Primal Burdens: (The Uruwashi Series #5)

by Christina Moore

  Tristan sighed. He was starting to regret calling the guy, he was only depressing Tristan more.

  There was a tiny knock at the door and then Lance was popping his head through the opening. Tristan motioned for him to come in and then put up a finger to tell him he’d only be a minute. Smiling, the fae nodded and came in, dragging a dark blue luggage bag behind him, then went out to grab the other.

  Wren was saying something in his ear about meeting up with Tristan that he only half heard as he was distracted by item sticking out the zipper of the bag. He stood and went over, wedging the cell between his ear and shoulder.

  “I don’t mind, I guess I just wonder what you have in mind?”

  Whatever Wren said, Tristan missed it when he dropped the phone, trying to pry the katana from the bag.

  “Sorry, sorry,” he said when he’d snatched up the phone again. “I dropped the phone picking up Ash’s sword.” Damned glad the fae saw it out there on the side of the road with Tristan—he’d completely forgotten about it.

  “Murasaki Kaeru, you have it?” The vampire paused for a moment to think. “We might be able to use that to our advantage.”

  Tristan snorted as he dug deeper into the bag, interested in what else there was. “Yeah, or she’ll take one glance at me with her precious and claw my fucking face off.”

  Wren laughed softly.

  “Wait up,” he said and the vampire fell silent. “I, uh, I just found Ash’s spell book.” He dropped the big book into his lap and flipped it open to a random page. “Tell me you can read Greek.”

  THE REGAL young man looked all wrong standing in his parent’s country French kitchen. Maybe if he weren’t scowling at Tristan like that, it wouldn’t have been so bad.

  “You are playing a very dangerous game. I don’t approve of this.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Wren. If you didn’t agree, then why the fuck did you come all the way here?”

  The vampire crossed his arms over his chest. A third Japanese, Chinese and Native American, he was rather fetching, for a dude. Even though he hid half his face behind his long, silky black hair and a half-mask under that, he was someone everyone noticed. It was the way he carried himself, all confidence and decorum. Youth and natural beauty too.

  “To keep you from killing yourself by accident.”

  With the dining room table between them, Tristan decided to just shove the book across the table. It slid to a stop just before the edge and Wren’s demeanor stiffened, eyes widening. If Tristan didn’t know any better, he would have said the vampire was afraid to touch it.

  “I’ve already looked through the whole thing. I can’t read a single word. Neither can Lance.” Half of it wasn’t even in words, just shapes and symbols. Might as well have been hieroglyphics. And fucking Greek—literally.

  Wren noticeably swallowed and took a step towards the table. He reached out a hand as if he meant to touch the tome but decided not to. “You opened it?”

  “Uh, yeah. It’s a book. How else am I going to read it? Osmosis?”

  Wren sighed, shaking his head. “If you insist on using this, you have to understand I’m not responsible for any…” He shrugged. “Any misfires.”

  “You want a signed waiver from my lawyer? Jesus Christ, Wren, we’re wasting time. Are you in or not?” Worst came to worst, he’d call Desmond. He’d rather take a bath with a pissed off electric eel, but he was starting to feel desperate. What if Ash really didn’t meet up with Desmond? What if she was lost, or worst, trying to get back to Japan? She could disappear and he’d never know where she went off to.

  The vampire shut his eyes in defeat. “Very well. But I cannot touch it.”

  “Don’t be such a baby,” Tristan said, coming around to the other end of the table where Wren was. “It’s in good condition, like new.” Tristan offered him a grin and a wink. “And you look like you can be the gentle type…”

  Wren looked up, smirking ever so slightly. “That’s not what I mean. I mean that as a vampire, I am physically incapable of opening this book, or any pythia tome that has been spelled.”

  “Oh.” He had thought the first time he picked it up, that his fingers felt hot and tingly, but that stopped right away and didn’t happen again. Guess that meant he wasn’t vampire enough to set off the spell?

  “Can humans?” he asked.

  Wren shrugged, making the gesture look graceful. “Depends on the pythia who spelled it.”

  He didn’t have any humans he wanted to bug at two AM. “Well, I guess I’m your book caddy.”

  Wren sighed. “Very well, if I do this, and by this, I mean look through the book to find a viable spell. And if one is found, help you stir it to the best of my ability, then my debit is settled.”

  “I.O.U. paid in full,” Tristan confirmed.

  “Very well. Is Lance asleep?”

  “If you’re hungry, I’d rather you go to him. He’s upstairs.”

  Wren smiled, shaking his head. “No, sir. I need him for his green thumb… this time.”

  As Tristan went upstairs to get the fae, he wondered if this would work. He was sick of things going wrong and needed some good to come his way.

  The door to the guestroom was open and Tristan stopped short of just walking in when he realized Lance was on the phone. The fae motioned to him that he’d only be a second.

  “Oh—okay. Okay,” Lance was nodding a lot and smiling big. “Hey, hon—honey? I’ve got to go. Yep, I know.” He laughed and then his pointy ears went red and he ducked his head to hide his embarrassment at whatever it was Tristan couldn’t hear. “Love you, bye.” To Tristan he said, “Sorry, just checkin’ in with the wife. You know how it is.”

  Tristan gave a start. “Wife?”

  “Yep, been married…” He scrubbed at his mop of red hair to bare his still red ears, staring off at nothing. “Oh geez, I guess we’re going on thirty-seven years now.”

  Now he was impressed. “Really? Wow, that’s amazing. I thought fae didn’t marry though.”

  Lance shrugged. “More do in these modern times than in the past, but most of the race still sticks to the old ways. Hell, my wife’s a third human.” He shrugged again, smiling sheepishly. “I just like to mix things up, you know?”

  Tristan smiled. “Good to know you’re not like most fae.”

  Taking it for the compliment Tristan meant, Lance smiled big, all teeth.

  He sighed, rubbing his neck against the tension, noting his dry eyes. “Wren’s downstairs, we’re going to try a spell. Can you help?”

  The fae looked startled but was smiling. “Oh, uh, yeah. Absolutely… but, um…”

  “Yes?”

  Lance shook his head. “Nothing. Let’s get started?”

  “Yeah.”

  Wren was sitting quietly with his hands laced together, resting on the dining table. The spell book was exactly where Tristan had left it. Guess the vampire really couldn’t touch it.

  Seeing the others enter the room, Wren smiled big. “Good morning, old friend.”

  “Hey, Wren,” Lance said cheerfully. “I really am glad to see you again. Guess we haven’t had time to catch up yet, huh?”

  Wren dipped his head, flipping his hair forward. “Perhaps soon.”

  Tristan clapped the fae on the back as he moved towards the dining table. “Okay, what first?”

  “First, you come sit next to me and flip the pages so I may read their titles,” Wren said.

  “One by one, huh?” Tristan asked.

  “One by one until I’ve found one acceptable for our needs. After that, it’s up to Lance here to procure the necessary supplies.”

  Tristan looked wearily to Lance and the fae perked up, ready for whatever Tristan had in mind. He glanced over at the coffee maker. “I don’t think there’s any filters or coffee, but you’re welcome to look if you want to make something hot to drink. There might be some booze here somewhere too.”

  Lance was nodding as he turned away but it was Wren who said, “No, I’m
fine. Thank you.”

  “Yeah, so, um, Wren?”

  The vampire was smiling secretly to himself over some little amusement. “Yes, Tristan?”

  “Just how long is all this going to take?”

  The vampire made a point of looking at the clock on the microwave behind Tristan. As a vampire, he had little use of time on a measured scale. He instinctively knew how long he had until his ultimate foe, the sun was going to rise. Instead of turning to look, having a pretty good idea of just how late it was getting, Tristan huffed, crossing his arms.

  “I realize that you wish to remedy this tonight, but I think it best to wait until this evening, after you’ve had rest.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Wren stood with his palms pressed to the table. “I will do this so long as you agree that it will take as long as it takes. If we find a spell at the break of dawn you must promise to wait for me to arise at dusk to continue the work. There’s nothing more dangerous than a layman failing at a pythia’s spell, especially one that is meant to alter the mind.”

  Tristan dropped his arms, slumping a little. “Okay, okay, I get it. No rushing.”

  Resigning himself to the other man’s reasonable demands, Tristan tried to convince himself to remain calm. Because if they messed up, it could mean all of their lives.

  5: Imagine

  LANCE was whistling happily to himself as came into the house. He marched straight for the kitchen and stopped short, sighing and dropping his shoulders.

  “Tristan,” he said in a soft chiding, but friendly tone. “What are you doing up still? You should be in bed.”

  Tristan lifted his arm from over his eyes and squinted at the fae. The sun had just risen and he was lying in just the wrong spot, getting the first morning rays right in his face. “What’re you, my mom?”

  Lance smiled at him and went to put the bundle of plants he was carrying down in the kitchen. He came back out and perched himself on the edge of the coffee table. The sitting room was small, but very comfortably appointed, soft colors and welcoming. That didn’t mean that’s where Tristan should have been trying to catch a few z’s.

  “I found most of the stuff on the list. I’ll have to go out out to find the rest. Do you have a computer here with internet?”

  “Computer yes, internet no. I can call to set up service, but it won’t happen right away.”

  The fae nodded as if he already knew that was going to be the answer. “It’s fine, I think I can find what I need without it. It just would have been easier.”

  Tristan groaned, sitting up. He scrubbed at his hair, sparing a tiny thought that he should go get a haircut soon since it was far longer than he’d ever had it in his life. It was starting to annoy him, rubbing the base of his neck. “What are you missing?”

  Lance held out the list and Tristan looked it over. It wasn’t much.

  “I uh, actually found the rosemary at the house next door.” Lance motioned. “But uh, well, there was this really adorable redhead and an attractive Asian man, uh…” His face turned red and he meshed his hands together in the air. “Doing stuff in the hammock out back so I couldn’t get it. There might have been some valerian there too; I just couldn’t smell it over the rosemary.”

  Tristan had to laugh. One, because Lance motioning like that, looking all flustered, reminded him of a scene in his favorite movie. And two, he was relieved to hear that his friends made it out of downtown just fine. He just wondered what the hell they were doing having sex so early, and outside of all places, at her parent’s house.

  “It’s cool. I know them. I’ll go over and ask for some.”

  Lance smiled big, nodding. “Great, then that just leaves those last two. I probably won’t find them in a private garden since they’re pretty rare. I’m going to try a few greenhouses and hopefully we’ll get lucky.”

  Tristan grunted and stood. “Yeah, we seem to be having a string of good luck the past few hours, huh?”

  Oblivious to Tristan’s inner skepticism, Lance nodded. “Oh, um… there is um, one more thing.”

  Was it Tristan’s imagination or did the fae pale a little? “What?”

  “Well, I’m not sure how much Wren explained pythia rites, but um, the most important part of the spell is the circle.”

  Confused as to why Lance seemed upset, Tristan nodded. “Yeah, he told me. It’s impossible to spell without one.”

  Lance worried at his lip. “Did he, uh, tell you what the circle is made of?”

  “Salt,” he said, nodding. When Lance bit at his lips again, Tristan huffed, “What? What is it?”

  “Well, there’s two types of salts—depending on the type of spell.”

  Tristan rubbed his face. “I’m tired, Lance, just spit it out.”

  “Your spell calls for nkrí—or grey salts.”

  Tristan’s stomach lurched. “I’m guessing that’s not good.”

  Lance’s gaze bore into him as he warbled out, “I’m so sorry, but I need cremated ashes.”

  Tristan’s mouth opened and sound came out, but not words. He was at a loss, floundering for understanding. “Hu—human ashes?”

  Lance nodded shortly. “Only a few very specialized spells use ashes from shinwa or heikō,” he all but whispered.

  Tristan swallowed hard. “O—okay.” The solution was already rolling around in his head, he just wasn’t sure he could commit to it. He had ashes on hand—his parent’s ashes, they were in the house here. He saw the urns earlier as he stood trapped at the threshold to their room, unable to step inside. Unable to make himself cross the room and acknowledge their existence with a touch.

  “I’ll have to—I might have a solution.” He shook his head. “But I can’t right now. I’ll tell you later.”

  Seeming to know he shouldn’t push it right then, Lance nodded. “I’m going to go catch a quick nap and then go out for those last two things.” He watched Tristan a moment before cocking his head and asking gently, “You need anything else while I’m out?”

  “No. I’m going next door to raid their rosemary and then I’ll sleep too. Oh,” he said as he descended the stairs. “Don’t open the downstairs bathroom, Wren’s holed up in there.”

  Lance frowned. “The bathroom?”

  “Yep, in the tub,” Tristan said over his shoulder.

  “I could have found a better place for him.”

  Tristan shrugged and went out the front door, slamming it behind him.

  Lance had been right that they’d been pretty lucky. With little to no trouble Wren had found a spell that was near perfect. Almost too perfect from the looks the vampire kept giving Tristan as he translated the ancient Greek and alchemical symbols. Lance seemed oblivious to their worry, but Tristan thought that the fae was just really good at being positive. He appreciated it anyway.

  Even though the spell did seem “perfect”, Wren expressed concern that even the right spells could go wrong when countering another. Especially when it came to mind altering spells. If they made it right, Ash would be back to normal with a twenty-percent chance of missing a few small memories. But if they did it wrong, Ash could permanently forget what she was spelled to, and worse, there was a high chance it could kill her.

  As Tristan shuffled down the Thompson’s drive with his hands in his pockets, he suddenly felt a sense of peace. He’d walked this very path hundreds of times before and it healed a part of soul to be submersed in the familiar again, even if the familiar brought its own painful memories. But there was more than pain and regret to be remembered here, this place he grew up in, there was also love, friendship… so many happy times. It was those happy times that had him smiling when he knocked on the Thompson’s front door.

  There were some noises inside and then he was staring at Gillian’s mirrored shock.

  “Trist!” she finally squealed and flung herself at him. “Oh my goodness, hi! What’re you doing here so early? Were we supposed to meet?” She let him go and took a step back, softly scowling up at him. “God
, what happened to your face? Is everything okay?”

  She reached up to touch him but he pulled his head back. He hadn’t seen his face recently but he still felt the hit Ash had given him. “No, it’s—Stupid accident. Embarrassing, actually. I’m fine.”

  “Oh,” she said frowning, thinking hard. “You’re staying at the house, I guess? I’ve been keeping an eye on the people who care for the house, there shouldn’t be any problems…”

  This was the first he’d heard that Gillian was supervising but wasn’t surprised. She’d loved his parents just as much as he had. There was no blood between them, but they were family.

  “Or is this about last night?” she asked with a tiny frown.

  “No, the house is fine. I’m just… I guess I’m staying there a few days. And um,” He sighed, looked back, squinted at the early sun. “Can I come in a minute?”

  “Oh gosh,” she said sounding flustered. “Of course you can. Sorry, I’m just late for work and all flustered. Come in, come in.”

  “Oh,” he said as he came inside. “I don’t want to keep you.”

  “No, no, it’s fine. I’m already late, and you’re way more important. And besides, my assistant is opening the shop this morning. A few more minutes won’t hurt.”

  Tristan smiled big, felt it down to his toes. “You opened your own shop.”

  “Yep. Dock Sweets, open for business.”

  “That’s so great.” He gave her a quick hug.

  Long before he ever left, before his parents were gone, Gillian had talked about opening her own bakery. It seemed that in the time he was gone, she finally did it. And he missed it. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to celebrate the opening with you.”

  Gillian rubbed his arm. “It’s okay, Tristan. Really. We’ve had a lot of time to think about stuff and we know we could have—”

  “Stop.” He shut his eyes, shaking his head. “It was my fault. I mean, I know you feel bad that mom and dad… but what happened after that, that’s all on me.”

  Gillian frowned up at him. He could tell she wanted to argue, but only for the sake of being polite. She knew just as well as he did that the rift was all Tristan’s fault. He hoped to make it up to her and Eric both now that he was back, but he had to tread carefully. They didn’t deserve to become causalities in the disaster that was his life.