It had been three days since she’d listened to the heart-rending tales of terror, torture, and traumatic death by an overwhelming force that no one had seen before. At least she now knew where she was.
An unlikely alliance of peace-minded arctic elves and polar fairies had created Fort LeBlanc in the early eighteen hundreds as a sanctuary town for like-minded individuals. They’d hidden in plain sight by masquerading as a French military outpost that traded with the local First Nations peoples instead of trying to control them or steal their resources.
During the unrest in the arctic that culminated in the pyrrhic Siberian war, the town used a unique blend of elven glade, fairy demesne, and wizard magic to make the sanctuary invisible to the uninvited. It worked, until the marauders found them.
For reasons she couldn’t explain, Skyla was finding it hard to leave. Something felt unfinished. The first two days, she’d felt compelled to record the names and stories of the spirits. She’d gathered all the stray paper from each building, then used a precious bit of magic to create a never-empty ink cartridge for an antique fountain pen she found. She wrote as a human during the warmer part of the day, then hunted and slept as a wolf at night. She shifted for bio breaks, too, since none of the buildings had running water for the bathrooms. The slow act of writing, rather than typing on a computer keyboard, seemed to help her deal with the horrific images the stories had etched into her mind. Her own sister’s death paled in comparison.
She’d planned to leave today, but it had taken real effort last night and that morning to shift to and from human. Fast and easy shifting had always been her best talent, and now she was losing even that. She knew if Nic lived through the portal accident, he would be looking for her, the same way she planned to hunt for him across the world and beyond, if that’s what it took. The first rule of wilderness rescue was to stay put, but she couldn’t wait any longer. She needed help, before it was too late.
For now, she was conserving her strength, waiting until noon to start her trek westward. Assuming her nearly depleted magic had created an accurate map, she was a two-day wolf run from a lake and a small human settlement.
A trio of amorphous specters materialized in the darkest corner of the room, blinking like a strobe to get her attention. She recognized them and remembered their sad story. One floated as close to the sunlight as it could. “Singer, our rhieni have come for us, but they cannot hear us.”
The spirits had taken to calling her Singer, because apparently Skyla wasn’t a proper name, or something. She wasn’t sure she could handle more life-and-ghost stories. Still, it was her or no one. She climbed to her feet and headed outside, still wrapped in her wool blanket. Melting snow squelched under her feet. Someday, she hoped to have dry shoes and socks again.
She was startled to see two very large white geese… no, swans, instead of more ghosts. They shifted into a short, dark-haired man and an even shorter, blonde woman, wearing warm winter clothes that had shifted in with them. Their mate bond shimmered like a sunbeam on water. The male looked around with a wary expression.
The female focused on Skyla. “Are you lost?” she asked, not unkindly.
“Not exactly.” The specters crowded in the shade of the nearby conifer and flickered frantically. “Did you used to live here?”
The woman’s expression became as wary as her mate’s. “Why do you ask?”
Skyla sighed. “I don’t know how to be tactful about this. When you left, you promised your three children you’d be back for them in a week. They’ve been waiting for you for over a hundred years.” She tilted her chin toward the three specters.
Color drained from the woman’s face as she clutched the arm of her mate. The man bristled. “Who the hell are you?”
“Skyla Chekal. Wolf shifter. Grad student. And freaking cold.” She pointed a thumb to the storehouse behind her. “If you’re going to yell at me, can we do it where it’s warmer?”
In the storehouse, Skyla moved a chair into the sunlight and sat. She envied their gloves and warm snow boots, and wished she had the talent for transformation magic. They ignored the other chairs and stood, taking in her makeshift camp. They didn’t say a word, but their expressions and body language suggested a telepathic argument. Finally, the woman spoke.
“I am Elsa Valkea, and my husband and mate is Gunnar. Please, tell us about our children.”
Skyla hitched her sagging blanket up on her shoulders again. “Ingrid, Maria, and Rolf. The marauders killed them and others in their schoolroom.” She nodded toward the corner where the specters flickered. “Their spirits are still here. They told me their story.”
Gunnar looked at the corner, but obviously saw nothing. “Why do they speak to you and not us?”
Elsa touched his arm and shook her head. “Don’t be rude.”
Skyla’s inner wolf demanded attention for a sound at the edge of her range. She borrowed as much of her wolf’s hearing as she could. The rhythmic crunch of snow. Metal on ice. Singing?
She stood and moved closer to the door. Elsa and Gunnar heard it a moment later and joined her.
Elsa shook her head. “I do not recognize the voice.”
Gunnar grunted. He stretched his neck and spread his arms, clearly expecting a fight.
“Oh, jingle bells, jingle bells…”
Warm relief and a hundred other nameless emotions flooded through Skyla. “I do.” She let the wool blanket fall as she flung open the door. “That’s my mate.”
She ran through the paths she’d already made, toward the sound and presence of the man whose memory lurked in waking moments and blazed in dreams. She slowed when she got to the unbroken field of snow between her and the creek that curved by from the northeast. She looked toward the trees, where her ears said the singing was coming from.
Her first glimpse of the man seated on the heavily laden utility vehicle startled her. First, because he was actually riding a sleigh, and second, because she didn’t know the face.
He knew hers, though. “Skyla!” He patted the sleigh. “Light speed, Oskar.”
The sleigh lifted off the snow and zoomed toward her. Two bags tumbled off the back. She barely had time to realize that Nic had shaved, and that he was gorgeous, before he launched himself out of the sleigh and wrapped her tightly in his arms. She hugged him back just as fiercely, then relaxed and just let him hold her while she cried.
After countless minutes, he loosened his hold. “It’s going to be okay.” He looked down at her with a serious expression. “I brought chocolate.”
She laughed and sniffled. “I love you.”
His eyes widened. “Because of the chocolate?”
She stood on her toes to kiss his strong chin. “Because you didn’t give up.”
His intent expression thrilled her as he tilted down to kiss her. Her tongue met and danced with his. The taste of him sent fire racing through her blood.
He broke off the kiss to look up and beyond her head. “Hello.”
She twisted to see Elsa and Gunnar standing twenty feet away. Elsa smiled, but Gunnar fidgeted with barely contained impatience. Reality was back, and, in Skyla’s view, extremely overrated.
She made introductions, then let Nic wrap her in the softest blanket she’d ever stroked and lift her into the sleigh. Oskar, he told her, liked songs with sleighs in them. The portal had opened about five kilometers away, at the border of Fort LeBlanc’s lands.
Gunnar helped Nic retrieve the fallen bags and unbent enough to express interest in Oskar as they made their way back toward the storehouse.
High on one of the three giant conifers that marked the center of town, a giant black raven emitted a long series of squawks. Another landed on a nearby branch and joined in the calling.
Elsa, seated beside Skyla in the sleigh, looked up and smiled. “The Mackenzies fly fast and true.”
“Humph.” Gunnar grunted as he plowed his own path through the snow. “Do not show them your food.”
“Gunnar,” Elsa ch
ided. “They have the same right to be here as we do.”
Skyla didn’t recognize the name, for which she was grateful. One less family to traumatize.
She stole glances at her handsome mate, memorizing the shape of his clean-shaven face, remembering the taste of him, the sound of his heartbeat as she’d cried against his chest. She hoped his outer jacket was snot-proof.
He suggested she stay in the sleigh while he, Elsa, and Gunnar hauled in the contents of the rear seat. She agreed, since the floor and well-padded seat radiated enough heat to feel through the blanket, and her run through town had used up her reserves. Totally worth it, to see Nic, but it made her worthless now. The gentle breeze brought the outdoor smells of autumn right to her nose, without her having to move a muscle.
The next thing she knew, Nic was standing beside her, hand on her shoulder. “Skyla, we’re ready.” He nodded toward the storehouse. “And we have more company.”
She unwrapped from the blanket and stood to stretch. “I think that was an actual nap, and I missed it.”
He looked scandalized. “You don’t take naps?”
“Not since I was a baby.” She sat on the side of the sleigh and swung her legs over. “Drove my parents nuts.” She frowned at the cold, muddy snow on the path.
He stepped closer. “Those shoes… Let me carry you inside. I brought boots and dry socks for you.”
“Socks and chocolate.” She smiled and lifted her arms. “You’re the mate of my dreams.”
He gave her a quick kiss, then carried her inside and let her down next to a padded folding camp chair. “Your throne, my queen.”
She smiled, then turned slowly to see all the work they’d done. She must have dozed longer than she thought. The room was comfortably warm from a stove that radiated plenty of heat and magic. In addition to the full camping setup, complete with more chairs and a brightly lit tent, the room had seven new occupants she didn’t recognize.
Nic handed her a pair of thick, warm socks, with a pointed look at her feet. While she sat and removed her damp athletic shoes and filthy crew socks, Elsa introduced the four Mackenzie raven shifters, siblings and cousins. All their names started with the letter “R,” so she was doomed to never get them straight. Two were a mated pair of snowy owl shifters named Tad and Verna. The last was a bark-skinned dryad named Moss, who sat on a folding stool in the darkest corner, next to the wooden coat rack. She couldn’t read his alien face well enough to know if he was aware that he shared the shadows with spirits.
Gunnar crossed his arms across his wide chest and cleared his throat loudly. “Tell us how our children died.”
Skyla flinched and glanced toward the flickering spirits. “I don’t think you want to know that.”
Gunnar hissed and started to rise from the bench he shared with Elsa.
Nic surged up and forward, one hand already sprouting claws. Skyla touched Nic’s arm. “It’s all right.” He hesitated, then sat back down on the cooler. She slid her chair closer to put a hand on his muscular thigh and let him know she appreciated his care.
Elsa had already pulled Gunnar back down. She nodded to Skyla. “Forgive us, Magister. We meant no disrespect. We who were not here that day all felt the breach of the borders and the fall of the glade, but we could not get back.”
Tad and Verna nodded. One of the Mackenzies said all their parents had flown over the area regularly for years, and taught their children to do the same, with no luck, until today.
Elsa’s lips thinned. “We hired great workers of every kind of magic who took our money but could not find our home. Fort LeBlanc was gone. Until three days ago. We all felt it.” She slipped her hand into Gunnar’s. “Some of us didn’t believe it at first, but we had to come.” Her eyes darted to the old mattresses that had been pushed aside. “And then here you were, dressed like a lost summer tourist, talking to ghosts.”
Nic gave her a sidelong questioning glance.
Skyla patted his thigh. “First, I’m not a magister, I’m just a magic studies grad student. Second, Nic and I were trying to get to the sanctuary in Wyoming. Something went wrong with the portal, and I ended up here, face first in a snowdrift. That was three days ago.”
Nic covered her hand with his. “That was only this morning for me, Mauk, and the lady in green.”
It was her turn to give Nic a startled look. He gave her a private smile. “We’re fine.”
He turned back to the group. “The Kotoyeesinay town council’s best guess was that the Fort LeBlanc defenders opened a portal to call for aid, but it was warped or unfinished. They think it’s lain dormant for all this time, until the right kind and size of portal opened again, and the right person went through it.”
The theory sounded plausible, but what did she know? She’d dropped her only class in portal magic since she had no talent for it.
Verna frowned. “What’s Gunnar blathering about, talking to ghosts?”
Skyla’s temples hurt just thinking about going through this with every family that showed up. It had been hard enough witnessing for the dead. She didn’t want to hurt the living, too. “Not everyone who died that day is gone. My gifts mean I can see and hear the spirits of those still here. They told me their stories. I wrote—”
“Bullshit!” Gunnar stood up, pushing Elsa’s hand away. “She makes this up because she wants money, just like the others. Our children are not ghosts who waited, they are dead. End of the story.”
He turned and stomped out of the building, slamming the door behind him.
Elsa stood, an anguished look on her face. “He blames himself for not being here.” She hurried out after him.
Moss stood and held out his hand. A sphere-shaped spirit came to land in his palm. “Thank you for singing for Oak, my lover who was lost to the fire and darkness, until you came. I will nurture a bower for him.”
Moss placed the spirit sphere on his shoulder, much as one would a kitten, and left.
“Let’s go see the rest of the town,” said one of the Mackenzies. “You know the fam is gonna ask.” They swarmed out the door amid good-natured jostling.
“We’re curious, too,” said Verna. “We were still citizens of Fort LeBlanc, but we moved away thirty years before it disappeared.”
Tad stood and offered his hand to his mate. “We should see if Gunnar has calmed down yet.”
Nic stood. “If you don’t mind my asking, how is it you all keep your clothes when you shift?”
Tad grinned. “Nifty, huh?” He pulled down the neck of his turtleneck to reveal a faint, green and gold tattoo of two ornate keys, one along each collarbone. “After a shifter child nearly froze to death because he had no clothes, the town elders worked with a charm specialist to create this for all those granted sanctuary and their offspring. Ties us to the town and each other, too. That’s how we knew Fort LeBlanc was back.” He smoothed the neck back into place. “Sure is handy when you have to shift in deep winter.”
Skyla made a mental note to examine one later. If she could duplicate it, she could offer it to Nic as a mating gift, after she had her wicked way with him in their tent that night. Their mate bond was already growing with each additional minute they spent together. Since he’d gone to all the trouble to set up a love nest, she definitely wanted to take advantage of it. She just needed a few minutes to rest.
A faraway, unintelligible voice buzzed in her head. She was too tired to face another spirit. The store is closed, she told it. Visiting hours are over. No room at the inn. She repurposed a tiny bit of magic from the stove to create virtual earplugs that blocked pushy ghosts.
Blessed silence. A deep lethargy settled over her as she watched Nic bend over to rummage in the cooler. He had spectacular thighs. She was without a doubt the luckiest dire wolf on the planet to have such a fine man for a mate. Of course, she was now the only dire wolf on the planet, that she knew of. Would their children be tigers or wolves? Maybe she should ask for both carpet-covered towers and rawhide chew toys for the baby shower.
Her eyelids drooped. Look at me, napping again, she wanted to tell Nic. Cats liked naps.
12
Nic paced, holding the satellite phone tightly to his ear. “No change. She’s still unconscious, and I still feel magic coming from those goddamn talismans.”
He blamed himself for not recognizing sooner that Skyla was in trouble. He’d assumed she was just wrung out from three days of survival living and talking to the unrestful dead.
He hadn’t realized how many until he’d found her collection of stories. He was crying by the fifth page and couldn’t read any more. He’d carefully put her mismatched pages in his waterproof bag for safekeeping.
“We’ll be there in thirty minutes,” said Pendragor. “Turn on Oskar’s locator.”
“Thank you.” He shut down the phone and put it in the pack, then went back to check on Skyla. He’d stripped her out of her filthy clothes and snuggled her into the blankets on the thick, soft mattress. She was lovely, serene, and out like a light.
He’d planned to stay and make love with her all night and beyond, and when they both agreed, mate with her. It was only after the returnees had finally left for the afternoon and he couldn’t wake her that he’d begun to worry. The medical charms he’d brought all said she was as healthy as a wolf. Then he’d remembered what the auction house had done to him and called the Kotoyeesinay sheriff’s office to ask them to find Pendragor.
The tracking talismans charged themselves with power stolen from shifts. Some shifters couldn’t do full shifts more than once or twice a day, much less the partial shifts usually the purview of alphas, but Skyla’s extraordinary talent meant she’d probably shifted often in the last three days. Once the talismans recharged, the auction house could control her, hurt her, or kill her.
He kissed his sleeping beauty on the forehead, then went out into the evening twilight to ask Oskar to turn on his beacon. Nic had begun to think of Oskar as a younger magical version of Mauk, the sentient technology hybrid. He should introduce them.
Heart of a Dire Wolf Page 8