We feel the same.”
“Elior hopes that if we hurt them enough,” Ashlynn offered perching on the arm of the chair next to her father. “That they will close this realm off again to their people.”
“What is to stop them from opening it again?” Raiden wondered.
“A good question,” Dior nodded. “Thank you,” he accepted the glass of water that Cecelia offered him.
“Let me help, mum,” Ashlynn jumped up and began to hand out water from the kitchen, leaving Cecelia to bring over a wooden board she had arranged with coarse bread and sliced of meat.
“Thank you,” Blaise passed Charon and Etienne a slice of bread and meat before helping himself and sinking back onto the couch cheerfully. “Fresh baked?” He asked.
“Yes. The flour was a little coarse. We are currently milling by hand,” Cecelia apologized. “It is a learning curve.”
“It is good,” Blaise assured her around his mouthful. “It has been a long time since we have had fresh bread.”
“It is a conversation that needs to be had,” Dior said to Raiden, resuming the discussion. “And one that should involve all the Other world.”
“Complicated to do,” Raiden observed.
“Indeed. But if there are Others with abilities such as Sabrine and Davien that might be useful in an endeavour to end this siege,” Dior gestured with his hand.
“A good point,” Ashlynn agreed. “I will talk to Elior when I return. Which brings us too why we are here.”
“Not just to visit us, I am guessing,” Raiden replied dryly.
“Sorry,” Ashlynn leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Alatar’s father wants to speak to him about the coven’s plans, and there’s the matter of the gargoyles’ mate…”
“The one that Alatar stole,” Raiden’s brows drew together perplexed.
“The gargoyles’ mate is Alatar’s sister,” Ashlynn explained. “And Alatar opened a portal and stole her from the gargoyles’ home earlier today.”
“Shit,” Raiden muttered. “Alatar’s sister is mated?”
“Very mated, one, two, three, four,” Ashlynn pointed to Dior, Charon, Blaise and then Etienne. “That is pretty mated in my books.”
“F-k,” Raiden sighed. “The healer?”
“Yes,” Dior frowned.
“Shit,” Raiden grimaced. “It has been an effort over the last week involving most of the pack to get the spell components for that portal,” he explained. “We had plans for her.”
“I am not liking the sound of that, dad,” Ashlynn observed.
“We understood her to be single, and in need of protection,” Raiden was apologetic, and his reply was addressed to Dior. “A neighbouring pack has a cannery, and they need a healer…”
“You were going to send Alatar’s sister to another pack,” Ashlynn was indignant. “In exchange for access to a cannery?”
“It wasn’t like that,” Cecelia defended her mate. “You make it sound so sordid.”
“We were going to offer Alatar’s sister the shelter of a strong pack who needs her skills,” Raiden added. “She would have travelled to the other pack along with a number of our young single wolves, in order to see if any compatible mates could be found, to foster an alliance between the packs.”
“Still sounds seedy, dad,” Ashlynn observed. “But that is a non-issue. She has mates already, and they need her back.”
“Indeed,” Cecelia sighed. “We are terribly sorry,” she said to Dior. “It was a misunderstanding.”
“Understood,” Dior nodded. “But we would like her returned.”
“Alatar is not here,” Raiden looked up at Ashlynn and then to Dior. “As I am sure Ashlynn has told you.”
“I wasn’t entirely sure which run he went to,” Ashlynn confessed.
“Your grandparent’s run,” Raiden told her. “About two hours by car from here,” he said. “If it were possible to drive between. There is a town on the route at the moment which has been taken over by the winged hellions,” he was unhappy about that. “We have been hoping they will move on before we are forced to evict them as doing so will not be without costs to the pack. In the interim, travel between the two runs is dangerous.”
“Flying through probably won’t be any better,” Ashlynn observed.
“Maybe we can help each other,” Raiden suggested. “Stay here tonight. I will organize my wolves and warlocks, and in the morning, we will clear the hellions out of the town, and I will personally escort you to my mother’s run so that you can reclaim your mate.”