Enlightened (Love and Light Series)

by Melissa Lummis

  “And you.” She pointed at Wolf. “You know what this is. What is it? I only feel it around you.”

  Wolf tilted his head, offering his hand to her. “I can make it stop.” He wasn’t snide or belittling in the least, just patient and that pissed her off.

  Leaning away from his hand, she controlled her tone. “No, you can’t. You can change it, but you can’t stop it.” She looked down at her feet. “Unless you go away.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” His face a strange mixture of hard edges and soft appeal, he turned the proffered hand palm up.

  She gave it her best defiant look, but her heart wasn’t in it. The vibrating, stinging bees were unbearable.

  “First, tell me what this is.” Her voice was full of her misgivings.

  “Nunne’hi. You are nunne’hi.”

  Loti gaped at him, surrendering her hand. His dark face opened up into that disarming gentleness as he pulled her to the floor. To his credit, he kept the smile at bay and respected the tentative truce. She sank into the pink cushion, her breath slowing.

  “Nunne’hi,” she breathed out. “Underground spirits? They went extinct. That makes no sense.” She turned puzzled eyes on him.

  “That’s the legend my people tell, yes,” Wolf said. “It’s not clear if they were a separate race. Probably not. It’s more likely they were humans with unique energy—like witches or healers.”

  “Why do you think I’m one?”

  “This.” He held their clasped hands up for everyone to see. “You’re feeling uncomfortable energy when you’re around me, aren’t you? But if I touch you, it changes, right?”

  Loti looked away, wishing he hadn’t said the thing about it changing when he touched her out loud.

  “That’s absurd, Wolf. No one has seen or heard of the nunne’hi since the 1800s, and even then, they were fairytales.” Fiamette’s jaw flexed as she shoved fisted hands into her lap.

  Wolf’s look hardened into a warning, fanning the flames in her chestnut eyes.

  “I felt it the night I found Rachel on Davis Street. Loti was a few blocks away.” He spoke in a monotone, keeping wary eyes on Fiamette.

  “You don’t know what you’re saying.” She enunciated each word.

  Loti’s eyes widened at Fiamette’s brave stare down. Wolf met her challenge with narrowed eyes and chilling, stony features until the fire in her eyes stuttered. He turned away from her and back to Loti.

  “I didn’t know you were there the first time, but I felt it. I didn’t understand what was happening.” Color returned to his voice, and Loti let out a sigh of relief.

  Fiamette jumped up, knocking the table in the process, making tea slosh and spoons rattle. All eyes followed her as she stalked around the table to loom over Wolf and Loti.

  Wolf ignored her, talking to Loti as if Fiamette didn’t even exist. “When you showed up at Rachel’s, I knew it was you.”

  “You better hope you’re wrong.” Fiamette spoke through her teeth, scowling, and her hands curled into white-knuckled fists.

  Wolf’s eyes didn’t so much as flit in her direction, but they darkened into much more than a warning; they threatened. The tension between Wolf and Fiamette heated up the already warm room.

  “Because you have no idea what kind of trouble you’re stirring up.”

  “Then we better find out for sure, don’t you think?” Calisto’s voice bounced light and pleasantly, diffusing the tension. Rising from the floor, he guided Margarite as he stepped between Fiamette and Wolf. Too much personality in one room.

  “How do we do that?” Loti surprised herself by finding her voice. “And wait,” she held up her free hand to Wolf. “I still don’t understand. You gave me a name, but not an explanation.”

  “I think the Travelers can help us with that,” Calisto offered.

  At his words, the others in the room relaxed and returned to their tea and meals, murmuring to each other in subdued voices. Wolf’s gaze settled on their interlaced fingers, and he rearranged his features in a mildly amused expression. Margarite drifted around the room, filling cups with the last of the tea as if Fiamette wasn’t staring at Wolf through Calisto’s back. With a practiced air of decorum, she carried the tea pot into the kitchen. Although Loti didn’t understand why, she was aware that the fight between Wolf and Fiamette was about her. Reluctantly, she released Wolf’s hand, but at his questioning glance, she turned it over so his palm cupped her thigh and then she finished her soup. Calisto clapped his hands together, and Loti dropped her spoon into the bowl with a clank.

  “I believe we have a drum circle to host,” he declared.

  Wolf shifted his eyes from Loti’s lap to Calisto, who gave a single nod to the curly-headed Keane, still leaning on the fireplace. They all looked at each other, some communication taking place before the short vampire shifted his weight off the mantel. Without a word, Keane glided around the room, gesturing at the others to get up and out. Loti watched them file out as she dug up what Wind Daughter taught her about nunne’hi—spirits that could take on physical form. They traveled on light waves across the world and between universes, and they could move prana—the life force in all things—change its nature. They could do these things because they were subtle energy personified, and it was good luck to befriend one. How could anyone think she was one of them? She was human. Period. With a little healer mixed in, maybe, but she couldn’t heal like tribal healers. She didn’t have their gifts. Based on the last year, what she had was a curse.

  Margarite returned from the kitchen, weaving through the exodus with the tea pot wrapped in a green dishtowel. “Let it steep for a few more minutes,” she said as she set it in the middle of the table.

  A thoughtful expression on his face, Calisto bent over the coals in the fireplace, stirring them with a poker. Wolf reclaimed her idle hand, working his fingers between hers. Fiamette stood in the same place with fisted hands, but the color was returning to her knuckles.

  “Fiamette, I think you better explain what has you so upset,” Calisto spoke evenly, never looking up.

  Fiamette blew a quiet exhale through her nose, readjusting her jaw and shoulders. “If she’s a nunne’hi,” she said the word like it tasted bad, “and you go through with this test and wake up her powers, you are opening a metaphysical can of worms.”

  “Why? Because others will find out about her?” Calisto hung the poker back on its hook as he straightened. All four of them, Margarite, Calisto, Wolf and Loti, watched Fiamette shift her weight to the other foot and look away.

  “Yes,” she said to the wall with a worried frown.

  “Then your point is moot, my dear. Somebody already knows,” Margarite said in an appeasing tone.

  Fiamette whipped her head around at Margarite. “But you could let it lie. Don’t wake her up.”

  “And leave her vulnerable and in constant need of protection?” It was Wolf’s turn.

  “That’s not up to us, is it?” Margarite drew Fiamette’s angry look away from Wolf.

  Fiamette’s mouth opened, her eyes darting from Wolf to Margarite, and she pressed her lips together.

  “No. It’s not.” She turned on Loti and Wolf, her gaze lingering over their clasped hands. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she whispered before turning on her booted heel and stalking out of the room.

  Loti sat in shocked silence, staring after Fiamette. The front door slammed shut. When she looked back at Wolf, he sipped his tea, calm and unaffected.

  “She’s a little concerned. You must understand what a leap of faith we are taking.”

  Calisto knelt beside her, and she’d never heard a sound; he was just there, offering her the tea pot. Loti yipped like a scared little girl.

  “Can you not do that?” she grumbled, holding her tea cup out.

  “I think you ought to get used to it,” he said with a guileless light in his eyes.

  Loti sighed, rolling her eyes in mock irritation. “I suppose.”

  He chuckled and she smile
d. Taking his time, he spooned a little honey into his tea and stirred, watching Loti watch him as she sipped. Hot. She licked her scalded lips. Calisto stood and extended his hand to Margarite.

  Loti suddenly remembered what he’d said when he scared her. “I don’t understand what you mean—what leap of faith?” she blurted.

  “If you will join us, my dear.” He took Margarite’s hand and gestured for Loti to follow. “We are needed at the circle.”

  Loti pushed herself up from the floor. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I know.” Calisto drained his tea cup and set it down. She stared at the steam still rising from the now empty cup. “The answers are best shown, not told. Come.”

  Her breath steaming in the mountain air, Loti walked hand-in-hand with a silent Wolf. She glanced up, but his eyes were downcast. The easy fit of their interlaced fingers riled her, but her comfortable hand wouldn’t budge. Damn it if she didn’t feel safe. Wolf shifted his eyes to her, but didn’t speak. What is he thinking? He can’t be happy with this bizarre—discordant drums and babbling voices interrupted her thoughts. Calisto and Margarite were ahead, but they veered to the left and disappeared into the woods.

  “Over here,” Wolf murmured as he pulled her off the trail and into the woods. She straggled after him like a child being led by the hand. She rolled her eyes, but still didn’t want to let go. The bonfire blazed in the middle of a noisy crowd, stars shimmering in its drift, sparks flying up. They stepped into a clearing near the edge of the squirming mass, Loti jumping out of her skin when a trumpet blasted.

  A long, drawn out OM stretched across the gathering in three distinct sounds: “Aaaa uuuu mmm.”

  “Is that Calisto?” She stretched up on tip-toe, scanning the clearing. As the low trill of the M faded away, the crowd answered it with another elongated OM.

  “Yes.” Wolf’s answer was clipped and perfunctory.

  Loti flicked her eyes at Wolf’s stony face and then back at the bonfire. Befuddled and not amused, she watched the throng shift as one around the fire to face what looked like a tall platform. The drums quieted as she made sense of the scene in the dancing firelight. Glancing back at Wolf, she huffed.

  “Come on,” she muttered and yanked his hand. “I want to see.”

  His expression didn’t change, but he didn’t resist as she dragged him behind her. I’m attached to The Un-Jolly Black Giant. She suppressed a snicker and pulled harder. She dived into the crowd, determined to get to the other side.

  “It would be easier to go around,” Wolf rumbled.

  She didn’t just want to get to the other side. She wanted to immerse herself in the throng, so she didn’t have to be alone with him. Hadn’t he been the one holding out his hand earlier, encouraging her? Why was he so broody now? Whatever.

  “Om namaya shivaya,” Calisto sang to the crowd.

  Where was he? She craned her neck, but they were deep in the mass of bodies, and she couldn’t see over their heads.

  “Om namaya shivaya,” everyone chanted around her. A few drums picked up a random beat, more jumping in with rustling rattles layered between them.

  “Shivaaya namaha, Shivaaya namah om.” Calisto and the revelers swapped the mantra back and forth. The drums built their cadence, each beat blending with the next in a magic that was more than the sum of its parts. In the middle of it, she felt buoyant. She took a deep breath, joining the crowd’s merriment on the exhale.

  She sang “Shivaaya namaha, namaha shivaya” with the others, their voices resonating in her lungs and in her throat. She and Wolf reached the edge of the blazing bonfire, the drum beat rocking her back and forth with people snugged up on all sides. Turning into the flames, the only space available, the wavering heat baked her bare skin until she had to shift into Wolf. His black eyes glittered down at her.

  She swallowed.

  “Shambhu Shankara namah Shivaya,” Calisto called.

  “Shambhu Shankara namah Shivaya,” she and Wolf answered.

  His voice vibrated in her chest and jolted her backward as she dropped his hand. The irritating buzz returned, snapping her spine straight and she tripped over her own boots. Wolf grabbed her arms and righted her before she fell into the fire. His cool touch slithered up her arms and down her spine, erasing the annoying buzz. Peace.

  “We can’t walk around holding hands all the time, Wolf,” she yelled over the drum circle.

  “I know.”

  She looked into his impassive face and waited for him to say something else, a different kind of irritation cultivating in her belly. When he didn’t say anything else, she jerked her arms lose and twirled her back to him. She welcomed the searing heat and even the droning madness in her spine. Crossing her arms over her chest, she squinted against the smoke. Her predicament was insufferable, beyond the burden of her reversed-roles relationship with her mother or the non-existent one with her father. The tricks she learned to navigate the passive-aggressive quicksand of her marriage to David didn’t apply, either. So, now what?

  A hand slid around her waist, over her high-tech jacket. Even through the synthetic fabric his touch calmed her. She didn’t want it to. The other hand followed, both linking over her ribs, under her breasts. He nestled his body against her back, and she shuddered. God damn it. His chin rested on top of her head as he swayed against her. God help her, she moved with him. She wrapped her arms over his and covered his hands with hers. She surrendered to the need to be held and let him hold her. Why couldn’t she resist? Her thoughts betrayed her—and her body was even worse. The last refrain of the mantra echoed over the clearing, reverberated off the mountain, and bounced between the trees. The music fumbled and jangled until it casually fell apart.

  “Friends. Welcome!” Calisto’s voice boomed.

  He stood on top of a large, flat boulder that jutted out from the mountain side. People whistled and clapped.

  “We have the honor of some special guests tonight. The Travelers have agreed to lead us in song.” The crowd howled their approval as Calisto turned and held out his arms. “Guided, my friend.”

  A beefy guy with a bushy beard and long hair stepped up, gripping Calisto in a warm embrace and kissing his face as they slapped each other on the back. So this was Guided—the leader of the Travelers, the ashram healer tribe. Most healers still lived in small tribes on the trail system that crisscrossed North and South America. Guided lifted his hands to the cheering mob, and they rewarded him with an outburst of rapid drums and hoots. A flute lilted over the noise, somehow penetrating it, and all went wild. Another man in bulky hiking boots, and a wooden flute to his lips, joined Guided as Calisto melted into the darkness. He lifted the flute over his head while the crowd chanted, “Peacemaker. Peacemaker. Peacemaker.”

  “Om Namah Shivaya,” Guided shouted.

  The crowd shouted it right back, while the drummers fumbled around. The people called kirtan until the drummers organized themselves into something a little funkier. Finger cymbals jingled and rattles rustled; their fearless leader, Guided, bobbed and dipped. He looked over his shoulder and nodded at Peacemaker, who brought the flute back to his lips. When Guided swung around to the crowd, his face crinkled into a pirate’s smile as he rapped:

  “I dedicate this rhyme to the Goddess of Power,

  The Daughter of the Mountains, she’s the source of all life.

  The Destroyer of Fear, Shiva’s devoted wife.

  She’s the bringer of Shakti and breath by the hour,

  Parvati’s love makes all the demons cower.”

  The crowd went ballistic, and Loti howled right along with them. Wolf’s chuckle in her ear was like warm honey in her belly and it burbled into her weary chest. A grateful smile lifted her cheeks. It felt so good and natural she touched her face to make sure it was real. When she moved her arms, Wolf’s hands slid to her hips. The fire roared to life as several bare-chested men tossed logs into its heart, and Loti turned away into Wolf’s arms. He felt like shelter, and she sucked in
air, light headed and over-heated.

  Wolf held the base of her skull with one hand while his other arm circled her back. With her hands on his chest, it was so easy to surrender. Resting his cheek on the crown of her head, he closed his eyes, and they were one warm, drowsy body, high on the rhythm. The beat slowed and so did they. Loti’s awareness floated from the smell of wood smoke and peppermint on Wolf’s shirt to the cold, metal zipper on her cheek. His thigh tucked between hers while her soft belly pressed to his hard muscle, and their chests crushed together. His cheek slipped down her face, and his parted lips skimmed over hers with no direction or purpose other than to feel.

  The sensations blurred—moist breath, skin-on-skin, no aggression, a moan. Something thick slid up from the base of her spine and weaved itself through all the small spaces, to the exact place where Wolf’s hand held her head. The music changed again and again, but she barely noticed as the drumbeat and his body cocooned her in warm half-consciousness. The music rattled to an end, and there was a long shuffling pause, wood crackling and the fire whistled. As if waking from a trance, she blinked sticky eyes and swallowed. Wolf loosened his grip, and she slid numb hands around him. Blood rushed back into her hands in biting tingles as soft, pulsing waves rose in her tailbone, crested in her chest, and crashed in her head.

  “What is this?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know,” Wolf murmured.

  She lifted her head at the roughness of his voice, and he pressed a kiss to her eyelid, then stepped away, one hand sliding down her arm. He never lost contact as he slipped his hand into hers.

  “It’s time,” a female voice said.

  Wolf’s eyes shifted to look over Loti’s shoulder and his eyes hardened. She spun around to Fiamette, whose face was lost in the contrast of black hair outlined in orange flame. Fiamette turned to look at the fire with anxious lines framing her mouth. Suddenly, she looked vulnerable. Uncertain, Loti looked to Wolf who seemed to be at a loss with the woman, as well.

  “Calisto’s waiting by the stage,” Fiamette said to the fire, then hurried off, morphing into a black shadow against the flames.