Col: His Destined Mate

by Georgette St. Clair

  “Undercover,” Cadmus said. “So I can also report on employee activities.”

  The lie worked. The man shrugged. “Sorry for disturbing you, then.”

  “Daddy, I want some ice cream. Now!!!”

  He shrugged again at Cadmus, and turned with his spawn to walk away. His tone was considerably gentler as he addressed her. “You can have some ice cream, Rikki, after we get you some lunch.”

  “With rainbow sprinkles, Daddy!!”

  Cadmus cringed. He was about to pick up the binoculars again, when a sudden thought occurred to him.

  Something that he should have adjusted for already, if his thinking weren’t so clouded.

  The pendulum he had charged would bring him within proximity of the creature he was looking for. That’s what it was meant to do, if it was still working. That meant that Cadmus should have thought to use some cloaking magick. It would obscure his presence even more than the ugly clothing he was forced to wear. It wouldn’t make him invisible, but it would lessen his chances of being spotted by the man-wolf before he was ready. And keep him from being disturbed again by the mundane and their annoying whelp.

  He prayed that it wasn’t too late, and that he had enough on him to create a strong enough cloaking spell. As quickly as possible.

  Nothing like creating magick under stress, under a hot sun, at a place he wouldn’t normally be caught dead in, wearing clothes that made him want to die.

  And limited to whatever he had on him, or could find around him. It was like a challenge on a game show, or a test he would give to a recruit after a year of training.

  It was like an exercise he had once given Micah, after the boy had begun showing exceptional skill. When he was eight.

  Micah. Right.

  Cadmus was energized, and began searching for objects he could use. Ugh, even that candy wrapper he had kicked aside, that found a new crevice to get caught in. It was metallic and shiny, and could be used.

  He found other objects, a twig, a pebble, three coins from his pocket, and added some hairs plucked from his head, and a few drops of blood from the last victim, that he had kept in a vial pendant dangling inside his shirt. Victims’ blood in a pendant was like a Dark Magick credit card; he never left home without it.

  Cadmus gathered together all the ingredients into a small bundle with the wrapper, and silently invoked all four directions, before intoning the ancient syllables of a cloaking magick spell as he walked widdershins.

  He could feel the energies coming up through the earth, curling in with the vibrations of his voice, wrapping themselves around the bundle, extending their tendrils around him and enveloping him in a layer of magick.

  It wouldn’t render him completely undetectable, especially if someone was deliberately looking for the use of magick, but it would make it more difficult to spot him in general.

  That is, if they hadn’t already noticed a tall man on top of a hill walking counterclockwise, muttering gibberish out loud.

  And to top it off, the spell was temporary, as it was hastily cobbled together out of what he could find.

  He quickly placed it at the base of the stone he had been sitting on earlier, and resumed his vigilance with the binoculars.

  The wind blew against his face. He turned, and it blew against his face again. Ah, it was the spell at work. He would be upwind from where the crowds were, from where he needed to be hidden.

  Peering through the lenses, he adjusted his vision until he started spotting some of the vendors that he had noticed earlier. The one advertising Savourye Meat Pyes was doing a brisk business, but there were no tall men there.

  He moved the binoculars to the table in front of it. It was a family of redheads. Man-wolf had auburn hair, and the males in this group didn’t have his build. The next table had people in costume, including a large fellow with the right build that wore a brimmed hat. Cadmus had to keep his binoculars trained on him, in hopes that he would lift his head at some point for a better view of his face.

  At last he looked up, to reveal—someone considerably older than the man-wolf, who Cadmus judged to be in his mid to late twenties or, possibly, early thirties.

  With a disgusted sigh, Cadmus moved the binoculars away to another table.

  The pendulum seemed to leap up in his pocket.

  It was him.

  The same hair, the same shoulders. The same face. The man-wolf was standing in the table areas, and then Cadmus noted that there was a group seated in the table nearest him that held six males — four with similar builds. Two of them were seated on the table itself, a blond male next to one with wild, dark hair and a dangerous look.

  He could gauge their large size by the two smaller males in their group, who were more or less like everyone else in the area. The two smaller—or regular sized males were seated on the benches and laughing at whatever the blond male was saying. One of the males was slender, with a shock of dark hair over his forehead and glasses he kept pushing up. He would be sacrifice-worthy, if he weren’t surrounded by these more suitable, desirable offerings for His Terrible Majesty. The male seated next to him was perhaps as old as Cadmus looked, in his fifties, although he likely did not have magicks extending his life span as Cadmus did.

  Were the other four large males also capable of turning into Wolves or similar, powerful beasts?

  Nestled between two of the larger men on a bench was a female, which Cadmus immediately dismissed. He moved his binoculars back, training them on the man-wolf that he was excited to find. He seemed at once part of the group, yet separate. Worse, he seemed to be sniffing the air, as if….the man-wolf looked in Cadmus’s direction, and Cadmus immediately put his head down.

  It would not be a good time to find out that the cloaking spell hadn’t been working after all, or had worn off. Cadmus had to leave. But he had noted the bright yellow cords hanging from the necks of the five large males. He knew from Jordy what that meant.

  Staff.

  He would be able to find them again, and learn more in the meantime so he could successfully retrieve them for His Terrible Majesty.

  It was worth wearing synthetic fibers and a Dad cap for.

  Col tried to pinpoint where the scent was coming from, but the crowds around him were obscuring his senses. Which he already didn’t trust. There were too many smells and odors that he had to sift through, and the sights and sounds were a cacophony of stimuli that blended altogether when he attempted to locate that one scent, and link it to its source.

  He would have a better chance in his wolf form, but he knew that was out of the question. Simon and Miller had impressed that upon him and the other Bredhren when they first awoke. This was not a world as he once knew, where he and other Shiftweres lived alongside those limited to one form. Instead, he and his Bredhren were likely the last of their kind. If their Shiftwere nature were known, they would be captured by the single-forms, possibly killed. Their mission would be over, and the sacrifice they had made, being put to sleep all these eons, would be in vain.

  No, Col could not shift. And in this form, he could not communicate telepathically with his Bredhren. But somehow he needed to alert the others, most specifically his Vixar. And he needed to do so without betraying any of this to Katie Cooper, who sat pressed between Merek and Simon, enrapt in what Aylwyn was saying in front of her.

  He heard the beginnings of a growl, and realized it was emanating from his throat. Fortunately the crowd noise covered it up, but Tybalt’s sensitive hearing had him turn his head towards Col.

  Here was his chance. He caught his Vixar’s eye, and tapped his nose gently, a subtle signal that Tybalt acknowledged with a slight nod. Having communicated with the War-Pack Alpha effectively, Col took off immediately, weaving through the crowds, and leaving behind the cluster surrounding Katie Cooper.

  Inside him, his wolf howled in protest, but he wrestled the beast down and forced himself to run, further and further from the woman he craved and cherished.

  Chapter Twenty-Fiv
e

  Lily knew when Col had left, even with her back to him. How could she not? She had an exquisite awareness of his presence, even as he was —it seemed—going out of his way to avoid her. It hurt, but she masked it as best she could.

  “These baked goods are delicious,” Barric pronounced. He was eating the hot cross buns that one of the vendors had just taken from the oven, and there were crumbs in his beard. Still, he spoke in between bites, so it was progress. “But I greatly prefer the wondrous creations that Katie Cooper made last night.”

  “I helped too,” Simon said, and Lily had to laugh.

  “That you did! And maybe that’s something we can all do together soon,” she said, and Merek eagerly chimed in.

  “The ones with the chocolate pieces were mine favorite. Those be the ones we will make.”

  “Verily, he tried to hide the last two.” Barric grumbled, but there was a glimmer of a smile on his face.

  Aylwyn winked at Lily, “Despite the fight that nearly broke out, it was a wonderful treat to return to, if not your presence.”

  Even Tybalt said to her, “the cookies you made with your own hands were a kindness that is much appreciated.”

  Lily basked in all the praise. She had baked the cookies as way to relieve her stress, and it had the effect of not only helping Simon feel more comfortable with her, but winning over the boys completely, if there were any last bits of resistance remaining.

  All except for the one that she most wanted to be with.

  “It is surprising that Col left any for us,” Merek said, and Lily’s ears immediately perked up.

  “What do you mean?”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Aylwyn and Barric exchanging looks.

  Merek took a swig of his ale and smacked his lips noisily. Lily was happy to note that he didn’t wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, but it didn’t look like he wanted to answer.

  Barric broke the silence. “Col was sent back early.”

  “Why?” Lily asked. More looks were exchanged. “Was he hurt?” There was a high pitch in her voice, and she tempered it. “I mean, is he ok?”

  “You need not be concerned with his well-being, Katie Cooper,” Tybalt said. “Although the concern is a natural part of your charm. Be assured, he is uninjured.”

  All the boys were studiously looking at every which way but at her, and Simon and Miller seemed puzzled as well.

  Well, okay then. Something was going on with Col. But whether or not it had to do with her, it still hurt how he acted as if nothing had happened between them. Or worse, that he regretted what had passed, the kisses they had shared. It seemed a completely different person who had promised her that he could never forget a wish that she had, if it was within his ability to grant it.

  Miller changed the subject. “We’ll make sure the pantry is re-stocked for the next baking session, but apparently that won’t be for a few days at least, since you’ll be starting the one-on-one dinners tomorrow night?”

  Simon quickly explained the concept to the four, who were eager, even Barric.

  Lily caught Aylwyn’s glittering aquamarine eyes. “I am delighted that I will have the first opportunity to dine with you alone.”

  Lily smiled tightly.

  “You have no idea how happy I am about that, too.”

  She couldn’t bear more of Col’s indifference.

  The sky was dark outside of Simon’s home office. He had silenced Jemima’s voice, as Col was pacing behind him, in the room’s wide expanse. Simon was seated in front of his console, with the monitors displaying the security footage from the Faire.

  The Waryeor was twitchier than Simon had ever recalled the usually steadfast male to be, but if Col thought he caught a whiff of the person who abducted him, then it was worth putting all his resources into investigating further. Especially when Col had tried his best to track down the scent at the Faire, but to no avail.

  Simon had called up the footage from the entry points into the Fairegrounds by the attendance booths, from the time the Faire opened until approximately the time Col had scented the person. Even though it was only a few hours worth, there were already thousands of people to sift through. Working with a description that Col provided, he had set up a program to extract photos of people fitting those parameters: male, between 5’10 - 6’2, between 45 -65, with darkish or greying hair, lean build.

  Simon tried to ignore Col’s pacing behind him, focusing on the screens before him. With the clicking of a series of keystrokes, the program he created began spitting out hundreds of candidates, many of whom were wearing caps and sunglasses. The program had been optimized to extract only the clearest view of facial features, so he knew that these were the best images possible to look at. It had been a sunny day, but it was worth a shot. And if Col did spot the person or a near-candidate, there would be a chance that he had paid with a credit card, so that would help in giving Simon all the rest of the identifying information he needed.

  “OK, are you ready to start looking at the photos that have been narrowed down?”

  Col came over to the seat by Simon, and settled his body into it. It creaked in protest of his muscular build, as Col was larger than the inhabitants its ergonomic settings were adjusted for: Simon or Miller. Simon could feel the coiled energy next to him.

  Maybe Merek was right, and Col needed a good session of wenching. Or something.

  “Show me the images drawn up by your wizardry.”

  Simon smiled. It never got old, the boys’ wonder at what he did with computers. He pushed his glasses back up, and gave the voice command, missing Jemima Danes’ voice in response.

  An image of a man, enlarged to show his lined face and cleft chin, appeared on the monitor in front of Col.

  Col leaned forward, studying it, before shaking his head.

  “Nay,” he said, and Simon clicked an arrow key.

  The screen filled with another face, this one wore aviator glasses and was pockmarked.

  “Nay,” Col said. Simon sighed. There were only 1,189 more images to go.

  Another man’s face flooded the screen, this one with a scruff, as if he were trying to grow a beard.

  “Nay.”

  Simon clicked the keyboard again, and thought about the call he was waiting for from the realtor, Blake, about the other person he had to track down.

  “Nay.”

  1,187 more to go. This was going to take awhile. Simon made the decision to go to Blake’s office in person the next day. Maybe even stop by Dr. Chuck’s veterinary clinic and thank him for his help with identifying the tranquilizer darts.

  “Nay.”

  Only 1,186 left to go.

  “The attempts were unsuccessful?” The Vixar’s voice was quiet, his eyes watchful. Col nodded, his muscles tense. He was pacing in the living room, unable to sit still after the several hours of peering at the visages that came up. His head was throbbing, as much from the viewing as from the feeling of all his nerves firing at once.

  “Yes, Vixar. Although Simon’s wizardry was powerful, there were many images of men wearing that strange head garb that yields little protection but offers much obscuring.”

  “You mean a cap?” Miller tapped the one he was wearing. He had provided them with similar head garb, but Col could not see a use for it.

  “Yes….a cap,” Col said. He had to watch his tone, the uncharacteristic irritability that crackled through him, ready to erupt into a fight. His senses were going awry again, his thoughts refusing to be constrained. They kept returning to…her.

  He had to let his wolf free soon, and run some of this tension out. It seemed almost to scratch at him from the inside, wanting release. Perhaps in his wolf form, he could find some respite, some freedom from the turmoil engulfing him within.

  “Go,” Tybalt said. “You must needs take the form of your Wolf, and pay heed to what your Wolf requires.”

  Col stopped pacing and looked at his Vixar sharply.

  “You are not being sent
away,” Tybalt clarified. His handsome features were devoid of any censure.

  “Unlike last night,” Barric said. Col growled at him, but Aylwyn immediately defused it.

  “For fuck’s sake,” the blond Waryeor laughed. “Tybalt is telling you to go get it out of your system.” Then he smirked. “Whatever ‘it’ is. And I think we all know.”

  “I thank you for the colorful translation, Aylwyn,” Tybalt said drily, and turned to Col. “But yes, you need to allow your wolf form to run free, and indeed ‘get it out of your system.’”

  “Or just get some,” Aylwyn hooted with laughter, and he and Merek tapped their fists together.

  Col knew not what he was meant to get some of, but still, he crossed his arms and tapped his chest.

  “As you say, so shall it be, Vixar.”

  A pulse of energy emanated, and a large auburn wolf appeared where Col had been standing. Miller had quietly slid the door to the backyard open, and with a leap, Col propelled himself out of the house and into the nighttime air.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The room seemed hollow with the absence of Jordy’s belongings. Lily was happy for her roommate’s promotion, and subsequent move to a larger room, to a section of housing reserved for the senior Ops staff. Although she barely ever saw Jordy in the room, it was still nice knowing that another occupant was there. She only hoped that the next person who moved in would be as friendly, although she was grateful to have the housing at all.

  The bed that Jordy had been in was already kitted with a new set of sheets and a different bedspread, and all of Jordy’s horror movie posters had been removed from the walls. The desk and Jordy’s nightstand were cleared of her effects, and Lily bet the bathroom would be similarly devoid of the girl’s belongings.

  “Looks like it’s just you and me, Mr. Calabash,” Lily said, picking up the small stuffed bison and holding it close. There was something comforting in feeling its soft shape against her. It had been the only thing she had left from her father. The father that had disappeared when she was five.