I looked at Rupert. He’d been quiet for most of the conversation, listening intently. It wasn’t obvious by a glance, but I knew he was armed. He always was.
“I’ll help,” Rosalin added.
Suddenly, I had an idea. Lenorre knelt by my legs, still watching me.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I can scout ahead. We don’t know how many vampires we’re dealing with. You said earlier we were going in blind without a plan. I’m fairly confident I’ve got enough control to shift to the raven.” I didn’t really doubt I’d be able to. Lady knew the actual shift itself was very different from the wolf. It wasn’t painful. If I fought my beast, especially on a night when the Moon Mother calls, it hurts like a bitch and a half. Yes, in fact, I did learn that the hard way.
The corner of her mouth twitched. “There is one fault in your idea.”
I blinked. "That would be?"
“What happens when you shift back?”
“The naked thing. Right. There is that.”
“Naked thing?” Rupert asked. “Do I want to know?”
“Not really,” I said.
Rosalin said, “Kassandra is naked after she shifts into a birdie.”
“Birdie?” Rupert asked. “What?” He looked so genuinely confused I knew I’d failed to mention the whole raven thing. How do you tell your best guy friend you’re a freak?
You let others do it for you.
“Kassandra has been Goddess blessed.” Lenorre glanced at him. “The Morrigan has granted her a gift.”
“Kass, I have no fucking idea what your girlfriend is saying.”
I sighed. “I don’t know how to explain it, Rupert. I’m not just a werewolf anymore.”
“You are truly so ignorant of the blood in your veins.” Zaphara’s voice held an edge of surprise and disbelief.
“What are you talking about?”
Zaphara looked at Lenorre. “You have not told her all of the truth, have you?”
“I do not know if she is ready to hear it.”
“Oh no,” I said, “someone better fucking tell me something.”
Zaphara seemed to wait for a signal from Lenorre. When Lenorre nodded, Zaphara looked at me.
“Kassandra, you were never purely human.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The room seemed to be spinning, even though it wasn’t. I was never human? She had to be toying with me again. My entire family was “normal,” that I knew of. How could I be any different? Besides, witches and clairsentients weren’t inhuman. In fact, most of the psychics and witches I know are purely human.
“Why do you think I allowed Zaphara to kiss you?” Lenorre asked.
“I have no idea.” My words had an irritated edge. My wolf was unsettled, pacing, testing the walls of my shield. I was ready to hunt, and now I was pissed off because of yet another fucking surprise. A surprise my own lover had known but not bothered to tell me.
“Kassandra, I tasted your power when I kissed you. There is fey blood in your veins.”
I bit my bottom lip, then laughed, full-throated. “You’re insane. I’m not a faerie.”
“She didn’t say you were a faerie,” Eris commented. “She said you have fey blood in your veins.”
“What is your ancestry?” Zaphara asked, watching me as if gauging my every reaction.
“Irish, English. Hell, I don't know for sure. I'm a mutt.”
“How much do you know of your Irish descent?”
“Very damn little.”
“Zaphara,” Lenorre addressed her, “tell Kassandra what you know. If you openly place your cards on the table she will be more receptive to hearing your words. If she is to call on the raven tonight, she needs to know sooner rather than later.”
I gave Lenorre a look that said she should tread lightly, but, of course, it didn’t faze her. She was made of stronger stuff. Then again, as a Countess, she has to be.
Zaphara nodded, pushing the aubergine-tinted tresses out of her face. “Your Goddess calls to you through your blood. Your blood is genetically receptive to her magic. This does not make you a pure-bred.” The words sounded a little condemning and I did my best to ignore her arrogance. “An ancestor,” she said, “and a pure-bred faerie would produce a human and fey being such as you are.”
“So you’re saying one of my long-lost ancestors fucked a full-blooded faerie? If that were true, wouldn’t the blood run throughout my entire family? I’ve heard stories of faeries running off with humans before.” I tried to remember everything I’d read, but it’d been a long time. “I was under the impression that when a fey chooses a human consort the human never steps foot out of Tir na nÓg, the otherworld, or whatever.”
“Human and fey blood mingle unpredictably,” she said, answering my first question. “The gene may be passed unnoticed, diluted in one body and undiluted in another. It is unpredictable,” she repeated. “No, it would not be obvious in others in your family. Also, practicing witchcraft and being more sensitive than the rest of your family may have awakened the ability, triggered the gene, so to speak.” She gave me a serious look. “There is some truth to every myth. Some fey, however, choose to spend only one night with a human outside of the fey realm. Thus, your ancestor may not have been captured. In fact,” I gave her my full attention, “you may well descend directly from a fey, and not the human side. Have you ever heard of a changeling?”
“A changeling is a faerie child swapped with a human child.”
“Or a mixed-blood child left outside of a human household to be adopted and to live among the humans.”
“What about being a werewolf?” Rupert asked. “I thought only one virus could exist in a host?”
That was a very good question.
“You speak of a virus,” Eris said, “not of genetics.”
“Lycanthropy is not generally genetic. Only a few branches are,” Zaphara said. “Neither is vampirism genetic. The fey are an entirely different species, with a DNA structure similar to humans’. This is why we have been able to breed with them much like the elves.”
“You’re fey,” I accused her. “That’s how you know so much about this, isn’t it?”
Zaphara smiled widely. “It took you that long to figure it out, little witch? If you had known yourself, you would’ve recognized what I am.”
“Well, excuse me for having never met a faerie before.”
“And now you can say you have had such a pleasure.”
“You’re awfully tall.” My words sounded casual, but the look I gave her was not. I knew the truth, but I was partially trying to be irritating. Zaphara probably wouldn’t like being reminded that most people thought faeries were small and cute. No, if one actually studied, the first fey to set foot on Irish soil were a tall and very advanced race known as the Tuatha Dé Danann.
“Many different species of faerie exist,” she said. “I thought you studied mythology?”
“I did, but forgive me for being a little rusty, oh great faerie poo-bah.”
Faeries and elves, like werewolves and vampires, had been accepted into our culture, but we didn’t see much of them. They kept to themselves, preferring isolation from their human cousins. Some fey were far stranger than human, but the sidhe and the elves resembled humans enough to be able to procreate with them.
“Kassandra, do not seek to play games with me or I too will play games with you,” she warned.
“Fine. You’re Tuatha Dé Danann. You’re sidhe?”
“That is what the mortals began calling us.”
“Hell,” I said, “it’s written in every mythology text I’ve found—Daoine Sidhe, Tuatha Dé Danann… What’s the other one?”
“Aes Sidhe,” she pronounced smoothly. “There’s also the Leanann Sidhe. They began calling us sidhe based upon the mounds we sought sanctuary in once the humans began to overpopulate the land of Eire. If you must know, we prefer being called the Daoine Maithe.”
“The Good Folk?”
I was re
warded with a slight nod for my translation.
“You’re making my head spin,” I told her. “This is way too much to take in right now.”
“You chose a path that awakened your blood, not I.”
“True enough, but I am so not in the mood for a history lesson right now. There are so many damn accounts it’s difficult to discern the truth from fiction.”
“I am glad you are able to perceive that much, witch.”
I narrowed my eyes at her and said bluntly, “You’re a cold bitch, Zaphara.”
“The coldness that runs through my veins runs through yours.”
“I am not cold.”
“I’d argue that,” Rupert said. “You can be cold.”
“I’m pragmatic, not a cold-hearted bitch.”
“And you think the fey are not pragmatic?” Zaphara shook her head.
“She’s right,” Rosalin said, meeting my gaze. “Some would misinterpret your pragmatism.”
“As what?”
“As being cold."
“Whatever.” I directed my gaze back to Zaphara. “Where were you going with the little history lesson?”
“You have powers available to you that you have yet to uncover and learn to harness. I can teach you how to use the magic that your blood, and your Goddess, grants you.”
“And what do you gain in return?” I let my suspicion cloud my tone.
“Something to occupy my time.”
I didn’t really believe her. I was sure she could find other things to do, but whatever. She was willing to teach me a few things. Where was the harm in that?
She interrupted my thoughts. “There is much for you to learn. I can teach you how to come out of a shift fully dressed.” It was like a carrot dangling in front of my nose. How spiffy would it be to avoid future embarrassments and setbacks based upon nudity? Public indecency is so overrated.
“Fine,” I said, looking to Lenorre. Somewhere in our conversation, she had moved back near the fireplace.
Zaphara looked at her too. “Kassandra learns quickly, so I don’t think it’ll take long to teach her how to manifest a few articles of clothing. An hour or two, perhaps. If we can accomplish that, it would indeed be a good idea to send her as the raven to scout.”
Lenorre asked me, “Is this what you want?”
“It’s not a matter of what I want or don’t want.” I tucked a stray hair behind my ear. “I really don’t like being nude after a shift. I already get that with the lycanthropy. If I can avoid it… Then yes, this is what I want, but it’s also what I need to do in order to save Timothy and Alyssa. If it doesn't work I could always fly back to the club and change there.”
“That’s not really convenient,” Rosalin said. “We should wait a few blocks away. We’ll let Kassandra find the church, do a little spying, and then we’ll follow her in.”
If I really, truly wanted to avoid a little lesson session with Zaphara I could’ve told someone to ditch some clothes for me in the alley, but again, that was out of the way, and I could still get caught. Being charged with public indecency isn’t really my cup of coffee.
“Let’s just do it and get it over with.”
“Shall we go somewhere more private?”
“Yeah, that would be ideal.”
“You may use my room,” Lenorre said. “I will be there in a moment.”
I got up and went to her, standing on my tiptoes to press a gentle kiss against her pale cheek. “Wish me luck.”
“All of the luck in the world,” she said, her fingertips stroking over my shirt and to my lower back before I regretfully turned and followed Zaphara to Lenorre’s bedroom.
On the way down, I kept reminding myself it was worth it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I was sitting on the edge of Lenorre’s bed, waiting for Zaphara’s instructions, when Zaphara strode across the room, silent and deadly in her boots. She sat on the couch. “Come here,” she said, “sit in the chair.”
I moved, falling back into the matching velvet armchair, and kept my mouth closed.
“Anything you do not wish to lose in your change, I suggest you remove now.”
I didn’t want to ditch the clothes, but I had to ditch the gun. I wasn’t willing to lose the Pro .40 or the small-of-the-back holster. I took the gun and holster off the belt, laying it on the empty piece of couch closest to me, then unbuckled the belt and tossed it on the couch as well. I unbuttoned the overshirt and draped it on the back of the chair.
“You might want to remove more than that, little witch.”
“Fine,” I grumbled, unlacing the knee-high combat boots and kicking them off to the side. “Satisfied?”
Zaphara shook her head, the long tresses of her purple-black hair dancing across her shoulders. “We must start with less. Once you gain a feel for how this particular magic works you will probably catch on more quickly.” She gave a nudge of her head in my direction. “Remove your pants and shirt. Your undergarments will be sufficient to practice with.”
“This better not be one of your damn schemes,” I said, pushing the black jeans down my legs. I kicked them off into the middle of the room, then raised the shirt over my head and let it fall to the floor.
“Are you capable of shifting at will?”
“I’ve done it a few times, yes.”
“Do it.”
I drew in a long breath through my nostrils. Calling upon the wolf and raven were two different things, like embracing two different elements. Where the wolf was earthy and solid, becoming the raven was like trying to capture fire and air. I went to my knees in front of the armchair, forcing my mind to quiet, forcing myself to look within. I searched for that place inside my soul that contained the spiraling essence of raven.
Feathers as soft as silk…
Eyes that were cunning and wise…
I felt heat then, mingling with an unseen breeze, like the soft fanning of ebony wings.
Whether I opened myself up or the raven soared through me, I was not sure. The world fell away, until I could no longer smell the air-conditioned room. I opened my eyes, having seen the shadows dance around me before… I watched them swell and stretch around me now, until everything in the room was in blackness, until even my body was shrouded in the depths of misty shadows like some magical veil.
A shadow doesn’t feel like anything, not to the skin. The darkness that rose around me was not cool or warm. I had no logical explanation for the magic in my veins. Zaphara’s explanation made more sense than anything. I was not human. I was magical, and I had two options. I could accept and embrace the blood in my veins, or I could ignore and despise it. Why should I ignore the truth? I've always firmly believed in that. The first goal of a witch is “Know Thyself.” I knew myself, and so could travel the path of acceptance. At least, that’s what I believed. In practice, I could be a bit more stubborn than that. But I was coming to terms with my wolf and my raven. If I could do a bit more to make those terms work for me instead of against me, I would.
I felt no shifting of bones, lengthening of the spine, or any bursting sensation like when the wolf surfaced. I gave myself over to the raven and allowed my mind to slip, recalling what it felt like to be the raven, and somewhere in the middle, she and I met. I became her, and she in turn became me. We were animal and woman, bound together by blood and magic.
I shook my feathers, as if I’d just come in out of the rain. There was no rain in the bedroom, but when the shadows left, a dampness clung to my soul, a trickling sensation that I could only presume was the after-effects of the magic.
“That you have gained the control to summon the raven at will is a very good sign,” Zaphara said. I cocked my head and her face loomed in my vision. I did a little hop and skip, catching enough air beneath my wings to perch on the arm of the chair. I watched her, waiting intently for her instructions.
“The ability to harness magic comes at an early age for the fey,” she continued. “With fey blood comes fey magic.”
/> “You’re about to lose me,” I clicked at her.
“You understand, but wonder what that has to do with you?”
I bobbed my head.
“Your blood may be diluted, but I am surprised you had no signs during your childhood. By the way, Kassandra, do you think I can understand you?”
“I don’t know,” I smarted off in a series of clacks. “Can you?” My remark definitely lost its effect coming from a beak.
“If you are not able to force words from your raven mouth,” she leaned forward, her gaze intensifying, “you need to learn to project your thoughts onto the one you are speaking with. If you do not become adept at one or the other, you will not be able to communicate beyond the raven’s natural ability.”
I cocked my head to the other side and blinked at her.
Like this. Her voice echoed not in my ears, but through my mind, like some great gong being struck. Her mouth was closed. Her eyes were suddenly more like the gemstones they mimicked, like gazing through the stone itself, never-ending, multifaceted. It was at once a beautiful and disturbing sight.
Do you think you can accomplish this much before we pursue more complicated endeavors?
I felt like I was getting a headache. If I could’ve glared at her, I would’ve. I didn’t like having her voice in my head. No matter what form I was in, it was unnerving. How many humans were diagnosed with schizophrenia when they were actually being toyed with by faeries?
Kassandra, her sultry voice flowed through my mind, you must visualize. All magic comes with the ability to use visualization as a focal point. You are a witch, surely you know how.
I pushed my words at her, pictured them resounding off the walls of her brain like she was doing to me.
Volume down, I said.
She looked at me with an empty expression.
So sorry. Her words were a sarcastic hiss.
Whatever. How do you not hear all of my thoughts?
A thought directed to oneself stays within. It is when you direct your thoughts outward that you project them, that I grasp them.
Raven Mask Page 16