Viktor was thrilled to be his hawk again, despite the situation. He soared high and wheeled, then dove straight to the ground before sharply pulling up again. He followed Pan and Jin’s rental car as they drove to the outskirts of Portland and into a more rural area. Old houses set far apart from each other lined the deserted streets, and Viktor felt unease rise up. His hawk’s sight noticed everything, and he kept flying even when the agents stopped their car several blocks away and down the street from the knights’ former—or current—location. He flitted around a couple of times, not seeing or hearing much of anything beyond the usual ambient noises.
He perched on a single pitiful-looking tree in someone’s overgrown yard, strewn with broken children’s toys. He eyed the residence across the street and doubted very much anyone lived there. But looks could be deceiving. He fluttered his wings and looked up and down the street. He would have to get closer to be certain. Viktor acutely remembered what Pan had told him before they left, his warning to be careful.
“Don’t be a hero, Viktor,” he’d said. “Just observe and report back. Don’t get any closer than you need to. Remember these are trained professionals. They know things we do, like how to spot a shifter in either form they take.”
It was a good warning, and one Viktor took to heart. He wasn’t reckless by nature at all. But then he thought of Natasha and Tommy held at gunpoint by a knight. He thought of Pan and Jin and what they risked daily for shapeshifters who didn’t even know their names. He thought of what the Knights did to shifters, the perverse pleasure they must feel in torturing living, breathing creatures they abhorred. Without risk there was no gain. How could he stay safely on the sidelines while others died brutally? While others fought to live?
Natasha didn’t bring the war to them. They were always at war, but Viktor had simply ignored his role in it. No longer. He was going to fight fire with fire. He was going to protect.
Seething, Viktor launched into the air and flew closer to the decrepit house. He circled it once, trying to see if there were any open windows or even open curtains he could peer through. But there didn’t seem to be anything of the sort. It was obviously abandoned, and he felt a moment of disappointment. But he didn’t dwell on it. They would simply check the other location. Viktor turned and flew away, heading back to the agents.
Something hit him. Pain flared on his side as something hard—a rock?—bounced off his body. He veered sharply to the side and let out a cry of surprise and pain. He struggled to stay airborne, but another rock hitting his wing took him down. He slammed to the ground hard and rolled several times before coming to a jarring stop. He lay on his back, his wings spread wide, his mind wheeling. What happened? Who hit him?
“Are you sure, Kirk?” a woman’s voice said.
“Positive. I can smell the fucking beasts.”
Panic flared in his breast, and Viktor struggled to his feet. But pain sparked again and he let out a sound of misery before he could bite it back. His wing ached, but nothing seemed broken. He could still fly. He managed to roll and hop to his feet even as two people towered over him.
Viktor quickly took in their faces, determined to remember everything so he could tell Pan and Jin when he escaped. The man was stocky but fit, his tawny-skinned square face hard, his eyes cold. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, and Viktor suddenly remembered Jin saying one of the knights was a cop. The leader. Kirk. The woman had skin so pale, he could clearly see the blue veins underneath. Her hair was a pale blonde, and she was skinny as a pole, barely more than bones. Her face was sharp and her eyes were cruel, filled with rage.
Viktor began to shift, to remember what it was to be human, to have hair on his head and walk on two legs. But Kirk struck out and kicked him hard. Viktor squawked as he hit the ground again. This time he actually felt his brain rattle in his head.
“Don’t try to shift, you fucking fowl. I’ll kick you again.” Kirk reached down and gripped Viktor around the neck, nearly choking him.
“Kill him, Kirk,” the woman said, her eyes bright with bloodlust. “Break his neck.”
Appalled, Viktor struggled, his hawk determined to fight and claw. He tried to get his talons up to slice at Kirk. But pain greeted his every movement, and Kirk gripped his legs, keeping them still. Viktor flapped his wings, trying to dislodge Kirk’s grip. But both he and his hawk knew it was useless. Kirk’s grip was steel.
Seeing no choice, Viktor closed his eyes and reached out with his mind to Pan.
Pan paced in front of their car, anxious and annoyed. Jin sat cross-legged on the hood, eyes closed as if in meditation. Pan knew better. Jin was just as anxious, he was only better at hiding it. Dammit! He was usually better at controlling his emotions than this, at keeping his head in the game and never worrying until everything was done and over. What was it about Viktor that made him feel like an untrained civilian?
Something pushed at his mind, and Pan froze, shocked at the sensation. What—?
Images flashed through his mind, and he gripped his head with a cry of shock. There wasn’t pain, only pressure and warmth.
“Pan?”
Jin grabbed his arm, but he couldn’t speak. He squeezed his eyes shut, and it felt as if Viktor were there, right inside his head. It made no sense, but there was no denying it.
They have me, Pan. Viktor’s voice sounded as clear as if he were speaking into his ear. They were in the house across from the old location. They spotted me. Kirk and a woman have me.
Two faces flashed into Pan’s mind, and he had the overwhelming realization he was seeing what Viktor must be seeing. And feeling. He suddenly couldn’t breathe and gripped his throat. Pan recognized Kirk from the picture Jin showed him, the one Mac found in the Knights’ files. The other was an unknown woman. He filed her face away for future use.
“I’m not leaving you, Viktor!” Pan said aloud, his voice choked. But he knew Viktor could hear him. A fellow agent named Genii was a psychic and could communicate telepathically. She taught courses to all agents on how to put up mental blocks since there were several psychic knights as well. But this was different. It almost felt… natural. Like Viktor was supposed to be inside his head.
Pan— The longing in Viktor’s mental voice broke Pan’s heart. Then Viktor was ripped away. He was just gone from Pan’s mind, and so was the pressure, the warmth. He suddenly felt acutely alone.
Pan popped his eyes open and sucked in a large breath. Rage welled up like magma inside him.
“Pan?”
Pan spun and dove into the car. “They have Viktor!” He didn’t say anything more. He didn’t need to. Jin was right behind him. Pan sped through the streets and didn’t slow down, even when he saw two people matching the images Viktor sent cross the road. Kirk held Viktor in an obviously painful way, and Pan saw red. He stomped on the gas and sped toward them.
Both jumped out of the way of the speeding car and flung themselves in opposite directions. Pan jerked the wheel, spinning the car around before putting on the brake. He leapt out of the car, Jin by his side, and went after Kirk. Jin took on the skinny white woman.
Kirk lost his hold on Viktor, who lay much too still. Though to Pan’s relief, there was rapid movement of his small chest. Without pausing, Pan launched himself at Kirk even as the man tried to stand.
“You son of a bitch!” Pan punched his face. “I’ll kill you!” He punched him again with his other fist.
But Kirk was no pushover. He scissored up, knocking Pan down. They both scrambled to their feet before coming back to each other. Pan felt a sense of déjà vu, remembering his fight with Gregor. But Kirk, despite his obvious skill, wasn’t as good as Gregor. Or Pan. The hand-to-hand was swift and brutal. Pan gave as good as he got as he maneuvered Kirk farther and farther away from Viktor’s prone body.
The Kevlar vest did its job. Though it restricted his movements some, the advantages overpowered the disadvantages. He and Jin had put on their vests right before leaving for this location. There was also the possibility the knights might get trigger-happy and start shooting, but it wasn’t likely. It was their abilities that set them apart from vanilla humans. Their combat was often physical, using only their abilities and wits to succeed. While knights gleefully used silver bullets against shifters—silver being anathema to them—they often set their weapons aside when combat with agents was apparent. But Pan was certain that would change as Arcas ramped up his campaign.
Besides, gunfire brought cops. Neither group wanted the attention. With the added fact Kirk was a sergeant, they didn’t want him to have more fighters on his side. And he certainly wouldn’t want to explain why he wasn’t following police procedures.
“Agent,” Kirk said before spitting blood from his mouth.
“Knight.” Pan said the word like it was a curse.
“You made a mistake coming here. Now we know you’re in Portland.”
Pan blocked a punch, answered with a kick. “You made a mistake touching my hawk!”
Wait.
What?
Pan was momentarily stunned by his own words, and it allowed Kirk to punch him hard in the face. His nose didn’t break, but blood still splattered. He turned his fall into a roll and only then noticed three other people surging out of the house across the street from their old location. Clever, really. Viktor had certainly called it before they came here.
Viktor.
Pan spun around to see Viktor struggle to his feet. Jin still fought the skinny woman, and while she held her own, he knew Jin was wearing her down, his moves precise and deadly without wasted effort. Pan didn’t know what abilities the four knights had. He only knew Kirk was telekinetic according to his file.
Kirk wiped blood from his mouth and smirked. “You’re fighting for the wrong side, Agent. And it’s going to get you killed.”
Pan seethed. Another woman, a curvaceous brunette with dark skin, joined the first and the two fought Jin. His moves were still precise, but Pan knew his partner couldn’t keep the momentum going forever. The two other knights surrounded the combatants. He glanced over to Viktor again to see him flutter his wings, testing them. Then the air shimmered, and Pan knew Viktor was about to shift. No. This wasn’t his fight. Not today.
I’m sorry, Viktor.
His power often lay dormant, simmering just below the surface of consciousness. But now it surged forward like a flood. He directed it with ease, having long ago mastered it. He met Viktor’s eyes, and just as Viktor did only a few moments before, Pan entered his mind and communicated. But his communication was distinctly different. He didn’t so much communicate as control. His was the ability to usurp the will of any animal and implant his own, making them his weapons, slaves, extensions of his will.
He did that to Viktor’s hawk. Since Viktor was in that form, it was easier to control.
Intent on shifting, Viktor didn’t understand the intense look in Pan’s eyes. Then all of Viktor’s will was sapped. He forgot everything, even his intent on shifting. He stood there, waiting for an order. He needed an order.
Go. Pan’s voice echoed in his mind. Fly home. Fly fast. Don’t come back.
Of course. Of course that was what he should do. Why hadn’t he done it earlier? It made perfect sense. He shot into the sky, ignoring the aches and pains, and wheeled around, heading back home. He flew on, the wind whistling past his ears, the cool air fluttering his feathers, his strong wings holding him aloft. He sailed straight home, never once doubting his course. It was all so logical and right. He needed to go home. That was what mattered—
Everything suddenly slammed into him, and he dropped from the sky in shock. Sounds of distress issued from his throat as he struggled to stay in the air. He only managed to slow his descent before he slammed into the roof of a building—ow!—and tumbled end over end until coming, once again, to a jarring stop. He lay on his back with aching wings and a throbbing head. Staring up at the sky, his vision spinning, Viktor was horribly confused and disoriented.
How many times was he going to be tossed around like a child’s toy? He didn’t think his hawk could take any more. How long it took to gain his senses back, he couldn’t say, but he eventually understood and struggled to his feet. He pressed his beak tightly together and fought past the pain. Pissed off, he looked back at the direction he’d come from.
Pan had used his power on him.
Pan had controlled his mind.
If hawks could growl, Viktor would have. Enraged, insulted, Viktor hopped to the side of the roof even as his body resisted. Pan would pay dearly for that. But first he needed to survive. Viktor’s goal was clear: save Pan so he could kill him.
He took a deep breath, he and his hawk in agreement on the course of action. Viktor dove into the air, turned sharply, and flapped as hard as he could back to Pan’s side.
Storm clouds rolled in as Pan and Jin pressed back to back and the five knights surrounded them. Knowing Jin called the storm, Pan gritted his teeth as he called to all the animals in close vicinity. There weren’t many, but enough to perhaps tip the balance so they could escape. They couldn’t win this fight. Not here, not on the knights’ turf.
“We know you have the scroll, Agents,” Kirk said.
Jin tensed behind him as the clouds turned black and moved in front of the sun. The wind picked up. Soon it would be howling like a demon wolf.
Kirk glanced up at the sky, and fear flickered in his eyes. “There isn’t any reason we can’t be civil about this.”
It was a struggle to speak, but Pan managed. “Your organization brutally tortures, experiments, and kills shapeshifters. Shapeshifters I took an oath to protect.” He panted as he directed birds, rats, and dogs with his mind while keeping a vocal conversation with Kirk. “I’d say that is a very good reason why we can’t be civil.”
“It’s all a matter of perspective, don’t you think?” Kirk said even as the skinny woman beside him made a noise of impatience or disgust. Maybe both.
“No,” Pan said in answer to Kirk’s question. “Perspective has nothing to do with it. There’s right and there’s wrong.” Pan dropped his control of the birds. With the wind Jin’s storm created, they wouldn’t be able to fly. He concentrated fully on the dogs and rats. “Genocide against an entire species is wrong. Following an egomaniacal crackpot is wrong. Arcas doesn’t care about any of you. You’re pawns in his chess game, and he’ll sacrifice every single one of you without regret.”
“You filthy scum!” The skinny woman leapt forward, and Kirk barely managed to hold her back. “You disgust me! You’re no better than the abominations you protect. I can’t believe we come from the same ancestors. You have no right to have fae blood in your veins!”
“Enough!” Kirk gripped her shoulders and shoved her at another man. “Hold her.”
A short, portly man gripped her shoulders as she vibrated with fury.
Pan huffed out a strained laugh. “Has you well and truly brainwashed, doesn’t he? Lapdogs.”
“And the Agency is all about freedom of choice.” Kirk’s voice dripped sarcasm. “Admit it, Pan, we aren’t so very different. We’re soldiers and we follow orders. Above and beyond our personal qualms, we have a mission. A goal. One we pursue no matter the cost.”
Pan fell silent. He felt the rats close in, and the dogs stalked through the shadows the storm created. He took careful breaths before he spoke.
“We are soldiers, yes. But we are very different, Kirk. There is no comparison.” Steel entered his voice. “I fight for life. You fight for death. Our missions are fundamentally different.” Jin pressed harder against his back, and Pan knew the toll it was taking for Jin to control the storm, especially when it had been a clear day. Everyone gathered was having trouble keeping their balance, and they were forced to shout to be heard. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, rattling against their eardrums.
“I will never give you the scroll,” Pan said. “I will fight to my dying breath and jump into a lake and drown with it clutched in my hand before I ever consider handing it over. You can all go to hell.”
Pan ordered the rats and dogs to attack even as Jin sent wind and icy rain barreling out of the storm. Chaos erupted, and Pan wanted desperately to throttle Kirk while a dog tried to bite Kirk’s leg, but Jin needed him more. The other woman, the curvaceous brunette, ran up to attack. Jin was vulnerable when he used his power. Pan was as well, but not as much. It was actually easier to control animals since they had the instinct to attack if threatened. Pan simply activated that instinct and chose the target. But Jin had to control a force of nature, and when there wasn’t already a storm brewing, he needed to create and direct something that wasn’t even there a second before.
Pan intercepted the woman—it was odd to fight someone in nurse’s scrubs—and snapped his hand into her neck. She fell to her knees, choking for air. He stayed close to Jin, who stood frozen, his eyes entirely black, his face rigid and drenched in sweat. When his hands began to tremble, Pan knew they didn’t have much time left.
Hail pelted them all and darkness hindered their vision. More lightning, more thunder. Pan clenched his teeth as electricity buzzed through the air. The temperature also dropped. Jin wasn’t playing around. Pan let go of his control over the rats and dogs, and dizziness swamped him. On jelly legs he reached out for Jin. But one of the men, the same portly man who’d restrained the skinny woman, managed to break free of the rats. He struck Pan in the back of the legs. Crying out, Pan fell forward but rolled and kicked out. His boot connected with the man’s kneecap. He howled and fell backward. But yet another man came forward, murder in his dark brown eyes, a crowbar in his hand. Pan couldn’t get to his feet; his legs wouldn’t cooperate. He lifted his arms, ready to divert the swing.
“Stop! We need him alive!” Kirk’s shout sounded over the howl of the storm. Pan dared a glance over as Kirk lifted a dog into the air telekinetically and tossed the poor creature against the wall of a house.
The attacking man stumbled to a stop, suddenly looking uncertain. That proved to be his downfall. Pan’s eyes widened as Viktor, naked and pale in the darkness and wet from the rain, silently approached the knight. He appeared out of nowhere! How did he manage to return despite the storm? His hawk should have been flung to the next county. But more importantly he’d disobeyed Pan’s orders. Apparently Pan hadn’t put enough force behind his commands. That didn’t shock him. He didn’t want to control Viktor.
Viktor launched forward and wrapped his arms around the knight’s chest from behind, lifting him off his feet. The man dropped the crowbar and flailed, cursing, but he was soon only gasping for oxygen. Pan realized Viktor was literally squeezing the life out of him. Eyes dark with rage, muscles and body straining, Viktor looked like some heathen warrior. All he was missing was the face paint and sword.
Pan shook loose of the fanciful thoughts and wobbled to his feet. He realized the rest of the knights were running away to their house, now desperate to free themselves of the rats and dogs, as well as the lightning that was striking far too close for comfort. He could see the animals were losing interest or giving in to exhaustion. It was now or never.
“Jin, stop now, buddy. We have to go.”
Jin shuddered violently and closed his eyes. He collapsed, and Pan barely managed to grab him. But, weakened himself, he could only bring them both to the ground. He gripped his partner tightly as the storm receded. The wind died, as did the rain. Blue sky began to appear.
“Viktor, we need to go!”
Growling deeply in his throat, Viktor threw the knight away like so much garbage. Then he knelt beside them and glared right into Pan’s eyes.
“We will talk.”
“Yeah,” Pan said wearily.
Without another word, Viktor easily lifted Jin into his arms. Pan pushed to his feet and gripped Viktor’s shoulder to stay there. He hobbled to the car, and Viktor sat in the passenger seat after bundling Jin into the back. Then Pan put the pedal to the metal and zoomed away.