“Everything is alive, my friend,” Saamal corrected him. He kept his eyes on the front door, resisting the urge to look at the land behind him. “Everything can be robbed of its energy, left to wither and die. Why do you think stone crumbles?”
The werewolf fell silent, the lines between his brows remaining. Saamal took the lead as they reached the front door. The massive wood creaked as he drew the doors open, a sound befitting the mood of the eerily silent palace. They progressed into the main foyer and a rustle of clothing caught Saamal’s attention. Etienne was stripping out of his clothes—a process that did not take long, since the trousers were all he wore.
It took him a moment to think of what to say. “Are you uncomfortable, Etienne?”
The werewolf rolled his shoulders, standing naked as he took in his surroundings. “I’m going to shift and have a look around, make sure there’s no one here who shouldn’t be. Who’s supposed to be here?”
“Everyone.”
Adonis and Etienne both frowned. Saamal pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I told you, the balam put the entire palace to sleep. They will wake after Aiyana wakes. Until then, the castle’s entire population, from king to servant, is all here, all having fallen asleep in the midst of their duties.”
Adonis paused with his cigarette halfway to his lips. “Will it affect us?”
“No. It was meant to work on all who were present at the time of casting, so there should not be anything to fear for you.”
“Perhaps, but what about you?” Adonis mused.
“What do you mean? I am not affected.”
“Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. You live here, don’t you? This is where you stay?”
“For the last few decades, yes. I stay here to make sure no harm comes to Aiyana.”
“Well, constant exposure to this level of spell, regardless of who it’s supposed to affect, would be quite a strain. Maybe this is why you are always so…subdued?”
The demon’s suggestion was interesting, though Saamal doubted its validity. It was more likely that the subdued nature Adonis referred to was a result of having half of his lifeforce sucked out of him.
Etienne cleared his throat. “So everyone I encounter should be sleeping. No one here should be awake?”
“Yes.”
Etienne inclined his head once, tilted it side to side, stretching the thick muscles in his neck. The change came over his body in an invigorating rush of energy that Saamal could feel like a warm summer wind, filled with the scent of new leaves and wet earth. Saamal closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. Being in the proximity of such a rush made his blood flow a little faster, his spirits rising ever so slightly. He opened his eyes in time to see Etienne’s muscles surge under his skin. Brown fur erupted along his flesh, swallowing his human skin in the pelt of a brown wolf. He fell to the ground, hands slamming into the floor as his legs snapped at the knees and bent the other direction, reforming into a quadruped’s form. He bowed his head, chest heaving as he breathed through the change. Sharp claws scrabbled at the stone floor and as the last twitch of his body heralded the completion of the change. He raised his snout and howled. He sniffed at the air and then took off, racing into the next room.
“I assume the lovely Aiyana is in the tower.” Adonis puffed on his cigarette and gestured at the stairs. “Shall we proceed?”
Saamal glanced at Adonis, a quirk in his eyebrow. “How do you know Aiyana is in the tower?”
Adonis swept in the direction of the grand staircase in the center of the room. “The princess is always in the tower.”
Another howl echoed around the castle before Saamal could formulate a proper response. A sudden chill raced down his back like the sharp slide of an icicle. The well of remaining power inside him opened wide and he drew deeply from it as he dashed through the grand hall, following the howl through to the kitchens and down into the servants’ quarters. His heart pounded as he finally dashed into the room the howl was originating from.
Etienne, still in wolf form, was crouched inside the doorway, facing an unconscious servant. The werewolf’s lips were pulled back, white teeth bright in the dim light. The man he was agitated by was average height, as far as Saamal could tell from looking at him lying on the floor, his skin a honeyed brown, black hair cut short and close to his head. He was curled slightly on his side, seeming to have gone to sleep in the middle of dressing for his shift. He wore the uniform of a cook.
“What is it?” Saamal demanded. “One of the cooks?”
Adonis spoke from behind him. “He doesn’t seem any different than any of the others.”
Suddenly, Etienne darted forward, closing his jaws on the footman’s hand in a vicious bite. The man screamed and shot up from the floor. Etienne released his hand and leapt back, still facing the footmen with a menacing sound rumbling in his throat.
The servant clutched his injured hand to his chest and scowled up at Saamal. “You always were a beast, Jaguar King, but now you’ve really gone to the dogs.” The cook’s lip curled up at one side, as if amused by his own joke.
Saamal opened his mouth to respond, but the words died on his lips as the footman’s appearance shifted. The chiseled, pale features darkened into a burnished copper hue. Human brown eyes became gold and now when he parted his lips, his canines were far too sharp to be human. His eyes sparkled with mischief, but the effect was somewhat ruined by the jagged smile.
Anger flared like a hearthfire in a draft, scorching Saamal from the inside out. His power took a sharper edge, and something primal woke inside him. “Coyote.” Saamal spat the name like a curse, clenching his hands into fists as he resisted the urge to give in to his power and let his animal spirit rise. “You are not welcome here. Leave now, while you can still do so under your own power.”
Warm energy riled beside him as Etienne shifted, rising up on two legs. His form grew broader, taller, but he did not take on his human form. He continued to grow, bulking up until he stood beside Saamal in a combination of human and wolf, a hulking monster right out of a child’s nightmare. His muscled back bowed, massive arms ending in long-fingered hands tipped with wicked black claws. His glowing gold eyes bored into the trickster still sitting on the floor.
“He reeks of sinicuichi.” Etienne’s voice was rough, gravelly. He tilted his head to the side, eyeing Coyote and flexing his claws.
Saamal took a menacing step in Coyote’s direction, hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Sinicuichi? You’ve been trying to reach Aiyana.” Heat flowed through his body, awakening nerve endings, coaxing muscles he hadn’t stretched in ages to move, slide against the bones they were wrapped around. His skin itched as fur sprouted, pale gold with jet black spots. An ache erupted in his jaw as his mouth filled with razor fine points. Bones cracked and moved and his clothing stretched, tearing in places when it couldn’t stretch any farther. Scents grew sharper, filling his nostrils with the musky odor of the trickster standing in front of him, a lighter scent than wolf, but still canine.
Coyote’s amused expression didn’t waver. If anything, he appeared more relaxed as he reclined on the floor, propping his head up on one hand. “Still with that horrible temper.” He clucked his tongue in disapproval. “Not the way for a husband to behave. Whatever would your wife say?”
The urge to tear out the trickster’s throat rose hot and strong, but Saamal shoved it away as best he could. “Coyote. What were you doing in the Dreamworld?”
“The Dreamworld?” Coyote put a hand to his chest. “Why would I want to go to the Dreamworld? No, no, I was merely…trying out a new herb. I thought sinicuichi might be precisely what I needed to give the king’s favorite stew a little—”
Saamal swept an arm out, snatching Coyote from the ground. The trickster twitched as if he’d tried to get out of the way, but Saamal was faster. It wasn’t until he held Coyote up by the neck of his uniform, saw the trickster dangling, muscles weak, that he realized the sinicuichi had weakened him.
“You sho
uld have done more research, Coyote,” Saamal taunted him. “You’ve left yourself very vulnerable.”
“You’re one to talk,” Coyote countered, smirking. “I’m not the one who had to go into hiding.”
Saamal tightened his hand on Coyote’s shirt, imagining it was his neck he was holding and all the damage he could do to the trickster…
“I am low on patience today, Coyote.” His voice came out low and strained. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”
“Don’t get your tail in a knot, Jaguar King,” Coyote tsked. “I was only saying hi to the future queen. No need to get testy.”
“You will stay away from her.” The words crawled out of Saamal’s throat, painful to speak. The thought of the trickster anywhere near his bride-to-be when he himself had yet to meet her, speak with her, drove him to the brink of insanity. He flexed his fingers, all too aware of the talons extending from his fingertips, claws he could use to permanently wipe the smirk from Coyote’s face with so very little effort…
Coyote met his eyes, raising his hands to hold Saamal’s fist and pull himself up. He leaned closer, putting his mouth as close to Saamal’s ear as he could. “I will do what I please. Stop me if you can.”
Pain flared in twin white hot lines down Saamal’s stomach. Coyote had shifted his legs into animal form as they’d dangled from his body held in Saamal’s grip, hidden by the pants of his uniform. He dug his hind legs into the wounds he’d created with his sharp claws and used Saamal’s body as a springboard, sending searing paths of agony streaking down Saamal’s flesh. The cloth of his cook’s uniform ripped easily, damaged as it already was by Saamal’s claws, and the trickster landed in full animal form, a sleek caramel-colored coyote.
Coyote’s agility was unequaled, and the entire acrobatic endeavor had taken mere seconds. Slowed by the wounds in his chest, Saamal missed the trickster’s tail as he shot by him. Etienne dove for Coyote, but he was too fast for the towering, half-shifted werewolf. Adonis flicked his cigarette at the fleeing trickster and the smell of burning fur followed Coyote out of the room as he escaped.
Saamal threw back his head and screamed, a high shrieking sound only a cat could make. He brought one of his hands down, dragging his claws through the uniform and tearing it to ribbons as he vented his frustration.
“I’ll kill him,” Saamal promised, putting a hand to his bloody midsection to staunch the flow of blood. “I’ll scatter his bones and make a rug from his hide.”
Etienne faced Adonis, eyes glowing with fury. “Your cigarette? That was your contribution, throwing a cigarette on him?”
“It was a knee-jerk reaction!” Adonis held up his hands and took a step back from the glowering werewolf. He glanced from Etienne to Saamal. “Shifters are so damn touchy.” He cleared his throat and tilted his head. “Speaking of shifters… Saamal?”
Saamal heaved a deep breath, blinking the red haze from his eyes. He paused as Adonis quirked an eyebrow at him expectantly. Confusion knitted his eyebrows as he noticed Etienne was also eyeing him, suspicion etched into his wolfish features. The werewolf’s nostrils flared and his golden eyes flickered over Saamal’s new form. Saamal realized he was in half-jaguar form—an ability the others hadn’t known he had.
“I am not a shifter,” he corrected Adonis, grunting as his body fought to heal his wounds. Coyote hadn’t been trying to gut him, or else his insides would be bulging out, but the miscreant had done enough damage to leave an impression—one he would pay for as soon as Saamal could get his claws on him. “This is merely a form I can take if I so choose.”
“Can you become a full jaguar?” Etienne asked.
“If I had my full power, yes. But not now.” Saamal gestured at his body, a mirror of Etienne’s own save for his bestial half being jaguar instead of wolf. “This half-beast form is as far as my transformation can go.”
“Well, as long as Etienne isn’t experiencing an overwhelming urge to chase you, I think we’ll be all right,” Adonis joked.
The incubus’ innate humor, which Saamal was usually content to indulge, grated on his nerves like a rusted blade severing a diseased limb. “Coyote has been visiting Aiyana,” he ground out. “I must get to her and see what mischief he has caused. There is no time for jokes.”
“I’m sorry—”
Saamal left the room, ignoring Adonis’ apology. His skin sizzled with a discomforting sensation, as though fire ants were marching all over him, a trembling inside him driving him to break into a run to Aiyana’s room.
Fool! he cursed himself. Coyote was here! You were too reliant on mortal animals, too comfortable in the security of the briars. You let him in here, near Aiyana. Gruesome images filled Saamal’s mind, horrible ways Aiyana could have been hurt in his absence. Coyote was not typically physically violent, but he was unpredictable. If harming Aiyana would advance whatever plan had come into his head, then he wouldn’t hesitate to do so.
I’ll kill him, Saamal promised himself again.
Footsteps sounded behind him, the brush of bare feet and the clicking of claws. Still annoyed by Adonis’ gaiety in the midst of a dire situation, Saamal didn’t bother to slow down. Etienne could follow him easily by scent, he had no concern that he would lose them.
Saamal didn’t have to think as he trudged up the winding staircase, was too used to the path. Instead of concentrating on the uneven steps that led up to the tower, he was plagued with a soreness in his jaw, the horrible ache that came with wanting to attack his prey and being robbed of the opportunity. He could feel Coyote’s skull in his jaws, feel the bone crack as he bit down, spraying blood and brains to the earth. If that trickster had harmed Aiyana…
He ambled up the stairs a little faster, his bulky form making it a tighter fit in the narrow stairway. Another growl trickled from his throat and he roared as he raced up the last half of the stairs and landed with a leap on the floor outside Aiyana’s chambers. He strode into the room, his attention immediately going to her bed, illuminated by the wall sconces that burned perpetually in her lonely tower as well as the growing light of the coming morning that spilled in through her window.
Aiyana remained as beautiful as ever. Raven hair spilling in a silken sheet to her elbows, reddish brown features smooth in sleep like the face of a perfectly carved clay statue. High cheekbones cast delicate shadows on her cheeks, and her soft lips called to him, urged him to kiss her again. Perhaps this time it would work…
His jaguar form melted away as the sight of her washed away his ire. Extra muscles, fur, and claws dissolved into energy and soaked back into his being, settling into the well of magic that remained at his center. The clothing that had been torn during his transformation went limp against his body, too damaged to fit properly again. He ran a hand through his hair. If she were to wake up, what would she think of him? A tired old man, dressed in rags, gawking at her like a sinner looking upon the face of a goddess.
“Oh, thank the gods. Coyote didn’t hurt her.”
Adonis’ voice stirred Saamal’s anger, but he shoved that emotion away. The demon was here to help him contact Aiyana, now was not the time to let his temper muddy the waters. “Coyote prefers games to war, trickery to violence. Just because he hasn’t caused her physical harm, doesn’t mean he is innocent. If he has been interacting with Aiyana, it is no doubt part of some game he is playing, and it is too early to guess what his goal is this time.”
Adonis produced a small vial from a pouch at his side. “Well, we’d better get you to her then so you can find out.” He held up the brown glass, tilting it so the light reflected on the golden liquid glowing within. “You’ll need to drink all of this. I can make more, but it will take most of the day since the sun needs considerable time to infuse the herb. After you drink it, lie down and let yourself fall asleep. You’ll remain conscious of what you’re doing, but reality will shift around you. Don’t fight it, let your spirit rise to the astral plane.”
“I will be here guarding you both, so do not worry.” Etien
ne tilted his head from side to side, cracking his neck. “If Coyote comes back, I will hold him for you.”
Saamal clenched his hands into fists. “Keep him alive. If he comes back, I will kill him myself.”
Adonis tensed, then held the vial away and fixed Saamal with a stern look. “Obviously I need to explain a few things about the astral plane. It isn’t reality. Nothing on the astral plane is written in stone, so to speak. It’s fluid, subjective. If you go there angry, you can draw some very bad things to you. The land itself can become scary if you put that kind of emotion into it.” Adonis stepped back. “So, if you don’t want to terrify your princess, take a deep breath, and reach for your happy place.” He demonstrated, chest rising and falling as he mimed a deep breath.
Saamal held his hands to his sides, resisting the urge to snatch the vial from Adonis and shake the incubus until his hazel eyes rattled like marbles in his skull. “Happy place. Understood.”
“There’s one more thing.” Adonis pressed his lips together, observing Saamal for a moment as if the god wouldn’t like what he had to say next.
Beautiful Salvation Page 5