by Annie Bellet
I hadn’t thought about them since I was dealing with Not Afraid. I had no idea why they would be here now. They had nothing to do with my magic or the loss of it. What the frak had been in that cup?
They scented the air and John pointed to the way I’d come. “That way,” he said.
“We’re supposed to collapse the tunnel,” Connor said. He rubbed his free hand on his jeans and looked back the way they had come.
“She’s got no light,” John said. “She’s got no nose for this. No way she gets out. This place is rotten, but it could take us forever to collapse it. We’ll just close up the front, okay? I mean, what if we brought it down on ourselves?” He peered up at the wooden supports.
“Sky Heart said—” Connor started to say.
“He ain’t here. He won’t know. We did what he said. She won’t make it out of here. Come on, before we lose the light.”
Sky Heart. At the sound of my grandfather’s name, I growled. I couldn’t help it. Neither one of them seemed to be able to see me, but at the growl they both whipped their heads around, eyes searching the corridors. They still couldn’t see me, I realized, as their eyes passed over me, unfocused and terrified.
“Okay, let’s go.” Connor led the way, and they disappeared into the damp darkness.
Sky Heart had killed a lot of people, most of them children. I wondered whom he had told them to abandon here, and why. His preferred method had been to throw them off a cliff if they didn’t become crow shifters. Was this the past? My cousins had looked early teens, which meant I was still living at Three Feathers among the People. I’d be just a little kid at this point.
That thought poked at the weird, empty space I’d sensed earlier while Ash was brewing his magic potion. Again I couldn’t grasp it. But this was what I was shown, so it must be important.
I went down the path my cousins had taken. I wanted to see whom they had left, though I was beginning to suspect I knew. But I couldn’t remember. I reached for other memories of my childhood. My mother singing. The smell of the kitchen on baking day. How the quilt on my bed had a bright purple satin patch that I loved to stroke over and over, until I’d worn a hole in it. I’d cried until Mom had patched it with another piece, and Jasper, the man I’d thought was my father, had told her she spoiled me.
So, at least there was that. I remembered childhood, including the worse parts that came later. Including never fitting in, never being quite like everyone else.
The shaft grew tighter and closer, the air so stale that my lungs labored to draw enough in to support my huge body. It branched again, going down and down, and I followed pure instinct now. This was very like a bad dream, and I trusted that every road would lead wherever it wanted me to go. There was no way out but through.
Eventually I heard a child sobbing. I followed that noise through the all-encompassing dark and found a little girl. Blood ran from a cut on her head, matting her dark, filthy hair. She sat curled against the wall, her arms wrapped around skinny knees. Her brown eyes were puffy from tears. One shoe was untied. She couldn’t have been older than four or five.
But I knew that she was four. I knew because some of that empty space filled in.
I was in the mine near Three Feathers. That little girl was me, Jade Crow, age four. I remembered now my cousins leading me down, teasing me that I was afraid of the dark, that I was too little to come on such a grand adventure. I remembered those hours stuck in the darkness, all alone and sure I was going to stay here forever.
I couldn’t remember how I got out. That piece of memory eluded me, as impossible to grab as a handful of cloud.
Baby Jade stopped sobbing and stared at me in shock. She could see me; that was very clear. She hiccupped and curled tighter as though her knobby knees would shield her from the giant cat beast. I crouched down, putting my belly on the cold floor, and tried to look as unthreatening as possible. Carefully I slunk toward her on my belly, stretching out my head. A soft whine escaped my throat.
She held still, watching me with eyes that seemed to glow as they reflected the blue light radiating from my body. Just before I reached her, the ground between us split open, a seam of pure silver running like a river, dividing us. My paw touched it and the universe opened to me.
It was only a moment, a terrifying, awesome, overwhelming glimmer of vast understanding. The world turned from solid and known to an undulating tapestry. Threads were woven into pictures too vast to grasp from my all-too-limited perspective. I saw what my time-reversing spell had done; the damage it had caused radiated out from a single knot. Threads broken, threads rewoven, threads knotted and tangled. I couldn’t even begin to comprehend how to undo what I had done.
But there was one silver and purple thread that hung broken and caught my eye as it sparked like live wires. It was broken away from the knot of my time spell, and some deep gut feeling told me this wasn’t my doing. The ends were frayed and stretched toward each other like fingers. Two lost halves searching for their mate in the darkness.
I held my head still mere inches from her legs and stared up into baby Jade’s tearstained face. I held my breath. I couldn’t touch her. She had to choose.
Baby Jade slowly unwound her arms from her legs. Then she stretched out her hand, closing the gap as she dug her fingers into my fur.
“Hello, nice wolf,” she said.
The ends of the threads found each other. Strands joined to strands and we were made whole.
I stepped out into the bright sunlight and faced Ash with a shit-eating grin. I’d never felt better. I must not have been gone very long, despite what it had felt like inside the mine shafts, because the sun was still at zenith.
“You found what you needed,” he said, his tone certain.
“I found my spirit animal after all,” I said.
Wolf was back with me, inside me now, a part of me as she’d never been before. I felt her in my mind, waiting patiently inside a silver circle, guarding Tess and all the hearts I’d consumed, keeping my ghosts at bay, protecting me as she’d been doing all along. Magic coursed through my veins, infusing every cell of my being. I felt whole, remade, stronger, better, faster, all that jazz.
I felt so powerful it scared me a little.
“You have a Guardian,” Ash said. “Interesting.”
The plains were back to where they had been, the barrow gone as soon as I left its entrance. We retreated to the cabin’s shade and I tried to explain what I’d seen. I stumbled over the tapestry images.
“Somehow I forgot Wolf,” I said. “I mean, Samir destroyed her when he killed Max, and she was just gone, but I could still remember she was missing. Then, I’m not sure when, I couldn’t anymore. It was like she was gone gone.”
“He broke her connection to you; he didn’t destroy her. The Undying can’t die, or they’d be very poorly named,” Ash said with a forced chuckle. “You pushed the connection farther away when you turned back the universe.”
“So why did finding her give me my power back?”
“It made you whole, though I think seeing the Patterns had as much to do with that as finding your Guardian again.”
Patterns? I filed that away for about five minutes from now. First questions come first.
“What is she? Why do I have her?” I poked at Wolf in my mind, but she was as unforthcoming as ever, merely lifting her big head and staring me down with unblinking, star-filled eyes. Still, I wanted to weep with joy that she was back.
Ash shrugged. “Not even a dragon can explain the gods, or their Undying, I’m afraid. You’d have to ask them.”
“I wish this all made more sense,” I muttered.
“It’s magic,” Ash said. “If it made sense we’d call it science.”
“Touché.”
“The good news is that now I can show you how to use your power more effectively.” Ash smiled at me. “After we have tea.”
“Can I turn into a dragon now?” I already knew how to use magic, damnit. I wanted to get to t
he fun stuff. I still didn’t feel particularly dragon-y. I just felt like me, except all leveled up in strength.
“You have to walk before you fly,” Ash said. He shook his head. “First I must teach you more control. Then we’ll see how you handle the dragon.”
“I just want to kill Samir.”
“Jade.” Ash’s tone turned serious. “Trust me a little longer.”
I made a big show of sighing loudly and rolling my eyes at him like the super-mature kid I am, but I nodded. He’d helped me get my magic back, just as he’d promised. I was impatient and worried about my friends, but hopefully in their world I’d been gone only a couple of days. The druid had said they were hiding out and safe enough.
Trust. Right. That thing I was working on. Well, practice makes perfect.
“After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water,” I said.
Days turned into weeks. Over three of them, now. It snowed and snowed some more, making it easier to avoid Samir’s mercenaries in some ways, but rougher on Alek’s ragtag band. He was used to the cold, used to living in woods and snow and surviving on what he could hunt. The rest of them besides the druid? Not so much.
He scouted Samir’s home base as dawn tinged the grey sky the color of raw meat. Alek was at home here in the silence and the patterned shadows of black and white. His coat blended into the landscape, his stripes breaking up the visual field. His big paws trod lightly and easily through the snow. Alek could almost imagine he were home, wandering the Siberian forests of his youth, about to be ambushed by his siblings at any moment.
Unfortunately, the only ambush he could expect here would be by shifters, wolves, or bears, mercenaries hired by Samir to guard him while he prepared to raise Balor from the dead. Once Samir did that, it was unlikely anyone could stop him. All the evil sorcerer had to do was eat Balor’s heart, and all the dead Celtic sorcerer’s power would go to Samir, effectively rendering him a god.
Samir needed a unicorn to accomplish the spell, according to the druid and what Harper had told them from her time in captivity. Yosemite was keeping the unicorns as safe as he could, and Alek, with the help of Harper, Ezee, and Levi, was trying to keep close tabs on Samir’s comings and goings.
It wasn’t easy, despite his comfort in these woods. Samir didn’t have wards up, that they could tell, so there was some advantage there. Yosemite theorized that Samir needed to conserve power for the spell. Just having ingredients wasn’t enough; one had to have the raw ability and strength to make it happen.
The mercenaries were the real problem. Most were shifters. The ones that weren’t were still well armed and stayed in vehicles or around the house. Nobody moved out alone. Alek had narrowly avoided hunting parties multiple times. Sentry wolves prowled the perimeter as well and while Alek had been tempted a time or two with killing them off, his less frustrated and more rational side had prevailed. If they started thinning Samir’s forces, he’d bring more and might start actively hunting them in force, instead of the small parties he’d been sending.
So many risks. So little action. It was taking its toll. Alek swallowed a growl and pushed forward through the snow.
He got near where a patrolling wolf would likely pass and settled himself low to watch, blending into the background as though he were a statue carved of snow and shadow. In the dark coniferous branches above him, birds flitted and made their morning greetings. Within minutes, the tenor of the woodsong changed and he felt the approach of the wolf. Alek was upwind, the nearly imperceptible breeze blowing the wolf’s scent into his face.
Again he withheld his instinct and desire to spring, and allowed the wolf to pass. It was one of the younger, smaller ones, a rangy beast with a red-brown coat. Alek waited until the wolf was long gone, then moved inside the perimeter to take up a spot on the very edge of the woods where he could see the farmhouse and clearing.
There was little movement at this time of morning. He counted the cars and saw there were six, plus the burned-out one that was Harper’s handiwork. The air held the scents of human and shifter; traces of coffee and cigar smoke lingered as well. No strange activity. Samir appeared to be in a holding pattern, though he was definitely up to things.
Junebug was keeping watch on Wylde as best she could, volunteering because an owl could get around and go unnoticed more than any of them. Alek had argued they all had to assume that Samir had given descriptions of each of them to his men, so it wasn’t safe to venture into town in human form, and their animal halves would stand out more than a little.
Wylde was quiet, from Junebug’s reports. Too quiet, in many ways. After the murder of the witches—Samir had gotten to five of the thirteen, as far as they could tell—and the burning of Jade’s building, everyone was either taking a winter vacation or hiding inside in fear, human and shifter alike. Dark SUVs came and went from some houses at odd hours; strange men openly carrying guns and dressed in paramilitary attire abounded. Junebug hadn’t seen Sheriff Lee in two weeks, either, and the last report from Freyda had been over a week ago, as she had to keep her head down also, her pack decimated in Samir’s first attack. Human law enforcement was suspiciously thin on the ground as well, given the recent crimes. Somehow Samir had Wylde isolated, even from a human response. He had thrown out the rule book on keeping the supernatural quiet from humanity, it appeared, and that boded very ill indeed for everyone.
It was small consolation to Alek that Samir clearly didn’t have what he wanted yet.
No Jade.
Alek could admit to himself that was what he truly looked for on these scouting missions. If Samir had her, Alek liked to believe he would have be able to tell. The way Samir had acted before meant he would flaunt her, try to use her as bait. That was Alek’s guess and his grim hope. Samir wanted to destroy Jade, to kill everything she loved before taking her down. For all the evil sorcerer had told Harper that he had bigger plans, Jade was still enough of a priority that Samir had risked his plan to try to draw them in. Samir had kept Harper alive, and it had cost him two of the three ingredients he needed to raise Balor.
Jade was Samir’s weakness. Alek was sure of it.
She was Alek’s weakness as well. And his strength. Without her, they had no hope of truly defeating Samir. Without her, he had no hope period. He protected her friends, he tried to present a strong front and lead them, but inside he roared inside his empty, lonely heart.
Alek settled his head on his paws and controlled his breathing so the mist of warm air wouldn’t give him away. He would wait for Jade. They must wait.
He loved her. She loved him. She would return. These were facts of the universe, and he used them like claws to tear down the tide of frustration and despair threatening to swamp his weary heart.
Sunlight broke through the cloud cover and glinted off the silver paddock fencing. Movement there drew Alek’s eyes. There was something inside the paddock. He lifted his head and drew a deep breath, sorting the scents again.
He couldn’t scent it, but he saw the white shape move again. Unicorn. Light gleamed off its coat as it came to the side of the paddock nearest his hiding place. His eyesight was sharp, but it was still far away. He didn’t recognize it as one of the unicorns supposedly safe with Yosemite, but that didn’t mean much at this distance. A big white horse with a horn was pretty unmistakable.
There was no denying what he saw.
Alek slunk back into the woods, picking up speed as he moved away from Samir’s base. He had to find the druid and the others. Samir had a unicorn.
I’m sorry, kitten, he whispered to Jade in his mind. Our time is nearly up. Come home.
Worried about the unicorn, Alek wasn’t as careful as he usually was. He sprinted away from the clearing and nearly ran right into the patrolling wolf.
The wolf sprang back before Alek could react, and growled, hackles raised. It shouldn’t have been here, as this was not its normal path, but Alek had no time to worry about that. The time for hiding was over if Samir had what he needed for tha
t spell. This wolf had to die.
Alek leapt for the wolf, intending to snap its neck before it could raise a cry and bring any others. He was lucky the wolf was as surprised to see him as he was to run into it, for it was only snarling and not running. Stupid wolf. Dead wolf.
A red shape streaked out from the dark underbrush and threw itself between Alek and his prey. A fox, one that turned into a girl even as he twisted to avoid crushing Harper.
“Alek, don’t,” she said, panting. Her green eyes were wide, her skin sweaty, and her hair matted to her head.
Alek growled. What was she thinking? She was supposed to be farther behind him, watching his retreat to make sure he wasn’t followed. Not nearly on top of him like this. And definitely not stopping him from preventing this wolf from bringing all its buddies to the fray.
Harper turned to the wolf, giving her back to Alek. He growled and moved sideways, ready to strike.
“Shift,” Harper said to the wolf.
To Alek’s shock, the wolf obeyed. A thin young man wearing cargo pants and a black tee-shirt crouched warily in the snow, his brown eyes darting from Harper to Alek and back again.
“This is the guy who saved me,” Harper said quietly, her gaze still fixed on the wolf shifter. “I owe him.”
“You should both get far away from here,” the wolf shifter whispered, glancing behind him and then again at Alek. Fear thinned his voice and turned his scent sour. He was terrified, but not of Alek or Harper.
Alek crouched, unable to decide if he should shift. He had questions for this man, but they were still in patrol range of the clearing, and if this wolf had doubled back, who knew what the others might be up to now that they had a unicorn to guard? They were close enough that shifter hearing might pick up sounds of a fight or even of normal voices.
“Go,” Harper hissed. “Go, and we’re even. You understand?”
“Got it,” the wolf said.
Alek made his decision. He shifted, shivering in the blast of cold as his fur left him and was replaced with a wholly inadequate wool sweater.