Please…
It was just lack of sleep. Nerves. The last of the meds wearing off. But if she didn’t reassure herself of that fact, Audrey had a feeling that voice would follow her, and she didn’t want any souvenirs of Parkview. Against her better judgment, she gritted her teeth and made her way on wobbly legs to the foreboding door. She paused in front of the hunk of steel and grimaced. This door was thicker and heavier than the ones downstairs, with two extra locks, one of them controlled by a keypad on the wall. She had the urge to rip it off the hinges but wondered if she had the strength for that now. Her reserves were almost tapped.
This is silly, she told herself. Just plain stupid, Jack’s voice agreed. But she took a deep breath and slid the steel window open. Behind it was a thick plate of glass. At first, she only saw darkness, but then a glint of metal reflected the dim light behind her. A stainless steel table sat in the middle of the white room. Audrey blinked as her mind made sense of the image—a bundle strapped to the table. No, a body. A small, frail body with long, menacing needles protruding in all directions, hooked up to wires and machines. A pair of sharp, dark eyes glistened, piercing through the rough hide of Audrey’s heart.
She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from swearing out loud.
Help me, the tiny voice said, though the child’s lips didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Her jaw was wired shut. Hard to tell it was a she, since her head had been shaved, but Audrey already knew. She recognized the face, the soul within fathoms older than it should have been.
She shook her head, covering her lips with her fingers to keep from finally lending her voice to the chorus of screams. She couldn’t be hearing what she was hearing, seeing what she was seeing. After everything, it was just… too much.
Please, Audrey, take me with you.
Her legs threatened to give out underneath her. She pressed her hand to the glass, a brick of salt lodged in her throat. “I—”
The ceiling pounded with a surge of electricity as the floodlights in the hallway came on in succession, momentarily blinding Audrey. Her concentration snapped, and her cloak dropped away. She blinked at her own reflection in the dark glass for a split second before the alarms rang out, startling all the air out of her lungs.
Audrey! Please! I can hear them all. All of them, the voices. Make them stop!
The elevator behind her jumped to life, coming up from the bottom floor.
“I’m sorry,” Audrey said, backing away from the door, clutching her bundle of paper because it was the only thing she had to hang onto. The next breath she dragged into her lungs burned like raw fire. She tasted ash. “I’m sorry, Lilly.”
Footsteps echoed at the other end of the hall, coming up the stairs. The elevator beeped. Audrey stumbled back into the office and locked the doors behind her.
Audrey, don’t leave me.
Shaking all over, Audrey fumbled with the lock of the sliding glass door that led to the balcony. I’m sorry, I have to, she thought, hoping somehow the voice inside her mind could hear her too.
Cold, salty wind slapped her in the face and stole her breath, but she ignored the tremors gripping her body, hauled herself over the balcony railing, and turned around to look down. Forty feet below her, the parched lawn stretched across the neglected yard, sloping toward the rocks and water. Audrey clung to the railing and prayed she had enough strength to shield herself from the fall, or this was going to be the shortest escape in history. She took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and thought, I’ll come back for you, Lilly, I promise.
Then she jumped.
Her feet never touched the ground. One moment, she was falling, the world a swirl of grey and white. The next, a bullet of shadow swooped out of the low clouds, and an arm as solid as a steel band wrapped around her waist. It jerked her upwards like a fish on a hook. She dry-heaved at the sudden change of direction and reflexively shoved at her captor with her powers, but nothing happened. They lifted higher into the sky, Audrey’s feet dangling above the lights glowing farther and farther below.
Her reflex to turn and fight battled with the sudden fear of being dropped, so she settled for kicking her legs helplessly and finally letting out a long-overdue scream. Fingers of cold marble closed over the back of her neck, and quicker than any hospital syringe, made her body go limp, no longer responding to her mind’s urgent commands. Even the last of her precious power in that dark, secret place started to siphon out of her.
“What…what are you?” she said, right before she blacked out.
Chapter Two
Corvin was thankful to receive a call that morning. He hated the first day of a cycle of fresh initiates. There were always disturbances. Yelling, fights, alarms. Guards everywhere. General chaos that put his birds—and every other inhabitant of the Arcanum—on edge. He ducked out before dawn while things were still quiet, loaded up his Range Rover, and began the forty-mile trek to the Lower Trinity ranger station. Smoke took his usual place as co-pilot, perched on the back of the passenger seat, flinging sunflower seeds into Corvin’s lap.
The back-forest roads were devoid of any signs of life less ancient than the sequoias. Only a pair of curious grey foxes, nervous new parents, crossed their path. If he hadn’t been so disturbed by Joanne’s message, they might have stopped to play for a while, to check on the kits and make sure there were no traps set nearby. Smoke liked the idea of a long walk, but Corvin kept driving.
Bad shape, Joanne had said. Come soon.
Joanne was fully capable of handling any wildlife situation she encountered in the course of her work, and though he had a feeling she liked having an excuse to call him, her tone had been unmistakable. Overwhelmed. His gut burned with the thought of what could rattle such a tough chip of a woman.
She didn’t wait for him to park. As the gravel of the drive crunched under his tires, she was already making her way over, flashlight bouncing. Corvin grabbed his gloves. Smoke hopped onto his shoulder before he climbed out of the truck.
“Mornin’,” Joanne greeted, politely shining the beam at his feet.
Corvin glanced up at the sky with a grunt as he walked around to the back hatch and yanked out his large carrier. “Nearly.”
“Sorry about the hour,” she said.
“Show me,” he answered. Thankfully, she knew him well enough to not dillydally or make friendly conversation. One thing the two of them shared was a dedication to their jobs. Joanne wore it like a brand as sure as he did. Someone answering a calling, made for the cause they’d found. She seemed to embrace her duty, and he admired that. The silent understanding between them made their exchanges easier to endure. Easier than most.
To his surprise, she didn’t lead him into the station, though they had an enviable setup for handling injured animals. They walked around the side of the building instead, and she angled down a narrow path deeper into the misty woods.
Smoke ruffled his feathers questioningly. Corvin nodded, and the raven took off, a silent black streak against the steel-grey sky, disappearing into the thicker shadows of the evergreen canopy. He cawed back a few seconds later.
Joanne slowed, pointing her light at a small shed ahead of them, lit from the inside by a single hanging bulb. Smoke perched on the eave, his head angled as if listening to something inside.
Corvin turned to his silent guide with a questioning look.
“It was the best we could do. She took off one of Miguel’s fingers and left the other one hanging by a thread. Every time I go near her, she makes a huge show of it. I’m afraid she’ll hurt herself worse.” Joanne worried at her lower lip and stared at the ground, her petite brow wrinkling.
An awkward moment passed where Corvin wasn’t sure if she was waiting for him to say something, but he shrugged it off and knelt on the ground to retrieve a thick wool blanket, hood, and leather bracelets from inside the carrier.
“I’d help—”
“It’s fine,” he said, maybe a little too briskly. Joanne snapped her mouth shut an
d frowned down at him. “I prefer to do it alone. It’s better not to overwhelm her.”
Joanne firmed her jaw and nodded. “Good luck, then.”
He gathered his things without another word and approached the shed quietly enough not to startle but loud enough to not surprise the animal trapped inside. Smoke’s high-pitched warning call pierced his ears just as Corvin’s other senses made contact with the eagle.
She was in very, very bad shape. Slashes of pain interspersed with panic blurred across his empathic senses. The animal behind that door was hanging on by an unraveling thread, desperate in a way that only comes when the end is near. Any efforts to use his gift to calm or soothe her at this point would be futile. He breathed in a deep lungful of loamy forest air and opened the door, steeling himself for what had to be done.
He had to be swift and firm, just a hair’s breadth from brutal. Decisive, or he put them both at risk. Unyielding, or it would be too late to save her.
She put him on the defensive immediately, coming at him screeching and beating her good wing, claws and beak ready to maim. Corvin took the barrage with his leather gauntlets and shoved her back, sweeping under her feet to keep the height advantage. She hit the floor hard and scrambled back, dragging a wing that was twisted beyond hope and appeared to be shredded. He swallowed down the swell of pain his powers soaked up, threatening to buckle his knees, and spread the blanket open.
The eagle shrieked and attempted to ram and claw its way through the corner, all the time wheezing for breath and splattering blood on the floor and walls.
They were running out of time.
He lunged, holding the blanket wide, and pinned her down. She bucked and screeched bloody hell as he knelt to tuck the edges around her. He couldn’t bundle her with her wing like this, so he held her to the ground while he bound her feet and beak, then pulled the blanket back enough to inspect the wing.
With so many bent and broken feathers, it was hard to tell how bad the flesh damage was. The bones felt intact and in the right places, so he did his best to tuck the wing back into position, reordering the damaged feathers into some semblance of a wing. He wound a piece of soft suede around her body, immobilizing it. Her heartbeat and breathing had slowed, and not in a good way. He could feel her slipping away as he bundled her tight and emerged from the shed.
Joanne held the carrier open as he settled the bird inside. Even in the grey morning half-light, her bright eyes shone with wonder. She shook her head, grinning at him in a way that made Corvin’s neck tingle. If he had feathers, they’d be ruffling. “You’re a miracle worker.”
He smiled faintly in return and shook his head. “Just have a special connection.”
Joanne followed him back to the truck. “I guess so. Hey, maybe I could come and visit her when she gets a little better? I’d love to see your facility.”
With the bird tucked safely away in the back, he stood with his door open, waiting for Smoke. Who was taking his sweet time. Corvin searched the sky.
“Well.” Joanne clicked her flashlight off and tucked it in her pocket. She was wearing jeans, he noticed. They fit her muscular build a lot better than her normal uniform pants. Her hair was down too, wet, with a slight curl to it rather than in her usual braids or tight bun. She caught him looking and smiled, causing his cheeks to warm.
He whistled. Smoke called from a tree behind him and swooped down. Damn bird. Corvin let him perch on his hand, then tossed him into the cab of the Rover without ceremony. He got in and started the engine, but Joanne stood there as if waiting for something.
Niceties. Right.
He rolled his window down as he popped the truck into gear. “Thanks for calling.”
“Hope she’s all right,” Joanne answered in a somewhat bewildered tone.
She stared after him as he bumped down the uneven road as fast as he could go with an injured bird in the back. He sighed in relief once she was out of sight. With the heat on full blast, morning just starting to crawl into the sky, and Smoke giving him the silent treatment, Corvin had the rest of the ride home to ruminate on what an idiot he was.
An attractive, available woman who shared his love of animals wanted his attention. She didn’t seem to be asking for anything more than company, and was definitely worthy of much more.
He was incapable of even that.
He just couldn’t bring himself to lie to a woman to get her into bed, and there was no way around the lying. As much as he’d like to believe that someday he’d meet someone special enough to learn what he was and accept his way of life, history had proven that hope fairly pointless. No one in the Synod took him seriously, and every outsider he’d ever told had ended up missing a chunk of time from her memories.
A steamy affair wasn’t worth the guilt, and a real relationship wasn’t an option. Flirting and indulging useless notions that things could be otherwise were just a frustrating waste of time.
As they drove over the outermost wards of the Arcanum, Smoke clicked his beak in rapid succession. Corvin leaned forward and glanced up through the windshield to see two trails of shadow crisscross overhead like grease stains on the lavender sky. He turned off the wider drive onto his private road. Just a trail, really, a seldom-traveled one.
He liked it that way.
As he passed through his outer wards, the ferns grew taller, the trees larger and closer together, the underbrush thicker. The road narrowed further, but as he approached, the plants leaned out of his way like a vertiginous curtain drawing back to welcome him home.
The Hohlwen followed behind him, streaking from tree to tree across their normal territory but then also all the way across the inner wards of his sanctuary. Corvin ground his teeth as he pulled up to his tower and found his way blocked by a hulking figure that could give the Rover a run for its money. Where the fallen “hollow ones” were made of mist and shadow, the half-demon Kinde seemed stronger than stone and older than dirt. Some of them probably were.
Smoke gurgled low in excitement.
Corvin rolled his eyes and lowered the window. “Traitor.”
Smoke hopped across his arms and flew directly to their unexpected guest, who appeared not to notice when the raven alighted on his shoulder and pecked his ear affectionately.
Though he didn’t mind seeing Roderic under normal circumstances, Corvin had an extremely damaged patient who needed immediate attention, and the appearance of his mother’s personal guard never boded well for his plans. He tried to roll some of the tension from his shoulders, then tightened his gauntlets and slid out of the truck. “I don’t have time for this right now.”
Roderic followed him to the back of the vehicle, his normal stern mask in place, meaty forearms folded in front of the barrel he called a chest. “You never have time.”
Corvin sighed and lifted the crate and its precious cargo to nose level, knowing the old wolf would scent the blood and fear pouring off the animal, maybe even the death hovering. “This is an emergency.”
The corners of Roderic’s mouth pulled down. His dark gaze darted from the crate to Corvin and back. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Fine. I’ll tell her to wait if you agree to come immediately after you tend to your emergency.”
“Deal.” Corvin shuffled toward the door of his tower.
Roderic shut the back hatch and jogged after him. Smoke gave an annoyed caw.
“I don’t need any help.”
“Of course not,” Roderic said, the laughter in his eyes at odds with the grim tension in his face. He reached the door first and held it open. “And no thanks necessary.”
Corvin paused on the bottom step and glanced into the treetops, at the shadows hovering there. There were no visible signs of the eyes he could feel watching him. He turned away and spoke as he scaled the first few stairs. “Next time, leave your pets at home—they scare the vermin to ground and then my birds go hungry.”
The door closed silently behind him, and he climbed the spiral steps two at a time. The chitter
ing of the mews hushed as he passed the second level. Smoke met him at the third-floor window, which he assumed meant their guest had left.
Not many people could get away with talking to a captain of the Kinde guard that way. Even fewer would walk away from that conversation on the winning end. If stalling another one of his mother’s orations could be considered winning.
Roderic only tolerated his coarseness because the immortal, half-demon warrior felt sorry for him—the soul born with the Wright family legacy cleaved unto his unwilling shoulders. Coming from a long line of powerful and influential witches, Corvin had been expected to join the Synod and perpetuate that esteem as a notable scribe, warrior, or politician.
Growing up, he’d idolized his mother’s stoic bodyguard. Roderic had taught him how to fight, the meaning of valor, honor, and duty. When others had treated him as a pariah, Roderic had helped Corvin learn to control his magic and, most importantly, himself. He’d been Corvin’s only playmate during the endless years of studying that had plagued his youth. But just as he’d come into his powers, the wool spun over his eyes had finally worn thin. Corvin’s distaste for the machinations of the Synod Councils and the way they treated those in their service overcame his desire to serve and impress. His particular gifts had made him a prime candidate for espionage and manipulation, but his conscience had not.
So he’d settled for a middle ground and taken on the formal—if only ceremonial—office of falconer. Historically, the birds had been used for hunting, delivering messages, or as an alarm system and form of surveillance. The councils had once relied on them, and they had been a respected use of magic. Now, there were not only a host of immortals at the Synod’s command, but also computers, e-mail, and cameras. Birds were outdated as messengers, and his job was viewed as no more than a quirky hobby or preservation of history, which suited him fine.
To Tame A Wild Heart: A Zyne Witch Urban Fantasy Romance (Zyne Legacy Romance Book 1) Page 2