If canid means dog-like shifter then … felid is cat-like shifter?
“I can only imagine,” I say, remembering my family’s three cats. Uncle Henry wouldn’t let me bring them to Kansas, so I pawned them off on friends back home in Seattle; he tried to force me to give up Toto, too, but the dog would have none of it. I blink to clear the cobwebs away and force a smile. “I should get cleaned up.”
I start to move past him, but Stryker stops me with a hand on my wrist, his thumb teasing my pulse point.
“It’s not often one wizard runs into another outside of a C.R.O.W.S. meeting. And even less often that one finds such a pretty wizard he’s never met.”
“Meaning what?” I ask, feeling my pulse race under the back and forth motion of his thumb. Stryker, the Vain and Arrogant, is clearly hitting on me. And I’m not totally hating it.
“Meaning I’m interested, Oz, the Great and Terrible,” he says, his lids drooping into a naughty bedroom sort of a look.
“Interested in what?” I quip back, my mouth going dry as I try to maintain my composure. I’m being coy here, but I can’t help it. Either I’m hitting on a delusion created by my own brain or else some weird wizard dude from another world is moving in for the kill. Regardless, it’s a bit of a strange situation, isn’t it?
“Fucking,” he says with a loose shrug of his shoulders. “Or, we could make a baby.”
My mouth drops open, but no words will come. None.
What. The. Actual. Fuck?!
“Oz,” Taavi growls, peeking his head back in the door. “We can’t loiter here for long. Even during the day, this forest is not an ideal place to stop. Please, come bathe, so we can eat.”
“Think on my proposition,” Stryker says, smiling as he exits the cabin, striding over to the fire in his boots and blue military jacket and then tossing the birds to the forest floor with a dramatic sigh.
“That psycho just asked to make a baby with me,” I whisper at Taavi. His face tightens up, and his eyes narrow, but he nods, like that isn’t all that unusual of a request for someone I met yesterday. “Seriously? I figured at the very least that you’d be pissed off about that.”
“Wizards are rare,” Taavi says with another sigh, glancing over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing even further, until they’re nothing but slits. “It’s not uncommon for a wizard to proposition another like that.”
“If wizards are rare, then why the hell do we keep stumbling into them?” I ask, thinking of Stryker, Isaac, and Bain. “I mean, there was the witch dude—”
“Witches and wizards are not the same thing,” Taavi says, leading me between the massive trunks of trees, past fern fronds in a rainbow of colors, and mushrooms of questionable origin. Some of them even glitter. In a place like this, that can’t be good.
“I used to think wizards were the male version of witches. That’s not the case here?”
“Witches pull magic from the earth; wizards pull magic from inside themselves.” Taavi pauses at the edge of a creek, looking up and down the bank, and then lifting his head to scent the air. After a moment, he bends down and dips his hand in the water, swirling his fingers around. He grunts, as if in approval, and then stands back up. “You’re safe to use the water now.”
“You’re not going to look away, are you?” I ask, and he shakes his head.
“I’m sorry, Oz, but I cannot. It’s too dangerous. Don’t worry about me though: I certainly won’t be propositioning you for a child.”
“Yeah? Why not?” I ask, remembering the intensity in his stare, the words growled out from low in his throat. Mine. Mate. Breed. Taavi ignores me, eyes scanning the limbs of the trees for danger. Just to spite him, I kick the silver shoes off, and his eyes widen. He bends down quickly to retrieve them, tucking them under one of his strong arms.
“It’s forbidden for wizards and their guardians to engage in romance or sexual activity of any kind,” Taavi says, looking back at me. “No matter how strong the pull.”
“Are you saying we have a pull?” I ask, tearing my dress over my head. I’m not wearing a bra underneath, but Taavi doesn’t look at my chest. His gaze is focused on my face, even as I shimmy out of my shorts and underwear. Two days of walking with no shower … I need this.
“No,” Taavi tells me, sounding like he’s speaking the purest of truths. But what was it he said to Stryker? Taavi isn’t a faerie, he can lie, and it’s likely he’s doing just that.
I step a toe into the water, and then stumble back.
“It’s freezing cold!” I groan, dipping my toe in again. “There’s no way I can bathe in this.”
“You’re a wizard, Oz, start acting like one.” Taavi keeps his gaze neutral, focused on my face, or the trees, or the water. He definitely doesn’t look at my breasts or anything lower down. “Heat the water up, but be quick about it. In Oz, strange things live in the water.”
“Things worse than the kelpie?” I ask, but the way he grunts tells me that there are much, much worse creatures than that out here.
“Fuck.”
I’m naked, so all that cool palm slapping and arm flinging might look a bit less, uh, badass if I were to do it now. But I’m also not getting in a bath of ice water. No freaking way.
Exhaling sharply, I try what I did last night, slapping my palms together and imagining the water heating up to a pleasant bath-like temperature. Instead, a lightning bolt crashes down to the bank just across from me, and I let out a little scream.
“Are there words I’m supposed to speak?” I ask, looking to Taavi for help. “Hand gestures? Help a girl out here.”
“I know as much about being a wizard as you do,” Taavi says, sounding resigned, like he wishes he could help, but doesn’t exactly know how to go about doing it. “Your power comes from the inside; it’s up to you to direct it.”
Looking back at the creek, I wish I’d left my clothes on until after I fiddled around with magic I don’t understand.
“This is fascinating,” Stryker says, making me jump as he appears from behind the large trunk of a tree. Taavi snarls at him, taking several menacing steps forward. “You really have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”
“Does the word privacy mean anything to you?!” I choke out, snatching the gingham dress and tearing it over my head. The gingham fabric flutters into place as Stryker approaches, lifting a single tattooed finger in the air, and then swirling it in a gentle circle.
The water in front of me bubbles and begins to steam, the pleasant warmth teasing my toes as I take an experimental step forward. Oh my god, that feels good.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t tear your throat out and drink your blood?” Taavi snarls as Stryker takes a seat on a rock, turning away from the water to, presumably, give me a chance to bathe.
“Last night, with Isaac, you mimicked me when you cast. I assumed—as did he, I’m sure—that you were making a statement on my behalf. But really, you know nothing about your own magic. If Isaac had pushed, he might’ve seen that. He might’ve killed you.”
“Thank you for the warm water, but can you fuck all the way off, so I can rinse?”
Stryker glances back, and smiles at me, ignoring Taavi’s twisted snarl.
“Are there no wizards in Kansas then?”
“None,” I say, looking at Taavi again. “But I know how to light a match, so whatever the hell it is you’re thinking right now, forget it.”
Stryker cringes again, but manages to keep a smile on his face.
“Actually, I have an idea.” He stands up from his spot on the rock and moves over to stand beside Taavi. “You don’t know how to be a proper wizard, and I just so happen to be a proper wizard.”
“Watch yourself,” Taavi snarls, his ears taut with tension as he studies Stryker with a wary expression.
“It’s a simple trade: I teach you to be a wizard, so you don’t end up dead at Dorothy’s feet. And you two help me extricate Court from the faerie queen’s grip. It’s on your way to the City of Emer
alds, after all.”
“You just said it yourself: I’m not a proper wizard. What the hell do you expect me to do to help you?”
“By the time we reach the faerie queen’s domain, you’ll know a thing or two.” Stryker looks over at Taavi for a moment before turning back to me, gold eyes sparkling with mischief. “And you can lend me the use of your guardian. That should do it. As powerful as you are, a few basic techniques should serve us well.”
“You’re asking for yet more of us?” Taavi asks, getting up in Stryker’s face. “After we saved your life, and then saved your life a second time, putting as at the mercy of the C.R.O.W.S. Surely, you could teach Oz out of simple gratitude.”
“I could, but that would imply that I wasn’t desperate for your assistance. And I am. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get Court back.” Stryker swipes his palms down the front of his jacket and gives me a scorching smile. “Consider my proposal while you bathe. Both of my proposals, actually. We should make a child while we’re in one another’s company. I’d give you half of my magic to keep the baby for myself.”
“You’re fucking insane! Get the hell out of here.” I throw a rock at him, but he ducks out of the way, and smirks before disappearing into the trees. “Keep the baby for himself?” I mumble, shaking my head with disbelief. “What the fuck is wrong with this place?”
“Wizards often come together to make children. It’s rarely done out of love,” Taavi says with a small sigh. He sounds tired, but when I look at him, he’s as stoic and immovable as ever. “There are rules. Men must give half their magic to keep a firstborn. Women must give up a fifth, or offer up a second child and take only a fraction of their consort’s power.”
“That’s … interesting,” I hedge, pulling off my dress and diving into the water with a sigh, before Stryker comes back. I have a feeling that he wouldn’t be quite so polite about my nakedness. “Haven’t these people ever heard of co-parenting?”
Taavi doesn’t answer me, approaching only once with a bar of soap he removes from the duffel bag. I notice he doesn’t put it—or the shoes—down. He keeps the bag over his shoulder, and the sparkly silver shoes under his arm.
I use the soap as best I can to wash my body, and then my hair. It’s not ideal, to wash one’s hair with a bar of Irish Spring, but I don’t have a lot of good choices at the moment.
At least when I climb out, there’s a fresh towel waiting for me. It has a monogrammed logo on one corner with the school mascot from my high school back in Seattle, along with my initials. It was a gift from my swim coach, and even though I’ve only had it for two years, it feels like I got it a lifetime ago.
“It’s okay to cry, you know that, don’t you?” Taavi says, the softness in his voice reminding me of the gentle brown eyes of the dog that used to help soothe my emotional aches with just a kiss and a furry hug.
“And what could I possibly have to cry about? I mean, there’s a hunky wizard who wants to make a baby with me on our second day together. Am I lucky or what?”
“Don’t deflect, Oz,” Taavi says, giving me a reproachful look. “Your mother had meant to bring you here someday. Remembering her while you’re here, that’s what she would’ve wanted.”
“Really?” I snap, throwing the towel at him. He doesn’t deserve my anger, but he’s going to get it anyway because there’s nobody else here. It’s just me and him, like it was that day the boat sank. Me, struggling to swim even though I was the captain of the team. Me, sinking into the darkness with a rope wrapped around my leg, instead of rescuing my sister. I saw her face just after we hit the water, panicked and white with fear.
If I hadn’t gotten my leg stuck, I could’ve saved her.
Taavi could’ve saved her.
And instead … he saved me.
Why?
“Because if Mom wanted me to know about this,” I throw my hand out to indicate the whole of this weird as fuck world. “Then maybe she should’ve said something sooner, instead of living a lie with every breath she took, and every word she spoke.”
I storm past Taavi, heading back toward the smoke that marks the location of the cabin. Stryker’s managed to get the birds prepped for roasting, but I notice he doesn’t go anywhere near the flames.
“You can teach me to control my magic?” I ask, pausing in front of him. He smiles at me, but I don’t have the patience right now for games. “Yes or no?”
“By the time you reach Emerald City, you’ll be a force to be reckoned with—even against seasoned wizards. You’ll fare better than me in the trials, that much I’m certain of.”
“It’s a deal then.” I hold my hand out, and Stryker grins, reaching to take it. At the last second, I draw my hand back and give him a look. “Just the teaching thing though. The baby is an absolute no.”
“At least for now,” Stryker murmurs as he reaches out and grabs my hand in a firm shake.
“Not for now, forever,” I correct, but he doesn’t seem deterred in the slightest.
“No to the baby for now, fine, but about hooking up …” he starts, but I ignore him, shaking his hand and then releasing it.
I didn’t say no to that part, now did I?
The woods seem to go on forever. As beautiful as the trees and the multi-colored ferns are, there’s always this sense that something is watching us. My skin prickles with unease, and I can’t stop checking over my shoulder.
Taavi isn’t much of a talker, but at least Stryker’s here to help pass the time. As strange as he is, he’s a fount of information.
“The Ruby Trials have been ongoing for over a hundred years now,” he says, more than happy to fill the stilted, creepy silence of the dark forest. It may as well be night in here; the sun very rarely manages to find a spot in the trees to peek through at us. “Dorothy, the Small and Meek, began them shortly after she arrived in Oz. She’s like you, you know, not of this country. I hear she was raw in her magic when she arrived in Emerald City, looking for a way home.”
“So why didn’t she leave then?” I ask, my hands in the pockets of the dress, the mark on my forehead burning. I’d all but forgotten about it until Stryker brought it up. A witch’s mark. It grants me protection, so both he and Taavi have said, but I have yet to see what it can really do.
“A question I ask myself every day,” Stryker says, pausing as a family of tiny fae creatures crosses the road in front of us, the smallest of them about the size of an acorn and tucked in her father’s arm. They have no wings, but their hair is made up of long, gossamer-like headdresses.
As soon as they spot us, they let out a call of alarm, and tiny bubbles appear, encasing each of them in their own, save the acorn-sized baby. She rides away on the wind with her blue-skinned father.
Equal parts fascinating and weird.
“Alven,” Taavi says, pointing at the bubbles as they flitter away into the trees. “One of the few relatively harmless faerie folk. The creek must swing a bit closer to the road here.” He peers into the trees, clearly just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Taavi expects trouble.
If it’s anything like the scarecrows or the kelpie, then I really should embrace my training with Stryker with gusto.
“Hopefully not too close,” Stryker adds, snatching an overripe piece of fruit from a nearby tree. Taavi grimaces as the wizard bites into it, but unless there’s slow-acting poison in there, it doesn’t seem to affect him in any negative sort of way. Maybe because, unlike me, he isn’t half-human? “Water might not be my weakness, but I’m not a big fan of kelpies either.”
“What a coincidence,” I quip, giving Taavi a look. “Neither is he.” I nod my chin in the dog’s direction, and he gives me a low growl in response. “Hey. Is it normal for your guardian to hit on you after they’ve shifted into a giant faerie dog?”
“Oz.” Just that one word, sharp and commanding from Taavi. He acts a bit less like a proper toto and more like a general in command of his forces. He’s pretty bossy for a slave, I have
to say.
“Guardians can’t fuck their wizards,” Stryker says, juice dribbling down his chin before he swipes it away with his tattooed hand. “They’re our only anchor in an unstable world. You know what they say: a wizard without a guardian is bound to be bound.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that,” I tell him, trying to ignore that subtle feeling of being watched. Surely Taavi or Stryker would’ve noticed if we were? “But I don’t get it. Why couldn’t a guardian and a wizard hook up?”
“I keep forgetting you’re from Kansas,” Stryker drawls, pronouncing the word Kansas like it’s so impossibly foreign that he can barely keep it resting on the tip of his tongue. “Our magic comes from the inside; it’s infinite, eternal. And it’s always looking for an outlet. A wizard that isn’t bound to a guardian is likely to be bound to someone or something else, looking to use us as their own personal power source.”
“That still doesn’t explain why a guardian couldn’t hook up with a wizard.” I give Taavi a look, and he glances away. I’m not sure why I’m even pressing this. I’m not interested in him anyway, just curious.
“Sex stirs up too many things,” Stryker says, finishing his fruit and chucking the ebon-black pit into the woods. “Too many emotions, too much magic. If a guardian is locked in the throes of passion, they can’t help with the ebb and flow of a wizard’s power. It’s why they’re celibate, you know.”
“Celibate, you say?” I ask, glancing Taavi’s way again. But he’s not looking at me. Instead, his brown eyes scan the woods as he maintains that brisk pace of his, looking impossibly formidable, despite the fact that he’s half-naked, wearing a collar and fuzzy ears, and padding around in bare feet.
“Besides that, guardianship is meant to last a lifetime. Lovers quarrel, that’s a fact. And once bound, the only thing that separates a guardian from a wizard is death. It’s just best this way.” Stryker looks between me and Taavi, and then shrugs his shoulders. “If you’re in need of a warm body for your bed, then you might consider my offer …”
Very Bad Wizards Page 9