The Shadow Warrior

by Ann Aguirre

  “Definitely,” Gavriel said.

  He disappeared into the kitchen while Mags tried to be enthusiastic about another day without sufficient protein. As she filled a plate, Gavriel returned with a plate piled with dried fish. There was no controlling her smile when he offered it to her.

  “Were you charming this out of the cook just now?” she asked.

  “I don’t know about that, but I did request it for you.”

  “Thanks. Our meals are typically heavier and more savory.”

  “I should do what I can to look after my partner properly,” he said.

  And he probably didn’t mean that how it sounded. In some settlements, they used that word instead of ‘mate’ because it sounded more modern. Rather than wishing for impossible things before breakfast, she wolfed down the food, focusing on fish and bread, finishing with a bit of fruit and tea.

  “Thanks.”

  “We should get to the docks, though I don’t know anything about the tide situation. Perhaps we’ve already missed our opportunity.”

  Mags didn’t think he sounded all that broken up at the prospect. “Then we’d have to spend the day wandering around together, seeing the sights.”

  “That would be a pity,” he said, smiling.

  “Let’s stop by the stable to make sure Gray is all right. We also need to mention that we’ll be gone for a bit.”

  “Sometimes I think you treasure that vedda beast more than I do.” He cocked a brow, eyes gentle and amused.

  “He’s a very good boy.” Mags knew she sounded defensive.

  “But he’s not a pet.”

  “Says you,” she muttered.

  Gavriel stood. “After you, then.”

  With a wave for everyone in the common room, he escorted her from the public house with a light touch on her back. In perfect sync, their steps turned toward the stable, across the road on a diagonal. Though it was early, she could hear the boy singing to the animals inside, which was all kinds of adorable.

  A sudden thought occurred to her. “You never did play me your favorite song, the one you were humming in the shower.”

  “Since you didn’t pursue it, I thought you weren’t interested.”

  “There are levels of interest,” she pointed out. “You were naked at the time, so I was a little distracted.”

  “I’ve never been called a distraction before, at least not in that way.”

  She nudged him with an elbow. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

  “Too late. ‘Very distracting when naked’, I may have business cards printed up bearing that slogan.”

  “I hate you,” she said mildly.

  Instead of responding, he pushed open the stable doors. Half the stalls were occupied and Gray blustered when he saw them, lifting his head in excitement. The boy turned, brush in hand.

  “Are you taking him already?”

  Gavriel shook his head. “I’m here to compensate you and to ask that you look after him until we return. As yet, I’m not sure how long that will be.”

  Mags went to rub the sweet spot between Gray’s horns while Gavriel completed the transaction. She heard the clink of coins being counted, but she didn’t check on the details. The vedda beast bumped his head against her shoulder when she paused in the scratching. “Demanding, aren’t you? Just like a certain someone.”

  “I heard that,” Gavriel said.

  The boy let out a muffled snicker. “I’ll take good care of him, I promise.”

  “Then our business here is done. Mags?”

  He held out a hand, and she took it, like they were vacationing instead of heading off on what might be a suicide mission. Sometimes she thought maybe she’d lost her mind because nobody in the pride knew what she was doing. This wasn’t Ash Valley business, which was why Dom had let her go in the first place. Now that she had an answer about Slay, she should’ve headed back and resumed her normal life.

  She forced these disquieting thoughts down, keeping them at bay with silent justification. I’m keeping a promise; that’s all. The pride can function without me for a bit.

  In silence, they headed for the docks, an ambitious name for a small cluster of boats. A few fishermen were tending to their nets on the pier, and one man was headed for his sloop with determined strides. Gavriel quickened his step, towing Mags with him. Unless she wanted to let go, she had to keep up.

  “Are you open to hire?” Gavriel called, instead of a more traditional greeting.

  The man paused with his hands on the ropes that tethered his small craft to the dock. “I suppose that depends on what you want and how much you’re paying.”

  “Do you know the way to the finger islands?” Mags asked.

  “Of course, it’s not far. The approach is a bit risky, though. Are you looking to book an excursion?” He glanced between them, but whatever he thought about their linked hands didn’t show in his face.

  “You could say that. I’ve heard there’s a large group sheltering there, and they come periodically to buy supplies. Do you know anything about that?”

  The sailor spat, over the side of his boat and into the sea. “Bastards, the lot of them. They claim to be revolutionaries, but they’re just a bunch of raiders and thieves.”

  “Raiders?” She glanced at Gavriel, wondering what he made of this.

  “They only buy what they can’t steal. They’ve been taking produce and livestock from farmers all along the coast. Oh, they call it expropriation, claiming there will be reimbursement for loyalists after they take Talfayen lands from the pretender, but I heard the radio message. They’re outlaws now, plain and simple.”

  Mags decided to cut to the chase. “Sounds like they need to be dealt with. We’ll take care of the problem if you get us there. How much for transport?”

  “The two of you against a small army?” The sailor laughed and shook his head. “Still, it’s your funeral.” He named a price and Gavriel paid it without hesitation. “Come aboard, then. I’ll drop you off but I’m not staying. I know how dangerous those men are. They butchered a family who tried to resist.”

  “Consider us warned,” Mags said, hopping from the pier to the deck of the boat.

  Even tied to the dock, she could feel the roll of the water beneath her. This is not optimum for a tiger. She turned to Gavriel as he joined her. “Do we need to arrange for our pickup beforehand?”

  As the sailor set off, Gavriel said, “Return in five days. If we’re not waiting where you left us, you’re free to go.”

  “Whatever you say, mate. They’ve got a boat you could steal, provided you survive whatever you have planned, but I don’t suppose you’d know what to do with it.”

  Mags was starting to like how plain-spoken this man was. “That’s true. I’m Magda, by the way, and this is Gavriel.”

  “Ceras, pleasure and what-not. There’s a bench in the prow if you care to park it for a while. It’s about two hours, give or take.”

  The day brightened as the sun rose, but it never warmed Gavriel completely.

  His chill was more of the spirit anyway, contemplating all the harm that had been wrought in his father’s name. Just thinking that sent a low-grade wave of nausea through him, though that could also be the unaccustomed rocking of the ship. Mags had been standing in the front of the boat, looking out over the water, but she suddenly came to perch beside him, taking his hand in hers.

  He expected her to thread their fingers together but instead she flattened his palm and pressed two fingers firmly to a spot on his wrist. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “This is supposed to help with nausea.”

  Once again, she’d discerned the tiniest shift in his demeanor. Maybe the pressure really was helping, but he suspected it might also be her care. The queasy roll of his stomach faded as he gazed at the top of her head, deep brown burnished with gold from the spring sun. Those braids had been pretty and fresh a few days before. Now they were messy and half-unraveled, and she had never looked more beautiful.


  “It’s better,” he said.

  “Just let me finish. Hold still for another minute.”

  That was no hardship, though her words filled his head with illicit images. Gavriel knew damn well she didn’t mean for her words to make him think of sex, but now, she was inextricably linked to certain urges. “Thanks,” he managed to say, feeling the heat rising in his neck, cheeks, ears.

  Oh gods.

  She peered at him. “Are you feeling better?”

  “Physically, yes.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “This is my father’s legacy,” he said softly. “Violence. Hate. I wish Lileth had taken that secret to her grave. Before, I was ashamed of what he represented, but now I know that his blood runs in my veins.”

  “We don’t get to choose our families. I know a lot of people who would’ve picked otherwise if they could. The only thing you can control is where you go from here.” She offered a tentative smile and added, “You want a hug? I got hugs.”

  Gavriel could scarcely have imagined finding that awkward offer so endearing or so irresistible. “At the moment I can’t think of anything I want more.”

  She wrapped her arms around him tightly, and he let his head rest on her shoulder. Her incredible strength surrounded him, as did her scent, and he raised his face to rub his cheek against hers because he’d seen the cats doing that in Ash Valley. While he didn’t know what it meant, her soft intake of breath pleased him.

  The time passed quicker than he wanted. Soon, Ceras was calling, “This is as far as I can take you. There’s no proper dock here, so you’ll have to swim for it.”

  “Oh gods,” Mags whimpered.

  Gavriel stared at her, suddenly worried. “You can swim?”

  “It’s not my favorite sport, but I can manage. I think.”

  It was strange to see her so uncertain, peering over the side with a troubled look. Ceras burst out laughing. “Can’t believe how gullible you two are. For hell’s sake, borrow my life raft.” He chucked a yellow, inflatable boat in their general direction.

  Gavriel caught it easily. “Thanks.”

  It took a good ten minutes to put air in the thing, even taking turns with Mags, then they went down a rope ladder and managed to get into the raft without flipping it. Ceras tossed them a paddle. “Be waiting here in the raft in five days. If you’re not, our deal is done, and you’re on your own.”

  “Understood,” Mags said. “One quick question, are there any settlements on this island? Other than the raiders.”

  Ceras shook his head. “That’s a hell no.”

  After some experimentation, Gavriel got the hang of nudging them toward shore. This would be hell in heavy weather but for now, the sea was calm. Hopefully, it would be in five days as well. Near the shore, the water was clear enough to show the sandy bottom, along with startled fish and rocky outcroppings. He hopped over the side into calf-deep water and towed the raft until Mags could get out without drenching her pants.

  “Chivalrous,” she noted.

  “I’m already wet. There’s no need for you to be also.”

  She nodded. “We should deflate this thing and find a place to stash it, where it won’t wash away or be spotted by our enemies.”

  Our enemies. Odd, how much he loved the easy way she said that. Gavriel tried to control his delight, as this was not the time to be dwelling on emotional issues. They were deep in enemy territory with limited supplies and no help coming. On impulse, he set the raft down and checked his phone.

  “No signal,” he said.

  Mags shrugged, seeming less alarmed than he might have anticipated. “We already knew that we’re on our own. Even if we could call for help, it would take too long for anyone to get here as backup. Whatever happens, it’s on us.”

  “And you’re all right with that?”

  “I made you a promise,” she said softly. “No take backs.”

  He searched her face intently. “Is that the only reason?”

  Her golden gaze skittered away, a fact he found fascinating. “Are we going to stand here all day? I’m sure they have eyes on the coast. We need to keep moving and find a good spot to do some recon.”

  “Point taken.”

  Gavriel scanned the narrow, rocky beach where they’d come ashore, a small break between the sheer cliffs that dominated this side of the island. Seabirds nested in the crags and hollows of the rock, so the stone was liberally drizzled in white, and that wasn’t sea salt. There didn’t appear to be much in the way of shelter—aha.

  “We can bury it over there.” Mags had followed his line of sight and found the hollow just as he did. “Near the rock shaped like a heart.”

  “That is not anatomically correct.”

  She laughed and opened the nozzle, already stepping on the raft to deflate it. “Why are you like this? You know damn well what I mean.” Then she curved her hands together, making a romantic heart with them. “Tell me that rock doesn’t look—”

  “You’re right. I’m teasing,” he cut in.

  “I don’t hate it.”

  The warmth of her smile carried him through the camouflage of their exit strategy. They also removed a few necessary items to carry with them in shoulder bags, then they stashed their larger packs as well. Once they finished, Gavriel dusted off his hands and turned inland. Depending on how big the island was, it could take a while to track down the hideout, despite being this close.

  Only he’d forgotten that he was traveling with the brilliant, relentless Magda Versai. There was nobody better suited to finishing what they’d started.

  She was already stripping off her clothes. “Here, hold my stuff.”

  “You can track someone without a particular scent?” he asked, putting her pants in his bag. “Sorry if that’s an ignorant or offensive question.”

  “It’s not. Basically, I’ll be looking for traces of anyone who’s not us. From what Ceras said, I won’t run across scent markers left by civilians or settlers. If they’ve gone hunting, I might follow the trail at random for a while, but eventually, it will lead us where we need to go.”

  “Unless they died alone in the wild,” Gavriel said.

  “In which case, we’ll find the body and I’ll look for another trail to follow. Do you have a better plan?”

  “Certainly not. I do have a request, however.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Before you shift, I’d like a kiss for luck.”

  “That’s practically science,” she said.

  “We can’t omit science,” he agreed.

  Mags smirked. Somehow she was completely in her element, even standing in her underwear on a beach deep in enemy territory. She closed the distance between them, and Gavriel wrapped her up in his arms, loving how substantial she felt there. Hard to say if that was the best part or when she put her mouth to his, soft as a butterfly wing.

  Closing his eyes, he deepened the kiss, tasting her, sipping at her tongue. Her nipping at his lower lip made him shiver, not the brisk sea breeze. It was dangerous here—he knew it was—but he couldn’t muster even a trace of fear.

  Dying held little terror for him, far less than the prospect of a life without her.

  26.

  After a kiss that straight up curled her toes, Mags stepped back, trying not to smile. It was a losing battle. “You feeling lucky yet?”

  “You have no idea.”

  She finished taking off her clothes and shifted, relishing the pull on her muscles. Prowling in a circle, she butted her head against his leg and Gavriel stilled. He looked comically unprepared to have a tiger circling him this way.

  “Do you… that is, should I…pet you? May I?”

  Mags dipped her head once to indicate assent, and he set a hand on her head with such delicacy that she could barely feel it, until he tickled the backs of her ears. They flickered in response, but she didn’t swipe at him as she would anyone else.

  Soon, he knelt and ran a confident palm down her
back. “Your fur is thicker than I thought it would be.” Then he cupped her face and rubbed her cheeks, like she was a house cat, and… she didn’t hate it.

  Tigers couldn’t purr, but she rumbled her approval, followed by a happy chuff. When she padded away, it was her signal that she was done. He straightened at once.

  “Apologies, I got carried away. Lead on.”

  Hurriedly he stuffed her panties and bra in his bag and shouldered it, and Mags wished she could laugh, but tiger vocalization didn’t permit it. She settled into tracking mode, but this might prove difficult, as there were only wildlife odors on the beach. It stood to reason that the settlement wouldn’t be too far inland, though, maybe closer to a more hospitable port. She headed up the rocky slope toward the top of the cliffs, hoping to find a better vantage point. That gave her an incredible sea view, but nothing more.

  The birds scattered on their approach, circling and screeching overhead. Gavriel shaded his eyes. “You’re not finding anything?”

  She stared at him.

  “Never mind, it was rhetorical. You’d already be racing in the right direction if you had a lead.” He knelt, examining faint signs of wear on the stone. “This is a path, if a little used one. Should we see where it goes?”

  In answer, she set off along the rocky trail, following it down the hill away from the sea. It veered north after a while. So far, she’d only smelled small animals and the fresh salt tang of the air. A pile of rocks stood directly ahead. Old Animari ruins featured balanced stacks like this as grave markers; she couldn’t ask if that was the case with the Eldritch, but she stopped to sniff around the base, circling it in curiosity.

  Beyond the earthy rock smell and the green of the surrounding plant life, she caught a faint whiff of carrion. Something or someone is buried here. On the far side of the memorial, there was the faintest hint of Eldritch, old enough that the elements had nearly erased all signs of passage.

  She moved in widening circles, aggravated over all the competing odors. Gavriel watched her work; he probably knew what she was doing. Finally, she locked onto the scent trail and heaved a mental sigh of relief. This sort of thing was better left to Pine Ridge, but there was no wolf handy, so she had to make it work.