The Wild Rites Saga Omnibus 01 to 04

by Anna McIlwraith

  Felani swallowed, her eyes hooded. Moisture trickled down the bronzed plane of one cheek. She pitched her voice low. “The prophecy tells us, in order to awaken full control of your power, you must offer yourself up as a ritual sacrifice to the gods.”

  Emma blinked. Was it the heat making her dizzy, or the threat of her imminent death? Who knew. “How am I supposed to awaken my power or whatever if I’m dead?”

  “It is not a death sacrifice. The prophecy is complicated, vague…” Felani waffled a hand through the air, looking a bit vague herself.

  “So it’s blood then.” Emma guessed she could do a little blood, so long as there weren’t any shapechangers around to mistake her for an appetizer. God, this was—

  Felani coughed. “Uh, no. It is not blood. It is more binding than blood.”

  More binding than blood? She had to offer herself up, and it wasn’t death, and it wasn’t blood…

  “Oh, no.” Emma shook her head, wet hair flinging droplets. “You can’t mean what I think you mean.”

  “It is not —”

  “No. Uh-uh. There’s no way I’ll do what I think you’re saying I have to do.”

  “That is why they brought you here, Emma,” Felani said softly. “There is no choice.”

  Emma just stared at her, feeling more exhausted than anything else, more exhausted than she’d ever been in her life. There was too much to take in, too much else to worry about. Like the matter of keeping her friends safe, or if she was even going to see them again, and what was going to happen to her life and her sanity.

  Besides, what difference did it make whether her powers were awake or slumbering on?

  “What if I don’t care about power? I’ll still be captive here, no matter what I can do, whether I can open the call or call the blood or whatever.” She glanced around for a towel, suddenly sick of the conversation. Things just seemed to get shittier and shittier the more she learned and the more she knew.

  Felani stood. Emma didn’t like the sadness in her eyes; too much like sympathy. “Whether you care about power or not,” the maiden said, “It lies within you, and you would do well to seek it out. There are those who would harm you while you are weak.”

  “Yeah, just about everybody, if I’ve measured correctly. It’s a great feeling, knowing your very existence seems to inspire the killing urge for no apparent reason.”

  Felani turned to one of the maidens and spoke a few lilting words in a tongue Emma didn’t recognize, and the maiden padded away. Felani turned back. “Your presence here is disturbing, yes, but for the most part your status as prisoner of the king will keep you protected. Not from everyone though.”

  Feeling like she already knew the answer, Emma asked, “Just who do you mean, specifically?”

  Felani confirmed it; her mouth hardened as she said, “Alexi takes objection to you.”

  Alexi. Now there was one seriously scary son of a bitch. “I don’t get it with him. Isn’t he working for the king? Seems like he’d rather see me dead than under the king’s control.”

  “He does not want to kill you — if he did, then the king would never allow him near you. He merely… ” Again, Felani waffled a hand through the air. “He thinks you a waste of time. A dangerous one. And his alliance with the jaguar kingdom is uneasy. Alexi suffers service to the king on behalf of his brotherhood as punishment; for what, it is not known outside of the serpent priesthood. And even then, only for as long as it accommodates his own ambitions. Alexi could never be held by anyone or anything for very long.” Felani’s tone stayed casual, but Emma noted the way the maidens’ eyes creased at the corners with anxiety.

  The maiden Felani had sent away returned, laden with towels. Felani took one off the pile and shook the huge sheet out, arms held high and wide — the bath sheet was big enough to wrap the maiden from head to foot and then some.

  “I don’t understand,” Emma said. “Why would the king align himself with someone who could turn against him?”

  Felani’s musical laughter rang out suddenly, bouncing off the hot stone walls like the chime of a bell. She folded the towel over her arms and held it to her chest. “Emma, he is the king. Everyone could turn against him. He is king because he can use such to his advantage. Until, that is, he has use for it no longer.”

  “Well, that doesn’t sound like a very good way to rule.” Frustrated and shaken, Emma forced herself to stand up out of the water. She snatched the towel from Felani and wrapped it securely around herself. “I’m done with the bath.” She hated the tremor in her voice. Maybe she could just tell herself it was the heat making her feel wobbly and short of breath. Sure.

  She glanced up from beneath her lashes, eyes stinging. She was going to cry. Oh, how that sucked. She squeezed her eyes shut tight so she couldn’t see the confused expression on Felani’s face. For an ancient, supernatural being, the maiden seemed pretty damn clueless about a lot of things — like sensitivity and tact.

  Emma let the maidens bundle her up in a robe, lead her out of the bath chamber and sit her down on a stool in front of the wide vanity mirror in the main room. The mirror reflected the dozens of torches and candles burning in the maiden’s quarters, filling the room with light.

  It would not have been enough light for Emma to do her own makeup and hair by, but the maidens had no such difficulty. They dried her hair and then took styling wands to it until it cascaded around her face in waves, glossy like polished mahogany, and they forced her to sit still while they blended eyeshadows and cremes and coated her lashes with mascara. Her protests were useless, they simply held her with their incredible strength until she gave up trying to struggle. Besides, it felt stupid; all they wanted to do was put some makeup on her.

  They were good at it, too. When they were done, her eyes were ringed with smoky black, blended perfectly into a rich golden eye shadow, with bronze highlights on her brow and cheek bones. It made her eyes look huge, brought out the honeyed color of her irises, emphasized the darkness of her lashes.

  Of course, she never wore this much makeup, ever. She felt like a clown, but she looked great.

  She’d also had time to think past the urge to break down and cry. Time to think .

  “Felani,” she said, “What’s the purpose of the caller of the blood. Why do they — why does she exist?”

  Felani stopped tidying the counter top of the wide vanity, a pot of eye cream in her hand. She stood motionless for a long time, staring unblinking at Emma.

  “Her origins are not certain, but is said she was given by the gods as a gift,” Felani said finally. “One intended to be a priestess who held divine counsel over kings and queens, and so balanced their power over all under their rule.” Felani placed the pot she was holding on the counter top. She glanced down at it, but Emma had the feeling she wasn’t seeing it. “The gods made her human,” the maiden continued, “So she would not be subject to the same instincts, prejudices, or influences of our kind, but within her they planted a deep and unbreakable connection to us, forging her spirit of the same essence as ours.” A hush had descended over the room; every maiden had gone so still that Emma had to glance around to be sure they were even there.

  It should have been funny, in a cheesy, horror movie kind of way. So why wasn’t she laughing?

  Maybe because Felani’s eyes had turned so black and wide the whites were disappearing. When she continued, her voice had dropped an octave. “The ancient prophecies foretold of the great power she would wield, and so campaigns were waged to find her, to divine the time of her arrival, but none of the great kingdoms of old realized there was another side to the prophecy. Not until we began to sicken and die.”

  Emma’s heart dropped into her stomach. “What?”

  Felani looked away. “By the time the major kingdoms realized it was global, the wasting illness had likely claimed thousands of lives over the preceding centuries. Of course, this was over five hundred years ago; news spread more slowly then. In recent years some of the best minds in t
he remaining kingdoms have tried to use human science to understand what the waste is and what causes it, but they have had no success.” Felani dragged her gaze back to Emma.

  Emma couldn’t hide her fear. “This wasting illness, is it fatal?”

  Felani dipped her head. “Eventually.”

  “And can anyone get it? Any shapechanger? Is it viral? Genetic?”

  “I told you, modern science has been able to shed no light upon it,” Felani said. She breathed a reluctant little sigh. “It does not seem to be viral, nor contagious in any way. But yes, it may strike anyone, any shapechanger, at any time.”

  Heart pounding, Emma had to close her eyes for a moment. Ricky.

  She opened her eyes. “What does this have to do with the prophecy?”

  Felani’s gaze sharpened. “There are those among us who believe that the caller of the blood can cure the waste.”

  Emma had to glance away from the heat of Felani’s gaze, not wanting to see the truth there, the force of the maiden’s belief. “I don’t feel like I can control shapechangers or cure anything.” Emma held up a hand when Felani drew breath to interrupt her. “No. I didn’t know anything about this until today, no magic powers, nothing. If I really were this person you’re talking about, wouldn’t there have been some kind of sign?” Emma let out a shaky sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She quickly released her fingers though, reluctantly paranoid of ruining her makeup. “There has to be a mistake.” And if it was all just a big mistake, she could take her friends — well, her friend, and the two disturbing men she had become suddenly attached to — and go home.

  With the fresh new knowledge that at any time, Ricky might randomly sicken and die of this mysterious wasting illness.

  Felani met her eyes in the mirror, their reflections hazy in the low light, eyes glowing like gems from the flickering of dozens of candles.

  “Emma,” the maiden began, placing a small hand on her shoulder. “What do you do for a living?”

  The question was so unexpected, it took Emma a moment to answer. “I’m a kennel tech. I mean, I take care of dogs at a vet clinic.”

  “And your studies?”

  Emma narrowed her eyes and turned her head to look at Felani directly. “First year of vet med. I have exams in a week,” she added shakily. “What’s your point?”

  Felani shook her head. “You tend animals. You care for them.”

  Part of Emma turned hot and sick at the thought of these people spying on her, nosing into her life — irrespective of how they’d come by the knowledge. But it was true.

  She had always liked animals better than people. For her, it had been a calling.

  “Okay,” she said. “I get your point. I’m drawn to help animals because it’s part of who I am, and it goes deeper than a simple career choice. Fine. It doesn’t necessarily prove anything, though.”

  Felani shrugged, her face implacable. “You are the only one who seems to need proof. Embrace what you are, Emma, because there are those who will exploit your doubts, and use them to undermine you.”

  Emma narrowed her eyes at the maiden, wanting to ask about Alexi, not knowing how.

  She opened her mouth, not sure what she was going to say, but Felani cut her off. “Come, you must dress yourself, since you insist upon privacy. You have five minutes. Do not bother trying to escape,” she added in a softer voice. “We are fast, and strong, and you are weak and slow.”

  “Jesus. Five whole minutes. Aren’t you afraid I’ll use all that time to brain myself on the edge of the tub?”

  Emma’s sarcasm was evidently lost on Felani. Her eyes widened. “You would not hurt yourself intentionally.” It was a statement, but the maiden tilted her head, a touch of anxiety tightening those huge eyes.

  Emma sighed. “No, I wouldn’t, and I’m not going to get into any trouble otherwise. So go. Okay?”

  Felani nodded, looking unconvinced, and made to leave, ushering the other silent maidens ahead of her.

  “Wait,” said Emma suddenly.

  Felani turned. “Yes?”

  She opened her mouth, closed it, tried again. “Why are you telling me so much?” She was loathe to question it, but the very fact that the maiden seemed so willing to volunteer information was almost as suspicious as everyone else’s reluctance.

  “We maidens must answer to no one but the king,” said Felani, her tone mild. “I’ve told you nothing which could endanger or disadvantage him. I’ve given you information so you may be stronger, because any strength or advantage you can gain will aid him. After all, you belong to him now. Your power is his.”

  Anger flared deep within Emma, made her cheeks burn. “His,” she repeated, voice brittle. “Just like you.”

  “No,” said Felani, her eyes suddenly sad. “You have a chance to be everything you are meant to be. We, however, can never be whole. Ours is a curse. Yours is destiny.”

  And with that, Felani ushered the rest of the maidens from the chamber.

  16

  Far above the jaguar king’s sanctuary, the sun was setting, forming an endless ocher-drenched tableau. A Mercedes pulled into the parking lot of the Roadhouse, and its silver exterior turned a rich, liquid red with the reflection of the dying light. The car turned into a parking space and the engine fell silent, but not until the last brilliant wedge of the setting sun slipped beneath the horizon did the doors open and its two passengers step out into the twilight.

  Alan looked immaculate as always, but a fluid purpose to his stride belied his aloof appearance. It made his towering bodyguard hang back a few paces; Vahan hadn’t seen his master so tightly coiled in a very long time. A stark and calculating coldness glittered in the depths of Alan’s pale brown eyes; an emptiness in his face, a cool predatory patience that no amount of grooming or designer suits could truly disguise.

  Only the countless years of practice could disguise it, and Alan wasn’t bothering now.

  On the other side of the parking lot, Robert got out of his own car. The sound of his door slamming shut was followed by the muffled clunk of the remote central locking, both sounds muted in the hot, still air.

  Robert met Alan halfway across the lot. “Can you sense her?” Robert asked. He had to look up as he phrased the question, for his boss was a good seven inches taller than him.

  Alan turned his sandstone colored gaze on Robert, his nostrils flaring, features tight with concentration. Then his eyes slid over Robert and past him, never resting, as he said, “I can.” His smooth voice pitched low. “I can feel her presence like a beacon, though she is deep beneath the earth.”

  Robert nodded; he had expected no less. His own abilities couldn’t hold a candle to Alan’s; though Robert could detect only the faintest psychic traces of Emma, he knew Alan would sense much more. And Alan had the advantage of being intimately familiar with her psychic signature.

  “I do not like our chances of getting her back tonight,” Alan said plainly. Only a faint frown betrayed his concern. “I take it you’ve coordinated our forces.”

  Robert looked out towards the Roadhouse, its windows full of the muted, myriad colors of low lamps and stage lighting, diffused by the glass. Beyond it lay scrub, rocky desert, and far off in the distance the farmhouses and sprawling, dilapidated residences were the only neighbors for miles around. Plenty of places to hide and observe, and plenty of privacy.

  “Primarily for recon and surveillance, yes,” Robert confirmed. “But we have a perimeter and we’re armed. If the opportunity should arise for an attack with odds even remotely in our favor…” Robert lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “You would hate to waste such an opportunity.”

  Alan smiled, a mere tightening of his lips, and nodded absently. He expected no less than complete efficiency from his assistant, and Robert never disappointed him.

  “You are right.” He glanced to his left and up, at his bodyguard. The big man stood at ease, but his eyes scanned the area constantly. With his brutish features and impassive face, Vahan appeared
menacing yet slow and stupid, but appearances could be deceiving.

  Alan turned to Robert. “There are only three of our company who need walk away alive tonight. No matter how remote the odds, I’m confident of you and Vahan, and so we move to attack should the chance present itself.” He didn’t need to add that he had no worry for himself. Nobody worried about Alan. They dedicated their lives to protecting him, but they never worried.

  “That was our van we spotted on the way here.” Alan didn’t make it a question, but he rarely did. Robert answered out of habit.

  “Yes. There are two more to the west and south of here, but that one,” he glanced out towards the road, a few hundred yards up where the van sat mostly hidden from view of the Roadhouse by the shoulder of the road before it descended into the sunken lot of land the building crouched upon. “That’s where our gear is.” Even with the chances of a direct confrontation unlikely, it was still dangerous for their kind to venture into a shapechanger sanctuary unarmed and unprotected. Most of the patrons of the Roadhouse would be armed as well; the weapons would attract no notice.

  Alan made an appreciative noise, eyes scanning the area. He was rarely anything other than focused, but something troubled him now.

  Robert met Vahan’s gaze, and the bodyguard’s eyes narrowed. He could feel it too.

  “Does the plan not suit you?” Robert knew this was not the case, but he would not ask Alan outright what bothered him.

  He turned, and there was uncharacteristic fire in his pale eyes, displacing their usual frigid calm. Robert swallowed noisily. Alan’s control was slipping. It did not happen often. Robert could never fear him, but he wasn’t a fool.

  “The plan is fine.” Alan’s voice was just a fraction rougher. “That’s not what troubles me, Robert. I…” Alan stopped, breathed in deeply through his mouth as though tasting the air. His teeth snapped together in frustration, and then his face became a smooth mask once more. He arched his neck and shook himself.