The Wild Rites Saga Omnibus 01 to 04

by Anna McIlwraith

  Something tired stole over his features, and Emma’s alarm bells started clanging. Nervousness fluttered in her stomach like moth wings, dry and heavy and desperate. “What about your fate, Telly?”

  His gaze went flat. “I’m the walking god. I don’t have one.”

  Emma blinked in surprise. She opened her mouth to say something, but all that came out was a cruel, incredulous laugh, brittle as broken sticks.

  Telly blinked back at her. “What?”

  Emma’s laugh ran out. She shook her head and couldn’t look at him. “Liar.”

  A gust of warm wind hit her, prickling with otherworldly power. She dragged her gaze to meet his. His hair lifted away from his face and the tails of his shirt billowed in a wind that didn’t come from the gust of the approaching storm. He looked like he might speak, or growl, or maybe change and rip into her right there, but the sound of the back door banging closed made him jerk and look up.

  Emma followed his gaze to the back porch. Anton stood on the top step, one hand on the rail, the other clenched at his side.

  “Hey.” His tone was casual, but his fist didn’t unclench. He hopped down the rest of the steps, looking loose and relaxed. He’d changed out of his work shirt and jeans, into gray sweatpants and a faded black tanktop. “Are we still on for training this evening, Em?” His eyebrow twitched, probably with the effort of not looking at Telly. “It’s okay if you wanna skip it. It’s five already, and Horne says you guys have to brief us on Russia before anything else.”

  Shit. It wasn’t like Anton to offer a reprieve from training, even in circumstances such as these; he was either scared, or pissed, or both. She shook her head, too quickly, watching out of the corner of her eye as Telly’s power folded away.

  “Nope, we’re still on. We’ll do it after the briefing. But if Horne thinks I’m doing anything before I shower, he’d better get ready for disappointment.” She started for the back porch, then turned to Telly. “Will you be there, for the briefing?”

  His face was human once more, but still unreadable. He just nodded.

  Emma turned her back on him, shoulder blades itching as she climbed the porch steps and went inside.

  When she was gone, Telly met Anton’s eyes, and Anton forced himself not to flinch. Telly’s mouth curved in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

  “You are a good friend to her. As you were to me.”

  Anton licked his lips. “I am still your friend, Telly.”

  Telly sighed, breath shaking. “No more.” He laughed a little. “I can be no one’s friend here, Anton. I am…” He trailed off, and Anton waited for him to finish, but he didn’t. The walking god stared out toward the tree line of the woods, and as always, Anton could not tell what he was thinking.

  “Well,” Anton said lightly, “Whatever you are, you’re here. We’re all grateful for that.” He jammed his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. “If it weren’t for you, Emma might be dead. Or worse.”

  Telly looked at him, face sharp, voice pitched to match. “Really, Antonio?” Annoyance paled his eyes. “What have I done for her? When have I saved her life? Tell me, when?”

  Anton breathed deep, wise enough not to fear Telly’s anger; if it were directed at Anton himself, he’d know about it. “This place keeps her protected. The mark saved her life when she was forced to fight in Egypt. If it weren’t for the mark, Seshua would have her.” Anton stopped there, unable to speak for a moment.

  Telly interrupted when he would have continued. “And have I done her good or ill?” His face twisted into something bitter. “Perhaps she’d be better off with Seshua’s protection. Perhaps I have merely delayed the inevitable.”

  Anton couldn’t stop the growl from bubbling in his throat. “You don’t really believe that. I sure as hell don’t.”

  Telly shook his head, blond hair bristling. “She makes me doubt, Anton. Makes me doubt it all.” Telly looked at his feet, and then started walking, heading for the woods.

  He stopped a few yards away, looked over his shoulder. “It’s good she has you, and all the others.” He cocked his head, hooked his thumbs through the loops of his jeans. “She does have you, doesn’t she?”

  Anton ignored the pale glint in Telly’s eyes. “Yes,” he said seriously. “She does.”

  Telly smiled and continued toward the trees. The laugh that drifted back to Anton was dry, and humorless, and tired as a dying thing.

  9

  There were too many people for the kitchen to hold, so the briefing was moved to the back deck, which meant the guards and everyone else could perch on the railing as well as the steps. Not a lot more room, but it was better than cramming into the kitchen and running out of oxygen. A strong wind gusted at them from the north; the sky was low and leaden, tinting the air with a sea-green twilight. The horses danced and bucked in the field, coming storm setting them on edge.

  Selena and her two boys weren’t present, and neither were the four jaguar guards Seshua had sent to help out temporarily with the building of the extension. Everyone else was there, irrespective of whether they were bodyguards or not.

  Horne, Andres, and Raul stood closest by virtue of their status as senior guards, leaning against the rails, Andres dwarfing everyone else, Raul standing out with his buzzed short hair.

  The rest of the guards, Emma didn’t know so well. There were seven permanent, but of those seven, she was only familiar with six — Axel, Julian, Netza, Ata, Ixtecan and Hernan — the seventh was new, a replacement for someone they’d lost in Egypt, and his name was almost as exotic as Ixtecan, which was why she couldn’t remember it.

  Tlaxlom, Fern whispered in her mind. She flicked a grateful look up at him and then got back to her mental roll call. Fern was at Emma’s side, the dog was at her feet, and Anton and Ricky hovered close by, looking cast adrift in a sea of petite ocelot maidens.

  On the porch steps, Zach stood with his back to the support beam and his arms wrapped over Rain’s chest. The wolf boy didn’t look happy to be surrounded by so much testosterone, but if he didn’t want to be here, all he had to do was tug on Zach’s hand. Farther away, Telly perched with eerie grace on the porch rail, arms wrapped around his knees, and Red Sun hulked beside him.

  Emma had tried and failed to stop replaying their conversation over and over in her mind as she’d showered and wasted time brooding in the bathroom. Was he right?

  Was she like him — something else , something unfathomable?

  She didn’t feel unfathomable. She felt out of her league. She felt like she was muddling her way through as best she could, trying — and failing often — not to let her anger hobble her. This life was never in her plans, never in her wildest imagination. She’d spent years and years of hard work building her own life after the fire took the farm and her parents when she was eleven, and it was true what she’d told Telly — that future was gone now. Her future was here, in this new world where she was needed for reasons that were only just beginning to make sense to her.

  She understood, at least in theory, why the shapechangers needed her. She did not understand why Telly seemed to. Part of her could barely believe that he did — and yet another part of her lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree at the idea of someone like Telly needing her. Wanting her. Talk about being out of her league…

  But she wasn’t an idiot. She knew what he was. His intensity — and her reaction to it — would’ve been a red flag even if he happened to be a plain old human being, a human man. And if he’d been human, there was no doubt she’d ignore her own instincts and give in to temptation — just like she did with Alan, and look how that turned out.

  Nope. No matter his claims to the contrary, Telly had way too much power — too much power over her, both literally and emotionally — for it to be anything but a terrible idea to go there.

  After spending her bathroom time rebuilding her resolve, she’d dried her hair, stuck it in a thick ponytail and dressed for her workout later in snug black compression leggings,
matching sports bra and her old fleecy gray UCLA hoodie. Ratty Converse sneakers completed what was probably Felani’s worst fashion nightmare. Perhaps not an outfit to inspire confidence, but she felt nicely armored against the world, and that was what counted.

  Dusk was falling; the storm was rumbling in the distance. Everyone’s eyes were on Emma. She’d never had to do this kind of thing before, and she found it was even more nerve-racking than she’d feared.

  Fern brushed her hand, his skin warm. You can do this. He breathed in, nudging her mind with his, catching her heartbeat and coaxing it to the beat of his: slower, surer. You’ve faced a hell of a lot worse than this.

  Emma let herself be soothed by the partial merge with him. She cleared her throat and tried to pretend she wasn’t speaking to over twenty people, only one of whom was human. “We’re going to Russia because the werewolf king over there thinks I can heal his twelve year-old daughter.” She figured if she was going to do a bad job of speaking publicly, she may as well do it quick and get to the point. “The Russians have given their full cooperation to Seshua, so this isn’t like Egypt, though I’m sure Horne’s already told most of you.” A whole bunch of eyebrows glowered over a whole bunch of eerie, glowing eyes, and Horne chuckled as Emma directed a questioning stare his way.

  He inclined his goateed chin. “No, chica. I would not have presumed.” He shrugged and smiled, and Emma fought to keep her chin lifted when all she wanted to do was hide her blush. Horne’s confidence meant a lot, but she wasn’t sure the other jaguars shared his feelings.

  “Okay, then.” She opened her mouth, but didn’t know what to say. She’d expected a lot more protest, straight off the bat. This quiet, expectant hush wigged her out.

  They trust you, Fern sent.

  Yeah, or they’re totally horrified, take your pick. She had to say something. “So, does anyone have any, uh, questions?”

  One of the jaguar guards snorted a laugh but smothered it before she could tell who it was. They blinked back at her in silence, eyes all silvered by the light from behind the kitchen window.

  Emma put her hands on her hips. “Anybody?”

  Zach cleared his throat. “We have one.”

  Emma looked from Zach to Rain, noticing Rain’s pale knuckles where his hand gripped Zach’s wrist. “Sure. Go ahead.”

  Zach bent down over Rain’s shoulder and whispered something that probably everyone but Emma could hear. She saw Rain’s head move, but if he said anything, she didn’t catch that either.

  Zach straightened. “What’s wrong with the wolf king’s daughter?”

  Emma tried not to stare at Rain. Of course he’d want to know. “According to the Russian ambassador, the princess is dying of the wasting illness. I don’t have any idea if I can do anything for her, but the Russians seem to think there’s a chance.”

  Zach patted Rain’s shoulder absently. “So, everybody here but me knows what this wasting stuff is, right?”

  Oops. “Yeah, sorry. Mystery illness. Drains the life out of shapechangers, weakening them until they eventually wither and… well, as far as I’ve heard, nobody knows why it happens.”

  One of the guards scoffed. Emma looked up and found Netza shaking his head with scorn, long cornrows rustling. “We all know why it happens,” he said, voice deep and heavily accented with something native to South America. “The gods abandoned us long ago. We are cursed.” His wide nostrils flared, turning his angular brown face and hooked nose into a severe mask straight out of some forgotten, ancient civilization. Netza was their only guard who came from somewhere farther than Panama. He was one of the older guards — much, much older.

  Felani made a sound and untangled herself from her sisters. “The gods did not abandon us.” Her dark eyes flashed. “We abandoned them. And we are not cursed.” She glanced at Emma, fierce knowledge lighting her face. “We are blessed.” She crossed her arms over her chest and dared Netza with her eyes to challenge her.

  Wise man that he was, he kept his mouth shut.

  Emma tried not to reach for Fern’s hand, out of nervousness. “Moving along, there’s still the matter of who’s coming to Russia and who isn’t.” She was the center of attention again, and she didn’t like it, but it was better than inciting arguments between her guards and her handmaidens.

  Andres stood straighter, crossing his arms. “Who has Seshua enlisted for this trip?”

  Emma met his black-brown eyes and silently thanked him; he’d moved the focus away from choosing who stayed at the ranch. “Seshua wants Horne, and you.” Andres nodded. “He’s bringing six of his own guards, but that’s a minimum. We’re to call him tomorrow with our numbers, and then he’ll decide if he wants more.”

  Andres made an appreciative noise. “And do we know our numbers yet?”

  Emma took a steadying breath. No avoiding it now. “Yes and no.” Seshua would be mortified, but she was just going to tell the truth and hope they respected it. “I know Ashai and Teremun have to come, because they represent my allies.” She flashed the two jackal guards a tight smile. “But I don’t know how many more of you I should bring,” she said bluntly, looking around at the guards. “I’ve never done this before; in Egypt, we didn’t have a choice. Now, I’ve no idea whether to choose for security, or for spectacle, or both.” Some of the guards looked surprised, but Horne and Andres looked quietly smug. She couldn’t decipher the expression, so she ignored it. “On one hand, I’m thinking if we need more than ten of us in total then we’re pretty much screwed anyway. But this is a foreign kingdom we’re going to. I assume we’re meant to make an impression, right?”

  Horne chuckled. “So, who do you want to bring both for security and spectacle, and who is simply necessary?”

  Emma wished he hadn’t put it like that, now all the necessary people would feel less special, and all the people who didn’t get picked at all would feel neither necessary nor special. Damn it. Why couldn’t they have drawn names from a hat?

  She swallowed past a suddenly sandy throat. “Fern is necessary.” She glanced at him, but didn’t need to explain to anybody why he was necessary. She shot an uncertain look at Telly and Red Sun, gaze flicking back and forth between them. “I’m going out on a limb and assuming you’ll be there no matter what I say.” They both stared at her, Telly windblown and impish, Red Sun giant as a bear.

  Red Sun nodded. “You bet.” For once, he didn’t call her something cringe-worthy. Telly just stared at her with eyes gone dark in the false twilight — obviously still sulking about their confrontation earlier, or whatever it had been. Emma never knew with him.

  “Okay. Raul?” The short haired guard straightened. “You’re one of the senior guards. Where do you think you’re better off — here, or with me?”

  Raul blinked at her with eyes a similar amber-green to Rain’s, only darker. His blocky face turned soft with uncertainty. “My lady, I am a bodyguard. My place is guarding your body.” Somehow, he said it with none of the cheek Emma had come to expect from the other guards. “If you’re asking me where I would rather be, it’s doing my job, guarding you.” He shrugged. “If you’re asking whether I should stay behind in the capacity of a senior guard, I don’t have the answer. That’s not where my priorities lie.”

  “Oh.” Emma felt sheepish. “I guess you’re coming to Russia then.” Raul’s expression didn’t change, but his shoulders relaxed. If she’d known asking him what he thought would make him uncomfortable, she mightn’t have done it — she really didn’t know her guards well enough. Damn it again.

  You’ve only known them a few months, Emma. Fern’s fingers brushed her elbow.

  She glanced up at him. Yeah, about as long as I’ve known Anton, but I sure as shit know what he’s gonna do when I tell him he can’t come.

  Fern frowned. Then don’t.

  What?

  Take him with us. He’s good with guns.

  Emma looked around, conscious everyone was watching her. She held up a finger in a wait-a-minute gesture and
focused her attention on Fern. Is this about me and Anton? Like a matchmaking thing? Because there is nothing going on there, and bringing him with us won’t —

  Em. Fern gave her a patient look. It turned his black gaze bottomless. If this was about you and Anton, I’d be insisting he stay behind.

  Emma frowned. I don’t understand.

  Fern’s expression gentled. You don’t have to.

  Emma fought to keep the indignation off her face and failed. Don’t do that to me. Not you.

  He sighed. If this was about you and Anton, I’d say he should stay behind, because he’ll distract you if he’s by your side and you’ll distract him — and hurt him — by having to be Caller of the Blood, instead of Emma Chase. He ignored her surprise and confusion and went on. But this isn’t about you and him. It’s more about him, he explained, over a hundred years of experience in the lines of his deceptively young face. Anton’s feelings might get hurt where you’re concerned, but it’s more important that he risk getting hurt while doing what he’s made for. He’s young, but he’s an experienced fighter, a rebel among his people. He knows guns and he knows guerrilla tactics and he’s a hell of a lot more suspicious than some of the guards. Leave him here, and all he’ll ever be is your minder.

  Emma clenched her jaw, blinking back tears she couldn’t explain.

  I’m sorry. I didn’t mean —

  Emma sucked in a sharp breath and looked away. “Anton, you’re coming too.” Her voice was harsh even to her own ears. She sensed his surprise but didn’t look at him, instead turned to the maidens. “Felani, you’re going to hate this, but you’re staying behind.” The maiden’s eyes went wide and she opened her mouth, but Emma talked over her. “Rain trusts you, and I don’t trust anyone else to take care of Rain the way I know you will. I need you here.”