by C. A. Storm
When Roar’s eyes opened, they were incandescent with rage that he turned upon Harper. “You are a direct descendant of Ambrose. His stench is in your blood.” Once more, the older wolf spat. “I claim wergild for the death of my sister and her family. I claim wergild for the bewitchment of my son.”
Judith asked calmly, “And what is your evidence Miss Llewellyn has bewitched your son?”
“Bah,” Roar growled, waving a meaty hand towards his son, who was currently glaring and growling at his father, “There.” He swung his finger towards the five teenage boys, standing at the edge of the stage, bristling with adolescent rage, “And there. It is obvious she has bewitched them! She has only been here a few days, and already, she has built a pack of familiars.”
“Um, excuse me!” A bright, chipper voice piped up from the crowd. Specifically, from Ace’s Travelers.
All eyes turned to face a young Asian woman who was stepping out of the crowd. Walking up behind her, Ash gave Harper a quick wave and a wink before flashing a thumb’s up. ‘My witch,’ she mouthed, pointing to the new face.
Probably only average in height and build, the Asian woman was quite pretty, with large dark eyes peering from behind oversized round-frame glasses that gave her a studious look. Her long hair was straight, falling in waves of indigo, violet, and streaked with hot pinks strands on either side of her cheerfully grinning face.
She and Ash wore matching neon pink t-shirts, but where Ash’s hung artfully draped to reveal one slender shoulder, the newcomer’s emphasized her curvy frame. Both were emblazoned with #Faebitches in a rainbow-glitter, cursive script over the cartoon figures of a Punk Rock band of stereotypical fairies.
“Hello, hello! Sorry for interrupting, I’m Soo,” the pretty Asian introduced herself as she came up beside Harper, offering her hand. Like Ash, her accent was distinctly from “Down Under,” although hers was less abrasive than Ash’s more raucous delivery.
“Pardonnez-moi,” Jean-Paul interjected, “But, Mademoiselle Soo, you cannot just interrupt an arbitration.”
“Oh! Sorry, did I use the wrong phrasing?” Soo blinked owlishly up at Ash, who gave her an eloquent shrug.
“I think you’re supposed to say, ‘I object’ here in Yanklandia,” Ash replied.
“That makes sense,” Soo nodded, then turned to face Jean-Paul, “I object!”
“And what are you objecting to, dear?” Judith asked, looking as if she were attempting to fight back a smile, and losing.
“The idea that Harper here could do anything as complicated as binding a familiar, without training,” Soo said calmly then turned an apologetic look up Harper. “Sorry, chickee, but while you’ve got a lot of mojo, your control is for shite!”
Spinning to face a still-growling Roar, Soo glared at the much bigger wolf and waved a finger at him, “I can guarantee that there are no enchantments on the Puppy Pack. They’ve just imprinted on her, which is a perfectly natural thing, particularly since her magic is more Morgan than Llewellyn.”
Okay, now Harper was curious. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Karin spoke up for the first time, her voice oddly stilted as she said, “While the Llewellyns were known for binding shifters against their wills, the Morgans were dedicated protectors of the packs throughout the British Isles. The two families were enemies for generations, and without the help of the Morgans, many packs throughout Europe would never have been freed.”
“May I speak?” Harper asked. She was not going to stand here and be a passive participant in this.
“Of course, dear,” Judith said, “Please, it is your turn to respond.”
“First, according to the Pact, any and all blood debts owed between various supernaturals were dropped,” Harper stated calmly. “Not forgotten or forgiven, of course, because none of us are known for either of those graces. But, by the laws established by the North American Supernatural Council, upon formal association and acceptance of any clan, family, house, or individual under the Council’s purview, any and all grievances between members that occurred in the Old World were to be considered closed, without prejudice.”
“She is correct,” Sinclair said calmly. “She cannot be held accountable for the sins of her ancestor, no more than any of us can. She can only be judged for her own crimes.”
“Oui,” Jean-Paul said with an abrupt nod. Turning to face the Ulvfangs, he said, “Request for wergild for the crimes of Ambrose Llewellyn, denied.”
“What about my sønn?” Roar howled angrily, echoed by many members of his pack, who surged to their feet.
“Sit the fuck down!” Aksel’s harsh bark broke through the growls, and as one, every member of the pack still in the stands were forced back into their seats. There were a few whimpers and snarls, but his glare quickly quieted all of those small rebellions.
Placing a calming hand on her bristling husband’s thick arm, Karin’s voice was cool as she spoke up, her hard, cold eyes burning into Harper. “We drop our wergild for Ambrose, but anyone can scent that my son is under some sort of twisted enchantment. He reeks of foul magic.”
All eyes turned to Bard, who blinked and pointed to himself. “Me?”
Opening her senses, Harper gasped and trembled. While their mate bond blazed bright and pure, a blazing thread of blue-white silk, his aura was covered by a sickly jade nimbus that coiled sinuously around him.
“Bard, I…” Harper shook her head, shocked as she met his eyes, “I didn’t know. Why didn’t I notice?”
“Chickee,” Soo confided in a whisper, “You gotta learn to look with your inner eye. Your magic is so repressed, it’s positively Victorian! Only, without any cool steampunkiness.”
“See? She admits her guilt!” Roar stalked forward, reaching out to grab Harper.
Bard was suddenly between his father and Harper, bodily pushing the older man back as he roared, “Don’t touch my mate!”
Karin pulled Roar back, interjecting herself between her own mate and her son. Glaring up at him, her face twisted in anger and grief, Karin was nearly in tears as she poked her son in the chest. “Bard, you’re enchanted, you’re not acting like yourself! She’s not your mate, despite what you may think. You marked the wrong woman! You marked a witch!”
Each word struck Harper like a physical blow.
She wanted to shout her innocence.
She wanted to run away.
God, why did it hurt so much?
Had she unknowingly used her magic on him?
Had she bewitched him and stolen him from his true mate?
Wrapping her arms around herself, Harper ducked her head and shivered.
Alone. She was going to be alone again.
Even the thread, the bond between her and Bard, began to burn cold, the warmth draining from her body, from her soul, until she was left with nothing more than a hollow ache where her heart stuttered and slowed.
I’m cold. I’m so fucking cold.
Suddenly, she was trapped against Bard’s chest, his strong arms pulling her into his warm body, his hands chaffing her back briskly as he nuzzled his head over hers, murmuring over and over, “Oh no, darling, none of that. You’re not alone, I’m here, baby. I’m here. Not going anywhere.”
Chaos erupted around them.
Roar and Karin howled in rage, demanding the Sidhe intervene. The entire Ulvfang Pack were rushing the stage, echoing their snarls.
The Travelers were surrounding the couple, Ace was flanked by Drey, Ash, and Soo, going toe-to-toe with the Elder Ulvfangs, and the otherwise unassuming Ace’s howls were just as threatening, just as loud, as he warned them to back off or risk bringing down the wrath of the Travelers.
Jean-Paul and Judith were drawing heavily upon their glamour, standing between the two arguing groups, demanding they all step back as they used their considerable magics to prevent blood from being shed.
Sinclair stood calmly, watching with clinical detachment, his eyes moving over the crowd.
Even Sam was
trying to rush the stage, her voice shrill as she shouted incoherently, while Rik and Bertie struggled to keep her from throwing herself into the brawl.
It didn’t matter.
None of it mattered.
Only Bard mattered.
Looking up into his eyes, Harper sobbed in relief at seeing no condemnation in his handsome face.
God, when had she gotten so weak? So needy?
Drawing on the inner strength that had helped her to not only survive living with the Llewellyns, but to thrive, Harper calmed her racing thoughts, her pounding heart, and listened to her own intuition.
Reaching out with her magic senses, the wild, primal magic she had stifled for so long answered with glee. It raced like greyhounds, letting her truly see the magic surrounding Bard, surrounding them all.
The sickly green magic coiling around him wasn’t actually touching his aura. It was trying to, desperately seeking a way in, a crack in his armor, but his aura glowed pure and true, bolstered by…her. The strong bond between them was protecting him.
The hex had attempted to seize that bond, to twist it, and had flooded her with self-doubt, finding chinks in her own emotional insecurities.
But even then, as Harper truly focused on the magic, on unraveling its secrets, she could see that neither of them were truly the intended target.
“Bard?” Harper whispered, “It’s not you the magic is hunting, it’s trying to use you as a bridge.”
No one else heard her over the commotion, but Bard did. Pressing his forehead against hers, he asked, “Who’s it trying to target, darling?”
Humbled by his absolute faith in her, Harper let her eyes follow the network of tangled threads that stretched out from him, seeking…
“Your brothers. It’s after one of your brothers,” Harper gasped. Pushing at his chest, she cried out, “We have to check on your brothers!”
Bard nodded, then gave her a small, wicked smirk. “Cover your ears, darling…”
When she did, he immediately covered her hands with his own, adding another layer of protection, as he threw his head back and howled down the moon!
Chapter 32
There were many things in life Bard made no excuses about not understanding. Witchcraft was one of those things. It had never really touched his own life directly, before now, so he had never given it a second thought.
Hel, he had never known about what had happened to his own aunt. Granted, his father’s pack had moved to the North American continent almost a thousand years ago, long before the Inquisition wracked Europe, but in those days, before the Tuatha had retreated, portals were common between the continents, letting supernaturals jaunt fairly easily back-and-forth, comparatively speaking.
So yeah, there were many things that Bard didn’t know.
But he knew that what he felt for his mate was not a “hex.” Never, for a moment, did he believe she had used witchcraft to charm him, not when she was more than capable of doing it without resorting to magic!
He knew that he loved her, his wolf loved her, and she for some reason he’d never question, loved him back.
He had faith in her. Complete, absolute trust.
So, when she told him that the hex he was apparently under was actually trying to target his brothers, he believed her.
Making sure her ears were protected, he threw his head back and let his wolf howl!
He had an excellent set of lungs, if he did say so himself, but with the natural acoustics of the amphitheater, his piercing howl shattered the night, splintered the silence of the Rockies, and shut everyone’s damned mouths.
For a few moments, at least.
As all eyes turned towards him, Bard lowered his hands from where they covered Harper’s and said calmly, “It’s not me the magic is after, it’s one of my brothers.”
Eyes turned from Bard towards were Aksel and Donar stood, where they had been trying to get their packmates to settle-the-fuck back down and at least pretend to be civilized.
Glancing at each other, they both looked back at him.
“Us?” They echoed in identical, incredulous voices.
Harper quietly walked over to them, her eyes narrowed as she studied them. Finally, she nodded her head and pointed to Donar.
“It’s after him. It’s trying to use your pack bond to latch on to him.”
“Why didn’t it snag him this morning? He was right there?” Bard asked.
“Hey!” Donar protested, holding up warding hands and pointedly stepping further away from Bard, ducking behind Aksel. “Wait, why me?”
The one who introduced herself as Soo walked up to Harper, intently studying Donar as she would a bug. “Hmm, you’re right! But it’s a weird sort of hex, isn’t it? It’s like the caster couldn’t decide whether they loved him or hated him. If it actually latched on to him, he’d have become like a devoted puppy who got castrated.”
“…castrated?”
Donar’s voice was noticeably shaky, and he paled. He had to lean against his older brother for support as he swayed on his giant feet.
The dork.
Sam, who had managed to slip free of Rik and Bertie’s protective crowding, likewise appeared to be studying Donar.
“It’s got a similar signature to that geas that was affecting Evie. It would have bound him, hook, line, and testes.”
None of the men present could blame Donar for instinctively cupping himself. It was purely a defensive measure.
“Can you tell where the magic came from?” Sinclair’s voice was neutral, almost too calm, too collected. Bard shuddered, his wolf instinctively bracing himself.
“I can’t,” Harper admitted, shaking her head, “I don’t know enough.”
Soo likewise shook her head, “I’m not familiar with this particular magic. It’s witchcraft, but it’s fae-touched. Sort of. It’s… weird.”
Both women turned to look at Sam, who sheepishly grinned and shrugged. “Yeah, one sec.” Turning towards Rik, she held out her hand.
Striding towards her, grumbling something about stubborn, headstrong wenches under his breath, Rik took Sam’s hand while Bertie quietly moved behind them.
Sometime during the chaos, Bertie had slipped from his Mortal Guise into his full gargoyle form. The fucker was huge! Nine feet tall, and almost as wide at the shoulder, his body a solid gray mountain of chiseled, bulging muscles inlaid with obsidian tattoos that glistened with iridescent energy. His obsidian eyes crackled with blue-white electricity, and Bard just thanked the gods and goddesses he wasn’t calling down a tornado or thunderstorm this time. Nope, instead of in a battle-rage, he was simply curling his massive, dragon-like wings protectively around Sam and Rik, though he also included both Harper and Soo in the shadow of his wings.
With a tight grip on Rik’s hand, Sam’s eyes went unfocused as she intently studied Donar. Following images only she could see, she looked at Bard. Bard shuffled under her intent gaze, a bit discomforted by the sensation that she saw a lot more than most other people.
Furrowing her brow, Sam’s eyes snapped closed and she groaned, as if in mortal pain.
Rik grabbed her up into his arms, “What, baby? What’s wrong?”
Opening her eyes, looking heartbroken, Sam wailed, “It’s Selene! Who’s going to do my hair now!”
A dreadful stillness filled the amphitheater. An absolute and total silence as eyes sought out the woman in question. She wasn’t there. Not that anyone expected her to be, but even supernaturals had their moments.
“Reginald,” Sinclair said calmly, “Please, go retrieve this Selene and secure her in the cells. We’ll deal with her shortly.”
Turning to face the crowd, he arched an eyebrow and gave them all a pointed sweep of his eyes. “Now, if you would please return to your seats, we can wrap up this little melodrama and return to our lives.”
The rest was fairly anticlimactic.
After everyone left the stage area, except for Bard and Harper, Roar and Karin, Jean-Paul and Judith, and of c
ourse, Killian Sinclair, the dark Lord of the Gray turned to regard the Leons. “Have you made a judgement, Guardians?”
“Oui,” Jean-Paul said simply. “Harper Llewellyn is innocent of the claims laid against her. Sanctuary is granted.”
Turning his attention towards the Ulvfangs, Sinclair asked, “And you?”
Roar had the grace to look a little shamefaced, though his heavily bearded chin was tilted at a stubborn angle as he returned Sinclair’s glare with a sullen silence.
With a soft sigh, Karin lowered her eyes and ducked her head, “We drop our claim for wergild and beg the forgiveness from our son and his mate.”
Holding Roar’s glare for a few more moments, Sinclair heaved a sigh and turned those strange eyes towards them.
“Harper Llewellyn, please accept the apologies of the Gray Court, in addition to those given by the Guardians of the Cœur de Lyon Sanctuary. You and your mate are free to leave. We are sorry to have bothered you with this mess. Once we have secured the one who is actually guilty of the attempted bewitchment, we will be in touch.”
Sinclair dispelled the misty glamour surrounding the amphitheater with a disdainful wave of his elegant hand. “Now, everyone, go about your business.”
Without another word, Sinclair disappeared, as if he had never been there.
While the grumbling crowds dispersed, Bard suffered through hugs from his brothers, while Harper had to deal with hugs and squeals from not only Sam and the females who had stood beside her, but also from his sisters. He’d have to make it up to her later.
Catching sight of Ace, looking around as if he were trying to find someone, Bard thought about telling him that Clayton was out of town for business, but as he was about to head over, he caught sight of his parents.
Roar and Karin hesitantly approached, but Bard waved them off. “I’m sorry pappa, mama, we’ll come over for dinner this weekend and we can talk, but right now… just go. Please.”