Wild Women Collection

by Rachel Sullivan

  “There is no such thing as an ex-Hunter,” she proclaimed. Her sisters cheered at her announcement as though she spoke Goddess’s truth.

  “Well,” I said, thinking of not only Marcus and Rod, but also of the Hunter whom I’d just watched slit his neck on his own dagger. “That’s where you’re wrong. I know this because I’m standing beside one and I’ve met others.”

  Also probably not the best first impression, so I continued with a softer, less disrupting statement. “I understand why you’d think that, though. I used to be of the same opinion not very long ago.” I looked at Marcus and kept my gaze too high to catch a glimpse of the dead Hunter who’d wanted out of the brotherhood. “But personal experience has taught me otherwise.”

  The leader of the fire women studied me for a few breaths before she relaxed her stance. She pointed to Aleksander. “You are no Hunter. This is not your battle to fight.”

  He answered as though she’d asked a question, which I suppose she could have been leading to. “You are correct, ma’am. I am an incubus and do not wish to fight you either.”

  “An incubus,” she said as though she were trying the word on her tongue for the first time. “I’ve heard of your kind but have never met one.” The flames in her palms extinguished, as did those of the woman flanking her. Suddenly the night felt much darker, though a forest fire roared less than a mile behind them. “What is your name, incubus?”

  Aleksander took a step toward the woman but didn’t reach his hand out to shake hers. Good call. I made a mental note to refrain from automatically shaking her hand if the moment we formally introduced ourselves—rather than me stating my name and her correcting me—felt like it needed a physical greeting.

  “My name is Aleksander,” he said. “Aleksander Berg. I am the leader of an incubi hoard in Portland, Oregon. And you must be a Wild Woman of…” He paused to study her. “Of the volcano Goddess Pele. You wouldn’t happen to be alae?”

  He could have just spoken in another language for all of what I understood of his statement about her kind and goddess. Wait. I had heard of Pele. “You’re from Hawaii?” I blurted out. “But that means you’re American Wild Women. Why have I never heard of you?”

  She gave me a look of impudence before answering. “I am Ailani, the high chief of my people, the alae; humble servant of Pele. We have no Hunters on our islands. They tried to join the other white men in colonizing our land, but our alae ancestors would have no part of their ways and they ran them out with the help of our friends, the mo’o sisters.”

  Okay, so clearly we’d gotten off on the wrong foot. I needed to right things before they went any further. She and her sisters were American Wild Women; this was huge. They were more our distant relatives than the nagin, shé, or the echidna. These women were from American soil. They had more stakes in this revolution.

  “We are also driving the Hunters out,” I said. “My coterie and the other Wild groups of this country. We’ve ruined two Hunter complexes and we have plans to ruin the last two before the month is over. We are appreciative of your help tonight.”

  As though on cue, the three rusalki, sopping wet and naked as the day they were born, walked from the lake and onto the shore. I’d expected their skin to glow in the moonlight, but with the amount of smoke blocking the moon, their skin didn’t so much as glimmer. They slowed their pace when they noticed the alae watching them. Drosera pulled birch scissors from her knotted hair.

  Three mermaids I’d never met, but who looked familiar, exited the lake after the rusalki, naked and strewn with lake weeds.

  A new kind of stand-off started. The exhausted mermaids and rusalki locked eyes with the alae. One alae on the left side of their leader lit a little flame in the center of her right palm as though she were preparing for things to get ugly.

  “There, there,” a woman’s voice said in a Spanish accent as a delicate hand breeched the smoky haze and patted the shoulder of the alae holding fire. “This night has already turned out to be quite the disaster. Let’s not make things worse.”

  The alae extinguished her fire and lowered her head. Although her body language made her out to be submissive to the new woman entering our space, her leader, Ailani, held her ground. “Conchita,” she said, staring into the woman’s eyes. “We were merely making introductions.”

  Conchita smirked and gave a slight nod. She made her way over to me and put her hand out. I hesitated.

  “I am not a fire woman,” she laughed. “I am the opposite, in fact.”

  Eleven

  Each time a new type of Wild Woman was introduced to me I ran through a mental debate, first scolding myself for not spending more time researching folkloric women who were possibly walking the earth, and then blaming my lifelong education of Hunter-skewed Wild facts. Of course, I could have dug into our kind after I flipped the bird to the whole Hunter establishment, but starting a revolution leaves little time for much else.

  “Are you a water woman?” a mermaid asked.

  I didn’t pretend to know what Conchita was, but I also decided not to appear ignorant. I let the mermaid’s questions shed light on the dark-haired woman standing before us with the confidence of a war general and the grace of a woman who knows her place…is at the top.

  Conchita inhaled deeply and answered the mermaid on a smiling exhale. “Yes, I am a xana, created by the Goddess Danu. We are more commonly known as a type of water nymph.” She narrowed her eyes and studied Marcus for a quick second before returning a soft gaze to the mermaid. “We hail from Spain.”

  I answered the water nymph’s offer of a handshake. “Thank you for being here,” I said. “But I am unsure why Wild Women from Spain would make an appearance, unless the rusalki asked you here.” I thought better of that statement once it left my lips. The xana woman had to have come from Spain before the Hunters set the fire to the rusalki’s woods. She arrived too quickly. She would have already been around.

  Conchita released my hand and took a step back, closer to the fire women than me and my exhausted group of either drenched or sweaty supernaturals. She wore dress slacks and a button-up silk shirt. Her thick black hair cascaded down her shoulders to reach her elbows. She looked as though she had stepped out of a fashion magazine, not out of the smoky haze of a forest fire. She indicated the alae behind her with the sweep of her hand. “The alae are the closest Wild Women, and the least likely to be overcome by the Hunters, so we sent them to keep an eye on the journalist issue.”

  I had to stop her there. “Why not just contact us and see if we were handling it, which we were.”

  Conchita cocked her head and narrowed a gaze at me. “We couldn’t be sure you were trustworthy enough to contact, to allow knowledge of our existence.” She blinked and her shoulders relaxed before she went on. “You were raised under the tutelage of Hunters.”

  Yet another group of Wild Women who’d failed to step in and help us. I wondered if she’d give the same reason as the others. I was too irritated to find out. I nearly shook my head and suppressed a sigh. If Eonza had only waited to be impregnated, none of this Brice crap would be happening and we’d be able to focus on the bigger issues at hand…like not being taken out by the Hunters. But no amount of frustration would change our current circumstances, so I pushed it from my mind and tried to look at the positive. Now we had more possible Wild Women to join our fight. I just had to convince them it was a fight worth their effort. “Well, I appreciate you being here,” I said to both Conchita and the alae standing behind her.

  “I was sent to check up on things, as a delegate, one could say.” Conchita bowed her head for a moment. When she raised her eyes, they fell back onto Marcus. This time, though, she seemed to scrutinize him.

  “A delegate?” I asked, partly to find out why she considered herself an ambassador when none of the other foreign Wilds had, and partly to get her to stop looking at Marcus in such an unnerving way. Did she agree with the alae that he was a Hunter, still very much a part of the brotherhood?


  Ailani, the chief fire woman, answered. “The xana are leaders of all free Wild Women.” Her voice dripped with admiration. “Their leader, Avera, is the reason they are free.”

  “Wait,” I countered. “I thought you said your kind is free because you ran the Hunters out.” Maybe standing in the burning forest wasn’t the best time and place for a Wild political history lesson, but I’d learned to take the opportunities whenever they presented themselves. Discovering our hidden history helped me to unravel possible scenarios for our future.

  Conchita touched Ailani lovingly as though to say she had this one.

  “The xana came to the Iberian Peninsula with the Celts in the early days,” Conchita said. “We thrived there until the Romans descended upon our ways. Not too long after the Romans, came the first Hunters. They built their first complex in Spain and operated it under the guise of a monastery. The xana were the first Wild Women to be oppressed by the Hunters, the first of many.” She ran her fingers through her hair and smiled as her eyes went distant in far off thought. “We were also the first to overthrow them and continue to overthrow their attempts at uprisings in other lands.”

  “How’d your kind do it?” I asked, my voice now dripping with adoration.

  “Which time?” she said with a laugh.

  “Will you come back to where we’re staying, as our guest?” I offered. “I’d love to hear the details of every single time your kind overthrew them. I’m sure it’ll help us in our efforts.”

  “You are the leader of the American Wild Women under Hunter rule?” Conchita asked matter-of-factly.

  I turned to look at my group of rusalki, mermaids, succubi, huldra, an ex-Hunter, and an incubus. “I suppose I incited the revolution,” I answered, still uncomfortable with the idea of being a leader of any sort.

  Marcus spoke up. “She rallied her people together, stood up against the Hunters’ oppression in a way that inspired others to do the same, helped her kind to learn how to wield their own abilities, and has been a key part in planning each and every attack. Her actions have even inspired Hunters to leave the brotherhood. So yes, Faline Frey of the Washington huldra coterie is our leader.”

  The adoration in his voice… I could have pounced on the man right then and there, surrounded by Wild Women and a blazing fire. Instead I gave him “eyes” and mouthed “later.”

  Conchita offered his frankness a different type of response. She took four steps and stood an arm’s length in front of him. She looked my ex-Hunter up and down until she reached his face and seemed to study his eyes and nose. “Did your love for the huldra Faline inspire you to leave the brotherhood?” she asked, her head tilted in curiosity.

  Conchita’s head reached the height of Marcus’s chin. He inhaled and leaned down a little to look her in the eye. “No,” he answered. “I left the brotherhood before meeting Faline.”

  “Why is that?” Conchita asked.

  “Why do you want to know?” Marcus responded, clearly uncomfortable giving personal information to a stranger, whether she was on our team or not. I didn’t blame him. He hadn’t exactly had the easiest time with my fellow Wild Women.

  “Because,” she stated bluntly. “You look very familiar.”

  “Trust me,” Marcus said. “We haven’t met before.”

  “Oh,” she said with a nod, backing up. “I am not suggesting we have.”

  “Then what are you suggesting?” I asked.

  Why couldn’t anything ever be easy? Yet again we were in a two steps forward, one step back situation. The xana had just agreed to come to our place and help me figure out how to defeat the Hunters the way her kind had. So of course a difficulty would find its way to my plan in the form of some sort of bad blood or disagreement between my boyfriend and the holder of important information.

  I looked to the alae to see if one had a flame at the ready as tension began to build between Marcus and me and the xana. No flames danced in alae palms, so I figured maybe the tension came from only my side of things. I was just sick and tired of watching Marcus be questioned after all he’d done for us. All he’d done for me.

  Conchita gave a warm and inviting smile. “I am suggesting that I have met a family member of his. An ancestor.”

  “Is it possible Conchita was referring to another Hunter?” I asked Marcus as we sat in our hotel room in a town called Augusta, Maine.

  The Maine Hunter complex was situated on a plot of land outside of city limits. We couldn’t keep the forest and the rusalki’s home safe from their fires, but we could bring fire to their complex.

  First, we needed some rest.

  Marcus leaned across the bed and stretched. Topless, his pec muscles pulled and his abs tightened. I had to focus to keep my train of thought when all I wanted to do was climb aboard him and go for a ride. The constant danger and impending battle kicked my survival instincts into high gear; chief among them was mating. I supposed my huldra had a little to do with that.

  “I don’t know how long xana live,” he answered, following a yawn. “I know my father is from Spain, so she may have met him in his younger years, or my grandfather.”

  I nodded in thought. “Yeah, but why would they stand out to her in particular? Why would you stand out to her?”

  He shrugged and from my vantage point, standing at the side of the bed above him, I got to see his more obscure muscles in action. If I were the salivating type, I’d have dripped drool on his chest.

  “I’ve heard of the xana, though,” he said. “Of course, in our stories they’re more Hunter home wreckers than Wild Women liberators. Go figure.”

  “Well, hell,” I laughed, crawling onto the king-sized bed to lie beside him. “If any Wilds are in the stories of your people it means they’re pretty awesome.”

  “True,” he said, his voice deepening and vibrating into the side of my neck. He turned to press his lips below my ear. “True. The fact that huldra are included in our stories is proof.”

  The smile in his eyes faded to reveal a serious depth. “Do you know how amazing you are?” Marcus asked.

  I stuttered over my answer, part of me wanting to joke and part of me wanting to graciously accept his compliment. He continued before I chose a response.

  “The very thought of you fills me with hope—hope for my life, hope for the world, hope for the sake of hope,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Everything you are is everything I love about you, and if I lost you…”

  I rolled to my side and then onto the sexy ex-Hunter. “That goes both ways, you know,” I said, leaning forward to thread my fingers through his hair. “You’ve broken so many of my assumptions and helped me to believe both freedom and happiness are available to me. If you get yourself hurt tomorrow, I’ll never forgive you.”

  Marcus chuckled, lightening the mood just enough for me to break our intense eye contact to straddle him and unbuckle his belt. I did need to stay focused on the reason we were even in Maine. But didn’t we also say we needed to rest before lighting the Maine Hunter complex on fire? And what better way to induce a restful sleep than to ride the pleasure train?

  I didn’t waste time or words asking Marcus if he agreed. The way he gripped the sides of my hips and the hunger in his darkening eyes held all the consent I needed.

  We’d only gotten about five hours of sleep, or maybe an hour of play and four hours of sleep, before meeting up with the others in the empty hotel lobby. The sun hadn’t come up yet and the free continental breakfast hadn’t been set out in the lobby-turned-dining area. We sat on chairs pulled to the couches for our makeshift meeting. The hotel’s kitchen bustled with the sounds of food sizzling and dishes washing. I caught scents of sausage, bacon, eggs, and baked goods being prepped and cooked, and my stomach begged for a sampling. With the human kitchen staff out of earshot, we supernaturals worked to plan our next attack.

  “I just don’t know,” Renee commented for the third time, despite the presence of our new pyro allies. “We blew up that last complex.
You don’t think this one will be fortified for a fire or something similar? We kind of have an MO now, I’d think.”

  “Mom,” Olivia groaned. “It’s not like we have a ton of alternatives for the picking. In fact, we have barely anything at our disposal. But we do have fire-wielding Wild Women.”

  Celeste spoke up. “Honestly, I’m kind of excited to watch them do their thing.”

  Ailani grinned. “You won’t be disappointed.”

  The three rusalki, who had opted to sleep somewhere outside, triggered the hotel’s automatic double doors and made their way to us. The moment I noticed them, I nearly clapped with excitement to see how the one human in the lobby reacted. I couldn’t think of a single instance in which I’d been out in public with a rusalka. I watched the hotel attendant at the front desk watch the rusalki, his eyes wide. I waited for him to remind the barely dressed women of the hotel’s no shirt, no shoes, no entrance policy, stated clearly on the outside doors, but he didn’t utter a peep. He only gawked. A little anti-climactic, but still entertaining.

  That’s when I noticed Aleksander and Marie focusing their attention, and no doubt their energy manipulation skills, on the lone attendant. Okay, his lack of reaction made more sense now.

  Normally energy-wielders started the fun, but not this time.

  The rusalki appeared more worn than usual. Their bare feet were caked in soot and partially burned branches stuck out from their knotted hair. Bags hung under their eyes. Splatters of blood stained patches of their nature-made clothing. When they made their way to our group, I offered them each a seat, but they shook their heads, preferring to stand.

  “What can you tell us about your local Hunter complex?” I asked.