Brightwater Blood

by Shona Husk

  “Just break the circle, please.” He tried not to sound anxious, but with the fire creeping closer and his blood spilling onto the ground, he didn’t like his chances of surviving if she didn’t set him free.

  “Will you turn me in to the Council I’d never heard of until you showed up?”

  He didn’t want to, but it wasn’t up to him to decide her fate. “You have to face them and prove your innocence.”

  She shook her head and took a step away.

  “If you leave me, Fendrake will come after you for my murder. And they’ll find you. There are plenty of other trackers, just like me, whose job it is to find people.”

  “Aren’t you lucky? You still have people who care.”

  Lachlan grinned and his lower lip split with a sharp sting. He was drying out fast. “My employer is the only person who’d care.”

  Beneath her bangs her features softened, and he knew he had her interest. If he had her interest, he had a chance of getting out, but they were running out of time. He was sure he could smell smoke mixing with the dark magic. Magical fire was worse than regular fire. His skin tightened as the lion in his blood roared in frustration at being trapped. If he wasn’t desperate, he’d be happier leaving his family’s death safely in the dark.

  “My family was killed when I was thirteen. We’d gone camping in the Rockies to initiate me into the pride.” He took a shaky breath. He’d gotten his shifts under control and was ready to be brought in and welcomed as an adult member of the pride. What should have been a celebration had ended in terror. “Hunters mistook our golden pelts for those of cougars and shot them all. I survived by hiding.” Like a rat instead of a lion.

  His sisters had been the hope of the bloodline. Were-ism was passed via the maternal line through the mitochondrial virus. While his blood carried the virus, and he could deliberately infect a human, it was illegal and very dangerous as most humans didn’t survive the fever or the changes that followed. And even though Lachlan was the last of his bloodline, Fendrake wouldn’t allow the infection of a human woman. When he died, that was it—whether that was now or in sixty years’ time, it really made no difference. That he was dying the same way his family had, by the bullet, was fitting.

  Their deaths were his fault—his family had been gathered and in the wild because of him. Another week earlier, or another week later and everything would have been different—his family would be alive. He shook off the black despair that accompanied the memories of the last camping trip and played the endangered-species sympathy card.

  “So are you going to let the last European were-lion in the world die?”

  Dayna studied the naked man in the circle. His dark brown eyes were hardened with pain. The lines around the edges were etched with tension. His mouth was pressed together in a tight smile, a smear of blood staining his lower lip. Was he desperate or truthful?

  Loss balled in her throat. What he’d said about her sister and their mother’s death was the truth. The burned circle between the trees was identical. She’d always believed her mother had been murdered by the people she’d spent her life running from—the Council. But the Council hadn’t been here when Clarissa had died. Only Lachlan was, and in his lion form.

  “European lions died out centuries ago.” Yet he had looked different from a regular lion…or was she now remembering wrong? It wasn’t like she’d spent a lot of time looking at him before she’d shot him.

  “The Romans tried to wipe us out in the arenas, so we got better at hiding.”

  The Romans? How old was he? He didn’t look much older than her. “You were around with the Romans?”

  He shook his head. “Weres have the same lifespans as humans. You really know nothing about other non-humans?”

  “There are others?” She dropped the bag. She didn’t know what to do with him. Leaving him would be too cruel, the police might take hours to attend, and he was right, he could go into shock and die. What if he was the last of his kind? She didn’t want to be responsible for wiping out a species.

  “Lots. Vampires, fey, other types of weres and plenty of minor species.”

  “Now I know you’re lying. First shamans with three eyes, and now you’re trying to tell me fairies and vampires are real.”

  A faint smile touched his lips. “There’s a whole world you’ve never seen.”

  Let me show you, was implied. For a moment she wanted to know everything he could tell her. Her lips moved but couldn’t manage a smile. She wanted to believe him and his stories of non-humans, but how could she trust him? She’d trusted her sister, and every word out of Clarissa’s mouth had been a lie. She didn’t know what she believed anymore. Too much had happened today, and yet the sister she’d thought she knew had vanished long ago. With Clary’s death the façade had crumbled and revealed the empty space that was Dayna’s life. A life built on the lies of the people she’d loved and trusted.

  It had been a long time since she’d let herself be close to anyone, and she missed the contact of skin on skin. If they’d met some other way, she might have let Lachlan seduce her with his wicked grin and tales of magic. But not today.

  “I don’t want to see it. Magic has brought me nothing but grief.”

  “It gets easier. I sometimes go a whole week without thinking of my family. Usually I remember the good times. But other days…” He shrugged and looked out across the dead grass to the bush that stretched to the edge of their property. “If it hadn’t been for me, they would still be alive.”

  His nose wrinkled as he sniffed the air, and his brows pulled down into a sharp frown. She preferred it when he was smiling. Right now she could sense his tail swishing in agitation as clearly as if he’d been a lion and not a bloody, dusty human. The side of his face was discoloring where she’d hit him. She wished she hadn’t, but she’d reacted out of fear—it wasn’t every day she got charged by a lion.

  Lachlan looked back at her. “You should leave.” His voice was rough.

  “I thought you wanted me to free you?” She tilted her head. What game was he playing?

  “That would be nice, but if you don’t leave real fast, you’ll be caught in the bushfire sweeping this way.”

  Dayna lifted her gaze from the naked man to the tree line. There was a faint smudge of grey against the sky, not the billowing black smoke she expected from a bushfire. “There’s no fire.”

  “Feel the ground. Listen to the earth. You’re part shaman. Use your senses.” He patted his palm on the ground as he spoke. The other hand was clasped firmly to his leg, his fingers coated in his blood.

  She hesitated, not sure whether to trust him, but so far he’d been more honest about everything than her mother or sister. They had wrapped her in lies and kept secrets between themselves. With her eyes on him, in case he was trying to pull some magic she didn’t know about, she slipped off her sandals.

  The dead grass tickled the soles of her feet. Under the grass the ground was hot, really hot, as if there was fire beneath her feet. It had been a long time since she’d tried to connect to the pulse of nature and the power that flowed through the earth. She could manage to pour a little of herself into making a circle, but tapping in to the power of the earth and feeling its rhythm was harder. She extended her senses and opened her mind to feel the shamanic beat and become part of it, expecting the steady pulse and joyous dance she remembered from the few times she’d touched the power.

  Today nature was hot with fury. She drew back from the rage that thundered around her like a wounded beast intent on destruction, and took a breath. Then she made herself go deeper until the pulse was in her, beating in her blood. Power surged in her veins; it was all here for her to use—all she had to do was channel it into magic of her making. That was the bit she could never do, so instead she listened. She heard the screaming of the wounded earth where part of the magic had been ripped out by her sister. What had Clarissa done? No one could hold that much power.

  Magic shouldn’t be pulled apart. It w
as give and take, the movement of energy and reshaping of power. That had been one of her first lessons. Now there was an imbalance. A huge, roaring imbalance. She broke the connection with a gasp.

  “It’s moving straight for us.” So hot and fast nothing would survive if caught in its path. “I have to get Clary.”

  “She’s already dead. Save yourself,” snarled Lachlan, the lion rising to the surface.

  She glanced at her sister then at Lachlan. “I can’t leave you either.”

  “I thought you wanted me dead?”

  She dropped her gaze to her toes. “I would have rung the police once I had a head start… It’ll be too late now.”

  Lachlan nodded. “Get in the car and go. You might still outrun it.”

  Beneath her feet the ground shuddered. “And if I don’t?”

  “You’ll be cooked in the car.” He offered no sweet half lie, just the brutal truth that burned her heart.

  He was trying to save her, despite everything she’d done to him. She stood still, not sure what to do. Could she trust him if she broke the circle? And the longer she stood without moving, the harder it became to make a decision. There was a bushfire coming their way, but she and Clarissa had been careful and followed all the guidelines about clear areas and clean gutters. Maybe they could take shelter in the house instead of trying to flee?

  “Go!” he ordered.

  His voice broke through the paralysis. She kicked the cord, and the circle that had kept him trapped broke with a pop and a small rush of air. “Get to the car. I’m getting Clary.”

  “You don’t have time.”

  At the edges of her hearing there was a low rumble. She ignored Lachlan and ran to her sister. She couldn’t leave her, no matter what he’d said about running out of time. Clarissa was her sister, and she couldn’t abandon her to be consumed by fire—regardless that she’d been the one to start the fire with magic they’d sworn not to use. She bent down to lift her, but Clarissa was limp and heavy in her arms, and she didn’t get more than two feet half-dragging her. The low rumble was becoming a soft roar, vibrating up her legs.

  She’d never get her sister to the car like this. A sob caught in her throat. She was really going to have to leave her. It had been the two of them against the world for so long. How was she going to survive? Why did Clarissa have to get involved with magic again? Because Clarissa loved magic more than she loved anything else.

  “I love you.” She hugged her sister one final time. But her love hadn’t been enough in life and it wasn’t going to change anything in death.

  She kissed Clarissa’s forehead. Then stopped, Lachlan’s words echoing in her ears. Shamans have a third eye in their foreheads. With careful fingers, she brushed Clarissa’s shaggy bangs aside. Like her, Clarissa had deep frown lines. She touched the one in the center and something moved under her fingertips.

  Oh. My. God.

  The lids of the third eye separated as she moved her fingers, and a lash-less blue eye just like Clarissa’s other two stared back. Dayna pulled her hand back as if stung. Lachlan hadn’t lied about anything.

  Chapter Five

  Lachlan watched as Dayna ran back towards him, her blue eyes wide under her dark hair.

  “You didn’t move.”

  “I can’t.” He was cold and tired, and he knew it was the blood loss taking effect. “I don’t have enough energy to shift.” He could probably have dragged himself to the car with three legs but not on one. He closed his eyes. He hoped it would be fast. He didn’t want to feel himself incinerating.

  “I’ll help.” She took his hand as if she could haul him up.

  He was heavier than he looked; he wasn’t the human weight she was expecting. He was half lion and they weren’t light—he didn’t float too well either, because his body was so dense. Dayna grunted and tried again, but he let his fingers slip from hers.

  “It’s too late. I can hear the crackle of the flames.” Snapping and popping as they chewed through the gum trees all around them, surrounding them. What kind of fire swept in from all sides? One started by magic. But what was it doing?

  His heart was still managing to beat too fast, and the panic he’d tried to hold onto now ran through his system unchecked, bouncing off the pain and sucking on what remaining strength he had. Every time he blinked, his eyes were staying closed longer. He’d never feared the wild or anything in it before…except hunters. However, fire was different. It was a raw element that couldn’t be hunted or reasoned with. His inborn fear gave him a jolt. The virus in his blood that made him a were wasn’t ready to die.

  He could solve this, but his head was full of white noise.

  Dayna put her hands under his arm. “Come on.” Her touch was warm, but her hands weren’t gentle like he’d expected.

  He glanced at Clarissa in the burned circle, then the expanse of dead grass between him and the house, and the car just out of sight. He swung his gaze back to Dayna, who was still urging him to get up.

  “The grass.” She was shaman and shamans always had great gardens without even trying. “What color was the grass this morning?”

  “I don’t know? Green?” She stopped pulling on him.

  “Was it?”

  Dayna frowned. “Yes. It was.”

  The only plant still alive was the vine that had lassoed him, and that had obviously been protected by a spell. From Clarissa the death had spread out, killing the grass and any animals or insects in close range. That was why he couldn’t hear any screams from the animals caught in the fire. Those that hadn’t fled from the magic he’d found dead on his way to the Brightwater homestead. He must have crossed the weakening wave as it had gradually spread out. But instead of the energy dissipating and soaking back into the earth, the magic had expanded out until it was like a fully stretched elastic band. Now it was snapping back, ready to heal the wound.

  Fire was rushing back towards them on all sides because they were where it had been torn free. The spell Clarissa had tried to perform had created a shockwave of energy that was now collapsing in on itself in a heated rush to the epicenter.

  They were screwed. They were surrounded. There was no escape.

  The panic that had kept him company shut up.

  And in the quiet realization that he was really going to die, he saw a solution.

  He lifted his gaze and stared at Dayna. She was part shaman, and she could make a circle; she’d proved that by binding him. They couldn’t outrun it, so they would have to stay until the fire had swept over them.

  “Get everything you want to save into the circle.” Talking tore at his dry throat, and he swallowed, but it was more reflex than relief.

  “The barrier is down.”

  “I know. You’re going to put it back up—with us inside.”

  She gave a tight shake of her head. “No, I’ll get the car. We’ll be fine.”

  “The fire is on all sides—there is no way through. Get inside the circle,” he said through his teeth. He knew it was only adrenaline keeping him going, when that left him…well. At least he’d be unconscious and out of pain, and that was beginning to sound like a blessing.

  Her face paled, and she looked more like a frightened woman than the gun-toting, magic-wielding shaman who’d confronted him earlier. “I can’t put it back up. It takes too much energy.”

  “Trust me, Dayna.” If she didn’t, there wouldn’t be much left for the experts to identify. He hoped he was right, and he wasn’t overestimating her power. But they had no other choice. There was no way to escape the fire so they had to hunker down and hope they had the resources to survive. His palm on his leg was slick as his blood ran in rivulets to the ground. They needed more than magic. They needed a miracle.

  She held his gaze for a heartbeat. When she moved, Lachlan released the breath he’d been holding. If they did nothing they were dead, and if she couldn’t raise the barrier, they’d get a free cremation.

  He coughed to try and clear his throat. “Bring the water.�
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  If this was his last drink he’d rather be licking salt off her skin and chasing it with tequila and a slice of lemon. He glanced at Dayna and his tongue moved against the back of his teeth. If they got out of this, he’d buy her a drink. Hell, he’d do whatever she wanted.

  Dayna tossed him the plastic bottle, and it rolled to a stop near his leg. It looked like water would have to do. Besides, alcohol and fire probably wasn’t the best combination. He reached for the bottle and gulped down several mouthfuls—tequila had never tasted this good, sweet with a burn in his gut that almost made him feel less than half-dead—before making himself stop. Too much and he’d make himself sick. But his mouth felt better and his throat wasn’t so dusty.

  He pushed a breath out between his teeth as Dayna sat next to him with the two bags she’d been carrying. She overlapped the ends of the bloodstained cord, then froze with her gaze locked in the distance.

  “It’s here,” she whispered like the fire could hear her.

  He already knew. It didn’t matter where he looked—the fire was closing in. For a moment he tried to pretend this plan was a good one and that it would work. Around him the air was heating, and the noise of the fire was getting louder with each passing second.

  “Put up the circle.” His voice was just loud enough to carry over the noise of the flames as they devoured everything in their path. He glanced at Dayna; her eyes were wide with fear. He touched her shoulder, drawing her attention back to him. “Make it a sphere this time.”

  Spheres were strong. They’d be in a magic bubble. This was never going to work. Putting his faith in an invisible magical barrier was like wishing for unicorns, highly dangerous—unless you were a virgin, which he wasn’t. Right now, if given the choice, he’d rather risk death by righteous unicorn than a wall of angry, magic-fueled fire.

  “We’re surrounded.” Her words were stilted, as if she didn’t believe what she was seeing.

  “Yeah. I got that.” Three hundred and sixty degrees of crackling flames. His stomach tightened. He was insane. A bit of rope and a part-shaman’s magic was never going to be able to save their lives. He kept his absolute bone-melting terror of fire confined to his body. His muscles tensed, and the irrational urge to run even though they were surrounded pounded in his head. He fought against the lionish instincts that would get him killed. He had to act like he knew what he was doing or Dayna was going to freak out further, and he needed her to concentrate. “The magic is contracting back to the center.”