“What do you make?” she asked him. “Horseshoes?”
Piotr grinned at her. “I’m not good with horses, so no. Though one of my neighbors down the road has horses and uses my place to make the shoes. No, I make handy things like pump parts and pieces for my boat and also some decorative trinkets.”
He moved to a table on the far side of the room, pulled a brightly colored blanket from it, and stood back to let her look.
The table was strewn with wrought-iron art. Some pieces were meant for fences or gates, Rae could see, but others had been made to be hung on walls or porches for the sheer beauty of them. One piece was a frame that looked like an arched Tuscan window, with the spaces between the vertical rods filled with delicate iron leaves and curlicues. Another was a tall, narrow room divider, its patterns intricate, the metal twisted into thin spirals.
Piotr had also made crosses, strong yet lovely symbols of his faith. Rae had seen plenty of church crosses in human towns, but Piotr’s had a second, shorter crosspiece near the bottom. The Russian Orthodox cross, Piotr told her. He lifted a smaller piece that looked like a picture frame but its negative space was decorated with iron leaves and flowers, all of them burnished with gold.
“For you,” Piotr said. “You hang it on your wall and remember Piotr.”
Shifters didn’t usually make polite protests when offered a gift, but she put her hand to her chest.
“I can’t,” she said. “It’s too beautiful. It must be very valuable.”
Piotr scoffed. He lifted the frame and put it into her hands. “I made it for you. When I came home, I said—I must make something for that nice Rae for putting up with me and my friend Zander. Take it. It is yours.”
Rae held it gingerly. The iron piece was heavy and delicate at the same time. “Thank you,” she said breathlessly. “I will treasure it.”
Zander was watching her. His enigmatic dark eyes told her nothing, and he turned back to Broderick, helping move the tools and anvil he and Mason had chosen.
Rae had never watched anyone do metalwork before. Her brothers fixed up cars and motorcycles, but it wasn’t the same thing. As Mason gently took up the bottom half of the sword’s blade in a pair of tongs, Rae touched her lips in trepidation. It was like watching her child be approached by a dentist with forceps. She was sure it would be fine, but . . .
As Mason started to ease the blade into the forge’s heat, Rae asked abruptly, “Won’t melting it erase the runes?”
Mason stopped just shy of the forge and looked back at Broderick. He’d donned goggles and his gray eyes blinked behind them.
“Who knows?” Broderick answered. “It’s your call, Rae. Your sword. What do you want to do?”
For once, Zander didn’t offer an answer. He only looked at Rae, waiting for her to decide.
Rae wet her lips and hugged Piotr’s gift to her chest. “Go ahead,” she said. “Get it over with.”
Mason drew a breath and plunged the blade into the heat.
Zander went to Rae’s side as she took a sharp breath. His warmth helped but she still shivered when Mason stepped back and made no move to take the sword out. “It has to sit there a while,” he said. “We’re trying to soften it, not melt it.”
It was agonizing to wait. Piotr tried to distract Rae by showing her more things he was making but she hastened back to the forge as soon as Mason brought out the blade. He plunged it into water then set it aside, still clamped, while Broderick put in the second part.
They were going to wait for that one too, Rae realized. She did see, as she watched anxiously, that as the first blade cooled, the runes remained intact. In fact, they looked sharper than ever.
“Now what?” she asked.
Broderick answered. “We’ll put the pieces together and try to hammer them into one, heating as we need to.”
“It’s silver,” Rae said nervously. “Not steel. Wouldn’t it be easier to melt it and remold it?”
“It’s Fae silver,” Mason answered her. “Which isn’t the same thing. It has spells or something in it to make it harder. Plus the original sword maker worked it like steel, folding it instead of pouring and hardening it. We could melt the whole thing down and start over, but then it probably wouldn’t be a Sword of the Guardian.”
Rae sighed. “I wish Daragh would have written some of this stuff down.”
Broderick gave her a quick look. “I met Daragh. Before he . . . Before I sent him to dust. He was brave as hell but I know he never meant to die so soon.”
Who did? Rae wondered. She tapped her fingers against the iron frame Piotr had given her, her toes curling in her boots.
The next thing she felt was Zander’s strong hand on her arm. “Let’s you and I go outside,” he said. “Let the experts work.”
Mason sent him a look of relief. Rae heaved another sigh, knowing she was hovering like a worried mother, and allowed Zander to tow her from the workroom.
* * *
The night had darkened finally. Zander watched Rae stride around the open ground near Piotr’s house a while before he hauled out a wooden lawn chair and pulled Rae down to sit in it with him.
There were no deep woods here—trees, yes, but not like the forests of Rae’s home. Nikolaevsk was on a relatively flat plain that ran up to knifelike mountains, the view beautiful when the sun was up. For now, stars marched across the sky, the path of the heavens.
“You all right?” Zander asked Rae. He liked her warmth in his lap as he cradled her against him. It might be summer, but Alaskan nights were cool.
“I broke the sword,” Rae said glumly. “And now it’s being melted and hammered. The Guardians are going to kill me, if they get to me before my dad does. He’s put his neck on the line for me, defying so many other Shifters.”
Zander didn’t answer, only held her closer. Rae had broken the sword to save Zander’s life. If the Guardians didn’t like that, they could eat it.
Zander wished he could tell Rae to throw the sword away and run with him to the other side of the world—to hell with it—but the Goddess didn’t work like that. Once she’d touched you, you could never get away from her.
Rae snuggled into Zander’s chest without any coaxing, and he closed his eyes as he breathed the scent of her hair. When they finished this experiment—successful or not, Zander would take her someplace remote and beautiful. A tropical island perhaps where they could shut out the world and explore what they’d started to find together.
“Zander,” Rae said softly.
“Hmm?” Zander kissed the top of her head. “What is it, baby?”
“If you knew Piotr had a forge, why didn’t you just bring Broderick and Mason up here right away? I mean, once we got away from the Graveyard?” She lifted her head to look at him.
Zander knew the answer but he picked his words carefully. “You wanted to go home,” he said with a shrug. “Be with your family. I wanted to meet them—and have them meet me. Plus, I didn’t know if Broderick or Mason could do anything at all and I didn’t want to drag you around Alaska when you could be home and happy.”
Zander had moved his gaze to the horizon as he spoke, the lights of the tiny town glittering in the night. He felt Rae’s gaze sharp on him and he looked down to gray eyes that reflected the starlight.
“You took me home because you knew I wanted to go home?” she asked.
Zander pretended to think about it. “Yep. I guess so.”
Her brows drew down, dark streaks on the pale smudge of her face. “Damn you.”
Zander tightened his arms around her. “Hey, don’t worry. I’m done being nice.”
At least, that’s what he started to say. Rae launched herself at him and started kissing him.
Sweet Little Wolf. Rae held him with strong hands as she parted his lips, kissing him deeply. Zander tasted her frenzy, in no way sated, exactly like his own.
Rae turned in the chair to straddle him, cupping his face in her hands. Zander’s heart heated to near-pain as he pulled he
r against him.
The world could go to hell, the sword with it. There was nothing better in Zander’s life than kissing Rae out under the stars—except maybe making love to her under those stars. He’d do that too.
The workshop’s door banged open, sending warm yellow light into the cool darkness. Mason emerged, still wearing the leather apron he’d donned to work on the sword.
Rae jerked her head up but she didn’t scramble to her feet. She kept to Zander’s lap but he felt her brace herself for bad news.
“It won’t work,” Mason said, his words filled with disgust. “It looked like it came together a few times but once it cooled again and we picked it up, the blade just split. I think it wants its Guardian. You come in and try, Rae.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Rae held the hammer the way Broderick had showed her and positioned it on the blade, her mouth dry. The goggles Piotr had given her were worn and scratched, making everything misty, and the leather apron hung heavily on her torso.
Mason and Broderick had heated both pieces of sword in the forge and laid them across the anvil. Now they stood back and waited for Rae to tap the blade together. The runes glowed hot, every letter picked out in fire.
What are you saying? Rae asked it silently. Reid had translated the letters to a story but there had to be more to it than that. What do you want me to do?
The sword only hummed, its music undimmed by the heat.
Rae drew a breath, lifted the hammer, and struck.
The blade moved together, the hot metal catching and holding. Encouraged, Rae struck it again, then again. She began to hammer in earnest, not too hard, not too gently, as Broderick had instructed.
Her face warmed from the heat of the metal, perspiration trickling from where the goggles gripped her face. The blade flowed together. It was working.
Rae kept on beating it softly, melding the sword with little taps. They’d cool it then file and polish it, Broderick had said, and no one would ever see the break.
Zander stood on the opposite side of the anvil, his skin gleaming with the same heat. He didn’t look as hopeful as Rae, only eyed the sword watchfully.
The hammer’s head felt a little loose all of a sudden. Rae tapped it once more onto the sword.
The hammer broke with a pinging sound, the head flying. The Shifters and Piotr ducked out of the way as the hammer’s iron head sailed past them, smacked into the wall, and clattered to the cement floor.
Rae stared at the broken hammer, wide-eyed. “Sorry,” she said to Piotr.
Piotr took the handle from her. “It is only a hammer. They sell many of them in Homer.”
Rae felt bad for breaking it but when she looked at the sword, elation drowned out remorse. The sword lay before her, whole and unblemished. It winked under the work lights and reflected the forge’s red glow.
Rae wanted to pick up the sword, but Broderick told her it should sit for a while, cooling down and hardening. Finally, when Broderick said it was ready, Rae reached down and gently closed her hand around the hilt.
The sword came up with ease, its weight and balance back to normal. Rae carefully turned with it, both hands holding it steady.
Mason and Broderick backed away with Shifter instinct. No one wanted to feel the touch of the sword. Zander didn’t move, but he kept a careful eye on Rae.
“It seems all right,” Rae said. She turned the sword slowly from side to side, letting the blade move through the air. “I suppose I won’t know if it’s truly fixed until I use it.”
Broderick took another step back, raising his hands. “Not ready to be dust yet, thanks.”
“I didn’t mean that.” Rae grinned at him then moved into a fighting stance Zander had taught her. “You didn’t bring your bamboo practice sword, did you?”
“Not out here,” Zander answered. “You don’t need me. Pretend an evil Fae has just popped out of nowhere and do a lunge at him.”
The move was one Rae liked. She shifted the weight of the sword, her lower hand steadying the hilt, thrust her right foot forward, and jammed the point straight at the imaginary Fae. It went through him, slaying the invisible Fae, but the blade stayed whole.
Rae’s heart squeezed in relief. “Hot damn. Thank you, Mason. Broderick. Piotr.” She swung around to Zander and sent him a teasing look. “You too, I guess.”
Zander gave her a little nod, his eyes warm. “Anytime, Little Wolf.”
Rae whooped and spun the sword at her side.
The sword’s weight changed abruptly. Rae heard a snap like a crack of thunder, then a ring, and a clanging. The bottom part of the blade struck the floor and went spinning away, the top part still in her hand. The jagged crack between the two pieces was back, exactly as it had been before.
Rae screamed. She threw the hilted piece away from her, sending it skittering after its fellow, then she slammed herself to the ground on her backside.
“I give up!” she yelled.
Zander and the two brothers said nothing as Rae balled her fists and pounded the floor. Only Piotr ventured, “When metal is weakened, it is for always. Sometimes it can never be put right again.”
Rae managed to bite back the next scream, but she couldn’t stop her words. “Well, that’s just fucking perfect!”
“Little Wolf,” Zander began, his voice incredibly gentle. “We—”
Whatever he was going to say was drowned by the shrill peal of his cell phone. Zander growled as he grabbed it.
“Go for—” He caught Rae’s glare and amended his greeting. “Yeah?”
His expression stilled. Rae’s heart thumped, remembering the last time he’d been interrupted by a phone call. Ezra’s father had been dying and she’d been needed to perform the duty of a Guardian. She couldn’t this time, could she?
Zander shook his head at her, as though telling her this call was different. “Where?” he asked. “Are they sure?” Another pause. “I know, I know. If he’s sure, then it’s true.” Another pause while he listened. This time, Zander snorted a laugh. “Right, I’ll tell her not to come, but you know how obedient she is.”
Rae heard an answering laugh, one she recognized, then Zander said his farewells and hung up the phone.
“Where doesn’t my dad want me to go?” Rae demanded. “Even though I’m going anyway.”
“The Olympic Peninsula,” Zander answered without bothering to argue. “My friends have found the feral Shifters.”
* * *
Zander’s anger tightened as they made their way south in Marlo’s cargo plane. He was famous for keeping anger in check when everyone around him was falling apart, but right now, it was rising to consume him.
Rae sat unhappily next to him, cross-legged on a blanket, the Sword of the Guardian in front of her. Why the dumb-ass blade wouldn’t go back together, Zander didn’t understand. It was magical, so what the hell?
Why the Shifters of Rae’s town were such dickheads that they couldn’t lift a finger to support her, Zander didn’t understand either. He had the feeling that the sword was being a pain the ass to symbolize the divisiveness of the Shifters or something like that. Once they accepted Rae for what she was, acknowledged the Goddess’s choice, maybe then the sword would go together. Had nothing to do with mating—that had been Zander’s wishful thinking.
Feral Shifters who’d hurt a good man and his wife were running around, wild and free, while the beautiful Rae got shit on by her own people. It was enough to make Zander want to go on a polar bear rampage.
A decent rampage might help tamp down his mating frenzy as well, he reasoned. Might. All Zander knew is that he wanted to hurt everyone who’d hurt Rae then grab her and hole up with her until they were exhausted, sated, and happy.
Rae was asking him a question, raising her voice over the plane’s engines. “How did the Shifters get found so fast? Carson looked for two years. You had two days.”
“Five days,” Zander corrected her. The front of his brain answered her while deep down inside his Shif
ter beast was becoming a roiling ball of fury. “I started making inquiries when we were still on Carson’s boat. I know a lot of people who know a lot of people. It’s like the Guardian Network, except it’s not cryptic in a computer and no one needs a password.”
Broderick laughed out loud. “He means he has people like Dylan Morrissey and Kendrick Shaughnessy doing him favors. Plus the secret weapon. Tiger.”
Zander shrugged, pretending rage wasn’t hot in his chest. “Like I said. I know people who know people.”
Broderick sent Rae an understanding look. “What he’s not telling you is that Dylan’s already been hunting down rogue Shifters, little by little, and he has resources, both human and Shifter. Then there’s Tiger.”
“I’ve heard of him,” Rae said. “He came to our Shiftertown with you, but I didn’t meet him.”
“Tiger’s not right in the head.” Broderick tapped his own skull. “But he’s brilliant. He’s the result of stupid human experiments—they were trying to create a super-Shifter and abandoned Tiger when they couldn’t handle him. He’s got shit going on between his ears that no one understands, but when he’s sent to track someone, they get tracked. He probably already had a bead on these guys when Zander asked about them.”
“Tiger’s a good person,” Zander broke in. “Better than a lot of so-called ‘normal’ Shifters I know. Not that any Shifter is normal.”
“Thanks a lot,” Rae said, but he saw the glint of amusement in her eyes. As upset as she was, she could still banter with Zander. He liked that.
Or would if he wasn’t so pissed off. Zander willed the plane to go faster so he could be on the ground and kick some ass.
The Olympic Peninsula, west of Seattle, was a place of rugged mountains, deep forests, and vast beauty. A huge chunk of it was a national park, which would be full of hikers and campers in the summer and, apparently, a bunch of un-Collared, violent Shifters.
The rogue Shifters had chosen to set up camp in an isolated area where no roads led but that would be easily accessible to wolves, wildcats, and bears. Eoin told Zander and his party this when they met up on an empty beach, down the hill from where Marlo had landed. How many were out there, Eoin didn’t know for sure yet. Eoin hadn’t wanted to risk his trackers—led by his own sons—to spy on feral Shifters without backup.
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