The War Priest

by Ann Aguirre

  Jere shook their head with a wry smile. “None of us are. But I presume you have a reason for being here, not just to inquire about my health?”

  “I had a bit of a brainstorm, and I was wondering… does Burnt Amber still have any of the old signal machines? Like the one they used in the Battle of Hallowell.”

  The security chief stilled, as if in confusion, then a smile brightened their weary expression. “Ah! I see. Indeed we do.”

  Callum had the devil in him tonight.

  Normally, he’d retire at this hour, but after Joss’s maddening serenade, there was no way the storm in his head would let him sleep. Every note of that song had rolled over him like a touch, an aural caress, and Joss’s voice still echoed in his head, saying she wanted and needed him, that she loved him. And hell, he’d already heard it from her, just before she swore to scratch his name out of her heart for good.

  Really, he should try to sleep, but instead he went to the security office to find Jere. The last strategy session hadn’t gone well—with visible tension between the order and Burnt Amber—and maybe the security chief would have some idea how to bridge the gap. Failing that, he could exhaust himself analyzing Gol patrol movements at least, putting his insomnia to good use.

  “Can you pull up the—” He broke the question off midway, when he realized Jere wasn’t alone.

  Joss turned. She was still wearing the red dress that made her look like an angel of sin, hair pinned to reveal the tender nape of her neck, but her face was naked. After seeing her on stage, this glimpse of her true self hit him like catching her fresh from bed, all sleepy-soft and touchable. To control the impulse to reach for her, he curled his hand into a fist and pressed his knuckles to the back of his thigh.

  When neither of the two spoke, Callum tried again. “Am I interrupting?”

  Jere shook their head. “Joss had an idea, and I was checking on where our signal device is stored.”

  “Signal…” Quickly, he sorted through what he knew about the Battle of Hallowell, and suddenly, he was on the same page. “It would be in the Archives since we don’t have a museum of obsolete technology.”

  Joss bounced a bit, up on her toes. “Can you show me where?”

  “Is there any point? It was a fluke that the old attendant was monitoring the equipment. At best we could send a message that nobody will read—”

  “There’s no harm in it.” Joss leveled a cool gaze on him that stung as if she had chastised him. “If you’re too busy, I’m sure Jere can point me in the right direction.”

  Before the security chief could reply, Callum snapped, “I’ll take you.”

  He whirled on his heels and stalked off, not waiting to see if she would accompany him. Archives were part of the security complex, but down several levels. The lights were low in the stairwell with a sickly yellow sputter that made Joss look like a ghost drifting along behind him, not close enough for him to make conversation. Not that he had any damn notion what to say.

  The steps were hewn out of solid rock, roughly done by hand hundreds of years before. He led the way to the main floor, where a solid steel door barred their path. His security clearance got them past the electronic lock, the only modern touch in this place. When the door popped open, he gestured for her to precede him. Within, walls of shelving created a nightmare maze of forgotten files and musty junk, items some enterprising bear had thought might come in handy again someday. Probably Jere could have looked up the storage code, which would help them locate the signal machine faster. That request would also cut short these stolen moments. Even if it was imprudent, he still chose to wander with Joss because at least he was breathing her in, next to her as he had no right to be.

  “Any idea where to start?” she asked, eyes wide at the seeming magnitude of the task before them.

  “It will probably be in the technology section. That way.” As Callum navigated the warren, a wave of nostalgia hit him. “I haven’t been down here in years.”

  “You were raised at Burnt Amber?”

  “We moved when I was fairly young, but yes.”

  “Do you mind if I ask why?”

  Callum wouldn’t have minded if she asked what color underwear he was wearing. “Why what?”

  “Your family moved away.”

  “Oh. Long story short, my mother didn’t get on with Uncle Beren. From the very beginning, he didn’t approve of my father and opposed their marriage. Eventually, my old man sort of…tried a coup. Failed spectacularly, too.”

  For him, this was ancient history, but he could see the shock in Joss’s expression. His ties to the order aside, this was also why Burnt Amber wasn’t solidly behind his leadership, though he was next in line. Bears had long memories, and his father had been avaricious, power hungry. Not on the level of Tycho Vega, but he’d passed along a tendency toward obsession.

  Thanks, you bastard.

  If the old man was still alive, he would’ve grabbed this opportunity with both hands. Might even be glad about this terrible war if it meant personal advancement.

  “You could tell me the long version. I don’t mind.”

  Callum paused. “It was a long time ago, but it was tense when we lived here. Things were a bit better at first after we went to Bright’s Landing, but my father was a bitter man, and bitterness seldom leads to joy or contentment.”

  “They’re gone?” Joss asked, her tone hesitant.

  “My parents? Yes. Twenty years ago now.” He really didn’t want to talk about that, not even with her, because he’d lost everyone he loved then.

  When you had a lover, someone you thought you’d be with forever, it was reasonable to turn to them for solace. Obsessive. You’re obsessive, Callum. The way you love is smothering me. I can’t be the only light in your life. The weight is too much. His fault, because he couldn’t bond properly with other people, couldn’t make emotional connections to make his need less ravenous. Time had smoothed away some of the jagged edges, but here he was, doing the same shit with Joss.

  I haven’t learned a damn thing in all these years.

  “Do you have any other family?”

  “Cousins, on my mother’s side. They live in Bright’s Landing as well, and they’re not even slightly interested in what’s happening here. I mean, other than wanting life to go back to normal.”

  “We all want that,” she said softly.

  “Wrong. The Gols want to establish a new normal, where they dominate by force and the rest of us kneel.”

  When her eyes closed as if she was fighting a terrible memory, he hated himself for that pointless correction. Obviously, she wasn’t talking about the Gols, just those fighting them, and hell, not even all the Gols wanted that. After the Battle of Hallowell, they were split into two factions. She knew that better than anyone and she’d lost so much in the first strike.

  “That’s true,” she said in a small voice.

  Callum shouldn’t look at her, but he did and the endless loss in her eyes ravaged him. “I’m sorry. I’m an asshole.”

  “Sometimes.”

  “You must be really scared, waiting for history to repeat. I wish you were in Ash Valley, away from the front.”

  Joss squared her shoulders, her expression shuttering. “Away from you.”

  “That’s not a thing I could ever wish for,” he said quietly. “Not for that reason. But I do want you to be safe, Joss.”

  As he spoke, the lights flickered and went out. In the Archives, darkness had another layer, an oppressive weight and dimension. His eyes adapted swiftly, but even enhanced senses could discern little in a space full of inanimate objects that gave no heat. She stepped closer to him and Callum reached for her with unerring instinct, silently thrilling over the softness of her hand enfolded in his.

  “What’s happening?”

  “It’s temporary. They’ll get the lights back on soon.” Privately, he admitted that the outage might presage something more sinister, but even if he hadn’t disabled the wireless and activate
d jammers, there still wouldn’t have been any signal in a dungeon like this.

  Joss shivered, a motion he felt more than saw. “We should see what’s happening. Come on.”

  He didn’t move when she tugged on his arm, didn’t let go of her either. “Whatever’s afoot, they’ll have to resolve it without us. The door won’t open.”

  14.

  “We’re trapped,” Joss said, hoping she didn’t sound as alarmed as she felt.

  “It won’t be long. If the power doesn’t come back, Jere knows we’re down here. They’ll send someone to take the door off the hinges.”

  “If we combine our strength, we might be able to break it.” Between the impenetrable darkness and the knowledge that she couldn’t leave, her pulse quickened.

  So far, she wasn’t panicking as she’d done in the chapel, but it might not be long. Joss imagined this was how her father had felt, trapped in the rubble with the whole weight of a building on him, hard to breathe, so hard to breathe—

  “Hey, kit.” Suddenly Callum’s hands were on her shoulders, like he could read her mood even in the dark, then she realized he likely could, judging from the fear sweat dotting her brow, her thumping heart, and her agitated breaths.

  “I’m fine,” she snapped, willing it to become true.

  “You’re not. Come on, I’ll break the damn door down if it kills me.” The grim resolve in his voice told her that he meant it. He’d batter himself against the metal until it broke or he did.

  Conversely, that steadied her nerves. She dug in her feet and refused to budge. “I’m okay for now. But maybe we can work our way toward the wall. I think I might feel steadier if I wasn’t surrounded by shelves that could topple over on us.”

  “Even if we’re bombarded directly, the blast wouldn’t reach the Archives,” Callum said. “This place could be used as a bunker.”

  “That’s probably not as reassuring as you intended, but gold star for effort.”

  She noticed he didn’t let go of her, using one hand to guide them out of the warren, the other to bind them together. The feel of the air changed when they reached the edge of the room, cooler from the proximity to the naked stone. Joss reached out with her free hand and found Callum’s reassuring solidity beside her. To her surprise, he drew her close as he settled, and she nestled into his lap, as if she hadn’t just boldly declared that she would get over him.

  This is a special circumstance.

  Merely being close to him bolstered her courage, though it was pure indulgence to tuck her face against his neck, luxuriating in the softness of his beard. Gods but he smelled good, cedar and black currant, edged with a peppery bite and a whisper of verbena.

  “You might be desperate to escape,” he whispered, “but this is a boon for me. I know I’m an asshole for feeling that way since we don’t know what’s happening, but for these moments, I’m allowed to be with you. It’s natural for me to comfort you. Not even the abbot could question me for showing compassion.”

  “I doubt he’d expect you to cuddle me on your lap,” she pointed out.

  Yet she still nestled closer, wishing she could wrap his warmth around her and etch this vivid memory into her mind, so decades hence, she could recreate the experience.

  “I don’t give a damn,” he said flatly. “The bare floor’s too cold for you, and there’s nowhere else to sit.”

  Joss could have pointed out that while he was a bit more inured to cold, she had fair tolerance, but in truth, she enjoyed his protective edge. Though she wasn’t a fragile flower, she savored his chivalry, especially when it came to cold stone floors.

  “We can take turns,” she teased. “Do you think you’d fit nicely on my lap?”

  “I’d squash you.”

  “Maybe my strength would surprise you.” She wanted to reach for him in the dark and her fingers fluttered as she resisted the impulse.

  “Doubt it, kit. You’ve already been through so much yet you’re still smiling. That’s a sort of strength that I can’t fathom.”

  “That sounded like a compliment.”

  “You’re a blasted miracle,” he muttered.

  “Why do you sound so angry about that?”

  “Because you’re not mine.”

  “I could be.” Joss loathed the pleading tone as soon as the words escaped her.

  From his long silence, it wasn’t great for him either. “We’ve covered this ground. There are too many promises weighing on me already. The order saved my life, and they’re here trying to save Burnt Amber too. If I turn on them, if I—”

  “Never mind. I shouldn’t have said that.” It was bad enough that the idea circled her head endlessly.

  So what if you let them down? Just choose me. Forsake the rest of the world and pick me. I’ll make it worth the hurt, somehow. Too bad Joss wasn’t so sure she could do that. What could she offer besides love and music? She held no special standing in Ash Valley, unless you counted her ties to Pru, currently the leopard king’s mate. But that didn’t mean the pride would pledge aid to Burnt Amber simply to support Joss.

  Fear and misery pooled her in chest, and she closed her eyes, fighting tears. These secret, stolen moments with Callum were pleasure and pain commingled, joy over his touch entwined with the bittersweet knowledge that she could never be more than his secret longing, a weakness he must overcome.

  “Ah, kit.” A lifetime of regret rasped in his deep voice, rumbling like a thunderstorm in his broad chest. “When you get shed of me, you’ll soon wonder why you were so drawn. One day soon, someone more suitable will catch your eye.”

  “Of course,” she agreed, wanting to torment him. “I’ll snuggle with them and touch them like this…” She tangled a hand in his hair, tugging hard enough to hurt.

  His breath hitched and suddenly, she could feel his heartbeat, banging like a drum, audible to her sharp senses. “It’s unwise to provoke me.”

  Joss shrugged. “If your control cracks, I’m not the one who will be breaking sacred vows, am I?”

  “Hellcat,” he breathed.

  He grazed her lower lip, unerring in the dark, and she bit him. His whole body tensed. Maybe it was their isolation, but she really didn’t care anymore if she pushed him beyond bearing. The real world seemed utterly unrelated in these moments. Hell, Burnt Amber might be ablaze, awash in Gol invaders and the Order of Saint Casimir might have fallen while they hid and denied their desires. Deliberately, Joss licked his thumb, soothing the wound she’d inflicted.

  The moan sounded torn from him with hooks and chains. “Don’t be cruel.”

  And that broke the evil enchantment. She didn’t want to have him if that possession hurt him. Full of remorse, she wrapped her arm around his shoulder and rubbed soothing circles on his back, making their contact soft and comforting instead. Gradually his body eased and he rested his head against hers, as if they had completed a race in tandem that neither of them could win.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No reason to be. I deserve a bit of bedevilment for what I put you through. I’m not denying there’s a powerful pull between us, but—”

  “No need to finish that thought.”

  “But Joss, I really don’t know how I’ll pull through if you withdraw as my friend. I know damn well how much nerve I’ve got, asking you to stay beside me when I can’t be with you all the way. But I do need you, kit. You’re the only one I can come to when the walls are closing in.”

  Since that was exactly what Joss had hoped would happen when she suggested that he could use a friend, she could hardly object now. “As long as I’m stuck here, you can rely on me,” she said at last. “Just don’t complain if I’m prickly because staying on my side of the line, it’s not easy.”

  “Hard as hell for me too,” he growled.

  Since she could feel the proof of that, glowing like a white-hot ember against her ass, she smirked. “I’m well aware.”

  “Don’t mock me, woman.”

  A soft laugh slid out, against her
volition. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “There’s a bit of the devil in you, but I like that part too, more than I should.”

  “Since I’m wild for you, exactly as you are, it would be tragic if you didn’t feel the same.”

  Callum put his mouth near Joss’s ear, so that she felt the warm rush of his breath as he spoke. “If I could do even half the things I dream about with you, kit, you wouldn’t sleep for a week.”

  Shit. I shouldn’t have said that.

  Next thing Callum knew, he’d be telling her about the incredibly vivid sex dream. And he absolutely did not need to relive that with Joss on his lap, driving him to distraction. Yet he wouldn’t let go of her even to walk alongside the goddess.

  “Now who’s being cruel?” she chided.

  Before he could respond, the unmistakable sound of power tools reached him, muffled but perfectly identifiable. “Jere must have people working on the hinges,” he said.

  Without being prompted, Joss slid off his lap and stood. He wouldn’t let go of her hand, though, not even when she tugged. Instead he wrapped his arms around her, holding her against him for a few more moments. They wouldn’t get the door open instantly, and when they left the Archives, he had to be resolute and inviolate, not a man who was free to flirt and canoodle in the dark. He stroked a hand down her back, marveling at the beautiful feel of her, strong and compact and—

  The door banged as if tumbled off the hinges. Joss stepped away.

  Callum let her go, but it was like watching as a surgeon lopped off a precious part of him, one he wasn’t sure he could live without. What’s more, he didn’t know if he wanted to.

  The ache in his chest got worse as he led the way to the exit. Jere shone a light as they approached. “Are you both all right?”

  “Well enough. Situation report?”

  “We’ve got Gols outside the walls. They’ve blown the power cables and the rest of the hold is on backup generators, but this place isn’t connected to the failsafe.”