Summon (Rae Wilder) Page 16

  “When did you last sleep?” I asked.

  He blinked. His gaze swung out of focus at the question as if he had no answer to give. He glanced at Baako, who studied him with returned interest, and seeing distinct signs of wear became increasingly concerned judging by the grooves furrowing his forehead.

  It was rare for a fairy – especially a Warrior – to look anything but fierce and unstoppable. In brutal honesty, I doubted Conall could take the both of us on without suffering serious damage.

  Conall smiled tiredly. “I was to beat you the next time I saw you.”

  “Because of Maeve?”

  He nodded.

  I snickered “Now?”

  Lips quirked, his expression turned wry. “I am too tired.”

  My voice quietened with concern. “When, Conall?”

  “Over a week ago.” He sounded bleak. “I think. Perhaps it has been longer.” He shook himself and drew strength from somewhere because the deeper shadows obscuring his features eased as he regarded us both with hard eyes. “It matters not. Since you are family by the connections you share, you may know I failed her. Facing Rae will be hard.”

  “What the hell happened up that damn tree?” Baako asked. “I get it was tough, I fought too, but everyone who went up there came back different. Broken.”

  Conall and I shared a stricken look.

  The things I’d experienced in the last month would haunt me for the rest of my life. Watching Maeve burn made my entire world shake, but watching Brenadan cradle Rae as she sighed her last breath, and he begged her to let him follow in death resonated powerfully within me.

  Rae’s my friend, but Conall is her kin. If I feel as I do, he must totter the brink of desolation.

  Eyes pinging between us, Baako didn’t bother to hide his annoyance.

  “Cael defeated us with ease,” I mumbled past the blockage of emotion clogging my throat. “His power was like nothing I’d imagined. Much greater than Rae’s.”

  “When Lochlann fell I had no choice but to dive after him,” Conall added.

  “One by one our group was peeled from her.” I shivered remembering how it felt when I lifted my bloodied maw to scan for new prey noticing everyone including Breandan fought at the base of ClanTree.

  “We all realised at the same time she was alone,” Conall whispered. “Rae was alone despite so many vows to protect her.” His chin dropped to his chest. “Including mine. And he killed her.”

  “She died because we failed,” I choked, fully understanding why Conall procrastinated in facing her.

  Had I been doing the same by giving her a wide berth? I thought I gave her space to acclimatize, but was there the selfish motivation of self-preservation behind my actions?

  “When she gets back I’ll do my best to make amends,” I murmured.

  “Gets back?” Conall’s confusion bled out as quickly as it came to life. He bristled. “What do you mean?”

  Baako stared agape before muttering, “Major fail, Cat. He wasn’t supposed to know.”

  I stepped backward hoping the action would distance me from my monumental screw up.

  “Talk,” Conall barked.

  Baako sighed. “Twitch left.”

  The fairy Warrior blinked at us dumbly.

  Dread stiffened my already tense body. “He means Rae left.”

  Harsh fear transformed the angles of Conall’s features into something grotesque. “She and Breandan quarrelled and she wanders to cool her temper.”

  Nodding awkwardly, Baako dropped his gaze and scratched his chest.

  “I’m a fool,” Conall grated. “That’s why Breandan was so pained. Where has she gone?”

  Baako’s eyes darted side to side, and he backed away to join me. “Um….”

  Cursing, Conall marched into Lochlann’s glade.

  Baako and I silently followed. We passed a furious Maeve on the way, and I grabbed her hand waving Baako on. I swept her into my arms and ignored her bewilderment.

  “What is wrong?” she asked.

  I barely heard her through the thundering noise of my heartbeat.

  “Gone,” Conall roared. “Gone where? She never spoke to me? Does she hate me? Not trust me enough to confide her plans?”

  I winced at the pain in his voice then smiled.

  Mate. Maeve. Mine.

  My inner beast purred strongly, and the sound rumbled from my lips. I buried my face into the crook of Maeve’s neck, and inhaled, imprinting her exquisite scent.

  Her pliable weight was glorious, her long limbs stretched and dangling over my arms and shoulders. The bright cascade of her hair felt silky on my chest. Her skin was petal soft. It was as if heaven poured her over me with the intention of drowning me in loveliness.

  Maeve snuggled deeper into my arms with a sigh. Her energy wrapped around me in welcome.

  What made the beast stir in anger was that the sigh was tinged with sadness, kicking my protective instincts into a headlong gallop towards belligerence.

  Maeve. Mate. Mine.

  Conall, Breandan and Lochlann were deep in conversation as I stormed up to them.

  Spying my livid expression, Breandan lowered his eyes.

  Guilt.

  I know exactly how the conversation between Maeve and her family went down.

  “Why didn’t you defend her?” I demanded.

  Breandan shrugged. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Conall. I was licking my wounds. My pride is damaged, and the thought of having to comfort anyone when I want nothing more than to disassociate myself with anything to do with her rendered me silent.” He rubbed his forehead, avoiding eye contact. “I’m better now. Worried sick but have a clearer state of mind.”

  The acrid smell of shame mixed with fear burned my nose.

  I understood why he perceived Rae’s leaving as a waking nightmare he wanted to forget, at the least ignore. My heart pounded at the thought of the gutsy female caught in Cael’s grasp. There was nothing I could do but carry on with my own responsibilities, and hope my friend came out whatever she wandered into alive.

  “I would have gone after her,” Conall told Breandan. “You should have gone after her.”

  “She did not want me to.”

  “When does Rae not want you to follow?” Conall’s hands fisted. “The girl is mad for you.”

  Lochlann nodded his head morosely. “I know the feeling.”

  The out-of-character insight into his thoughts had us all turning and staring.

  A dull flush of colour bloomed across his sharp cheekbones. He raked a hand through his blonde mane, an unruly fall of hair that made him look more shifter than fairy coupled with his large size, and glared, daring us to comment.

  He did a double take at Maeve in my arms. “Put her down.”

  “No.” I tightened my hold on Maeve’s body. He’ll have to pry her from my cold, dead fingers. “There are larger concerns. She’s safe with me. The entire Pride will defend her if I will it.”

  “The Tribe would give their lives without having to be asked.” Lochlann’s chin lifted with jaw-dropping arrogance. “I doubt your people are as joyful to welcome an outsider as you would have me believe.”

  Conall hissed. Impatience turned the long lines of his body rigid. “Are we going after Rae or not?”

  Baako roused from his silence. “No intervening. Twitch is handling it.”

  Head snapping up, Breandan did a major double take at Baako. He paled. “What are you doing here? Rae said….” Eyes closing, he cursed. The atmosphere charged, and rage transformed his handsome face into one of savage jealousy.

  “Brother?” Maeve shot Lochlann a worried look.

  The High Lord acted equally alarmed. He subtly motioned a retreat.

  Breandan wasn’t dangerous. He echoed the reaction I experienced earlier as I realised Rae left with the phantom. Alone. He’d obviously assumed Baako left with them since he was Rae’s Familiar. Seeing the bear was a nasty blow he’d been unprepared for. “It’s alright, Breandan
.”

  When his eyes opened they were desolate. Wintry. “No, it’s really not.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Cael

  She’s alive. Rae and her insufferable mate were godlings. Divine. The absurdity of it stole my breath.

  Malice finished his retelling of the resurrection the Loa hijacked with a toast to Rae’s health before downing the bottle of wine and tossing it behind him. It smashed against the wall in a shower of glass – joining the ever-growing pile. He cheered drunkenly reaching for another.

  The sacrosanct Wyld I created in my city – my haven – had become a Honfour, a godling alter.

  Its serenity became increasingly perverted by Marinette’s outlandish tastes.

  The stench of rotting corpses poisoned the air. Amphibians infested the stream, and water striders disturbed the placid surface. Made it slick. Animals soiled and rutted in the corners. Pink, fleshy worms wriggled wherever I stepped. I was forever brushing ants from my clothing. Swatting midges and flies that buzzed in my ears and bit my nape. The trees were dying. Their once sweet and fragrant fruit hung fat and overripe. Rinds splotched with disease burst to deluge stinking rot on unsuspecting passersby. The browning leaves were covered larvae. Arachnids spun heavy webs between the drooping branches. And the insects! Bugs swarmed over the trunks, all manner of beetle and termite creeping and crawling. Unsightly furry things made ugly snuffling noises then were promptly beaked to death by hunting birds of prey. The consequence of which meant stinking, half masticated carcasses littered the ground. Vampires skulking in the shadows were bad enough, but the decomposing zonbi as the Loa called them lurked in plain sight. Worse, slobbering half-man half-beast perversions once known as werewolves prowled the Wyld shedding handfuls of musty fur. The main body of the Pack huddled at the foundation of a rock pile. Elongated muzzles cracked to show sharp teeth. Tongues lolled, and too-human yellowed eyes were watchful.

  In the midst of this sickening disorder, Marinette stood high on a cluster of boulders surrounded by the creatures that pleased her.

  An owl with feathers the colour of midnight dug its tawny talons into her shoulder. Its reflective eyes gleamed the brightest amber.

  Tapping into my fairy sight, I glimpsed her nakedness and plain face beneath the glamour she’d woven. A magical costume where her dark blonde hair was elaborately braided around her ears and crown. Feathers, gold, and jewels were plaited into the tresses to imitate a sacrificial headdress. Black kohl winged from her inner eyes to her temples. Red eyes that critically examined the domain she considered conquered. Her bottom lip was painted with a strip of black down the middle. A necklace of teeth graced her neck and broken bones on silver thread encircled her wrists. Her dress tumbled past her legs onto the craggy rock she used as a plinth in a cascade of crimson. It looked like a river of blood, and I’m certain that was her intent.

  She was resplendent, a depraved virago sheathed within an armour of stolen flesh.

  Grey-winged bats zoomed overhead. Darted down to snatch at the moths fluttering around her head. Bronze-scaled lizards climbed the rock she stood upon in nippy, blurred movements. Long limbed frogs leapt from dank place to damp place, and fat toads croaked from greasy pond-sized puddles forming in the relentless drizzle.

  I’d conjured a cloud inside the glass dome in an attempt to keep the disgusting odours at bay.

  Snakes slinked around Marinette’s bare toes, forked tongues flickering to taste her skin. Arched tails rattled. A tarantula crawled up her skirt. A smaller spider with longer legs jumped and landed on her outstretched forearm. Another hung above her head from a gargantuan spread of webbing that featured the mummified remains of cuter birds that used to flit about.

  A squealing black piglet trotted around the smaller boulders. Its tusks dripped with blood, and its beady eyes glowed like hot coals.

  Cupped in Marinette’s palms were speckled eggs.

  A fragile shell cracked, punctured by a lucent beak. She watched curiously as the hatchling burst free of its confinement. It squirmed feebly, its feathers wet and bulging eyes closed. Its feet were curled, as it had grown tightly coiled.

  Marinette’s eyes darkened. “Birth,” she breathed. Her hand drifted closer until it hovered about her mouth. Tongue pushing between her lips, she licked it, a slow stroke with the flat of her tongue that lingered. “I have seen it. Smelt it. Tasted it.” Her eyes flickered with some thought then slid to meet mine. “I feel life in my hand, and many say its creation is the greatest pleasure.” Sinister purpose lurked in the glaringly red orbs. “I disagree.”

  Her fist snapped closed. Gooey mulch squirted between her fingers. Lip curling in disgust, she dropped the pulverised remains crusted with eggshell.

  It was snatched mid fall by a gaping mouth. The snake gobbled the dead bird whilst continuing its aimless slither through the rocks.

  The other egg cracked.

  Marinette’s attention fixed upon it with childish glee.

  My gorge rose, and I went somewhat wild-eyed. What is this hot, heavy feeling pressing on my chest?

  I felt little but the darker emotions and the leaden weight made me uncomfortable. “Damn it, can’t she silence those infernal crickets?”

  Reclined on a bed of cushions, Gwendolyn pawing at him, Malice wheezed a laugh, a scratchy sound of bleak amusement. “The crawlers come with Mari. Her energy draws them.”

  Studiously ignoring what would be another grisly death for a hatchling – will she eat it alive this time? – I asked, “Do you compel animals?”

  “No. The three of us connect with particular types of energy. We are divine and gifted with immortality, but it is veneration that nourishes us. Fuels our power.”

  “What kind of energy do you feed on?”

  With a lazy, roundabout stab of the finger, he gestured to his lap. “Can’t you tell?”

  My gaze fell on the lust-stooped female groping him, who was in actuality the vampire Queen. I sneered. “That’s all?”

  “Not quite.” He flashed a grin. “I attract the carnal needs. Sexual hunger is good, but I derive great joy from imbibing. Gambolling.” His voice quietened. “Lovers.”

  I started at the tenderness he infused the word with. “Lovers?”

  “Is there a motivation more potent than love? A force more powerful?” He gave me an odd look. “The one who made it possible for us to return, what do you think fuels her power, and the power of her lover?”

  “The notion a mere feeling adds to your natural strength is fallacy.”

  Malice studied me with rare solemnity. “The soul inhabiting this body before me loved the girl that used to own that body.” He motioned to Marinette. “I’m not enslaved to her whims. I’m just as powerful, but the boy’s affection lingers in the flesh of this vessel.” He thumped his chest over his heart. “The organ beating inside me aches for the love he lost. That is the power of such an emotion – power that transcends death. We three would not be here if it were not for the love of the fairy godling for your sister.”

  “So you’re forever trapped? Bound to Marinette because of a feeling?”

  “We are nomadic. The love I hold for Marinette’s vessel will lessen because it’s not my affection, but his. Then I will go on my way. Damballah will leave too. Maybe before I do.”

  “Why? He seems at peace with her practices.”

  “Watch what he does when he decides she’s stepped too far, which she will, eventually. Damballah believes in cosmic equilibrium. In black and white balance.”

  I scowled. “A senseless belief. There are grey areas. Exceptions and allowances must be made for the larger goal.”

  “Not to him. There’s a clean difference between his opinions. It makes him benign one moment then evil the next.”

  My gaze strayed to the godling who extended her arms to the sky. She cackled at the lightning splitting the darkness, conjured at the commands she issued in nerve-jangling shrieks.

  “And Marinette?”

  “Mari is
chaos. She walks the left hand path.”

  “And you?”

  “I lean to the right.”

  His words struck a troubling cord. “You think you’re a force of good?”

  “Good and bad. Right and wrong.” Malice slouched and gulped wine from his bottle. Armed his face when some dribbled down his chin. “They’re just words. Intention. Actions we’re all capable of.”

  After thinking deeply on what I’d learnt, I muttered, “I’m drawn to you.”

  “I know.”

  It was disturbing. If I’d had to attach myself to one of the Loa the logical choice would be Damballah, but the godling’s blank stare and unemotional response to all stimuli bored me to death.

  As for Marinette, I felt physically ill the longer I spent in her presence.

  Malice’s face turned serious. His voice lowered to the quietest of whispers. “Mari sees what I see. She will feed the darkness inside you.”

  “I’m in control.”

  “Oh?”

  Refusing to turn my head and witness the twisted bedlam befalling my sanctuary, I stilled my features. Presented an expression of serene composure then asserted, “Of course.”

  “So stubborn. I fear you’ll discover your real nature too late. Beware your true desires, Cael. The hopes that hide in your heart are under threat.”

  I opened my mouth to demand clarity when a throat cleared softly behind me.

  Hands clutching the edges of her cloak together at the throat, Naomi stared at Marinette in open-mouthed horror. “May I speak with you, Father?”

  Behind her, the rest of my Coven gathered, their half-cloaked faces a mixture of trepidation and resolve.

  Lurching up and dragging Gwendolyn with him, Malice bowed his head in a show of respect that sent a slice of warmth through my heart.

  The godling gave me much to consider. I was not used to having a confidant, and I appreciated his bluntness. However, his worry over my future was daft. What happened at the fairy Wyld was a minor setback. Rae was alive, and no doubt she and her clique plotted my destruction. With the Loa on my side, they don’t stand a chance. Even with my blood daughter helping them. It did not matter Rae and Breandan were godlings themselves, or that somewhere between my sister begging me to let her love me, and her genuine tears for my pain, the wall surrounding my heart cracked.