Summon (Rae Wilder) Page 8

  Unsure of what to do with my body or how to maintain the exchange, I twisted my hands together, trying to think of something interesting say.

  Nurturing at Temple was hugely different to Breandan’s upbringing. As a human, my life focused on survival. As a Disciple, I learned to protect my species. I never dreamed of a family, of a loved one. Boyfriends were common, but real relationships, the kind lasting until death? Too risky. The Clerics viewed them as distractions, and those wanting to live avoided anything that left them vulnerable. Love brought compromises I’d never thought I’d have to make. Breandan’s romantic attachments before me were limited, but he’d harboured dreams of being a father and mate alongside his ambitions as Wyld Guardian.

  Children and marriage felt alien to consider in relation to myself, so I’d start simple.

  Part of becoming a better life mate was holding a conversation that didn’t concern war or death. As soon as I figure out what to say, I’ll make a terrific conversationalist. My mouth opened then closed. Kissing is better than talking in my opinion.

  Breandan cleared his throat. “Conall’s looking for you, so is Lochlann, but when are they not?”

  “I’ll be gone before Conall’s back, but if you could stall both of them for a while….”

  “Alright.”

  A brown bear stomped into view beside Breandan.

  I scowled. It couldn’t be more obvious where I was if the werebear stayed. Frustrated, I hissed, hoping the mountain of fur would take the hint and get lost.

  He grunted, rubbing his hunched back on a crooked root.

  Breandan winked then headed after our brothers, showing no protest to my furry stalker.

  I watched him walk away a little glassy eyed, attention fixed on his long stride, and the contraction of muscle down his broad back when he rolled his shoulders and shook out his arms as if gearing up for a fight.

  Astounded by how he’d changed my life, how deeply his faith touched me, how hot his ass looked in those armoured trousers, I hoped one day I’d be an inspiration to him, as he never failed to be for me.

  Tearing my eyes from Breandan’s retreating gorgeousness, before I drooled, I glanced at the wooden door. I needed to speak to Ana, urgently, but my interest in why Baako followed me grew ten-fold.

  Confident in my inconspicuousness, I descended the stairs carved into Conall’s dwelling. “Can you Change?”

  Baako bumbled off, returning sometime later. I ended up seated with my chin in my hands playing a woefully unfair game of chicken with a mouse.

  The bizarre herd of woodland animals following me bordered ridiculous. Rabbits, weasels, squirrels, badgers, hedgehogs, and voles hid in the undergrowth and shrubs, all the while gaining the courage to shuffle closer. Woodpeckers and owls in the canopy were common in the Wyld, but starlings, thrushes, and finches chirping all the time weren’t. The vibrant explosion of orange lichen crusts, claret fungi and their fleshy mushroom spore sprouting with weedy grass wherever I stepped was odd, but tolerable. The snuffling and twittering tested my patience. Hiding at the Wyld would be impossible as people realised the restless fauna meant I hid close by.

  Baako held a bundle of fabric clenched between his teeth.

  My brows lifted in exasperation. “Ask me to glamour you a pair next time.”

  He sniffed and walked around the tree for privacy.

  Tapping my foot, I waited.

  After watching several members of the Pride Change, I felt no desire to watch another shifter endure the grisly transformation. It was a fascinating thing, an astonishment of nature, but uncomfortable to witness. I’m thinking only shifters appreciate the beauty without focusing on the ugly phases.

  “Nothing will make me leave your side.” Baako’s surly declaration wrenched me from intense contemplation of my bare toes.

  The were-bear crossed massive arms over his chest. Bands of muscle rippled at the defensive movement. He was a full head and shoulders taller than me.

  I craned my neck to ogle.

  Hollowed cheeks angled sharply to Baako’s temples creating a stern visage. Contradicting his harsh expression, large, dark eyes crinkling at the corners were all warmth. Puddles of cocoa complimented by the rich golden brown undertones of his skin. Hair shorn to his scalp, the shadow of a beard accentuated his square jaw.

  The edge of a leaf tickled my side. Huffing, I plucked it off. I need to find real clothes. Maybe I’d pilfer some from an abandoned dwelling like Baako.

  He wiggled his hips, expression creasing with discomfort. The armoured trousers stretched too tight across his thickset thighs and calves. “I go where you go.”

  I poked his pectoral. Rock hard. “I have a protector, not that I needed one. I’m able to take care of myself. I know at times I seem–”

  “Naïve?”

  “Distracted,” I clarified, churlish. “Occasionally my emotions get the better of me, and it makes me–”

  “Careless?”

  “Indecisive.” I gnashed my teeth and stabbed him with a condescending look to counter his languid disdain. “I over think things, a lot, which makes me confrontational because I don’t know how to deal and feel pressured to have answers. I’m not trained at hiding my uncertainty. Subterfuge was part of my Disciple training at Temple.” I tapped my chin. Shrugged. “I failed that class.”

  The bridge of his nose was flat, but his nostrils wide. They flared now. “I’m your Familiar.”

  “Say-so.” My brows mashed together. “Not sure if I should be insulted.”

  “I know you’re not a witch. The tiny blonde who worked the spell to bring you back is. I like her.”

  “Most people don’t.”

  “She reminds me of you.”

  My smile stretched into a grin. “Exactly.”

  His bark of laughter caught him unawares. Softening, he regarded me with bemused suspicion. “You’re not going to fight me on this?”

  “I get into enough fights.”

  Baako grimaced. The expression lowered his prominent brow until his eyes twinkled like stars in darkness. “I get you.”

  “Good.” I gave him a dismissive flick of the wrist I’d seen Lochlann use to masterly effect. “Off you go.”

  “Seriously? That works for you?”

  “Never tried it before.”

  “A humble suggestion, don’t try it again.”

  I smiled in genuine pleasure because he was kooky, and I felt the kinship he claimed. Witches used Familiars as spies and companions. They were usually woodland creatures or domestic pets. Baako was a ferocious werebear, a giant when in animal form, and impossible to imagine as anything but a two-natured warrior. Yet he readily admitted he was not just a Familiar, but also mine.

  I supposed the Familiar of a godling needed fierceness if it wished to survive.

  I tugged on my hair and shifted my weight side to side wondering what the odds were that going along with my impulse would result in catastrophe.

  “The cat’s right,” Baako mused. “You are twitchy.”

  In the interests of peace and goodwill, I ignored the barb. “You can’t get in the way when I’m being sneaky.”

  “Lochlann knew you were up there.”

  “Na-uh.”

  “Uh-huh,” Baako teased. “He knew.”

  Shoulders hunching, I folded my arms and tucked my hands into my armpits. I valiantly fought a pout. “Breandan gets jealous.”

  “Fairies have long memories as a people. Judging by the ink scrawled over him, Breandan was Wyld Guardian meaning he inherited a bunch of memories and spells. Familiars are rare, but not so rare he can’t recognise the kinship for what it is.” Baako leered. “Not that I wouldn’t, you know,” he waggled his eyebrows, “if you weren’t mated and all.”

  “Don’t be gross.” I drummed my fingers on my sides. “There may come a time I risk my life for reasons you don’t understand or agree with. You’d have to accept it and let me be. Could you do that?”

  His reply was slow in coming. His
head dipped as if weighed by the question’s importance. “If in no way would my help assure a better outcome, no problem. Nothing I do is to cause you harm, physical or emotional. Stopping you from doing what you think is right would cause you pain.”

  “I’m not understanding what you get out of this.”

  “As your power grows so does mine. I’ll not just be an Alpha shifter, but the most powerful judging by what I feel coming off you.”

  My eyes narrowed to slits. “Power hungry much?”

  “Nah, but I’m cunning enough to take it when offered in a mutual exchange.”

  I chewed my lip, clearly trying to think of a way to get rid of him. “Well….” I had nothing.

  A raven-winged brow arched in derision. He wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Fine.” I rolled my eyes at his grin, a flashy show of bright teeth against tanned skin.

  Baako grabbed my forearm as his face partially shifted bear, and his teeth lowered into sharp points. He yanked and spun me, clamped his other arm across my shoulders then sank his canines into the crease of my elbow.

  Arm tingling, disbelieving, I gaped at him as he let me go, casually licking blood from the corners of his mouth.

  “Are you angry you died?” The grim nature of Baako’s question was softened by concern, conveyed by his voice deepening in pitch.

  “You bit me.” Staring at the crescent of scars that mirrored his teeth, I hissed and whacked his stomach. “What the hell was that?”

  “It’s my mark.” Baako didn’t try to hide the smugness as he pointed at it. “That tells other shifters a Familiar claims you.”

  My face was hot. “But you bit me.”

  “So? Anyway, you don’t seem glad we brought you back.”

  Breathing nice and slow, I held out my hands to calm myself. Just let it go. Holding his gaze, I asked, “You understand the world needs balance?”

  “Since a cub my bear felt a disturbance in nature.”

  “Cael’s my brother.”

  “And he’s a Coven Father,” Baako added without a hint of judgment, or confusion at the disjointed way I approached an answer. “A witch. You and Conall are fairy.” He blinked. “At least you were fae.”

  “My mother fell in love with a human. She was unfaithful.” Conall would wring my neck if he discovered I shared these secrets. “Cael’s birth led to the Rupture.” I swallowed the lump of shame making me want to hide my face. Aloud, the truth sounded bleak. “He kind of, um, caused it.”

  Startled, Baako wiped the emotion from his face and peered at me, intense, realising the significance of what I said. “How does one being bring about an apocalypse?”

  I poked my chest. “How does a girl avert another?”

  Brows lifting, he bobbed his head. “Why?”

  “When he explained it sounded compelling, but....” I cringed. “He craved attention. He wanted acknowledgment by the people who shunned him. To punish the family that abandoned him.”

  “I understand.”

  “Oh.”

  “Like there’s ever a good reason for the end of the world, Twitch. The vampires everybody’s pissed at?”

  “Owe him fealty. He starves them to the brink of insanity. They’re misguided.” I paused. “And hungry.” I moved closer unsure how to explain without losing his respect. “We’re all part of a greater fabric damaged by the Rupture.”

  “That’s why you’re destined to fix it.”

  I nodded.

  He looked over my head, pondered, and then dropped his gaze to soulfully stare at me. “You died fixing it. We damaged it again thinking you needed to come back.”

  My voice was puny. “Yes.”

  “The others know?”

  “Breandan does. Ana will know because of her Sight. Lochlann will figure it out. I plan to hide on the other side of the Wyld when he does.”

  “I see.” Baako rubbed the nape of his neck in hard, flurried strokes. “No wonder you weren’t talking.” He smiled ruefully. “I’m as guilty as the rest, aren’t I?”

  “Don’t think of it like that.”

  He held up his enormous hands and blew out his cheeks. “I know enough for now.” He jerked his head. “Go to the witch. I’ll be here.”

  I started up the steps then hesitated. I felt responsible for his welfare. “You’re okay waiting by yourself? It’s cold out here.”

  His melancholy vanished. Sour faced, Baako went wall-eyed. “Seriously?”

  My palms flew up. “Don’t bite my head off.”

  I took the stairs two at a time since pissed-off growling dogged my steps. Again I stopped and looked down. I plucked at the vines wrapped around my hip. Itchy. My lip quivered as a wave of emotion rose.

  Anxiety caught me off guard, and everything I needed to accomplish, including the basic task of finding decent clothes, felt unachievable.

  Hearing my sniffles, Baako inched closer, alarmed. “Twitch?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Rae

  Dressed in the clothes Baako found – after I burst into tears – I felt more in control. Amazing how a good cry can release pressure. I lifted the thick body of my hair into a twist at the nape of my neck and stabbed a twig through it, pleased when it sagged, but held. My fingers smoothed a few unruly strands from my forehead then tucked the slick ends behind my ear. Hair in my face bothered me, and it grew heavy if I got flustered. I’d cut it, but I suspected Breandan would be secretly devastated.

  The sleeveless plain-dyed tunic held together at the sides with leather ties. Ragged cuts at the back allowed my wings to thrust through. The woven fabric felt coarse rubbing against the base of my pinions, so I extended them a few times to widen the tear and avoid an uncomfortable rash. I suspected skyclad was the only state of dress I’d be comfortable wearing considering my hypersensitive skin.

  I tossed the mangy leaves and vines towards the far corner. They shrivelled and died before hitting the floor.

  Ignoring the wooden chair set offside to the stone fireplace I sank to my knees. The ankle boots Baako found creaked little, already worn in. The soles moulded to my feet perfectly as I tucked them under and leaned to the side.

  Finally still, the shiver that shook me lingered. The ominous dread stalking each stolen moment increased in urgency. Grew in pressure to press on my chest as if a boulder crushed me. Its looming shadow grew darker as I sank closer to the ground under its weight.

  How long can I procrastinate? Delaying the inevitable revelation of truth solved nothing.

  Dust motes floated past my eyes. I followed their idle twirling as my mind skittered to tangled thoughts then shied from raw emotion I was too naïve, or too afraid to embrace. More than once I choked a sob and struggled to compose myself. Blessed isolation. Nobody stared. Asked me questions or demanded attention. There was silence, and comforting pulsations of magic surrounding me in a gentle drone.

  Grateful for the solitude, I basked in the quiet of the deserted Wyld.

  For a time, I even ignored the sudden and erratic fluctuations in power teasing the boundaries of my mind. The Loa were casting. Using magics to conjure higher gods knew what. I felt their malevolent influence poisoning the atmosphere. Each abuse of power was a malignant growth. A sickness threatening to infect my sanity and plague the people I cared about.

  Scrunching my eyes shut, I wished mightily hard Cael would act smart and run the other direction as they approached.

  Tears welled and rolled down my cheek. I laughed bitterly and patted my forehead with the palm of my hand livid I still cared after what he’d done.

  Following the disturbances would lead me directly to the Northern City. An urban jungle of deadly vampires Cael controlled with an iron fist of terror. I’d end up stood in the middle of his twisted Coven Wyld.

  Where else could evil flee?

  That was the legacy I was a part of.

  The lone member of my family worthy of recognition was Conall, but even he hid a dark past. His disgust over our mother’s infidelity fuelle
d a senseless hatred for Cael. He disowned his youngest sibling for countless years whilst pinning his hopes of absolution on me.

  High gods, if Cael’s stupid enough to welcome the Loa into his confidence there’s no way I’ll be able to save him. The others won’t allow me to let him live.

  A pitched squeal of defiance erupted from my throat forcing my eyes open. This was my bother’s home. I wouldn’t disturb the quality of peace with my troubled thoughts. I was determined to enjoy a moment of calm.

  Sinking into the tranquillity of my earthy surroundings, I rubbed a flattened root beneath me. The natural rutted striations, and knobbly yet smooth texture made the imperfect seem beautiful.

  Imperfect beauty.

  Closing my eyes, I lifted my hands. A pang of trepidation made me stop, but I pushed on using a memory of Breandan gazing at me lovingly as encouragement. I see nothing but my Rae, he’d told me.

  Starting from my forehead, I traced my face. The gold circlet remained fused to my skin, the links cold and smooth. I was no longer the High Priestess, but the old symbol of fairy royalty refused to renounce me. Down my fingertips trailed. Over my eyes and the bridge of my nose. I hesitated over a scar above my cheek, streaking towards my temple. The raised skin felt puckered. Ugly. It made me tremble. I wasn’t vain, never considered myself particularly pretty especially with Lex for a friend, but I had pride. These scars were an admission of weakness. They reflected a lack of ability. Failure. Painful memories set fire to the boundaries of my calm and caused blackened destruction. My hands found another scar at the curve of my jaw.

  Breandan kissed the scars, stroked them.

  Mentally shrugging, I let go of the pain. Accepting them made them a part of me. Claiming them took away the fear my captors sought to break me with.

  Glamouring them from view did nothing but let the past fester.

  I touched them over and over until the uneven skin felt familiar. It was my face, and silly to feel afraid of it. The scars were also signs of victory proclaiming my inner strength and rare capability to weather a storm.

  Breandan loved me as I was. I’d never turn from him in disgust if he got damaged. The idea I’d abandon him over something as fickle as physical appearance sickened me. At what point did I convince myself he’d do that when his actions have never given me cause to think so?