Col: His Destined Mate

by Georgette St. Clair

  She herself had eaten a slab of breakfast pastry that looked like it could be used for a doorstop, and polished it off with a strawberry milk drink that resembled house paint.

  Cadmus forced himself to smile at her, even nodding as if he agreed, as she kept babbling between bites and noisy slurps about Micah and how “rad” he was, or whatever slang further revealed her terrible lack of taste.

  “How would you like to help me utilize this object that I charged the last few days? It’s been crafted to locate a very specific target, for an offering that will really impress His Terrible Majesty.” He held out the crystal pendulum between his middle finger and thumb, and the sunlight glinted off it as it quivered at the end of the small chain.

  “Can you feel the energy already? It’s already been powered with blood from the target. In fact, the being in question may yield a tremendous source of power. But only if we succeed in acquiring it.”

  “Ooh,” Jordy breathed, a milky strawberry ring around her mouth, her eyes wide with interest. “Like a magickal GPS?”

  Cadmus smirked. “More like magickal hunting as a predator, with very specific prey in mind.” He knew the words would work, as the girl’s enthusiasm became palpable. She was almost vibrating as much as the pendulum.

  Or it might have been from all the sugar she was consuming.

  “I would love to!” Jordy slammed the rest of her artificially flavored, colored, and manufactured beverage down her throat and crumpled the carton in a small fist. “Ready to go when you are, Boss!”

  “No time like the present, then.” Cadmus said. His cap was starting to make his scalp itch. They couldn’t get into his rental car fast enough, with Jordy in the seat next to him, holding the pendulum and navigating. She was oohing and ahhing over the energy emanating from the object, through the chain and into her fingers, holding it as she had seen Cadmus do.

  The pendulum bobbed and weaved, acting much like the dowsing rods that he had used when he had first embarked on his magickal studies. The same excitement shone in the young girl who was behaving as she should, a student with her teacher, an apprentice with her Master.

  At least the object looked as if it were working so far, he wouldn’t know until he spotted the man-wolf again. And even so, he was cautious not to share that little detail with Jordy. He had seen her and Micah exchanging numbers on their phones, and promising to “give a holla” and “text each other up.”

  He’d have to find a way to put a stop to that, too.

  But one step at a time.

  “It’s pointing to the left,” Jordy said. She looked up through the windshield. “But that leads to—”

  They were approaching the Faire.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The other four Bredhren were unusually subdued as they walked together on the Fairegrounds, but that might have been because they had been up until sunrise, before they gave up on the search and returned to the house to rest. Col had still been awake when they came in, each to his own room. He could tell, even then, by their relative silence that the hiker had not been found, nor clues to his fate.

  He knew that failure weighed on them, as it did doubly on him.

  He couldn’t help but wonder if they would have had more success if they hadn’t been distracted with his…with his loss of self control and military discipline. Even Barric studiously avoided eye contact with him, as if Col bore some contagion that might infect the others.

  Last night had already been the second time the War-Pack had gone off without him. He knew of the concept of three chances, from one of the games that Miller enjoyed watching. And if the player failed a third time, they could not proceed. And sometimes, that player’s failure resulted in the entire team’s loss.

  This was Col’s last chance.

  He could almost hear his father’s mockery, at the son that he drove hard to become a Waryeor of renown, a War-Pack member of distinction. Last night, all the brutal beatings the young Col had endured, in training to become a Waryeor, in struggling to win his father’s respect, came to naught, as he was sent back like an adolescent wolf-pup incapable of controlling his urges.

  Similarly, there was no way the object of his thoughts, the cause of his current dilemma, could be a Destine. His Destine, if he ever had one, belonged to his past. She, like his father, had long ago ceased to exist. To pretend otherwise was allowing fantasy to take over, when he should be single-mindedly focused on his mission.

  With that, he resolved to return his thoughts where they solidly belonged. He would distance himself from Katie Cooper. He would rededicate himself to his duty.

  He was ready to proceed with his Bredhren, and Simon, and Miller, and reforge their bonds over their midday repast on the Fairegrounds.

  As a good Waryeor should.

  Of course Cadmus would never admit it out loud, but Micah had been right. Getting in through the staff entrance at the Faire was infinitely preferable to fighting the teeming masses of mundane, ordinary people clustered at the entrance waiting for admission. Jordy had proudly informed him that at the height of its busiest season, the Faire hosted over fifteen thousand attendees a day. He couldn’t understand how people would be drawn to this type of venue. How people could find this attraction….attractive. It was proof to him that Micah had questionable taste. Yet it was that taste that seemed to find favor with His Terrible Majesty.

  Which is why he had to grin and bear it for the time being, so he could find his way back to His Terrible Majesty’s good graces.

  At least nobody paid him any especial attention. He supposed that was the value of wearing these nondescript clothes that he couldn’t wait to burn before he left.

  Jordy walked him through the security checkpoint at the staff entrance, and he noted her chest puffed up with pride at the pitiful display of the authority she wielded here, at the Faire.

  She smugly let him know that she had the privilege—which only a few staff members had— to let in whomever she wanted without question, as she often dealt with the vendors or performers who hadn’t yet been issued access, or for whatever reason did not have their credentials. Jordy wielded a great deal of responsibility, and was able to exert that authority over people twice her age, especially when she thought they had half her intellect.

  Which seemed to be nearly everyone at the Faire.

  Cadmus knew she was trying to impress him, but kept his amusement secret. After all, he needed to win her back. Although it seemed to be an easier task, as now that Micah was gone, Cadmus shifted back to becoming the focal point of her craving for approval.

  Unfortunately, the flip side of her showing off how all the staff personnel they came across seemed to know and listen to her, was that some treated her as if she was on duty merely by the fact that she was present.

  One person wearing a multi-pocketed vest with the name Gabe stitched on it was especially insistent.

  “I’m sorry, I have to go deal with this,” Jordy said. Gabe barely flicked a glance at Cadmus.

  “Go, then,” Cadmus said. “But first, return the object.”

  “Oh, right.” Jordy reluctantly handed the pendulum back to Cadmus, blocking it with her body discreetly so Gabe would not see how it was acting in defiance of the laws of gravity.

  It was going haywire, but Cadmus shoved it into the pocket of his…cargo pants. He shuddered again at the feel of the fabric, made out of some material that did not wholly come from a seed, silkworm, or womb.

  “Call me if you need me,” Jordy said, but Gabe was already spiriting her away.

  “Sure I will,” Cadmus muttered. It felt so liberating, to at last let his sarcasm out into the open air.

  Although the sarcasm quickly gave way to worry, as the enormity of his task descended on him. Even where he stood, on the outskirts of the Faire near where much of the behind-the-scenes actions took place, he was starting to get overwhelmed with the size of the crowds.

  By the Infernal Gods, there were just so many of them! It was not un
like seeing an infestation of insects. And the pendulum kept acting erratically in his pocket, vibrating so violently that he feared it was malfunctioning. Perhaps its usefulness had come to an end, and it was now overloaded with the thousands of creatures that possibly included the very one it sought. Perhaps the traces of blood were not enough for how long it was active. Perhaps he should have given it yet another chance to soak up moonlight overnight.

  Perhaps…he should cease worrying, as it was too late to think of a backup plan. He was here now. He would have to make the most out of the situation.

  Cadmus thought of Micah’s loathsome, sneering face. That was exactly the motivation he needed, to keep going.

  Col was deliberately avoiding her. Lily knew it, because a few times when she moved near him, he increased the distance between them. They were all seated in the common eating area in the outdoor Royal Court of Food.

  Col’s obvious avoidance would have bordered on the comical if it weren’t so painful, but fortunately Aylwyn came to her rescue. Even though the boys in general had initially seemed quieter than usual, Aylwyn as always was quick to speak with her, to put her at ease. Even Simon was now more comfortable with her, after their time baking cookies together. It made her confident that his idea to go on individual dinners with the boys was the right idea. And even more grateful that Col would not be the first one, given how he was acting.

  He wouldn’t even meet her eyes, studiously looking everywhere but at her. It was a marked contrast to Barric, who had joined Aylwyn in asking her questions like how her day was going.

  Questions you’d expect from a man who had kissed you in a way that made your heart sing, who said such panty-dropping things like “how would an American male tell an American female that he would worship her if she wouldst but allow it?”

  Instead, it was the crankiest one of them all who inquired about her morning, who seemed to genuinely care about her answer.

  Well, screw Col. He was doing her a goddamn favor, acting like a six year old who had just discovered she had cooties. She didn’t need this —whatever the hell this was. She was just passing through, remember? She wasn’t supposed to get involved with anyone, even if against all odds she managed to meet someone who made her feel alive, vibrant, capable of love.

  Wait, love? Where did that come from? No wonder he was running away as fast as he could. He probably sensed the clinginess coming off of her in waves. She had warned him that she was damaged goods after all, and maybe it finally sank in. Especially since apparently she was one kiss away from boiling bunnies.

  How could she blame him for shying away from her, then? She blinked back the tears that were threatening to spill out of her eyes, and turned with a brittle smile towards Aylwyn, who was regaling everyone with a scene he had watched on one of the Love & Hip Hops. It somehow involved demonstration with a meat pie and a wheel of cheese.

  Lily hoped that if anyone noticed her glittering eyes, they would simply think she was laughing at Aylwyn’s antics. And not think of how close her laughs sounded to sobbing.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Cadmus made his way through the crowds, uphill, to an area that Jordy had pointed out as a good location to scout for the man-wolf. She had also snagged a set of binoculars for him to take along. Between the pendulum and the scope, he would be in perfect position to take advantage of the view.

  He picked out an area to sit, choosing one of the larger rocks that studded the grassy top, and kicking aside an empty candy wrapper that had lodged itself into a crevice.

  At least he hoped it was a candy wrapper, and that he wouldn’t find its used contents if it weren’t.

  He sat gingerly on the rough surface, before remembering that he was wearing something designed, essentially, for sitting on dirt. Even so, he couldn’t bear to settle in.

  He took out the pendulum from his pocket. It was already moving insistently before he even had it out completely, pointing towards a crowded area before him.

  Below, he saw the teeming crowds that led to a large, central cluster of vendors, circling tables where people in all manner of costume were obviously consuming their purchases. The smells told him that it was section with the food stalls, even before he spotted the sign that read “Royal Court of Food.”

  How pitiful.

  It was obviously the lunch hour, where it would be unusually congested. On one hand, it would seem that if man-wolf were here, chances were likely that he would pass through this way, possibly even be down then there right now eating the questionable food products. Based on what he had seen so far, the food was likely to be medieval themed, an excuse to serve indifferently grilled meat on a stick, bastardize the name so it sounded like Olde English, then triple the price for what it would sell for at a food court in a halfway decent shopping mall.

  On the other hand, it was difficult to make out individuals. The figures below were one big teeming mass of sweaty, sticky, tacky humanity. Along with their spawn.

  If the man-wolf were among them, he would require a healthy dose of luck, and the binoculars that Jordy provided to him.

  He placed them over his eyes, and blinked a few times, before he could adjust to looking through them.

  They definitely helped with ruling out some of the obvious ones who were facing him, at the edges of the seething mass, and unobscured by others. Good thing man-wolf had been so tall. He could start by picking out the heads of people who stood above the others.

  It would take a while, because the area was so big, and if the man-wolf were sitting, he would also have to get up at some time.

  He just had to be patient, and screen the entire crowd through the binoculars. One by one if he had to.

  He had too much riding on this. He had to succeed. He wouldn’t let anything deter him—

  “Whatcha doing, mister?”

  He lowered his binoculars, at a young girl with facepainted whiskers and cat ears.

  Shit. It was like running across a bear cub in the wild. The parent was always not far behind. And dangerous if they thought you posed a threat to their young.

  “Rikki, you get back here!”

  “But I want to know what he’s doing, Dad!” A large black man, obviously Rikki’s father, came up. He glowered at Cadmus, his eyes filled with suspicion.

  Shit.

  Katie Cooper’s eyes were glittering as they looked upon Aylwyn. Col was beside himself, feelings of possessiveness and jealousy warring with what he knew to be the right thing to do. He should wish her happiness with his Brodher. Aylwyn was everything he was not: sane, strong, and in control of his faculties, to the point where he was making her laugh in a way she never had with Col.

  He noted how she bantered with Aylwyn, how she rested a hand lightly on his arm at times, or teased him back when he said something she found delightful. She was absolutely at ease with Aylwyn, which only made Col want to pummel the Brodher’s face until swelling closed shut his aquamarine eyes.

  And Barric, even the normally glowering Brodher was flirting with her. Barric, whose speech was oft laced with barbs and mockery, was taking pains to make pleasantries in his exchanges with her. Merek and Tybalt were laughing along, their white teeth flashing as they sat around her on the wooden benches and table of this eating area.

  Col felt the painful talons of jealousy rip into him, as she playfully hit Simon on the arm, and instead of freezing up as he normally would, Simon said something that made her laugh. Even Simon was at ease with her. Col tried to look away whenever he could, forcing himself to avoid her, but her nearness was as a summer storm over a peaceful lake; he could not help but react to her presence, to the pleasing sound of her laugh, the sweet scent of flowers that was unique to her alone.

  Col should want her to be happy, even if it were with someone other than him. Someone who had better control over his senses, was a better member of a fully functioning War-Pack, who remembered his duty was first and foremost to be a Waryeor.

  Col should, but he couldn’t. His
failure rankled, and he clenched his fists, pressing the nails against his palms in an effort to re-center himself. Felt the hard edges digging in, closed his eyes to sharpen his other senses, prayed for help in focusing on his duty.

  And then….by the grace of She Who Grants Abundance, his prayer was answered. He opened his eyes, his muscles rigid at attention. It was that scent. He sniffed, hoping to capture it once more, hoping it wasn’t a mistake. Faint, but there it was again.

  The scent from that day in the cave, when he woke up bound with rope, a captive due to his own shortcomings.

  The scent of his abductor.

  He moved his head, in the direction it came from, but it was a single, thin strand, tantalizingly present one moment, gone the next, in a thicket of threads all weaving in together. He couldn’t hold onto it.

  Was it really even there? Could he trust himself? Or were his senses going awry again?

  There was a burst of laughter again from the group. He was still honed in on the sound of her delight. It was another reminder, one he needed whenever he felt his yearning for her start anew. He was cut apart from the group, and needed more than ever a chance to reinstate himself within it.

  This could be it.

  Except he didn’t scent it again.

  “I’m part of the Ops team here,” Cadmus lied, desperately trying to remember Jordy’s prattling about her job. “I’m doing spot checks of our employees in action so we can make sure we deploy the right number of staff throughout the day at various locations.”

  The little girl was bored with Cadmus’ answer, and clung to her father’s hand. The father squinted his eyes, skeptical, sweeping over Cadmus’ attire, or rather lack of brightly colored lanyard emblazoned with the word “STAFF.”