Spark of Intent

by Harper Wylde

  Damien stood with his arms crossed across his chest, his arms pushing against the restraining black waist coat he wore. I smiled at the picture of him, brooding in the expensive tuxedo I helped pick out for him. When it came to name brand clothing, the guys let me do their shopping.

  “What are you doing?” Damien’s admonishment was oddly a balm to my ears, and I relaxed marginally. We hadn’t been found out. The Council was too preoccupied to realize we had even gone missing, just as we’d hoped. As much as I didn’t want Nix in the limelight, I appreciated the freedom her presence allowed us.

  “This entire section of forest is warded. It’s been altered since we were last here.” I took a step closer, showing him the slight glimmer that only a mythological could see.

  “I know. I can feel it from here. The urge to turn around and walk away is strong.”

  “So is the ward, but I believe we can cross it. After the medical center, I want to check out the area that Nix remembers being taken from. It’s the only solid piece of her memories that we’ve been able to ferret out so far. First and foremost, however, we have to get through this ward. I was trying to determine if it had any alarm settings attached when I heard you approach.”

  Damien stepped up to the barrier, placing his hand against the clear, nearly nonexistent wall. “Ishida’s work. The protective wards have been set in place by a celestial kitsune.” He closed his eyes for a minute and tried to gather more information.

  Gargoyles were commonly used as guards for high ranking mythologicals because of their keen senses, extreme strength, and naturally protective instincts. Given the power level in Damien’s bloodline in regards to his mental gifts—he had a direct pathway to a Council seat like his father and his father’s father before him. While not as rare a shifter as I, his class level was just as high as mine.

  “I don’t think it has alarms but we won’t know for sure. You certain you want to do this?” he inquired.

  I didn’t respond. Instead, I pushed my way through the barrier, letting the painful prickle of power crawl over my body. I gritted my teeth, fighting my way through.

  Damien followed me through, both of us breathing heavily by the time we reached the other side.

  Pausing, we waited for a response to our trespassing, and when none came, a broad smile found my lips, breaking the tension I’d been feeling.

  Straightening my jacket, I shot Damien a cheeky smirk. “Bond. James Bond.”

  He shook his head at me silently, but I saw the small grin on his face as well. There was something liberating about breaking the rules.

  He followed me through the woods until the shadow of a building rose from a clearing we could make out through the treeline. One of his hands shot out to still me, and we dove behind thick tree trunks, observing before moving closer.

  I’ve been keeping tabs on everyone else, but I’m going to shut down the connection and shift it to just you and me while we’re within the barrier. The less chance the Council has of learning our whereabouts the better.

  “Medical records are usually stored in the office area,” Damien muttered to me as we crept tree to tree towards the building. I knew this was serious, and finding Nix’s medical file was incredibly important, yet I couldn’t help but hum the Pink Panther theme song in my head. I guess some things were just instinctual. I probably shouldn’t have been surprised when the doorknob to the medical building turned easily, but it still startled me so badly that I nearly fell through the door as it opened.

  “Trust them to think that the wards would be enough to keep anyone away, rather than actually taking precautions.” I could practically hear Damien roll his eyes from behind me.

  We slid quietly down the entry hall, the glaring white of the walls and floor was a shock after the dark night. “You sure they keep the medical records in here?” I couldn’t resist questioning Damien who huffed at me.

  “It’s the logical place for them. The Council wards things and uses fear to try and prevent anyone from looking deeper. I don’t see a reason they would hide medical files outside of the medical building, especially because they need a lot of that information should a shifter need a healer.” His disgust was evident. The building was nearly as icy as the outdoors, and the smell of disinfectant was strong, permeating the building and everything in it.

  “Let’s just get out of here. We’re going to reek of the damn cleaners in here.” I pushed at my hair, dragging it out of my eyes as we looked in room after room. Exam tables, equipment, and supplies were stacked in every room, but so far there were no files. I groaned as we came to a staircase, wanting to pound my head into the wall. “Now which way? We can’t be gone that much longer or someone’s going to notice and this place is a damn maze.”

  “There are offices here,” Damien mused, ruffling his own hair in his frustration. “I know I’ve heard my dad mention them.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Great. So, we look for offices now. That doesn’t explain if we go up or down.”

  “I should have brought Hiro to keep you in check,” Damien muttered as he headed up the staircase, his steps silent despite the fancy dress shoes. At the end up of the upper hall was an ornate set of double doors, carved in a similar pattern to the doorway of the Council’s throne room in the Lodge. My eyebrows nearly reached my hairline at how ostentatious the door was and how out of place it looked in a medical facility. “Well, I guess we found it.” His voice was dry as he started towards the end of the hall. We both winced at the prick of the strong wards we ran into as we neared the door, each step a static shock, the sparkle of the magic in the edges of our vision.

  “More wards. I guess locks are too oldschool,” Damien murmured.

  “Be grateful. At least we can get past the wards; we’re not the greatest lockpicks.” Though, come to think of it, that was a skill I should probably try and develop if night time missions were going to become a thing. Damien cracked the door open and we slid through, our feet sinking deeply into opulent carpet rather than the sterile tile otherwise coating the area. “Split up.” The order fell from my lips in a whisper. “Check the cabinets. We’re running behind.”

  Damien headed to the right and I crossed the room, trying not to disturb the papers on the desk as I checked drawer after drawer. “Got it!” Damien called softly. “There are a bunch of files here.” He swore lightly as he flipped through. “They’re not alphabetical.”

  I groaned but joined him to help sift through the masses and masses of files. “Hey, I know these names.” I put my hand over Damien’s, stopping him for a moment. “These are all lower levels.” I pointed to name after name that were familiar. “There’s got to be another drawer for higher ranking shifters.” Ugh, trust the Council to even separate medical files as if lower class shifters would contaminate the higher class. I pulled open the next drawer up, laughing when I saw more familiar names. “Yep, that’s exactly what they did. Bastards. What the hell? Some of these just have numbers.” I pulled the file up slightly so Damien could see HY-97 and HY-326 stamped across the tops.

  “Just find it quickly.” Damien hissed the words, his hands darting through the files. “We need to get it and get out.” The next drawer yielded similar results and we moved onto the fourth, the hair on the back of my neck standing up as I strained to sort and listen at the same time.

  “Annika.” I grabbed the file, though no last name was present on it.

  “We can’t just take it.” Damien had moved quickly, placing his hand where I drew the file from to prevent the others from falling in its place. “Grab your phone. Snap some pictures of the contents. Quickly. We are definitely pushing our luck at this point. I’m still shocked we haven’t set off any alarms.” I did as he requested, using my jacket to shield the flashes of light from my phone's camera, the words illuminating for me to catch a few of them.

  “Fuck, Damien.” I gaped at the few words that had stood out. “They fucking gave her something. There’s a note in here about a fertility drug—pushing
her to ovulate.” I was shaking terribly, nearly dropping the files from my hands in my fury.

  “Let’s go.” Damien’s voice could have shattered stone it was so hard. “Now. Before I tear this place apart with my bare hands.” Quickly snapping images of the rest, I slid the file back into the drawer, shutting it quietly despite my trembling hands.

  My nerves were high as we snuck back down the hallway and slipped quietly out the front door. With a covert tap on my shoulder, Damien motioned further into the woods toward where Nix had said she’d been kidnapped. I began to hum my song on repeat through my head as I ran my hands through the purple strands of my hair, following after the Gargoyle who led the way.

  The forest grew denser the farther we traveled, and we had to pick our way through the woods to remain silent. As I continued to hum, Damien cocked his head, his eyes narrowing in on my face. “What is that?”

  “What?” I whispered and quickly glanced over my shoulders, looking around for whatever had caught his notice.

  “That song. I’ve been catching vestiges of it all week.” He tilted his head forward, making sure to lock eyes with mine, even in the dark.

  “I’ve been keeping my thoughts quiet, Damien. Why are you intruding?” My tone of voice held an edge that only tipped the Gargoyle off more. He knew the melody meant something to me.

  “Spill it, Ryder. When we keep secrets from each other, we only make things worse.” He relaxed, dropping his arms and suddenly looking exhausted. “I should know. Look at what a mess I’ve made.” He mumbled the last part of the sentence, but shifter hearing didn’t let me down. I caught what he’d said.

  “You’re blaming yourself?” Moving closer, I made sure we were both obscured by the inky shadows while we talked quietly, ensuring that we wouldn’t be seen nor heard.

  “I kept everyone out while I worked on my own shit, so yeah… I blame myself. If I’d kept the lines of communication open, I’d have known about Killian’s frustrations. Maybe I would have known by now what the hell is going on with Ciarán and what the whole purpose behind his visit is. I still can’t figure that guy out. If I hadn’t have shut down the link, Nix may have felt more comfortable coming to us after the fight, rather than leaving us behind. Fuck… we’d have all been able to process my father’s involvement with Michael—not that we know much. I was just so fucking afraid of losing her…” He trailed off, but I knew exactly how he was feeling.

  Wasn’t it the same way I’d been feeling since I realized my powers had suddenly gone to the dark side? Losing Nix was unimaginable.

  I shook my head, my emotions shaking through me. “It’s my fault. I let the fight with Killian get out of hand. I could have walked away.” Breath wooshed past my lips as I exhaled sharply. “I’m a danger to Nix.” My words warbled out of my throat. It was harder to admit that out loud than I’d anticipated.

  Damien clasped me on the shoulder, squeezing lightly until he had my attention. His dark eyes gleamed in the moonlight with sincerity. “You’re not dangerous. Our powers are increasing, we just need to learn how to control the new aspects of their development. Nix is included in that just as much as we are.”

  Scoffing, I narrowed a look at Damien, “I haven’t had an increase in powers since I finished puberty. You’re telling me that suddenly my powers are increasing, growing stronger, and changing? Why? That doesn’t even make sense!” I was nearly hissing by the time I finished my tyrade. My worry over potentially hurting Nix fogging over my sense of calm.

  “You never had a mate before.” My brother’s gaze was steady and calming, and bloody hell… his logic did make some sense.

  “You think that finding the girl we want to mate is changing us somehow?” I ran a hand down my face, trying to process what that meant. “That seems atypical.”

  “Something to run past Theo.” Damien shrugged and I wanted to let out a frustrated growl. My Ceraptor whinnied from within and I winced. I knew he was longing for my attention, but I hadn’t been able to forgive him nor myself for our loss of control. Not only had I had to have Damien knock me out to regain my command over my powers—which was as embarrassing after the fact as it was necessary in the moment—but I’d been worried about it happening again. My Cerpator huffed, pawing the wall I kept him behind in my mind with his hoof.

  I know, boy. I’m sorry. I felt exhausted, but I still had a mission to complete, and I wouldn’t leave the commune tonight without some answers—or least without ruling out what else was behind this barrier.

  “The song, Ryder.” Reminding me of our original conversation, Damien brought our talk full circle.

  I took a deep breath. “I doubt you’ll believe me.” My fingers delved once more into my hair as I mussed the style that I’d perfected earlier in the evening.

  “Try me,” Damien challenged, and I halted, spinning to the Gargoyle who paused next to me.

  “I know that song.” I dropped my hands, defeated. “My sister used to sing me that song. My mother taught it to her. It was something she wrote, Damien. Trust me, I’ve searched and searched for it over the years. It doesn’t exist anywhere else anymore except inside my mind. I haven’t heard that tune out loud in years.” My hands were shaking with nervous energy as I relayed the story. I needed him to believe me. I needed answers. “She hummed that song to me every night, D. Every time I was sad or scared, every time I was frustrated. It was ours, and only ours.” I gulped in air, trying to get my words in order. “I hadn’t even thought about it at first, but ever since Nix came back from the island, she’s been humming it. She has no reason to know it, D. None. It’s a made-up song.”

  His shoulders were rigid, and he was quiet for an extra beat that made nervousness rise up inside of my body. The phrase ‘believe me’ became a chant in my mind while I waited for him to speak.

  Before I could open my mouth and ask what he was thinking, an SUV screeched to a stop up ahead, it’s high beams knifing through the treeline, exposing a clearing we had yet to see in the dark. The bright yellow glow illuminated a long drive, and a tall stone building about three stories high. Damien and I both froze, close enough to get a good look at three children being roughly led from indoors. Their cries and whimpers infused the air, and rage built within me as Damien’s Gargoyle pressed to the surface, elongating his ears and his teeth.

  My Ceraptor bucked in my head, letting out an agitated whinny that I wholeheartedly agreed with.

  A long, dark van pulled up the drive slowly, stopping in front of the building with its parking lights illuminating the SUV that had arrived first.

  From this distance, I could only make out murmurs of conversation between the two men who escorted the kids, but Damien’s longer ears lent him a greater range than my human ones, and he relayed what he heard through our mental link.

  “Only these three?” the driver harshly asked in a gruff voice as he rounded the front of the van and opened the side door.

  The second man nodded and yanked two of the children’s arms as he pulled them toward the van, kicking the one in front of him to make him move. The children ranged in age looking to be between three and six.

  My muscles bunched and I growled lowly. I hadn’t even realized I was moving before the hard bar of Damien's arm shot out and blocked me. His eyes were dark when he turned to me, and he shook his head sharply once.

  “Into the van you go.” The driver leered, puffing on a cigarette he held between his fingers, the end turning a bright, ashy red with the pull. The oldest child seemed resigned, his head hung, limply following orders as tears tracked heedlessly down his cheeks. The young girls clutched each other’s hands tightly, pressed nearly shoulder to shoulder. Their cries and whimpers seemed to be the ones that had alerted us to their location.The young girls dug in their feet, refusing to take the few steps forward into the van, despite the boy already disappearing inside.

  “Do you need help?” A small, feminine voice had Damien and me startling, and Damien gripped me tightly to ensure I wouldn’t
run forward in foolish haste. The young woman who stepped from the van was thin and petite, her skin darkly gold. Straight hair brushed her shoulders, simply styled in a long bob. The color of her hair was dark—so black it was almost blue, and it was only those blue tinted streaks that shone against the encompassing night sky. I didn’t have to step closer to know the rest—her eyes would be a vibrant, glowing gold, her face rounded with a pert nose.

  What the hell is Zanoah doing here? She was one of the Council’s puppets, her powers incredibly rare. Zanoah was a baku, nearly on par with Nix in her rarity; she was the Council’s resident mind wiper. Chills crept up my back and I kept my breathing slow and quiet. I knew we both wanted to race forward, to protect those children from whatever it was that was happening. However, we weren’t idiots, doing so would ruin our covert mission, putting us all in danger.

  The Baku’s hands reached out, cupping the oldest girl’s head, her touch gentle but firm. Even from here I could see the gold of her eyes brighten as she called her magic. Zanoah’s powers were purely mental. She could wipe memories to suit her needs—or more accurately, the Council’s needs—then make suggestions to override the wiped memories. The other young girl continued to cry as the oldest’s tears dried, her smile suddenly overtaking her face, small dimples prominent.

  “Yes, please! I want my mommy.” Her voice was excited and Zanoah swayed a moment.

  “I hate when they give me several to wipe at a time.” She murmured the words, shaking out her hands as her eyes paled again. “They’ve been on that island for years. It’s nearly impossible to wipe everything and rebuild without completely destroying their minds.”

  I wanted to hiss and bit my tongue hard, unwilling to make a sound. Damien’s muscles were rock hard under my hand, his stress as clear as mine. She said island. The words were slow and shocked as I pushed them at Damien. What are the odds, D? They have to be from the same island that Nix was taken to. He nodded sharply, disgust carved in deep lines along his eyes and mouth, his nose flaring with suppressed anger.