Kiss of the Spindle

by Nancy Campbell Allen

  Daniel drew in a breath. “Where am I going to put you?”

  Lewis’s eyes widened, and he tore at the tie. Daniel cursed himself up one side and down the other. Lewis needed to remain calm, not feed off Daniel’s distress.

  He took Lewis’s arm and called to Samson. “Do you know if Dr. Cooper is in her cabin?”

  Samson nodded. “I believe she is.”

  Daniel ushered Lewis down the stairs. “She can help. She’s very good.” He hoped it was true. They reached his quarters where he pushed Lewis inside and locked the door.

  “Dan. I’m sorry. I am so sorry—you’ll have to put me in the cargo hold, but I might destroy it.”

  Daniel shook his head. “Relax, my friend. You are not going to shift. We have the best shifter empath aboard, and you will be fine.”

  Lewis’s eyes were bleak. “She falls asleep at midnight.”

  Daniel tugged Lewis’s tie loose and tossed it on his table. He unfastened the top two buttons of his friend’s shirt, helped him remove his jacket and then his vest. If Lewis was going to shift, he needed to undress. “Should worse come to worst, I’ll move the fuel barrels out of the cargo hold. It’ll be fine.” He managed a tight smile.

  “If the doctor is going to help, you cannot strip me to my smallclothes.” Lewis closed his eyes tightly as Daniel removed his cuff links and rolled up his sleeves.

  “I won’t. Just loosening everything should you need it. No sense in ruining your fine clothing.” Daniel tried not to flinch as Lewis’s skin rippled along the arm.

  “You should tranquilize me. You must have a gun on board somewhere.”

  Daniel shook his head. “That’s a death sentence, and you know it. There’s a reason people like Isla have a job. If we could tranquilize every shifter and have them sleep it off, the problem would be solved.” Ninety-nine percent of shifters who were tranquilized died. A shifter, while human, could be safely put to sleep with medicine for surgical purposes any day of the week. The result was deadly, however, in shifted form or during Full Moon Phase.

  A soft knock sounded at the connecting door, and Daniel opened it to see Isla, brows drawn in worry. He pulled her into the room with little finesse. His hands were shaking.

  She focused immediately on Lewis. She moved quickly and took his arm, pulling out a chair with one hand and easing him into it. “Talk to me, Lewis. What is happening?”

  Lewis gulped in deep breaths. “I once shifted before Full Moon Phase. It was in India.”

  Daniel watched as Isla pulled the second chair close to Lewis and sat next to him, reaching for his hand. Her focus on the man was total, her demeanor assured, calm. He felt his own chest ease slowly, taking comfort in her complete control.

  “You were young then? Not unusual for a novice.”

  He nodded.

  “Breathe deeply with me.” Isla began a slow, even pattern of breathing and nodded when Lewis followed. She smiled. “We’ll do this together. No cause at all for alarm.”

  He glanced down at his arms. “It’s happening!”

  She rubbed his forearm. “Look at me. Lewis, at me.” She nodded again. “I can help you, but you must focus.”

  Daniel turned on an additional Tesla lamp and quietly retrieved the chair from Isla’s cabin. He sat on the other side of the table and exhaled slowly.

  Lewis gripped her hands. “I respect you, Isla, you know I do. But this is a physical problem, and I will endanger everybody on this ship—”

  She breathed in deeply and indicated for him to join her. After reestablishing an even rhythm with him, she said quietly, “This has not occurred since the one time in India, then?”

  He shook his head, shoulders sagging.

  “Sometimes an early shift is brought about because of undue stress.” She smiled. “Very rarely does it happen biologically with no external, social trigger. In all my experience, I’ve never seen it occur due to anything other than worry or emotional duress. Now here we are, flying to a new home you’ve never seen, with an enemy in our midst, and aboard a vessel not ideally equipped. Your worry has likely piled, step upon step, and eventually that stress will find a way to surface.”

  She ducked her head when he looked away, pulling his attention back to her. “It’s not physiological, which means we can work to reverse the process.”

  Lewis sniffed and exhaled, slowly relaxing his white-

  knuckled grip on Isla’s hands. “This is mortifying,” he said, the skin on his arm still rippling, but not as aggressively as before. “Quince is an old man, and he’s fine.”

  Isla laughed softly. “Exactly. He’s an old man. He has been living this process for decades.”

  “Bonadea is fine,” Lewis grumbled, and Daniel suppressed a smile.

  “But we do not know if he has ever faced this before, do we? It is not uncommon. It is why some shifters extend their shifting time away from family with an extra two days before and after the customary three-day-phase.” She gave his hands a little shake. “Because some people have issues exactly like this. Many would be quite cross with you for complaining, when this marks only the second time in your life you’ve had symptoms a day or two before the shifting phase.”

  Lewis nodded, sweat beading on his brow. Daniel reached for his handkerchief, but Isla produced one from her pocket first. She wiped his forehead as one would an ill child, the lace-edged square of white fabric in stark contrast to Lewis’s masculine features.

  There was something about her, and if Daniel had harbored doubts about the legitimacy of an empath’s abilities, they’d have been put to quick rest. The skills, the words, the methods—all those things could be taught, but there was something about her presence, her soul, that evened out the chaos. Where his quarters had been awash in panic before her arrival, the air was now filled with quiet confidence. Daniel was still concerned, but he felt now that the problem wasn’t insurmountable. Little wonder she was valued in her field.

  “Forgive my lack of faith, but you will be asleep in a few short hours, Dr. Cooper.” Lewis’s voice was strained, but he tried to smile. “I wonder what I shall do then when the full shifting hour arrives.”

  “Daniel, do you have a pitcher of water?” Isla asked, still looking at Lewis.

  He filled a glass from the pitcher at the dry sink and set it before Lewis, who let go of one of Isla’s hands to take a drink of water.

  She shifted subtly, and Daniel saw her slowly flex her fingers with a barely perceptible wince. She then switched to holding Lewis’s other hand while still slowly rubbing her free hand along his forearm, where the ripples continued to subside.

  Lewis set his glass down but kept turning it slowly on the tabletop.

  “Sorry, old man,” Lewis said to Daniel, his voice raw. “I’ve put us all at risk. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to put down on the ocean.”

  Daniel raised a brow. “And throw you overboard? Wait for a giant fish to swallow you whole?” He grimaced. “I’d throw Crowe overboard before you.”

  “Perfect.” Isla smiled. “All problems solved.”

  Lewis managed a half-smile. “All except the havoc I’ll wreak on this vessel.” He winced. “I do not function well . . . enclosed.”

  “You alpha lot are such a trial.” Isla winked. “You make life so difficult for the rest of us. You’ll be surprised to learn the such behavior is not singular to males. I’ve encountered many females who react in the same manner.”

  “Alpha females.” Daniel smiled. “What I wouldn’t give to see you explain that to Crowe.”

  Isla shook her head with a humorless laugh. “That one does not need another reason to dislike women.”

  “That one doesn’t like anyone,” Lewis muttered.

  “Has he bothered you more than usual?” Isla asked.

  Lewis continued turning the glass in circles by degrees on the table. “
His implied suspicions are becoming less veiled.”

  “Toward all three of you?”

  “Yes, but he seems especially antagonistic to me.” Lewis released the glass and rubbed the heel of his hand into his eye. “If I have allowed that man to drive me to this . . .” He shook his head, disgust clear. “I am pathetic.”

  “No, you are human.” Isla gave his hand a squeeze.

  Lewis laughed, his eyes bleary, and he glanced at her. “After a fashion.”

  “Certainly you’re a shifter. But you’re human. I wonder if you aren’t allowing some of Crowe’s poisonous rhetoric to seep in here.” She tapped his temple lightly. “I do not know the reason for Crowe’s prejudice, but I do know that it is toxic, and it poisons his soul even as he spreads it around. Do not let it affect you.”

  He nodded.

  Isla drummed her fingers on the table and glanced around the room. Her eyes stopped on Daniel’s vest, and she nodded toward it. “May I borrow your pocket watch?”

  He unfastened the end of the chain from his vest and handed the watch to her, curious.

  She placed it on the table by her elbow. “Lewis, I believe I can help you achieve a state of awareness that may allow you to retain more control over your human brain, even when you shift and instinct plays a greater role in behavior.”

  Lewis’s brow wrinkled. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. How is it done?”

  “A colleague has pioneered a therapy method that could make a wonderful difference for shifters. However, his research is only preliminary. His sample pool is not extensive, so results are not conclusive.”

  “What does it entail?”

  “I would place you into a deeply meditative state and then suggest to your brain that it remain forefront during and after shifting. Having never shifted personally, I cannot tell you exactly how it will affect you once you are in wolf form. I understand there ordinarily is a vague awareness of your personality, your life?”

  He nodded. “I know who I am, but it is as if there are two sides that are tied together as one, but are somehow separate.” He brushed a hand through his hair and sat back in the chair, releasing his grip on her fingers. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “That is exactly the description I get from most shifters. The nature of the person is consistent, including the brain, but when shifted, instinct rises to a position of dominance. That is the reason for most shifters’ extreme duress if contained in tight spaces or treated aggressively.” She paused, again tapping her fingertips on the table. “What I am uncertain of, and what research does not yet show, is if there is any mental distress or discomfort when retaining a greater portion of human awareness while in shifted form.”

  Lewis considered her. “I could feel like a human trapped in a wolf’s body.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Early feedback from those who have experienced it suggests no negative reactions, simply a lessening of animal instinct and a greater human awareness. If you’re interested, I can plant the suggestion.”

  Lewis nodded. “Do it. If I don’t shift, that’s wonderful. If I do, perhaps I’ll do less damage overall.”

  Daniel’s head spun. An untried, experimental treatment for a shifter changing too early, miles above the earth with unstable passengers, a cursed empath, and a possible saboteur aboard. Of course it would stand to reason that another insane element should be added to the mix. He removed his jacket and vest, and untied his cravat.

  Isla looked at him, her mouth lifted in a smirk. “Concerned, Captain?”

  “Not in the least, Doctor.”

  “It is not invasive surgery. I require no scalpels or sutures.”

  Lewis smiled, a glint of hope in his eyes. “At this point, I believe I’d allow it.”

  Isla laughed and stood, looking around the room. “Somewhere for you to be comfortably seated . . .” She tapped her finger against her lip.

  It wasn’t until Daniel moved closer to her, scrutinized her, that he noticed her face was pale. Her lips were set tighter than usual, her eyes squinted at the corners. Daniel decided not to ask after her welfare at that moment, since Lewis was calm and appeared to have control of his shifting symptoms.

  Unless Lewis isn’t the one fully in control.

  As Daniel moved closer to Isla, he sensed a subtle energy that radiated from her and stretched to Lewis. He thought he saw a heat wave in the air connecting the two, but blinked and decided he’d been imagining things.

  Isla led Lewis to the window seat, which offered an unobstructed view of both the sky and the ocean, but Daniel had yet to spend any leisure time there in quiet repose. The only thing he’d used the cushions for, in fact, was for sleeping on the floor by Isla’s bed every night, a fact of which she was still blissfully unaware.

  When Isla passed Daniel, there was a ripple in the air, another surge of heat. Isla somehow aided Lewis’s mental stability with her own energy stores. He’d never heard of such an ability, and Isla certainly hadn’t mentioned it to him when he’d asked about her work.

  Lewis settled down in the seat, moving to accommodate Isla, who sat at his hip.

  “Very well, Lewis.” Isla held up Daniel’s pocket watch a comfortable distance from Lewis’s face, allowing him to focus. She remained still, catching the watch when it moved with the gentle rhythm of the flying ship. “We are simply going to look at the beautiful watch and relax. Are you comfortable?”

  Lewis nodded and focused on the timepiece. At her suggestion, he visibly relaxed his shoulders and arms, then comfortably stretched his neck and lay against the cushions.

  Now that Daniel was aware Isla was using something of herself to aid Lewis, he watched her carefully, noting the deepening lines of tension in her forehead. Perhaps the strain was building. He listened as she suggested to Lewis that he was heavily relaxed and yet light as a cloud. The longer she spoke, the softer her voice grew, yet the air fairly pulsed with intensity. She told Lewis he would control his instincts when he shifted, that he would use his logic and rationale to master the wolf’s behavior. That he would feel his own sense of self in either form, and be confident in his abilities to regulate his activities according to his own will.

  She continued speaking, and Daniel found himself swaying slightly, woven in a cocoon of comfort and calm. He lost track of her words, but he couldn’t have torn his attention from her if he’d tried. He vaguely heard her say that Lewis would awaken to a sense of his surroundings when she counted backward from three . . . two . . . one . . .

  Daniel blinked, and Lewis rubbed his head, smiling uncertainly.

  “You are feeling well?” Isla asked, brows raised.

  “Yes, I do, actually. I feel quite calm. Rested, almost. That’s odd, isn’t it?”

  “Not at all.” Isla patted his knee and stood. “Now, if you require aid later in the night when I am . . . indisposed”—she spread her hands helplessly—“I have no objections if you believe it would help you to sit in my cabin. I don’t know that proximity to me would matter, but stranger things have happened. You certainly won’t bother me.”

  Lewis frowned. “You’re tired.”

  Isla waved a hand in the air. “The magic hour is nearly upon me.” Her laugh sounded strained. She handed Daniel the pocket watch with a tight smile. “I’ll retire for bed, if you don’t mind. And Lewis, my offer is sincere.”

  Lewis nodded and sat up. “Thank you. It is a comfort to know it’s extended.”

  Daniel had been patient, but was now quite ready to tell Lewis to get off the cushion because he would need it later that night to camp on Isla’s floor. Isla surely had the best intentions, but Daniel couldn’t possibly sleep if he thought Lewis was going to turn into a wolf in her room, successful hypnosis or no.

  Isla disappeared into her cabin and closed the door with a soft click.

  Daniel looked at Lewis. “Are you tired enoug
h to sleep now? You may use my bed; I don’t mind.”

  Lewis shook his head and stood. “I can’t sleep here knowing I might awaken and think you’re a threat or a predator.” He gathered his discarded clothing and paused at the door. “I cannot thank you enough. For everything. For getting me out of London, for helping me find a new life across the world, for caring for me in my hour of need.” He gestured with his clothing-draped arms. “I am more grateful than I can express.”

  Daniel waved a hand in dismissal. “Telescribe if you need me, or simply run up here and bang on the door. I know you would do the same for me, were the roles reversed.”

  Lewis nodded. “Until tomorrow, my friend.”

  “Sleep well.”

  Daniel locked the door behind Lewis and then went to the connecting door. He knocked quietly, whispering, “Isla?”

  “Yes?”

  He wasn’t certain if he’d heard the response or imagined it. He cracked open the door. “May I enter?”

  “Yes.”

  He found Isla sitting cross-legged atop her bed still dressed in her daytime clothes. She buried her head in her hands, fingers tunneled through her hair.

  “I knew it was taking a toll on you,” he muttered and put his hand atop hers. “Does this happen every time you work with a shifter?”

  “Only those in extreme emotional crisis. My interactions are not usually so urgent or intense.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Tea. Last time I ‘fell asleep’ with a headache this severe, I was nearly blind with it when I awoke the next morning.” She closed her eyes. “It would also help tremendously if you could remove my hairpins.”

  Daniel wrinkled his brow, wondering how to proceed. The pins were the same shade as her hair color; how was a person to find and remove them? He patted his fingertips along her upswept hair, which she was loosening ineffectually with her fingers as she massaged her scalp. She winced, and he nudged her hands away.

  “You’re pulling your own hair. Be patient for a moment.”

  She dropped her hands to her lap and closed her eyes as he gingerly felt for pins and hoped to high heaven he wasn’t adding to her headache.