Lost Little Wolf

by N. K. Vir

  “I think I was born there,” she frighteningly exhaled.

  “Tanith you’ve got memories,” he excitedly exclaimed.

  Tanith shook her head, her icy blonde hair flying about her face. “They’re not memories,” she objected. “It’s just me going insane. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

  He reached out to her freeing the strands of hair that were stuck to his face. “They’re real, they have to be,” he insisted. “I don’t think it is possible for us all to have strange shared visions of a place that does not exist.”

  The distant past and memories that shouldn’t exist had recently begun to plague him as well. He needed to believe that these strange events were connected. That there was something else out there; hiding just beyond where they thought reality existed. Otherwise they were all insane.

  His eyes flicked to Daisy. She was studying the moonstone, turning it over in her hand, almost begging it to sing. His head whipped back to Tanith. “They’re real Tanith. I’ve seen some of them. There is a great woman there and she’s waiting for you. Something is calling you home,” she said her voice fading.

  He reached out to touch her, to offer her comfort. She flinched away from his touch. Scurrying away as she tried to press herself deeper into the shadows that now seemed to have engulfed the car.

  “Her hair is the color of the sun setting and the sun rising. You’ve seen her…remember,” he implored her. He fixed his eyes to hers willing hers to meet his; she stubbornly refused.

  “Kieran,” Daisy broke in laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It’s been ten minutes since the last person went inside shouldn’t we go in now?”

  Tanith nodded her head and he could see and understand the fear she was feeling. She wanted this conversation to end; and for now he allowed it.

  He had hoped to slip in quietly and go unnoticed; he found, however, sneaking up on a coven of witches was nearly impossible; there was always at least one seer in attendance. Witches in the past lived in constant danger, more than every other magickal group. To protect themselves every coven had a door master who was blessed with the gift of foresight. Their gifts served as an early warning system should the village they live in grow too suspicious of their unusual monthly meetings. The seer was in a unique position to thwart trouble before it had a chance to breed. It was a tradition some covens kept well into the modern era of general tolerance. His coven was one of the oldest in the country, tradition was something they did not give up easily.

  His coven’s seer saw them well before they reached the old wooden doors of the church. She had probably been spying on them as they sat in the car. She must have gotten quiet the show.

  “It has been a long time since I’ve laid eyes on you Kieran Sinclair,” a sweet sounding voice whispered form the shadow behind the door.

  He swallowed his startled gasp but couldn’t hide the involuntary jump backwards or the leap of magick that suddenly raced through his veins and tingled in the tips of his palms. He could feel the tickling pinpricks of electrical energy dancing for finger to finger. He inhaled slowly through his nose, silently counting to four, held the breath for a five count, and then exhaled slow and steady till the count hit six. The tingling of magick slowly subsided; creeping back up his arms and returning to his center. He had kept control; but more importantly he had kept his vow.

  “I see the rumors of your power have not been exaggerated,” the voice continued as its owner stepped out from the deep shadows and into the pale light of the moon. “Shove those hands in your pockets boy before you hurt someone,” she scolded with a truly witchy sounding cackle.

  He recognized her brilliant ruby colored smile before the familiarity of her features found a matching name in his memory. “Matilda Winters,” he exhaled the name along with the strange taste of a distant memory.

  She had been one of the many members of the coven who had ‘helped’ him achieve, what would later be clinically phrased, an even balance. In the end, the truth had been she had seen and shared a secret with him, one he had forgotten…until now.

  “The Earth will wrap around you like a cloak. You will juggle fire with your bare hands. The sky will bless you with water and light will dance upon the tips of your fingers.” Her words were spoken years in the past then repeated now in the present, a perfect echoed image of what was.

  He nodded his head in understanding, she had been warning him, prepping him for what was to come. When she had spoken those words years ago it had calmed something within him. Her words, re-spoken, had the same effect now.

  His eyes were drawn back to her. Age had cost her a few inches in height but had added dramatic streaks of white to her jet black hair. Her brilliant blue eyes shielded behind her darkly framed glasses still retained a devilish sparkle of mischievous youth and intelligence. A bright smile, still on display, drew his attention to the pale skin of her face whose only mar was enjoyment of life.

  “Ladies may I introduce Matilda Winters the doorkeeper of the Eastern Earth Cove.”

  She nodded her head gracefully accepting the formal introduction. “A seeker,” she said her shrewd eyes falling upon Daisy. “And a shifter who is not a shifter,” she remarked her bright intelligent eyes volleying between Daisy and Tanith. “What interesting company the Sinclair Witch keeps,” she said with a wink.

  She quietly shut the door behind them allowing a few moments of silence to drip past them. Daisy, never one to allow a quiet moment to pass uninterrupted was the first to break through the thickening silence.

  “Why did you-,” she was cut off from finishing her question when Matilda slapped a bony bejeweled hand over her mouth. Kieran had to swallow a snicker as Daisy fell victim to one of her own signature moves.

  “I’m sure your questions are just as colorful as your eyebrows.” The quick remark caused Daisy’s eyebrows to climb up her forehead a few inches. “There is a time for questions,” she quickly explained. “Now, is not that time.” Then she whispered something quietly in Daisy’s ear; something too quiet for him to overhear. Whatever she said had Daisy nodding her head vigorously.

  Matilda whipped her attention back to Kieran as she released her hold on Daisy’s mouth. “Why are you here Kieran?”

  “The Historian sent us,” he quickly replied. Although it was true, it was still only a partial truth. He had come because his parents had been afraid; too afraid to seek the help of their coven.

  Matilda pursed her ruby painted lips and arched an eyebrow at him. “I thought she died,” she hissed stealing a quick glance over her shoulder.

  He forced down the flash of anger, cooling it the rough stone beneath his feet. The quick exchange of energy was not missed by Matilda’s sharp eye. She took a quick step back away from him as if his anger would seek out a new host to feed off of. He drew in a long breath renewing the stale air he’d been holding onto. Matilda was smart, very sharp for her advanced years; he realized she was playing a game with him and it was not sitting well. She was poking him; testing the limits of his anger and his control.

  “Then it is true,” she cryptically muttered. “Go on through,” she said quickly stepping aside. “Stay to the back and try not to draw too much attention to yourselves.”

  Kieran nodded his head in understanding as he brushed past Matilda. He hooked an arm around Daisy and pulled her close while keeping her short legs moving. He bent down and asked, “What did she say to you?”

  “Later,” she replied. He stopped short pulling her to a sudden stop along with him. He glared down at her not even trying to hide the anger from his eyes. “That’s what she said Kieran,” she stared back at him unflinchingly. “She said later.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Enter the Witch King

  She learned more about the magickal community in the space of an hour than she had in the ten years her memory had afforded her. It was hypnotic. The pull and power of the man who had barely spoken was palpable. The entire coven seemed to mirror his every movement as if
he held them all under a spell. They all swayed to the rhythm of his every breath and not one of them seemed to notice the three strangers who silently watched from the back.

  In all honesty she had expected a ritual; darkly cloaked figures shuffling about, chanting in a foreign tongue by candlelight. The coven meeting was barely more interesting than a town hall event that she once saw televised. She experienced more magick and tradition attending the monthly council meetings of the wolves. There was a majesty to them; a decorum and respect that seemed to be lacking here. She had tried to pay attention to the meeting; she had tried to learn about the witches; but found herself drawn over and over to the mysterious dark stare of the man in charge.

  “His name is Marek Grey,” Kieran whispered in her ear. “He terrified me when I was a kid.”

  She stifled a giggle. She had seen Kieran stand toe-to-toe with the most powerful creature that walked the earth and not once had he flinched. Fear was never something that crossed his mind.

  “It’s good to know my childhood fears amuse you,” he replied blessing her with a wicked grin.

  Not that long ago she used to hold onto moments like these so she could replay them in her memory over and over again. A few locks of his curly dirty blonde hair had fallen over his forehead framing his deep green eyes that were looking only at her. His full mouth curved upwards highlighting the enhancing the boyish glimmer in his eyes. The way he was looking at her now usually sent her stomach tumbling in her abdomen; strangely, right now she felt nothing. This time she allowed a laugh to escape her throat, not caring how much attention she drew to herself. For someone used to hiding on the outside of even the magickal society it was an unusual feeling, not caring. She had days left to live she had earned the right to laugh whenever she felt like it. Knowing the end of her life was, very possibly on the horizon, had shifted her perspective allowing her to indulge in things she might never have otherwise even thought of doing.

  She wasn’t the only one to take full advantage of her numbered days. Lucas, too, had changed. He was bolder; more vocal. His natural protective streak had multiplied as he seemed to sense danger everywhere; but it was his sudden declaration earlier that had completely taken her off guard. The memory alone was enough to make up for a lifetime of missing ones.

  She could still feel the tips of his fingers that had slowly glided up from the edge of her jaw to the ridge of her cheekbones igniting the sensitive nerves under her skin. He hadn’t hesitated, hadn’t given her the opportunity to protest or step away; he had captured her with a look like a predator freezing his prey. In that moment she had been helpless; unable to escape and, if she was honest, she hadn’t wanted to. The instant his lips had brushed against hers her world had changed.

  One kiss had changed her.

  “He finally did it didn’t he?” Kieran asked his grin widening.

  She could feel the warmth flooding her cheeks as her hand began to unconsciously drift towards her mouth. Lucas’ kiss had been unexpected and she had not given herself much time to think about it. Somehow she didn’t think dwelling on it in room filled with powerful witches on a semi-secretive mission for the woman she had nearly killed was the right time to dwell on it. Suddenly it was all she could think of; and the only thing Kieran and Daisy wanted to talk about.

  “Who finally did what?” Daisy asked rejoining them.

  Kieran glanced around as if was harboring a great secret and feared being overheard before bending down and imparting is great secret to Daisy in an absurdly loud whisper. “Lucas finally kissed Tanith.”

  It was Daisy’s squeal of delight that embarrassed her. Daisy added to the embarrassment by wrapping her in an uncomfortable bear hug. Tanith had never been at ease with overt displays of affection but for some reason Daisy was different, and she limply allowed herself to be embraced by a gregarious woman she was beginning to think of as a friend. Her eyes burned with an emotion she was unaccustomed to feeling. She realized, for the first time, that she had friends; friends she would miss; friends that would miss her. Running would never have been an option.

  Rumors of what she had done were probable spreading fast in the tight knit magickal community; even the tiny crone who had let them into the coven meeting had thought Wills had died. How much more did she know? Did she know who had tried to kill her? Did she know… did any of them know that they had allowed a killer to move easily among them?

  “You’ll tell me all about it later,” Daisy whispered into her ear. Daisy tried to step away and it took a moment for her to realize that she was preventing her from retreating from the embrace. Tanith found her arms locked around the other woman and realized she had made a friend she was afraid to let go of.

  A fresh heat wave of embarrassment ignited under her cool skin as she forced her arms to drop. She had not managed a graceful retreat from the hug Daisy had unwillingly pressed upon her. Her arms dropped violently to her sides as though gravity had suddenly become a force too powerful for her limbs to resist. It was the uncomfortable interactions with others that had always been difficult for her. She had been lost, wandering and alone, stuck in a form that repelled contact for so long that she found it difficult, even now, to assimilate with others. She wanted to have the strength to fight with the others but there was a feeling buried deep within her that kept warning her that she had been let down by those who were supposed to care about her before. Maybe it was that failure of others that held her form making any real connections in her present. In the end, no matter how hard she tried to keep people away from her they always invited themselves in without permission.

  “None of it is going to matter in a few days,” she quietly reminded Daisy. She wanted to have hope. She wanted to believe they could once again pull a rabbit out of a hat; but she still clung to the doubt they had all been feeling but refused to openly admit.

  She watched Daisy’s eyes flick up towards Kieran silently pleading for assistance. She felt Kieran hook his arm around hers and slowly pull her backwards. She followed his lead, allowing herself to be lead backwards.

  “Let’s see if anyone here can help,” he gently encouraged. “Did you check back in with Matilda?” he asked Daisy.

  “She wants us to talk to someone else first,” she replied failing to hide her exasperation. “She said it would be rude if you did not first acknowledge the coven master.”

  Tanith’s eyes scanned the busy room. Several small pockets of people were gathered around the room. The quiet buzz of conversation was focused on one topic…them. Apparently their presence had not gone as unnoticed as she originally thought. Some comments were welcoming and full of wonder.

  “…he was always such a special child; full of power from a young age.”

  “The first Sinclair in over a century! A member of our own coven…”

  Some were darker; hinting at danger.

  “…he’s never had competition.”

  “Look at him watching them…”

  Her eyes were drawn like magnets to the man everyone in the room seemed to be worried about…Marek Grey.

  He wasn’t a big man. The throne-like chair he sat upon exaggerated his slight build but there was an aura of power that swirled around him. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Daisy squint her eyes as she too was focused on the strange power that seemed to radiate out of the man. Whatever she saw did not make her happy. Tanith was immediately put off by his dark eyes that seemed ever watchful as they lazily scanned the room. Kieran, however, was still nursing his boyhood awe of the man. She did not see any help coming from Marek Grey.

  As she studied him she noticed that occasionally a faint smile would grace his face. He would nod; murmur a quiet word or two with those who sought him out. He laughed when appropriate appearing to everyone who looked at him from afar to be a very jovial man. Tanith saw past the thin façade he projected, as did all of the others in the room; no one stayed in his shadow for too long. Almost as if the weight of it was too heavy. When he thought no one was wa
tching he would quickly glance at them, his dark eyes squinted down at them projecting a chill that Tanith could feel even at this distance.

  His deep russet hair was pulled away from his face in a loose ponytail that held the thick corded rows of his hair off the velvet black cloak that was draped over his shoulders. Most of his face was covered, hidden beneath the thick beard that was streaked lightly with grey but she could never call his hawkish features handsome; she would classify him as merely interesting. She had spent ten years with the wolves; a man looked forward to his first grey. Grey hairs and loyalty to the pack equaled respect. He seemed to rule his coven by fear. This man was used to being the most powerful witch in the room; suddenly he was not. The irony of self-proclaimed witch king was not lost on her.

  “They’re all dancing delicately around him,” she mumbled aloud.

  The last of his well-wishers had greeted him; his full attention then fell upon the small group that had received more devotion than he had. Her eyes caught his and a broad smile stretched his hawkish face. The warmth of his smile failed to reach the cold dark of his eyes. This man, this witch, with the cold dark eyes was the hope Wills had sent them in search of. When Tanith looked at him she didn’t see hope. She saw pride, power and an ego too strong to carry something as delicate as hope.

  “Why would Wills send us here?” Daisy wondered aloud. “No one’s spoken to us and Kieran should be the pride of this coven.”

  “I think that’s the problem,” Tanith answered her. She had a faint memory tickling the back of her brain; one that was more based in legend; a lost memory, a lost lesson, one that was too important to be forgotten.

  “He’s the most powerful witch in my coven Tanith. We’re here because he can help,” Kieran’s tone was curt, cutting off any other remarks she might have been about to make. He didn’t look back as he strode away to greet the witch who would be king.