CHAPTER SEVEN
When had my brother become a stranger? Running down the hall, tears obstructed my vision. I barely realized when I reached the open landing at the end of the hall and descending to the foyer three stories below. What, in the eyes of the gods, had I done to inspire such disapproval?
“Nothing,” I said, retrieving Samuel’s embroidered kerchief from my pocket. “I did nothing.”
Raw heat burned inside me, suppressed anger that threatened to explode from within. The rhythmic strike of my boots to carpeted steps marked the closing of a door, a shift that left my heart physically aching. Where would I go? My home had always been Galan. Where he was, I belonged.
Now—Oh, gods, now I truly am lost.
My feet slipped on the tile as I turned the corner and slammed into someone. The impact knocked me backward, hands flailing. Strong arms came around my middle, grappling to save me from falling to the marble floor.
“Shit, Lia, I’m sorry,” Nash pulled me upright in an awkward tangle of hands. He gazed at his firm hold on my breast and dropped his grip. His embarrassment filled my nostrils in a rush and he coughed to clear his throat. “Yeah, uh, sorry about that too—”
His eyes lifted, then widened. “Gods, Lia, what’s wrong?”
I shook my head, my throat as tight as a clenched fist. Tears continued to stream in hot abandon. My breath hitched to the point of me gasping in spastic hiccoughs.
“Shit.” Nash pulled me to one of the leather entry chairs in the grand foyer and knelt before me. Rubbing his hands up and down the sleeves of my dress, he looked stricken. “What can I do?”
“Lia?” Samuel’s voice called from the staircase. “Ah, there ye are.”
I forced myself to stand. “Yes. Here I am.”
I dabbed at my eyes and drew a ragged breath. He had gathered his things, donned his coat and carried my satchel, packed and full.
“What have you there?”
Bruin spoke as he filed down the stairs behind Samuel and joined the mix. “First off, Galan says he doesn’t want you to leave but understands he went off his rocker. If you need a breather from him, he won’t stop you. I convinced him you should stay with us in the Dens 'til everyone cools off. That way you’re with family and are still protected.”
I let my breath out in a long rush. “That is a fine idea. Gratitude.”
Samuel slung the strap of my satchel over his shoulder and reached for the crumpled cloth bunched in my fist. “It’s going to be fine, duck,” he said, wiping my cheeks dry. “At some point, everyone has a blowout with their family and strikes off on their own. Things will settle, and you and Galan will be right as rain before you know it.”
He gave me back the cloth and settled my hair behind my shoulders. Normally it would be plaited with lengths of silk ribbon but with Galan bursting in on us first thing . . ..
My ears warmed to their tips. “I must look a mess.”
“Hells no.” Cowboy shook his head, coming out from the living room.
Samuel curved his palm over the back of my head, smoothing my hair. “The wolf’s right. You could never be anything but stunning—”
“Whoa, back the truck up,” Nash said, staring at Samuel. “Can you see her?”
The sad tension of in the foyer broke as Samuel and I told Cowboy, Bruin, and Nash about yesterday’s attack, Castian’s healing of him, and how he’d woken this morning being able to see the shapes of objects and auras radiating off things.
“It’s not sight like before, but I’ll never complain.”
“It’s True-sight,” Nash said, looking awed and catching our curious glances. “My people believe True-sight is the ability to see things, not how they appear physically, but by the energy of what they are in essence. The colors mean different things and the radiance, whether it’s a little fringe of color or beaming like a spotlight, also holds meaning. You need to figure it out. Fuckin-A, congrats, Merlin.”
Cowboy nodded. “Cool. So, is there a True-sight For Dummies handbook?”
Nash shrugged. “It’s subjective.”
“S’all grand, boys. I’ll take it and consider it a blessing. Now if ye’ll excuse us, I think Lia could use some—”
As Samuel’s words choked off, I followed his worried gaze in time to see Cowboy’s eyes roll back. He crashed to the floor in a dead faint.
Nash knelt beside him, tapping a finger on the black stone of the bolo tie around his neck. “That one came on fast. Why the hell didn’t the alarm go off on this thing?”
Samuel unsnapped the breast pocket of Cowboy’s plaid button-down and looked stricken. “Where the fuck’s his Auto-injector? Bruin, hold back his wolf.”
Bruin closed his eyes and a surge of the Alpha’s preternatural power tingled over my skin. Once a Were lost consciousness, he would shift to his base form. Then they were unlikely to be able to deliver Cowboy the help he needed. “I can’t hold his shift off for long boys, so hurry up.”
Nash joined the search patting and feeling over the planes of Cowboy’s body. “Thank fuck,” he said, pulling a fat, silver cylinder from the leather knife-sheath tied to his thigh. Without hesitation, he flipped off the cap and slammed it against Cowboy’s muscled leg. “Come on, Wolf. Hang in there, buddy.”
Samuel placed two long fingers on Cowboy’s throat and closed his eyes.
Nash grabbed his phone and scrolled through his contacts. “Bree, we need you to Flash over to Jade’s place. The Wolf’s down in the foyer . . . good enough.” He clicked the phone shut and within seconds the front door opened and Bree ran into the foyer with a small medical bag.
Samuel stepped back and let the Coyote girl in. Bree was petite but as deadly as any of the Weres. With cutting precision, she sent a claw down his sleeve and tied a long rubber band below the exposed bicep of his arm. Snatching something from her bag, she ripped open a packaged wipe and swiped the inside of his elbow. “How long has he been down?”
“Two minutes,” Samuel said, pulling off the male’s cowboy boots. “maybe three.”
“Less chatter,” Bruin said. “Holding back a shift here.”
Bree stuck his arm with a syringe, the glass vial filling with a rising tide of burgundy. Jade did that in the clinic with Cowboy too. The wolf’s blood held a mystery both healer and scientist were trying to unravel. Bree replaced the vial thrice before she removed the syringe and tucked Cowboy’s blood into her bag. “Okay, Alpha, you’re a go.”
Bruin relaxed and the unconscious male shimmered with Were magic. His human body expanded to accommodate the coming animal. Bones popped and reformed. Fingers became paws. Nails became claws. His thick, tri-colored coat threaded through tight follicles in his skin.
Bruin laid a hand on the side of the magnificent beast. “Why the hell didn’t the alarm on his medallion go off? And why did this hit so fast?”
“No idea.” Bree snatched the bolo necktie Cowboy wore from the floor. The color of the stone lightened back from black to a lustrous turquoise. She laced her fingers through her short brown hair and sighed. “My best guess . . . it’s the coming of moon madness.”
“Moon madness?” Nash asked.
Bruin nodded. “Yeah. For a Were, a normal full moon is overpowering. Our animals come forward, aggressive and combative. It’s a constant battle of control, but with the full moon falling within days of the Equinox in a few months—well, we’re all feeling the effects.”
Bree lifted Cowboy’s eyelid with her thumb and exposed a piercing caramel retina. “It’s too much for his body to deal with and still compensate for his condition. Give him some space, people. He’s going to come out of this with his wolf panicked and snarling.”
Bruin cursed. “And here he comes.”
The wolf’s eyes snapped open as Samuel tugged us back into the doorway of the lounge and pulled out his wand. Nash stepped away and did the same.
A crackle of energy lit the air. In a show of sheer power and grace, Cowboy’s wolf lunged from flat on his side to land on all fours in a crouch. The magnificence of the movement rivaled anything I had seen thus far in the two realms.
“Easy, Wolf,” Bruin said, holding his hand up to the Were-animal baring his teeth. “It’s us, big guy.”
Cowboy inclined his head and stalked over to Bree. She lowered her gaze to the floor and slowly curled into a squatting ball before the predator. The wolf bent and sniffed her hair. When he caught her scent the tension in his body eased and his eyes focused.
“Okay, guys,” Bruin said in a quiet, even tone. “Bree and I have this. Nash, call Aust and ask him to come. His boy here is going to need a running partner.”
Samuel backed us away, his wand at the ready. Instead of crossing the foyer to the main door, we walked out the mullioned glass doors of the lounge and across the back deck.
When the cool spring breeze crept across the back of my neck, I realized my jacket remained in the foyer. I had no intention of retrieving it.
“You okay?” Samuel asked. After slipping his wand into his pocket, he lifted his arm from his side.
I slipped my hand through the opening offered. “No, but I suppose I shall do.”
We walked in a peaceable silence and it struck me our contact now remained out of habit and not necessity. Samuel’s sight was restored. I tightened my grip and shrugged a little closer. He may no longer need a guide, but I needed the connection. I had never been at odds with Galan and the thought of being alone was more than I could bear.
The forest rustled with the scurry of squirrels, birds and woodland creatures emerging from the sleep of winter. Buds and sprouts replaced dried leaves. Grass sprung anew from brittle ground. The realm was in a state of rebirth. Creatures of the forest began again, foraging, forming alliances and building for the year ahead.
If only they could tell me their secret.
“What ails Cowboy?” I asked.
Samuel set his free hand on mine in the crook of his arm. “I’m no doctor, but it’s something to do with his body not being able to regulate adrenalin. If it drops too low, his heart stops. Jade hasn’t had much success treating it, I’m afraid. She’s amazing at what she does, but it’s a natural condition and her powers dinnae affect it. Bree’s come on board with her sciences and hopefully, they can figure it out together.”
“Does anyone in his pack suffer the same ailment?”
“No. That’s part of the reason he lives here. His pack tried to kill him when they realized he had a health defect.”
“His family tried to kill him?”
Samuel nodded. “Sent him out on what was supposed to be a hunt with the men. Turned out it was an ambush. They tore him to shreds and left him for dead.”
A shiver shot down my spine and I shrugged closer to Samuel’s warmth. “That is barbaric.”
“Weres are animals. Animals prey on weakness. There’s a poem by a man named Rudyard Kipling from the Modern Realm. It describes the law of survival like this:
Now this is the Law of the Jungle,
as old and as true as the sky,
And the Wolf that shall keep it may prosper,
but the Wolf that shall break it must die.
As the creeper that girdles the tree trunk,
the Law runneth forward and back;
For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf,
and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack.
A gust of wind lifted my hair and I shivered again.
“Cowboy was lucky Bruin claimed him,” Samuel said, pausing to take off his long, worn duster. “It’s the only reason he hasn’t been killed.”
He wrapped the coat around my shoulders and waited while I shrugged it on. The bottom hem hung below my knees, the arms well past the tips of my fingers. When he settled the weight on my shoulders, my knees almost buckled. “How do you wear this? It must weigh as much as I do.”
“It’s the weapons,” he said, holding open the lapel and pointing out the pockets hidden within the lining. “You can never be too careful. Scourge can block magic. In which case, I want ye to know, I’m just as deadly with a blade.”
I had no desire to think about battles or the need to remain prepared for unexpected attacks. I spun the blue-diamond ring once around my finger and squeezed the stone in my palm. Peering into the thin canopy of the spring forest above, I breathed deep and hoped the tightness in my chest would clear.
The forested path opened and we entered the meadow which bordered Glass Pond. Haven was home to many pocketed bodies of water, some magical, some not. One of the ponds deep in the forest was used as a portal just weeks ago for Lexi to enter the lost city of Attalos and find her Faery kin.
I rubbed my fingers over the velvet mourning band snapped tight around my throat. It was Lexi’s mother, possessed by Rheagan, who ordered Tham killed. And though logical thinking dismissed Lexi as a contributor to Tham’s death, part of me blamed her still.
I shuddered as a chill ran through me. “Tell me about where you come from, Samuel. Is it like Haven?”
He made a noncommittal sound in his throat and rubbed his eyes beneath his sunglasses.
“There’s not much to tell. My Da is a Scotsman of the Realm of the Fair who lost his heart to an Irish lass of the Human Realm—despite the difficulties it caused. They raised his six sons and one daughter in a remote area in what is known as the Highlands. It’s a beautiful country with culture, traditions and mischievous charm.”
“Yet you hide your tie to your homeland?”
“What makes ye say that?”
“Your lilt rings far stronger when you anger. It is lovely, yet you choose to curb it. Why?”
His shoulders stiffened, pique tightening his brow.
“Apologies. I am ever too blunt. Galan always says—” My words choked off at the mention of my brother and my heart sank further.
Samuel shifted his arm to fall heavy across my shoulders. He pulled me close to his side and winked with a rascal’s charm. “Aye, A mhuirnin. Ye can be a wee bit blunt, but I’ll take it over shinin’ me on, any day. And yer right. Ye see, I have a bit of a family rift myself.”
“And what is yours about?”
“Let’s say, Da expected me to follow in his footsteps but my love for magic forced me to my own path.” He cast me a sideways glance. “Ironic really considering where I ended up. The Fates possess a twisted sense of humor. Crafty bitches.”
I wanted so much to question him further, but the sorrow in his eyes spoke of a pain beyond my right to ask.
“Believe me when I tell ye, I know what it’s like to feel cast out and adrift.” He pointed to a group of birds with long black necks and ivory chins waddling beside the pond. “There’s your gaggle of geese from the other day. See, they’ve glutted on the young grass and are ready to fly off and start their spring adventures.”
The gaggle, as Samuel called it, pulled and snatched at the fledgling grasses around the edge of the pond. Aggressive little beasties. When one slighted another, they fanned out their wings, flapped in a fury and squawked their offenses.
Such odd creatures. Graceful in flight yet so awkward waddling along the pond’s edge. How many survived their journey? How many fell prey to foul weather, exhaustion, or some unforeseen obstacle? Where was home for them when they were forced to migrate for survival?
Leaving Glass Pond behind, Samuel and I climbed the steady incline toward the peak that housed the Dens. The plateau was several hundred feet up, the climb a lovely exertion of energies. Bruin was sweet to offer me a place in his home, but again, it was his home. I doubted I would feel any more belonging there than at Jade’s.
Would I ever find my place? Would I ever feel content to the depths of my bones?
I feared not.