She was trying to figure out if there was a polite — or safe — way to refuse the jackal queen, when Red Sun made an unholy sound and sat bolt upright in his chair as though he’d just been electrocuted. He looked around at the others still slumped in their chairs. Gentle snoring could still be heard from where Kahotep lay across the table.
“Kiddo,” he said, eyes wide. “A warning next time, maybe? I’m too old for this.”
Emma snorted a laugh. “Now that’s a lie.” She shrugged. “I did say to hold onto your butts?”
Leah gave a little sound of enthusiasm. Red groaned, bracing himself with his hand on the table as he stood, swaying a little. “Well. I guess I failed to execute that highly specific directive. What do we do now? There’s a good chance old Shadi over there’ll be just as keen to gallop away into the sunset after his nap as he was before it.”
Nathifa chuckled. “I don’t know about that. He is a powerful magi, and he was just bested by a girl, no offense, Emma.”
“None taken,” Emma replied cheerfully.
The queen smiled. “I think he’ll be curious enough to stay human and uncursed. That is, after a few choice words perhaps.”
There was a groan from the floor, and then a string of harsh syllables punctuated by more groaning.
Nathifa grinned. “See?”
15
Shadi agreed not to turn himself back into a horse, having been convinced that Emma really didn’t want him to — nothing says “don’t do that” quite like a metaphysical KO. Seshua was both annoyed and intrigued at the impressive display of Emma’s amplified abilities. Kahotep took it all in stride with the same placid expression he wore ninety-five percent of the time, and promptly ordered Emma and Fern to get a few hours rest.
Although Fern and Red Sun had missed the same amount of sleep as Emma had, she was the only one of them who would actually suffer from the sleep deprivation, and she guessed she’d had maybe three hours in the last twenty eight. Then there was the severe metaphysical jetlag of going from morning to night in the span of a few seconds, not to mention how much energy she’d burned, fighting and getting injured and wielding powers she didn’t even fully understand yet. As much as she’d wanted to argue with Kahotep, he was right; she needed sleep.
The guest rooms were huge, of course, lit by wall sconces that cast everything in a comforting and somehow archaic orange glow. They had cold running water — and therefore functional sanitation — but no hot water. Emma opted to sleep first and have hot water delivered when she woke up. As much as she wanted a bath, she wanted to fall into the massive bed more.
Bracing herself against the carved wooden post of the bed frame, she kicked off the sandals she’d borrowed and then let her head hang for a moment. She hadn’t realized she was so damn tired. And she had no idea what time it was.
Fern padded over, his bare feet quiet against the rug, and she raised her head to look up at him. “How much time do we have?”
“A few hours.” His eyes glittered in the firelight, expression soft. “How’s your bandage?”
“Oh.” She looked down, touched her chest through the thin knit of the sweater. “Feels okay.” She hissed. “Maybe not great. It’ll be fine, so long as I don’t bump it in my sleep or anything.” She went to tug the sweater off, intending on sleeping in her tank and underwear to keep the rest of her borrowed clothes fresh, but then her sleeve got caught and the bandage on her chest pressed into the wound.
“Ow!” She bit her lip. Jesus. Some Tylenol would be good right now.
“Here,” said Fern. “Hold your arms out.” She did as he said, and he stepped in close and carefully peeled the sweater up her waist, over her head, and down her arms. “There. No Tylenol though, sorry. It tends not to work on shapechangers, so we don’t keep it handy.” He folded her sweater and put it on the end of the bed. “I did hear Kahotep telling Seshua their healer will be here soon though.”
“Yeah, well.” Emma stepped back and unbuttoned her jeans, stepping out of them. “That’ll have to wait. Need sleep now.” She crawled onto the bed, wincing at the sting of her injuries, and slipped under the covers. Too late she looked up and found Fern had folded her jeans as well.
It’s okay, he sent before she could say anything. It’s just a simple chore, and no, I don’t think you expect me to clean up after you.
The merge sure does make things simpler, she sent as he moved around to the other side of the bed and sat down. “But maybe it also makes it harder to talk when things get rough,” she finished out loud. “Y’know, like normal people.”
He looked down at her and blinked. “Did you have many close relationships before our bond was forged? With normal people?”
She scowled. “I don’t appreciate what you’re implying.” He smiled and stretched out on his back, atop the covers. “And you aren’t sleeping like that,” she added. “You’re still dressed.”
“You didn’t answer the question,” he shot back, grinning now.
“And you already know the answer to it! Hello, you can read my mind.” She shoved him in the arm and rolled to her side so she could glare at him. “No ,” she said. “I did not have many close relationships before our bond was forged. What’s your point.”
“You’re bossy when you’re sleep deprived.” He laughed. “I think I like it.”
“Fern… ”
“Okay, okay.” He sobered, rolling to face her, hands tucked up near his chest. “I just meant, everyone has trouble talking to each other about the important stuff. The fact that we share the bond doesn’t make us complacent when it comes to communicating. We get complacent because we’re people, and that’s what people do.”
Emma realized she’d closed her eyes, so she opened them, trying hard to focus on Fern’s face. He watched her; his eyes, black and fathomless as always, betrayed nothing of his thoughts. She didn’t need them to. When she’d first met him, his gaze had terrified her, had seemed the epitome of evil. After Russia, looking into his eyes had made her feel more grief than she ever had over what Alan had done to her.
Now, meeting his eyes was like coming home. The ranch was gone, her friends were all in danger, the serpent priesthood wanted both her and Alexi either dead or something far worse, and Telly — the walking god, the one who had sworn to protect her — had vanished out of this world and had no care for their mortal concerns. But when she looked into Fern’s eyes she felt hope.
I’m sorry I got complacent, she sent. I should have found a way to talk to you about what happened.
He uncurled one hand and reached out to touch her face, brushing his knuckles over her jaw. His pain curled through the merge like smoke, tightening Emma’s heart before it faded to sorrow. This is the last time I’ll tell you this, he sent, and gripped her chin gently with his fingers, his mental voice suddenly carrying a thread of iron resolve. After this, I will refuse to listen to or accept your apologies. It was not your fault, it was mine. I failed to do what you asked of me. In the moment before you shut me out of your head, you asked me to forgive you. You were asking me to be strong. You were asking me if I trusted you the way I claimed to, and you were accepting that trust when it had scared you so much before. You were brave and I was not, and you never needed my forgiveness, not then and not now. And that is the end of it.
Emma closed her eyes, breathing carefully, waiting to see if the memories would overwhelm her. But they stayed quiet.
She opened her eyes and took his hand. You’re bossy when you’re sleep deprived. She smiled. I think I like it.
He laughed softly, relief washing through the bond. “Sleep now.”
Fern was gone when she woke up, but the covers were still warm. Half asleep, she focused on the merge — still there, Fern’s mind tucked snugly against hers — and felt him smile at the contact.
Nathifa’s handmaidens are on their way with hot water, he sent. I went to see the horses, but I’m heading back now.
The firelit shadows and warm covers were soothing
, and Emma was still so tired. She didn’t realize she’d fallen straight back to sleep until murmuring female voices woke her up again. Blinking and trying to summon the energy to move, she watched the women set down a tub of steaming water just large enough for Emma to sit in, their shapechanger strength making the chore look easy. One of them placed folded towels and a fresh change of clothes on the end of the bed before dipping her head and following the others out.
“Thank you,” Emma called out. A few of them turned, startled. The one on the end smiled, brief and brilliant, and then they were gone.
Emma threw the covers back. Fern had said he was on his way, so this had to be quick. After a brief trip to the rustic but functional bathroom, she stripped off, noticed the bandage on her chest was starting to peel off, and thought, what the hell? She removed the whole thing.
It wasn’t pretty. Three gashes, one of them a couple of inches and the other two at least four inches, right across her sternum. They were scabbed over and deep, and the redness around their edges made Emma really want some antibiotics.
More scars. Not that it mattered after Russia — she’d come home with so many. It shouldn’t bother her.
She flipped her hair over and dunked her head in the water first, rubbing her scalp, hoping to get rid of the smell of smoke, then came up and wrung her hair out. Not knowing what the water quality around here was like, she thought it better not to get her wounds wet, so she knelt in the tub of hot water and let herself sink in up to her waist but didn’t try to submerge her upper body. The washcloth worked well enough on her arms and shoulders, and the important thing was that she got to scrub her face and her hands and her aching, scratched-up feet.
She’d dried off and gotten into jeans and a gray sports bra and was squeezing the water out of her hair when Fern’s mind nudged hers and then the big carved door to the chamber swung open and he strode in.
Emma forgot about the towel in her hand.
Fern had filled out the shirt that was loose on him a few hours ago, his skin was luminous instead of pale, and his hair was glossy as a raven’s wing in the firelight. His eyes were bright. He looked fresh and strong, and more relaxed than she could ever remember seeing him as he moved toward her with fluid grace.
He flashed a quizzical smile when he saw the look on her face. Then he got closer and his gaze fell to the rest of her, and the smile died.
Without thinking she tried to slam her mental shields down, and then managed to stop when she remembered they were merged. She clenched her teeth, her fists, clenched her eyes shut. Deep breaths through the nose. Exhale slowly.
Fern’s touch via the merge was warm and wordless and without pity. Emma opened her eyes and met his.
I’m sorry, he sent. I’d never seen your scars. I shouldn’t have reacted like that, but I just didn’t know. He took a step toward her, and then another when she didn’t run. They’re from Storm?
She nodded, concentrating on keeping her hands at her sides; the only thing she could imagine was worse than someone other than the maidens seeing her scars, was trying to cover them up as though she was ashamed of them.
There’s no reason to be ashamed of them, Fern sent.
I’m not ashamed, I’m self conscious. There’s a difference.
Fern arched a brow. There is?
She put her hands on her hips. I’m not crazy about how I look, but I’m not ashamed of how I got them. Scowling, she added, It doesn’t help that you happen to look like a million bucks.
“What?” His confusion was genuine.
Emma leveled a dry stare at him. “If I couldn’t read your mind, I’d think you were actually pretending not to notice you turned into Captain America while I was sleeping.”
Now he was indignant. “I would have noticed. I love those movies, Cap’s the best. And you’re trying to distract me.” There is no need to be embarrassed about —
“No, Thor is the best, and I’m not trying to distract you, I’m honestly concerned. It’s one thing for both of us to get some of our health back after stopping Alan’s call from draining us, but do you really think this is normal?”
He sighed in frustration, running both hands through his thick hair and making it stick up in several directions. “You’ve been healing faster since your powers were fully awakened,” he pointed out. “And now those powers aren’t being siphoned off to shield us from Alan’s call. Who knows what’s normal? I think normal is relative.”
She hadn’t known he’d noticed her accelerated healing over the last few weeks. Even the wounds on her chest shouldn’t be scabbed over already, but they were. Maybe they wouldn’t scar.
It doesn’t matter if they do scar, Em. They’re just scars. We all have them. He closed the distance between them, holding her gaze with his, and took the towel from her hand. Do Alexi’s scars bother you?
Emma felt her face go red. Fern lifted the wet rope of her hair off her shoulder and started towel drying it, which meant she couldn’t hide from him. “I know it’s stupid to be self conscious about them,” she said. “I never claimed it was logical. It’s just how I feel.” She turned her head so Fern had better access to her hair. “I don’t spend any time with regular humans, except Zach. I’m constantly surrounded by people who will always be stronger than me, faster than me, with better hearing and better reflexes, who don’t need to sleep, who always look gorgeous and breathtaking even when they’re scary as hell. I’m surrounded by people who are forces of nature, who just seem to get more and more beautiful — in your case literally, since we blocked Alan’s contact — while I get more and more beat up and tired and…and angry. And fragile. Everyone thinks I’m fragile, that after Russia I’m broken and I need to be carefully put back together or this whole Caller of the Blood charade will just collapse.” She took a deep breath, conscious of Fern holding his, and looked up to meet his eyes. “Sorry. I think I’m tired. Did I say that already?”
He blinked at her. “You think I’m beautiful?”
Of course that was the part he chose to zero in on. “We’re bonded and merged,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “You know I do.”
“Not my beast,” he said, matter of fact.
Scowling up at him, Emma took her hair and the towel from him and stepped back. “Yes I do.”
“You’re afraid of my beast still.” His face was impassive, but his mind was warm and gentle against hers as he spoke, softening the words. “You find the tarantula repulsive. It’s not your fault.”
Emma took a deep breath, preparing to give him a piece of her mind that he was clearly too blind to be able to see already through the bond, when Red’s mental voice cut straight through her thoughts.
There’s a bunch of jackal handmaidens out here with me, waiting to escort you to Kahotep’s library. You almost ready?
Both she and Fern looked toward the door, then at each other. Red was out there and had probably overheard almost everything.
This conversation isn’t over, Emma sent with a dark look, poking Fern in the chest. Then she gave him a hopeful smile. “Help me get ready?”
The jackal handmaidens had left Emma socks and combat boots as well as fresh clothes, and it felt somehow glorious to be marching down the hall to the Jackal King’s study clad head to toe, with sturdy leather boots laced tight and a bra under her black tank top. So much better than being stranded in pajamas. Her hair was still damp, but Fern had braided it with swift hands so at least it stayed off her face and wouldn’t dry frizzy.
She hadn’t bothered covering the gashes on her chest since they were scabbing over already, and when she stepped into Kahotep’s massive study/library and Red locked eyes on her, she instantly regretted not re-bandaging her injuries. In all the chaos at the Ranch and of their arrival in Egypt, Red hadn’t noticed their severity. His face fell.
Don’t you dare, Emma sent, glaring at him. I cannot deal with one more guilt-ridden male falling over himself to apologize to me, not tonight.
The harsh remark had its
desired effect: Red laughed, short and surprised, startling everyone assembled. He shook his head and went to lean against the long hardwood desk where Kahotep and Nathifa stood with papers spread before them.
“Emma,” Kahotep greeted her with a nod and a smile.
The library was small by palace standards but cavernous by regular human house standards. There were hundreds of candles and a few oil lamps giving off enough light to read by, but it was clear the library was intended to be used most during the day, when the high shuttered windows would be opened to let sunlight in. Now they were closed against the cold desert darkness, and the candles and lamplight made the room feel warm and close in spite of its size.
Seshua was seated near the desk with one ankle propped on the other knee and a sheaf of yellowed papers in hand, and he barely glanced up as Emma moved into the room, boots muffled by the thick rug underfoot. Shadi, leaning against a bookshelf and looking like he should be carrying an archaic weapon of some kind, inclined his head as she met his eyes. Then she saw Horne standing with Leah on the far side of the desk and couldn’t stifle a cry of excitement.
“You’re okay,” she said as he looked up and smiled at her. A giant bruise covered his left temple, most of the area surrounding the outer corner of his eye, and extended down over his cheekbone and ear. “Or, not exactly okay,” she amended. “But you’re alive.”
“Sure am, chica . So are you. Makes this worthwhile,” he added, pointing at his discolored face. Emma didn’t know what to say to that, but she knew she was happy to see his face no matter how bad it looked, and she let him see it in her eyes. One corner of his mouth curled with pleasure, and he rubbed his goatee and glanced down to hide it.
Emma looked at Leah. “Marco?”
Leah grimaced. “Alive. But still sleeping it off. We won’t know how bad his injuries were until he wakes up to change and tells us. He doesn’t appear injured now, so whatever it was, he’s healing.” She shrugged. “He’ll stay here until he’s conscious and at full strength, then Red Sun can come back for him when the jackals send word.”
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