The Jackal Prince (Caller of the Blood - Book 2)

by McIlwraith, Anna

  “Invitations. What the hell are you talking about, Seshua?”

  Seshua was silent a handful of heartbeats. Then he laughed; he sounded surprised. “No-one has told you. That is interesting.”

  Emma glared at the phone. “Told me what, Seshua? Get to the point.”

  “It doesn’t matter. The jackals extended a formal invitation for you to visit their kingdom, and on your behalf, I rejected it.” Seshua grunted. “On several occasions. I was… it was a mistake. I underestimated them. As I said, there have been other less cordial attempts from neighboring kingdoms. And they were unsuccessful; our power here in the Americas is great. This is why the situation is so delicate. The main problem is that it is impossible for us to launch an independent search and rescue in a foreign land. We simply don’t have any idea where the jackals are.”

  “But you just said — the jackal tribe of Upper —”

  “Upper Egypt is a big place, Emmalina.” Seshua sounded like he might wish he could use the phone cord as a garrote. “And the jackals keep their sanctuaries hidden, just as we do.”

  “Seshua, your sanctuary doubles as a bar with adult entertainment. It’s not very hidden.”

  There was a long pause. “The Arizona sanctuary is a place I visit. Not a place I stay and call my home.”

  Oh. God, she felt like an idiot. “Fine. How do you know you can’t find these jackals?”

  “I have sent scouts.”

  “To Egypt?”

  Seshua sighed, a familiar sound of irritation. “Yes. The jackal sanctuary is not merely hard to find, situated as it must be somewhere in the western desert, it is also hidden, with magic. Magic we cannot decipher, since one of our strongest practitioners of the arts is in fact the one who was taken.” Each word was sounding more bitten off with each breath; music to Emma’s ears.

  “What do you want me to do about it? You’re the big Kahuna. I’m just your human pet.” The instant she’d said it, she glanced guiltily at Fern, couldn’t help it. Who was she to throw stones around here? Seshua wasn’t the only one with a pet.

  “Emma,” Seshua said, setting all her alarm bells clamoring. He had never called her Emma. “What I want you to — what I need you to do is come to Egypt. With me.”

  Emma was silent a long time. She wondered if anyone in the room was even still breathing.

  Come to Egypt? With Seshua?

  She didn’t know where to start.

  Hmm, perhaps with…

  “And just why the fuck would I do that, Seshua?” She closed her eyes. She’d been glaring at the phone. Aside from being stupid, it was a waste of a good glare.

  She heard Seshua sigh, tired. “Because if you do not, they will kill him.”

  Shit.

  “Because,” Seshua continued, “if you do not, my allies will descend upon me and destroy my kingdom for failing to rescue a member of their highest caste. Many will die. You will be without the protection of —”

  “Okay! Okay, I get it.” Emma opened her eyes and glanced around the room at stricken faces. Anton was turning a dangerously dark shade of mottled olive, precursor to an emotion-induced Change. He was holding back, but he was angry. Ricky and Fern just looked pale and frightened.

  “Emmalina,” Seshua said, “I would not have suggested this if given the choice. I would not risk you.”

  “Oh, I know.” Emma’s voice was brittle. “I remember how distasteful you find it, giving up what’s yours.”

  A long, heavy silence. Then Emma heard the jaguar king take a deep, strained breath. “You —” Seshua cleared his throat, the sound more animal than human. “You are not mine,” he finally finished.

  Emma’s mouth fell open. Several pairs of eyebrows shot up around the room.

  Seshua continued. “I would make you mine if I could, do not doubt that pequeña, but I cannot command you. I can only…” Emma swore she heard teeth grinding together. “I can only ask this of you, and only because the alternative is to lose lives. The lives of my people.”

  “Since when do you care about the lives of your people?”

  Seshua laughed, a tired sound. “Since their deaths threaten the stability of my kingdom. I cannot afford to lose power in such a way, not to the jackals, and not to —” He stopped.

  “Not to whom, Seshua?” Emma frowned, thinking back over their conversation. “Which allies are you talking about? Who has been taken? Seshua?”

  The king hedged. “I need you to consider it, Emmalina. I need you to do this. Just think about it. You don’t have to answer right away —”

  “Seshua, who is it?” Emma met Anton’s eyes again. Whatever thought he was having, it was just as bad as hers.

  Finally, Seshua answered. “It’s one of the serpent priesthood.”

  Emma’s heart missed a beat, and was shaky on the next.

  “They’ll eat us alive if we don’t get him back,” Seshua continued. “Probably, they’ll come for you themselves, and hand you over in exchange for their brother. They are, as you know, ruthlessly cold, Emmalina.”

  Oh, she knew. She knew all about that ruthless cold, the crushing, suffocating power that came with it — knew it like an old friend, familiar now from weeks of returning to it in nightmares — was reminded of it every time she woke, unable to breathe, with the feel of thick serpentine flesh pressing against her chest. Wrapping around her ribs. Squeezing.

  And Seshua wanted her to come to the rescue of… of one of them.

  She opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought of that idea, but she never got the chance; the radio hanging from Raul’s waist spat out a burst of crackling static, causing everyone to jump, and then the voice of one of the day-guards was shouting at them: “We got an intruder! Coming up the drive in plain fuckin’ sight, green Jeep, we’re heading in to take him down.”

  “GO!” Raul and the other two guards vaulted the coffee table, maidens scattering to follow them, Red stepping out of the way to let Telly run ahead of them all. Emma pressed herself flat to the wall and then regretted it as Anton appeared in front of her, looking determined to cage her there for her own protection. Should have run with the others while she had the chance.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Anton said, low.

  Emma didn’t think he needed to be able to read her mind for that one, body language was enough.

  “Emmalina, what the hell is going on?” Seshua’s voice startled them all. Fern stepped over to the phone.

  “Sorry Sesh, small emergency back here at the ranch.” He grinned at Emma, and her eyes went wide as she read his mind. “Emma will get back to you. Have a nice day.” Fern hit the button, hanging up on the jaguar king, and shrugged. “Always wanted to do that.”

  “Fern!”

  “What?” He was totally unapologetic. “I’m gonna go see what’s happening.” And don’t tell me to be careful, he sent to her with a knowing look. You know I always am.

  He said it as though they’d known each other more than seven weeks. I know, she replied, as though they really had, trying hard to mask her worry as he disappeared into the hall. “And don’t you,” — she pinned Ricky with a dark look — “even think about it, either.”

  He stopped halfway to the door, sheepish. “Em, c’mon, I can take care of my-”

  The squeal of tires on gravel cut him off, sounding like an avalanche of driveway dirt was heading for the front door. Anton’s head whipped up, gaze going to the front windows, his body crowding closer to Emma’s. Emma heard shouts, the shudder of an engine being killed — the roar of a big cat.

  “Anton, what’s going on out there?” The shouts from outside were getting louder, more desperate, but she still couldn’t tell who was shouting what — she thought she heard the feminine voice of a maiden. Felani?

  Anton looked down at her, green eyes dark, preparing her with a look for what he was about to do. She saw Ricky’s posture change out of the corner of her eye, knew he’d follow suit.

  She braced for it; it was worse wi
th two.

  They opened the call, flinging a singular kind of awareness outward, an awareness that belonged to their beasts, and Emma’s skin went up in cold flames. Her spine tightened and she tried to embrace it, gasping in spite of the practice she’d had. But it was all that practice which let her ride the call, if only for a moment, her own awareness caught on theirs and flying, only to fall back over her in a sheet of invisible ice-water, for without a direct connection to one of them — by touch, or spirit, or blood, or by the power that was rightfully hers but lay as yet dormant within her — without that, it was as far as she could go.

  But she didn’t need to go any further. The front door slammed open, impact reverberating through the walls.

  “Emma!” Andres, voice sharp. “I think you should get out here.”

  Anton growled. “What?”

  “I’m serious. Get your asses out here, now.” Emma didn’t need the prompting. She ducked under Anton’s arm and bolted down the short hall, ignoring his angry shouts.

  Andres caught her before she made it out the door.

  “Whoa, slow.” He manhandled her behind his back; she fit, which was even more dismaying. He walked her out that way, shielded, onto the front porch, into the heavy midday heat, into silence broken only by the heavy breathing of the man who stood by the big army-green Jeep, with his hands in the air, and a desperate expression on his sweaty face.

  It was Zachariah Matheson.

  Emma was sure her eyes bugged, but not nearly as wide as Felani’s already did. The maidens were crowded around the front door, the rest of the guards fanned out around the Jeep, assault rifles trained on the intruder. Telly and Red had somehow gotten around the other side of the Jeep, but they weren’t doing much guarding. They were glancing at Zachariah’s truck, frowning, talking to each other with their eyes.

  “Zach?” Emma blurted, and was treated to a rough shove by Andres. She clawed her way around to his side again so she could see.

  Zach saw Emma and made a sound like he might cry. “Amelia! You have to make them listen, please.” He made the mistake of lowering his arms, and Raul shouted. The jaguar at his side crouched low, creeping close, a nasty swish to the end of his tail. Had to be Guillermo; he was the only one whose human face was missing from the crowd.

  “Just stay there for God’s sake,” Emma called out. “What the hell are you doing here? How did you find us?”

  “I…” he swallowed, blinking sweat out of his eyes. “I followed you. I had to. When I saw —” he glanced in Felani’s direction, and the maiden scowled. “When I saw her eyes, I knew. Please. You have to help. You have to help him.”

  “It’s a trick.” Raul edged closer, Guillermo on his heels. Andres tightened his grip on Emma’s arm.

  “No, it’s not,” said Telly in a voice that carried. “It’s not a trick.” He came around the end of the Jeep, face tight and blank. “Let him open the door.” He spoke to no-one in particular, but all the guards took a step back. Telly nodded at Zach. Zach hesitated, but only for a moment.

  Everyone watched in silence as Zach, nervous, opened the door and reached into the back passenger seat. Crawled all the way in. A long, taut minute later, the end doors swung open and Zach slid down, something huge in his arms.

  At first Emma didn’t know what it was. The dark blanket obscured some of it. But then all the grays and browns resolved themselves, all the lumps and hanging limbs, and Emma gaped like an idiot at the limp Gray wolf that Zach held cradled to his chest.

  “Please,” Zach said, face haggard. “He’s like you.”

  8

  Emma pushed Andres out of the way and rushed down the front steps, slowing as she drew nearer to Zach and his armful of wolf.

  Wounded, potentially dangerous wolf.

  As she approached, she began to reassess that possibility. The animal was a sack of fur and bones, its head too heavy for its neck, its coat a dull blend of grays and browns.

  Emma couldn’t see a wound. “Is he conscious?”

  “No,” Zach shook his head, sweat pouring down his temples, trickling down stubbly cheeks. He looked older than he had this morning. “He’s been out cold for at least an hour, since I loaded him into the truck. I don’t think the movement did him any good.”

  “We need to get you two inside. The kitchen —”

  “I don’t think so, lady.” Raul edged closer. “We don’t know what-”

  “And I don’t care,” Emma snapped. “You aren’t in charge here. Horne is,” Emma glanced deferentially over at the tall, rangy guard who had been on day-watch, and who had his gun down by his side, watching them with dark narrowed eyes. “You can discuss your objections with him, while I take this animal inside, because I am going over both your heads on this one, got it?”

  Raul’s jaw twitched; Horne stifled a smile.

  “Zach,” she turned to him, found his eyes wide and wary. His dark brows rose a little when he looked at her. “Follow me. Somebody get me some fresh towels,” she called. “And make sure Bruce stays in the living room. We’re gonna lay our new friend out on the kitchen table. Out of the way.” She jumped the front steps and pushed through Anton. Ricky was already running ahead down the hall to get her supplies. Emma didn’t wait to see who followed.

  She threw the leftover dishes into the kitchen sink, amazed nothing broke, and snatched towels from Ricky’s arms. It wasn’t an operating table, but it would do.

  “Here,” she motioned for Zach to come. “Gently,” she said as Zach laid him on the towels.

  The big blanket fell away, exposing the wolf’s hind legs, and Emma bit down on the inside of her cheek. Deep breaths through the nose, out the mouth; the brain needed oxygen to cope with shock, keep from fainting.

  She’d seen bad — this was worse. So much worse.

  She aimed a level gaze at Zach, who hovered near the wolf’s head, hand resting on a thin shoulder. “Steel trap, yeah?”

  He looked at her, dark hollows under his eyes. Those hollows had been there before, at the general store, she just hadn’t noticed. “Yeah,” he said.

  “Jesus. They’re illegal here.”

  Zach just nodded.

  Emma didn’t dare touch the wolf, not yet, not until she knew what she was doing. “How old is the wound? How do you —” Shit. “How do you know what he is?”

  “A few days.” Zach’s gravelly voice almost cracked. “I found him on Saturday morning, because he hadn’t been around since the morning before and I went looking. He’d managed to get free of the fucking trap, but he collapsed before he made it back to the house.” His face hardened. “He’s been with me just over a month. He doesn’t have anyone else. Don’t know what happened to his people, but he won’t talk about it.”

  Emma looked down at the wolf, unable to think of it having a human shape. He looked like any ordinary wolf — except for his wounded hind legs, which aside from being a gory, stringy mass of barely-attached flesh and bone, were the reason she didn’t doubt Zach’s story.

  The wound was bad, but the wolf was trying to heal it in a way that denied human rationality — flesh and thin, pale pink tendon crawled across the surface of the wound, living tendrils animated by shapechanging magic that curled, sluggish, dissipating like cotton candy before they could knit. Probably because the bones were broken, crunched through by the trap. Clumps of fur and sentient skin obscured the full extent of the damage. Usually a steel trap wouldn’t result in such a bloodied mess, but if the wolf used his considerable shapechanger strength to pull free, that explained the lacerations.

  “Does anybody know anything about werewolv- about wolves? Shapechanging ones?” Emma looked up at the many faces crowding the kitchen doorway. Telly and Red Sun pushed through, making the kitchen feel smaller already. “I want to know why he hasn’t called the change.”

  Zach said something Emma didn’t catch. She took a deep breath and smelled Red Sun: leather, pine, hot skin and tobacco…

  “Red,” she said through grit teeth
, sidling around him to get to the sink. “I don’t know a respectful way to ask this, but you need to go stand over there.” She motioned to the stove, next to the door that led off the hall. “If you can help, that’s great, I need all the help I can get, but I can’t work with you throwing genetically-engineered testosterone at me.”

  Deadly silence. Emma paused with a hand on the hot water faucet, looking him in the eye, unapologetic.

  His eyes narrowed, deep and liquid brown, and something uncomfortable flickered across his face. But a reluctant, surprised smile followed it.

  He backed up against the stove. “Your boy there hasn’t changed because his body doesn’t want him to. His beast knows it’s not safe.”

  Zach shook his head. “He knows he’s safe with me. I don’t understand it, I’ve seen him change and heal himself before.”

  Red Sun gave the human an unappreciative look. “I mean it’s not safe for his body, for him to change like this. His legs have been damn near severed, and he ain’t strong enough to heal. Not enough power. If he changed, he’d lose them.”

  Emma’s mind raced. Zach stared. Everybody else stared, but for a different reason.

  Zach’s eyes were glossy with unshed tears, like gray-green lakes, a color matched by the unfortunate shade his skin was turning.

  Emma filled a cooking bowl with hot water and brought it to the table, wondering just how the hell she was supposed to help an injured, magical wolf. She knew shapechangers were immune to infection and all diseases, save one, and that one wasn’t transmittable. So at least she didn’t need to worry about things like antibiotics and sterilization.

  “Somebody get me some tweezers, scissors, and the first aid kit. I’ll need something to use as splints.” She gave Zach a gentle push out of the way, steadying him for a moment with her hand on his arm. He looked ill. “I’m going to set the bones and sew him up,” she said firmly, as though she knew what she was doing. “I’m hoping that if I can help him to heal, splint his legs as best I can, his body might be able to do the rest.” She took a deep breath. “Just how well does he trust you?”