Rules

Naomi's pack “Dammit, get down!” I tackle the kid to the ground, hoping the rest of them got the memo in time. Half a second later, the smoking, rattling engine explodes in a hail of twisted steel pieces and flame. Pretty sure that piece of shit wasn't even hooked up to anything. This Realm sucks.

Rain shoves aside a dented metal sheet covered in rust with her paw and growls. Her fur's all matted with dried blood and grime. The sheet clangs loudly on the busted concrete and I roll my eyes. “Gee, thanks, we really needed every fucking Bane from here to the moon to know exactly where we are.”

She grunts at me and bares her teeth, but only for a moment, more concerned with digging a coughing Savan­ nah out of a pile of rubble than with showing me her game

face. I pull myself to my feet, wipe sweat off my face, and offer the kid a hand up. “You okay?”

“Sure, I'm fine,” he says, but his lie's transparent as hell. He goes on ahead and I can see him favoring his left ankle. It'll heal fast, but not if he's dodging explosions all fucking day. Not hard to see he's exhausted on top of it. We've been at this for days now, with precious little time for luxuries like food or sleep. The Strider and I are fine, and Rain'd bite off her own leg before she'd admit defeat, but Connor ain't gonna last much longer.

“This way,” I gesture, and they follow me around the block where a half-collapsed warehouse juts like a rotten tooth out of the sooty landscape. Savannah checks around for trouble, and when he doesn't find any we hunker down inside for a breather.

“No, really!” the kid insists. “I'm okay! I can keep going!” “Well I'm beat, so siddown,” I tell him, dropping down onto my ass myself and sending up a cloud of what's prob­ ably asbestos or something. I see Rain watching me from her spot under the low window, catching what passes for half-assed rays of sunlight. “What's the matter?” I ask her. “You hungry enough that I'm starting to look like food?”

I wait through her changing to Glabro and settling into a cross-legged position before she gives me an answer. “Do we intend to succeed here?”

“What the hell kind of bullshit question is that? We got this.” I feel my hackles rise and grit my teeth, tamping down the urge to punch her. Not now, Naomi.

“If we intend to succeed,” she goes on quietly, “then we must be more than we are now.”

“I don't get it,” Connor says, frowning. “Look at us,” she says, her teeth baring slightly in vague disgust. “Skulking in a broken Weaver-hole like insects while our quarry gains ground.” The kid's face falls and I know what he's thinking. I open my mouth to defend him, but Rain cuts me off. “It's not because we're tired and hungry. It's because we don't have true conviction.”

Savannah, lying down near the crooked doorway, raises his head at that and stands. His tail arches in a challenge against her words, his ears fully perked. “Listen,” says Rain, without the sharp tone I'd expected. “We're all dedicated to this hunt. We all want that bastard dead. I feel it in my bones just like the rest of you. But it's not enough. We fight as four. We need to fight as one.”

“…what'd you have in mind?” I ask, seeing those gears turning behind her eyes.

“A rite. Naomi, you have to lead us in spirit as well as in name. The Rite of the Loyal Pack.”

Somewhere, something more viscous than water drips from the ruined ceiling. It's the only sound for a good ten seconds. “You don't even like me,” is the first dumbass thing that comes out of my mouth.

“No, I don't,” she agrees. “Damn, points for honesty,” I grumble. “But,” she continues, “you're the alpha, and I don't have to like you as long as you do your job. And you do. You brought us together, and since then you've done nothing but take responsibility for that.”

I nod, accepting that. “What about you guys?” I turn to the others.

Savannah pads over to me and looks me in the eye for a moment, his furry head at my seated level. Then he lowers it, laying his ears flat, and tucking his tail under. No arguing with that, I guess.

“I think it's a great idea,” Connor puts in, “but I thought you had to do that rite at home.”

“Son of a bitch,” I sigh, leaning my head back. I'd actually gotten into the whole thing. “We're a hell of a long way from there.”

“In body, yes,” Rain admits. “But at heart, we're always there. In the end, it's just semantics.”

An edge lurks behind that mild statement. I can see it in her face, it's a cover for steely defiance; she's not about to let a thing like “how it's always been done” get in her way. Wow, she ain't fucking around about this. I can't help grinning to hide my affection for this bunch of misfit goons. I guess if this was Rain's idea, I must've been doing something right. “Every time you get that look, shit gets real. Where are you going with this?”

She stands and throws her head back, basking in what little sunshine this pathetic asscrack of the Umbra has left to give. She speaks, but I don't understand the words. She's done talking to us; it's all down to her and the spirits now. What's she gonna do, just tell them she's changing up the rite whether they like it or not, and they better suck it up and deal?

Hell, if anybody could…