Lost Little Wolf

by N. K. Vir

  Time moved quickly and she reacted out of instinct, amazed at how good it felt, how natural it was to defend. In that moment something buried deep within her woke up and it raged as it raced through her bloodstream, erupting out of every pore in her skin.

  She landed crouched; her feet had barley kissed the rough ground beneath her feet before she was once again launching herself at the target that had caused the chaos…Kane. The souls of her feet hit the points of his hips, the palms of her hands landing on the rounded mass of his shoulders. The power and force of her attack forced him back, driving him into the ground. His growl betrayed his anger but it was the barely hidden gasp of surprise that allowed a smile of satisfaction to stretch her lips into a cruel smile. She had taken down the monster. Her small stature verses his enormous power should have made such a thing impossible.

  In that moment she almost felt invincible.

  In that moment she had extracted her revenge for the hell he was putting them all through.

  “You will not harm them,” she warned pushing an otherworldly power into her words. The command rumbled her chest spreading from her center, down her arms. Her whole being seemed to vibrate with the foreign power. She accepted it, thanked it, before pushing it out of her fingertips and into Kane.

  She felt his body stiffen in response as if her words, her command, were literally etching themselves on his bones. Her eyes flew in shock to meet his and discovered there was fear and something else hiding behind his multicolored irises. Before she could question it she was being seized from behind as two sets of powerful hands latched onto her arms and pulled her off of Kane. She did not struggle against the sudden imprisonment as her mind was preoccupied with the birth of something foreign; a memory.

  She was young…

  In years younger that she currently was but in image very little had aged. She was moving stealthily through the thick foliage; her nose was leading her as a fresh scent path was laid out before her. Today she had finally mastered a form and instead of changing back she had decided to run. The world around her looked different through the eyes of her animal. She could almost taste the air and even the songs of the birds in the trees sounded more vibrant. The branches of the wild forest snapped against her muscular flank, her feet moved and bounced quickly off the ground as the surroundings sped past. It was exhilarating. She finally understood the allure of choosing a form. Her sister preferred to fly; she wanted to run. She had always loved to run.

  Her nose twitched as her muzzle attempted to form the human expression of joy. She might not be able to smile in this form but the power it possessed was worth it. The tiny woodland creatures fled from her path in fear. Even the birds hiding in the trees took to flight with such a deadly predator running in the shade beneath them. The shadow of her sister kept pace with her as she flew overhead keeping a close watch on her.

  “Sister?” she whispered as she shook off the uncomfortable sensation the foreign memory had caused.

  The angry tension that had driven her body seconds before drained out of her as the memory faded from her mind. She desperately clung to it; willing the sights and smells to be forever captured inside a mind that had failed to recollect anything beyond ten years.

  She could feel herself being dragged away; pulled away from the only people whom she had ever called friend. She could hear Lucas, his angered shouts overshadowed only by a voice she had been longing to hear; but it wasn’t her name he was calling out to.

  Her head drooped in defeat. The memory didn’t matter; nothing did. She knew her fate. She had tried to kill the Historian; her fate had been sealed. Only death would welcome her now.

  Dammit everything hurt.

  Her back felt like it had been introduced to a cheese grater while a heavy, dead weight tried to compress the air out of her chest. Tiny flares of light obscured her vision when her eyes tried to focus on what was prohibiting her from moving any muscle in her body; especially the delicate muscles that allowed her chest to accept and expel oxygen. Her nose burned as if the sensitive passages had inhaled fire; and the loud ringing in her ears made hearing the chaos, that she knew was erupting around her, impossible to hear.

  The weight that had held her pinned to the ground was suddenly lifted. Her lungs, now in full working order, coughed violently forcing ash and dust out while trying to inhale fresh air. Reflexively she rolled over and tried to push herself to her feet. An unseen force yanked her to her feet her body felt like a dirty rag; worn out and over used. She could swear that she heard her name being called over and over. The pleading tonal vibrations forced passed the deafening ringing sound that was still echoing in her ears.

  Warm hands were squeezing her head, begging and pleading with her to do something; to save someone. “Wills!” The distant voice pleaded. “They’re going to kill her!” The desperation, the emotion, behind that voice provoked an unconscious response from her.

  “Historical…protection,” she managed to gasp.

  Her hearing began to return before her vision. She could hear the rapid, running approach of footsteps behind her and prayed that if she said the words with enough authority that she would not have to live through another close call with lightning.

  “I claim Historical Protection and Possession over the shifter Tanith!” she shouted over the commotion around her.

  The force and energy of her voice sent her toppling forward. Her arms reflexively extended to protect her from a hard fall. Her raw hands were spared another harsh meeting with the rough gravel beneath her as a protective set of arms wrapped around her torso and held her upright. Her vision was still blocked out by tiny flares of light and she allowed herself to be wrapped up, welcoming the steady embrace that held her firmly on her own two feet.

  “What’s happening,” she whisperingly pleaded with the body holding her upright.

  “Look, they’re stunned,” Lucas explained. She recognized his voice but still could not see.

  “Lucas,” she whispered back. “I cannot see.” She spoke low enough for only his ears to hear. “Point me towards Kane,” she instructed.

  Lucas did not hesitate. Her internal equilibrium suddenly shifted potion and adjusted with little complaint. She forced her eyelids to blink and then squint in what she hoped would be interpreted as a serious stare of contemplation instead of the instantly blind and trying, hard, to focus.

  “Injured by your own guardian?” Kane teased.

  The sound of his voice shifted slightly as if he had turned his head to talk and directed his voice towards another person. Her ears were still ringing and only belatedly picked up the sound of feet skidding on gravel. Kieran had finally arrived. She recognized the sound of his breathing instantly. She thanked god that everyone was accounted for and no one was hurt by the bolt of lightning that rained down from the cloudless sky. Errant magick was to blame for this and she had a pretty good idea who that magick had emanated from; she could only hope that she was wrong. Right now she had bigger problems to deal with. She had to stop Kane from dragging Tanith away. For now she had to rely on Lucas, and she could only hope that he still had her pointed in the right direction. She ignored the sound of a booted foot upon gravel and focused her attention on Kane.

  “I invoke the right of Historical Possession and Protection,” she evenly proclaimed hoping her eyes still held some life.

  “You can’t -,” Kane tried to protest. She could hear him throw his voice towards someone else who had silently approached the group.

  “She can,” Adam interjected. She couldn’t see him but she could imagine what he looked like. His sleek frame propped against one of the porch posts, arms folded lazily across his chest as a slight nod of his sleek head emphasized his simple statement.

  “No,” Kane growled in anger.

  “She can,” Adam repeated the authority in his voice was absolute. “With cause,” he added quietly.

  She could feel Adam’s eyes upon her. She judged the distance and direction of his voice and caref
ully adjusted her head and eyes to slowly slide in that direction. She could feel the gears turning in her mind turning as she sought justification for her sudden proclamation. She didn’t even know that Historical Possession and Protection was a rule that the Historian could invoke. The words had just tumbled from her mouth. Rapidly her mind broke down each word, gave them every definition she had ever read, reformed their order and spewed them out into the best bullshit sentence she had ever uttered.

  “Tanith, the shifter,” she clarified. “Is a rarity in the magickal community. She has no claim to family, history or pack,” she swallowed hard and continued to speak beginning to believe the lie she had spun. “I’ve recently discovered a text that refers to this phenomena.”

  She heard Kane scoff. “She lies,” he sneeringly accused.

  She whipped her head in his direction. “The Ogham refers to her kind,” she vomited up at him. “Do you call my knowledge into question?” Of course it was a lie. She had yet to decipher much of the text; but Kane didn’t need to know that. She doubted he even knew of the text.

  There was an uncomfortable silence that settled over the playing field. She could feel the weight of her lie begin to pull her towards the ground beneath her. Lucas’ firm hands dug deeper into her shoulders and held her up.

  “No,” Kane finally mumbled.

  “You will then allot the appropriate time for a trial of proof?” Adam asked. Silence again descended. “I do not believe I heard your response Kane,” Adam called out forcing Kane to answer quickly. Fear squeezed icily around her middle. Kane had imparted a small sign of acknowledgement and she had missed it.

  “I do not believe I heard you!” Adam loudly repeated. Adam had not been fooled by her poor performance.

  “Aye,” Kane finally mumbled.

  Wills escaped from Lucas’ grasp and stepped towards Kane’s voice. “Then give Tanith to Lucas and leave,” she ordered.

  She could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek as he bent low to whisper words meant only for her ears. “You will fail to save her life little sister,” he hissed.

  Chapter Four

  The Price of Magick

  No one breathed until the dust churned up by the retreating car carrying Kane, and his two beefed-up arresting officers, had settled. He watched the majestic tension in her shoulders drain out of her. Her proud stance weakened, one of her knees buckled and had it not been for Tanith and Lucas flanking her she would have hit the ground…again. He had done this. He had done this to her.

  She needed him and he couldn’t move.

  She needed him, not the witch, not the electrical power that still thrummed in the tips of his fingers. She needed him, she needed her friend, she needed the man she had fallen in love with, and he couldn’t move to help her.

  “He’s an earth witch,” Lucas mumbled wiping away a small smear of blood from the corner of his mouth. “What happened to throwing dirt and grass?” he asked pulling fragments of dust and debris from Wills’ tangled hair.

  He swallowed down the heavy lump of jealousy that had formed in his throat. Lucas was doing his job. He was the one who should be tending to Wills. He had caused the chaos; he should be the one to clean it up.

  Wills blindly waved him off. “He was protecting us. Kane came looking for a fight,” she sighed wearily. “And he found one,” she finished with a sad smile. She turned her head to look back at him but her eyes missed, landing on a spot just beyond his left shoulder.

  Tanith wrapped an arm around Wills’ shoulders, turned and pinned him with an unusual look. He tried to move again. Something was wrong. Everyone in the group was silently willing him to see and understand. But all he could think was why couldn’t he move?

  “You failed baby witch,” Adam’s voice hissed inside his head. “Move,” he dared. “Twitch your little finger.”

  Kieran gritted his teeth as he focused hard on shoving Adam out of his head; out of his body. The crafty ancient being loved to play with his emotions and was forcing him to bear witness to the devastation that was playing out before him. It was little more than a fleeting attempt from Adam to show him that he might have scarred off Kane but that he held more power.

  Daisy, unencumbered with the burden of playing host to a demigod reached Wills and wrapped her up in one of her famous baby bear hugs. He wanted to be the one to do that. Hell, at this point he would have settled just to be a part of it. Held hostage all he could do was watch as he silently fought to expel Adam.

  He could feel Adam grinning with a sick sense of satisfaction as he held Kieran hostage. Adam tightened his invisible grip on him slightly as the others wearily passed him by. He had done the impossible when he felt her brush past him…his little finger twitched. His chest muscles constricted ever so slightly, slowly squeezing the air out of his lungs. Kieran allowed himself an internal grin; the kind you try but fail to hide when you know you’ve earned yourself a tiny victory. Adam, however, had the last laugh he had left him with the ability to move on thing…his eyes.

  He used them not to watch the sad retreat of his friends but to witness Adam sweat. If he could have he would have laughed. It was taking everything that Adam had to hold him still. Maybe Daisy had been right. He did need to stretch his magickal legs with more practice. He might have slightly misfired today. In the end no one was truly hurt. When he’d seen Kane step towards Wills…

  He’d lost it and fired a shot. It was instinctual and driven by anger, but it had served its point. Kane was probably still licking the singed skin on his arms. His friends, and Wills had been thrown back from the blast but none of them appeared to be hurt. The magick he had just pulled out of himself had felt amazing. He had never conjured a lightning bolt before. That was strong air magick. The only air magick he had been able to conjure before was absently pulling thoughts from the mind of others; but it was often spontaneous and unreliable. For some reason air magick seemed to be the most difficult elemental bit of magick to control. Today he had leapt a giant hurdle and put the fear of the heavens into two members of the Trinity. If his voice was available to him he would have crowed.

  The narrow, soft passage of his throat began to constrict as if a band of steel was quickly tightening. He felt the tell-tale tingle in the tips of his fingers and toes; a sure sign that unconsciousness was a few scant seconds away. His eyes rolled back in his head and survival instinct took over.

  The wind picked up around them. The hair on his head whipped harshly against his face and the sweat that had gathered on his skin immediately evaporated. The force of the sudden gale sent them both flying away from each other and accomplished the goal of releasing him from Adam’s cruel grip.

  Seconds or hours could have passed by the time he found his way to his feet. A smug half-snort, half-cough forced its way up his raw throat and passed his dry lips the sound deepened into a chuckle of victory as he dusted himself off and found his feet. The arrogant, mostly dormant, piece of his psyche was more than pleased to see that dust coated Adam’s expensive wardrobe. He had freed himself from Adam’s fierce magickal grip with a sudden windstorm that had, in all honesty, caught them both off guard. He only wished he could have watched the shocked look on Adam’s face. He was sure it was better in real life than in the narrow confines of his imagination.

  “I think I’m getting better at this,” he managed unable to keep the sloppy grin off his face.

  Adam hung his head and Kieran allowed himself on tiny fist pump of triumph.

  “No baby witch you have regressed,” Adam sorrowfully informed him. “You have five days.”

  “Kieran!” The unrestrained fear in Daisy’s voice felt like a sudden ice bath of reality had been dumped over his inflamed skin. His head whipped to the sound of her voice. Even from this distance he could see the fear in her eyes. “Get in here! Wills is hurt.”

  This time it was not Adam holding him captive that kept his feet rooted to the ground; it was terror. Slowly he turned back to Adam only to discover that the wil
y witch had vanished. He was alone; standing in the destruction zone his magick had inflicted over the landscape. An enormous scorched crater lay a few feet in front of Lucas’ truck. The windshield of the truck was gone and shards of safety glass were scattered on the well-worn black bench seat. Gravel from the driveway was thrown all over the well-manicured green lawn. The smell of ozone still hung heavy in the air that surrounded him and he was well coated in a thick layer of dirt and dust.

  “You have five days.” The hollow echo behind Adam’s words began to sink in. They had five days to keep Tanith before not only Kane came for her with the rest of the Trinity in tow.

  “Kieran!”

  Adam hadn’t been proving that he still held more power…he had been showing him the price of power.

  He pressed his back to the wall hoping some unseen force would keep him upright. He had almost lost her today and she still had no idea how he felt about her. He pressed the heel of his hands into his forehead and slammed his head back against the wall. He felt, and heard, the delicate sheet rock give way as it cradled his head. He almost felt better…almost.

  He wanted to rage. He wanted to allow the anger to take over and go blindly at anyone who stood in his way. He was waiting and wishing that Kieran would walk through the door with a cocky swagger so he could take some of his frustrations out on him. He knew he could never hurt Kieran but it was a fantasy he allowed himself to entertain for a few short minutes. He had spent years tightly leashing his temper; old habits were hard to break; but right now he was willing to entertain his more dangerous side.

  “Lucas,” her voice, barely a whisper, soothed his anger. “I need your head with us and not embedded in my aunt’s wall.”

  He pushed himself hopefully away from the wall. “I thought-“