The Kala Trilogy: An Urban Fantasy Box Set

by Teagan Kearney

  “Anything. Just ask anything.”

  “Be careful to who you speak when making a statement like that.” He smiled, a sudden mischievous look in his eye.

  “You’ve given me too much already.” She choked unable to say more.

  “Good. I’m giving both of you a challenge that won’t be easy.” He stretched out his arms, palms open, right hand for Tatya’s hand, his left for Forked Lightning. Pulling their hands together, he placed them one on top of the other, enclosing them in his own. He paused for a second, listening to the drums, before beginning a soft chant.

  Tatya didn’t recognize the words, but she saw what he was doing. A rope of bright energy emanated from his hands, and as she watched, he bound the stream of light around her and Forked Lightning’s wrists. He did this over and over till he’d bound their hands together and the flood of power dwindled to a trickle, seeping through their skin into their hands.

  “Tatya, repeat after me, I vow before the Spirits Above, the guardian spirits and all that lives I will help Forked Lightning in his duties as shaman as long as he needs me.”

  Tatya repeated the words, trying for her mentor’s sake to keep her voice firm. He was doing as he always had, taking care of his people, doing his best to protect them, and he knew she’d mastered skills Forked Lightning didn’t possess. He was right. This might be a difficult task.

  “Forked Lightning, repeat after me, I vow before the Spirits Above, the guardian spirits and all that lives that I will accept whatever help I need from Tatya as long as I am the shaman of this tribe.”

  After Forked Lightning finished his vow and Changing Sky released their hands, Tatya realized what he’d accomplished. Using his strength, he’d bound her to Forked Lightning using a similar binding to the one she’d used with the teenage were girls, but his power was such that he hadn’t needed to use a crystal focus.

  This bond differed from the one she had with Vanse, but nonetheless, Changing Sky had tied their lives together. Neither she nor Forked Lightning had expected or wanted this. She couldn’t read Forked Lightning’s reaction. His voice had betrayed nothing. If he ignored Changing Sky’s dying wish, which he had the authority to do once his mentor had passed over, he would lose the chance to become more powerful. She didn’t know if he cared. But she’d given her word, and she’d do her best to honor her promise.

  “Tatya, this young pup still has a good deal to learn. Teach him everything you can and don’t forget the warrior skills I taught you.” He paused and shut his eyes.

  They waited while Forked Lightning picked up the glass of water from the nearby bedside table. He lifted Changing Sky’s head and held the glass to his lips.

  Changing Sky sipped a little water. “They’re calling me.” His gaze sought Tatya. He smiled. “I hear them, but they can wait a few minutes more. Tatya, I’m bequeathing Otakay to you. You are still in danger and he will come when you need him. Meoquanee and Qaletaqa will guard Forked Lightning.”

  The young man bowed his head, acknowledging the honor granted him.

  Tatya took hold of Changing Sky’s hand, clasping it in hers. It was all she could do to not bawl her heart out, but Changing Sky was right. The tears were for her loss, she should be glad he wasn’t suffering anymore, that he would be in a better place.

  “I’ll always watch over you, Tatya.” Changing Sky’s presence filled the room, warm, powerful, courageous, and fixed on the path of right.

  Tatya saw his spirit guides, as she had seen them once before, emerge from his body. Qaletaqa, an ancient Hopi elder wearing a knee-length white cotton wrap tied around his waist, his body and headband decorated with beaded necklaces, wildflowers, and feathers. Meoquanee, a fiercely beautiful woman, with waist length raven hair who wore a cloak of white feathers that shimmered as she moved. Finally the warrior, Otakay, whose name meant Bringer of Blood, wearing a magnificent full feathered war bonnet in a breechcloth and leggings, holding an immense bow and quiver, completed the trio.

  The three effulgent beings imbued the room with light. They bowed to Changing Sky, and, Qaletaqa and Meoquanee hovered over Forked Lightning before gradually disappearing.

  Otakay hovered over her, and as he joined her the Bandrui chorus awoke, singing with joy and welcoming the brother who had fought by their side, before fading into silence again.

  “Good. Call in the elders. My work is complete. I depart in peace.” Changing Sky smiled and closed his eyes.

  Chapter Nineteen: Farewell

  As Tatya contemplated the small rattle, she couldn’t forget the picture of Changing Sky’s remains, wrapped and covered with new red and black striped blankets, being lowered by ropes into the grave.

  Once she and Forked Lightning realized Changing Sky’s soul had passed over, two elderly women pried Tatya’s hand from Changing Sky’s and led her outside while they prepared the body. They’d sent her home, telling her to bathe and return in clean clothes. She’d spent the last three days driving back and forth between the shop and the reservation as the tribe celebrated Changing Sky’s life. They’d buried him that morning—she wished Aunt Lil and Sean could have had such a funeral—and when asked to choose something of Changing Sky’s, she’d chosen the rattle he used in his healings.

  The rattle’s slender handle was banded above and below the gourd with intricate beadwork patterns worked in turquoise blue and white. The bell gourd itself shone a deep golden orange, with a dark gray horsehair tuft at the top. Several white feathers with dark brown tips and strips of twisted buckskin tassels hung from the bottom. She shook the rattle, listening to the sound of the seeds as they struck the sides. The ceremonial chant accompanying the burial, hey anah, ah-hey anah, ah-hey anah, ah-hey oh, echoed in her mind, and for an instant Changing Sky appeared, smiling at her, his face lined with a lifetime of care, and wearing jeans, T-shirt, and his favorite tan fringed suede jacket exactly as he had the last time she saw him. She blinked, and he was gone.

  She’d closed the shop for the past few days and the business needed attention, but her mind was brimming with memories of Changing Sky. The first time she’d met him, she was wearing a sweater with the words “Life’s a bitch, and then you die” on the front. He’d not even seen the chip on her shoulder, but looked past the obnoxious display of teenage rebellion and right into her heart. He’d found a scared little girl hiding from the world, and taken her under his wing. How many times had she sat outside his cabin, meditating on the view, watching the clouds as they passed over the land while he made sage tea? He had taught her how to fight demons. His strength had kept her going when she doubted herself. He’d showed her by example how to live her life, to give back and share, not to take, that if she hurt others, she hurt herself, and to be called to serve was the highest honor the spirits could confer. Even now when he’d gone from this plane, he hadn’t left her alone, he’d left the warrior Otakay with her. She was grateful, but nobody could replace Changing Sky’s role in her life. His passing was his final lesson and gift.

  She would have liked nothing better than to take more time off, but tomorrow she’d reopen. It was what Changing Sky would have expected her to do. Maybe she’d check in on Vanse first. She wondered if he’d had more dreams of Angelus. She shuddered, not wanting to think about the possibilities that presented. But the link between them had been mute these last few days, and she missed him.

  A knock at the door and the bond sparked. What was he doing? Hanging around till she thought of him, and then boom, appear? She smiled as she opened the door.

  “I was passing…” He wore a black suit, white shirt, and tie.

  “Come in.” She led the way into the kitchen. “Coffee?”

  “No, thanks. I’m fine.”

  “You sure? I’m having one.” She didn’t want a drink, but she needed to be busy. She didn’t want to break down in front of him.

  “In that case, I’ll join you.”

  “What’s with the outfit?” Tatya placed two cups on the counter and gestured at hi
s suit.

  “I’m wearing this out of respect for the death of a friend and ally. It wasn’t appropriate for me to attend the funeral, but I’m honoring his passing in my way.”

  Yes, she could imagine Forked Lightning’s face if Vanse had turned up. Werewolves and vampires were anathema to each other, and shamanism was the single tradition without fear of vampires—they hadn’t forgotten the ancient ways. Yet Changing Sky and Vanse had forged a strange alliance when they joined forces to defeat Angelus and had developed a genuine friendship.

  “I miss him.” Before she could stop, tears were rolling down her face as racking sobs shook her body.

  Vanse held her in his arms and stroked her hair.

  “Sorry.” She pulled back a fraction, snuffling and wiping her tears away, and looked up at Vanse. “There’s a damp patch on your jacket.”

  Without warning, he bent his head and his lips touched hers in a soft caress.

  Her arms came up, and she pulled him toward her. She craved the closeness, the all-consuming aliveness of sex. She craved his touch, the feel of him against her, and the bright stream of crystal gold, connecting her heart to his, flared to life, heightening her passion and flooding her with delight. She yearned to be truly joined with him, they loved each other, and she knew this in her heart, in her head, as every cell screamed her absolute need for him.

  The gold link thickened, swirling, rippling, and pulses of ecstasy radiated from the point of connection.

  Vanse cut the bond, pulling back, his face distorted with pain, and gasping for breath. “There’s something wrong, Tatya.” He doubled over, falling to his knees.

  For a second power built, fed by energy from the momentary joining as swift red hot rage beat through her blood. Not again. He’d done this every time they came close. For centuries he’d said he loved her. But she wouldn’t accept this treatment from him anymore, it was way beyond anything classed as tolerable. But the feeling fled as quickly as it came when she saw the anguish in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” She knelt beside him.

  “Leave Orleton. It’s not safe for you here anymore.”

  “Vanse, Orleton is my home. I can’t take off even if I wanted to, I’ve started a new business.” He felt hotter than usual. “And I’m not going anywhere without a good explanation. Quit ordering me about and tell me what’s happening.”

  “Tatya.” He reached out and rested his fingers on her jugular.

  As she stared into his eyes, the deep brown of his pupils changed color, the brown rim flickering.

  He lowered his arm and stood up. “I have to stay away from you.”

  Tatya faced him, her arms crossed, and her eyes filled with contempt. “Fill me in on what’s going on. Or get out and don’t bother coming back.”

  “I want to tell you, but...”

  “Yeah, yeah. It’s complicated.”

  “No. It’s that I don’t want to lose you.”

  “Vanse, when I remember my past, one thing is clear, we never lose each other. We may not always be together but we always find each other.” Her words had the desired effect.

  “It’s Angelus, and it’s more than the dreams.” He looked sick at having to admit his fears to her. “We sent him to Hell, and how it’s possible I don’t understand, but it feels as if he’s back. I’m afraid for you.”

  “You can always kill me.” She pushed away the memories of Vanse sliding a blade into her heart. “What’s one more time?”

  “You forget that won’t work since he gave you his blood.” He paused, the familiar mischievous expression on his face. “You are aware I can compel you to go, aren’t you?”

  She bristled, her eyes lighting up at the thought of a fight. “Now there’s something I’d like to see you try. But we brought together a formidable force and banished him. When you say more than dreams, what do you mean? Have you seen him? How worried should we be? Should we bring in Bill? And what of Forked Lightning? He’s the tribe’s shaman now.”

  “Don’t underestimate the deviousness of a demon. I’m in no doubt ending up in Hell has put his plans for you on hold for a while, but I doubt he’s given up his goal. You have to be patient. I am working on something.” He took her hands in his, turned them over, and kissed her palms, sending a spike of pleasure up her arms. “Yes, I know I’m giving you the movie line,” his mouth quirked in a small sad grin, “but I’m asking you to trust me.”

  Chapter Twenty: Sardarabad, 1918 AD

  Vanse squatted by the camp fire. The scrub and scree covered mountain reared its protective bulk behind the army, its peak limned in the crimson rays of sunset. Fires dotted the land, tiny miniature reflections of the departing giant, their smoke rising like offerings given to placate a deaf god. The temperature was dropping. Spring came with glorious blue skies, warm days, and freezing nights.

  He loosened his grip on the smooth barreled rifle he’d scavenged from fleeing Russian troops a week ago, and extended his senses. No sense of the demon. Good, he could relax. At a certain point in the last five hundred years, after watching humans slaughter each other without mercy for over two millennia, he’d moved from haunting battlefields to participating. He had two reasons for taking the decision, first to relieve the restlessness and boredom while waiting for Tatya to reappear, and second, because of what he called the eternal moment.

  The first occasion he’d had this experience he was kneeling beside a veteran soldier who was bleeding out from a gaping wound to his abdomen. The dying man had known Vanse was there and prayed non-stop to his god for salvation until his last breath. As Vanse bent to his chest, listening for the final full heartbeat, time froze, and it was as if this was the only action he’d ever performed. The time between drinking from one dying human and the next disappeared, and his life consisted of a single moment, drinking blood from those whose souls were ready to leave. His days, years and centuries condensed into this one act, which he was cursed to repeat over and over again. Except when Tatya’s blood called, when finding her and preventing Angelus from achieving his goal dominated his days.

  Vanse had spent periods away from wars—hospitals were plentiful sources of blood, and, as his hybrid blood gave him immunity, areas where disease struck were rewarding. But habits are often difficult to break, and war was simple. Kill or be killed, with Death’s proximity adding to the adrenaline rush of danger from battle and fighting. He justified surrendering to its irresistible lure by telling himself warfare gave value to his existence while he waited for Tatya’s return.

  Deciding which side to take in a particular war gave him a thorough education in the brutality of human politics. If he thought vampires and other supernaturals he’d met were more vicious than humans, watching those possessed by lust for power and greed for land and money showed how wrong his assumptions had been. He’d changed sides more than once in a conflict when he realized his first choice had been wrong. However, as a vampire, he moved faster, was stronger, and in hand to hand combat no human could defeat him. He was a killer, a predator at the pinnacle of the food chain, but he couldn’t fight an army. Therefore, he held back, taking great care to appear as nothing more than an efficient skilled soldier.

  Today he’d pushed the group of trainee farmers and laborers, and they’d been eager learners. Most had some experience with hunting game, and were happy to swap the antiquated models they’d arrived with for more efficient weapons. The new recruits, aware the coming battle was a desperate gamble, took in every lesson and tactic he taught them in the same way a dying man craves water to relieve his burning thirst.

  Humans called this war The Great War, and nations who’d been accruing worldwide power for centuries were turning on each other in a struggle to dominate Europe.

  Vanse and his family had been sojourning in the eastern region of Galicia and had previously fought for the Russians against the Austro-Hungarian army, but he found the conflict further south more suited to his skills. There were three or four countries in the region taking advantage of the bi
gger war to gain their independence, and there was something in the Armenian spirit that sparked his sympathy, and he threw his lot in with them. Fabio was still with him, and his current family was now dispersed among the Armenians. Staying together would draw unnecessary and unwanted attention.

  “Captain Vanse, General Bey Nazaryan requires you at a briefing.” The messenger, a boy in his teens, wearing clothes and boots taken from a dead soldier that were too big, looked away and took a quick step backward as Vanse stood, looming over him.

  Vanse nodded at the men by the fire and followed the youth.

  They stopped outside the General’s tent, identifiable by its size, and the guards outside standing to attention. One lifted the flap, allowing Vanse to enter the crowded smoke-filled space. Officers stood crammed side by side several rows deep around a table studying a map and those behind peered over the shoulders of those in front.

  The Commander looked up as Vanse joined the group, and two officers shifted to give him a spot at the table. “Here is where our opponent’s troops are heading.” He jabbed at an X marked on the map. “And our forces will attack from here. But we won’t throw everything at them from there. You,” his eye lit on Major Ohanian, “will lead Captain Vanse’s and Captain Bek-Mirutyan’s companies along this route.” His fingers traced a faint line on the map, “and hit their flank. You’ll leave before dawn tomorrow, and move fast. You’ll come at them from here.” He stabbed at another point on the map. “So far we’ve fought two battles pushing the Ottoman army back, but they’ve reinforcements on the way, hence the decision to attack now. I swear by everything I believe in, I’ll give every ounce of strength I have, and I expect you to do the same.” He looked around the group, meeting the eye of every man there. “I’m honored to lead you, and proud to fight beside you. I’ll address the troops in the morning before our advance. Questions? No? Then you’re dismissed.”