Claimed & Seduced

by Shelley Munro

  “There are more men in red on this level,” Keira said a few mins later. “Weird. They’re all standing stock still.”

  Ellard frowned. “Move it, Jarlath. I don’t like the feel of this. My gut is lurching.”

  Jarlath hurried down the steps and paused on each level to scan the shop signs. “Lynx is right. The lack of technology down here is making us weak and vulnerable.”

  If they modernized the city and welcomed innovation, then maybe they’d attract more merchants and traders and inventors instead of losing them to other planets. Something to ponder and plan for the future.

  “There,” Keira said. “Over there. I think that’s the shop. The sign looks new.” She marched along the street, glancing swiftly at the men in red positioned on the street. She increased her speed, and Jarlath didn’t blame her. The men stood so still he wondered if they were alive, yet their appearance made the hairs at the back of his neck rise in foreboding.

  “They smell wrong,” Ellard said.

  Keira stopped at the door and pounded her fist on the wood.

  Jarlath scented the air, his nostrils flaring. His feline barked out an unhappy sound. Ellard was right. A metallic aroma filled the air. A hint of crow. He thought of the crow tattoo on Keira’s cheek.

  No, her scent was different.

  Keira thumped on the door again and attempted to turn the handle.

  “There is a number. I’ll com it,” Jarlath said.

  “No, I hear footsteps,” Keira said. “Someone’s coming.”

  A burst of thunder rippled through the air, and Jarlath frowned up at the sky. Earlier, when they left the castle, the day had been clear and fine with reasonable visibility. Now darkness shrouded the solar star and the scent of rain added to the wrongness of the atmosphere.

  “I’ve never seen a storm like this,” Ellard said. “Look at the color of the sky. It’s scarlet in places.”

  Rain began to fall, large drops full of ice. They sizzled on hitting the ground.

  “I don’t like this. This weather smacks of magic,” Keira said with urgency. “We need shelter.”

  The men in red didn’t move and their scarlet cloaks began to steam.

  Keira banged her fists on the wooden door and shrieked, “Let us in. Please let us enter.”

  The door flew open and Keira pushed past the tall, scrawny man standing in the doorway. She ignored his angry bellow to glance around at the shelves of bottles and jars. Jarlath stepped over the threshold and sneezed.

  “I’m going to talk to one of those men in red,” Ellard said. “The one at the end of the street looks familiar. The name will come to me once I speak with him.”

  “Wait until the rain ceases,” Keira said.

  “I don’t have to take orders from you,” Ellard muttered and stomped away.

  “She’s right,” Jarlath said. “I don’t like the way this feels.”

  “Magic.” The skinny man attempted to slam the door and lock Ellard out.

  “No, wait.” Jarlath yanked at the man’s arm. He finally forced his way past and sprinted after Ellard.

  “No, Jarlath. Come back,” Keira shouted. “It—”

  An explosion cut off her words.

  Ellard flew through the air and hit the ground. Jarlath found himself sprawled on his back. Ears ringing, he picked himself up and scuttled toward his friend. The wind battered his body, tearing his hair and making his black cloak swirl as he tried to reach Ellard.

  Ellard didn’t move.

  Keira appeared beside him. Her mouth was moving but he couldn’t understand what she was saying. She grasped Ellard’s shoulder and glared at him, her lips moving again. Okay. She wanted him to drag Ellard to safety. Jarlath hoisted Ellard up and grunted at his dead weight.

  A second explosion went off down the other end of the road, the blast knocking Jarlath down. His knees hit the cobblestones with a painful whack.

  “Jarlath, we must get inside.” Keira spoke right next to his ear.

  Her panic and determination gave Jarlath a mental push. His gut told him she knew more than she was letting on. Either she knew what was coming or her knowledge was enough to give her a healthy fear. Her terror stirred his feline, and he gritted his teeth and half-dragged, half-heaved Ellard through the open doorway.

  A metallic stench filled the air, and when he scanned the street, the men in red had vanished. Smoke obscured his vision, but many of the buildings had turned to rubble and shop signs littered the ground or hung drunkenly off their braces. In the distance, a boom, then a second, signaled more explosions. Secs later plumes of black smoke, tinged with scarlet rose upward.

  “Quick, shut the door,” the man ordered. “Hurry. You’re breaking my protection spell.”

  At least he hadn’t locked them outside. Jarlath shut the door and turned to Ellard. Keira was already on her knees at his side, her hands gentle on his large frame as she checked for injuries.

  “Is he breathing?” he asked.

  “Yes. I can’t find anything seriously wrong with him.”

  “He hit his head,” the man said. “I saw it connect with the cobblestones.”

  “Did you know this was going to happen?” Jarlath asked in a sharp voice.

  “No,” the man said.

  “No! Of course not, but my instincts told me something was coming,” Keira said at the same time. “The men in red were eerie and not of this place.” She turned to the magic man. “Did you make the charms you sold at the market stall? I wish to speak to the man or woman who made them.”

  “I am Zarbo. What do you want with me?”

  Keira didn’t answer, instead leveling her gaze at him in quiet insistence.

  Zarbo dragged a hand through his wiry black-and-white hair, his gaze wary. “Yes, it was me. I made the charms, although I am starting to wish I had not decided to go into business here on Viros.”

  “Good,” Keira said. “I wish to purchase more protection spells, and I’d like to order a protection spell for my house.” She shot a glance at Jarlath. “I have received unwelcome visitors and do not want them to return.”

  “Who?” Jarlath asked. “Not me?”

  “Jarlath?” Ellard’s weak voice grabbed his attention.

  “You’re awake.”

  “Head hurts like a motherbitch. What happened? I remember arguing with you and wanting to question the man in red.” Ellard’s brow scrunched, as if he was digging through his memories and not getting the answers he wanted. “I think…there was an explosion. The men in red had something to do with the explosions.”

  “They’re all gone,” Jarlath said.

  Ellard tried to sit up and fell back with a groan. “Gone? They escaped?”

  “No, they detonated,” Keira said. “The red men were the bombs.”

  “Fukk,” Ellard muttered.

  “Stay there while we check you for injuries,” Jarlath said.

  “I’m fine,” Ellard said, but when he attempted to stand again, his knees buckled like a piece of parchment. His butt hit the ground with a thud. “Fukk.”

  “There were a lot of explosions,” Keira said. “How many protection spells do you have? We’d like to purchase as many as you can make.”

  “We don’t know if they’ll work against the magic warfare,” Jarlath said.

  “It worked on the night of the market, when the first visitation occurred.”

  “I am skilled with protection spells. These are some of my best work,” Zarbo said with an air of pride.

  Given the man’s confidence and Keira’s insistence they have the charms, Jarlath acquiesced. “All right. What are you thinking?”

  “We muster an army and issue a charm to each volunteer. Once they are no longer needed they can hand in their protection spell to receive payment for their services,” Keira said and focused on the magic man. “How many do you have? Can you make more if we need them?”

  Zarbo’s bushy brows squeezed together in tight concentration as if he was mentally tallying his char
ms. “I have some in stock, but these spells are powerful. They take time to make.”

  “Round up the soldiers from the lower base and arrange volunteers,” Ellard said.

  Jarlath stomped the confined space, trying to think what to do for the best. “You think the House of Cawdor is battering our defenses before they attempt to land soldiers.”

  “From what I know of the Cawdor. You don’t want his troops landing on Viros. They are well-trained and armed with the latest technology.”

  “He seems to have eyes on the city. Where will we hide our volunteers? Organize and arm them?” Jarlath resumed his pacing, aware of the enormity of their problem.

  “We could use my factory. I already have a workforce there. It might work since the House of Cawdor has focused its attacks in the city,” Keira said. “Or if that won’t work, maybe one of the outer squares.”

  Ellard probed his head with careful fingers. “It’s a good plan, and if the protection spells work as you say, it will give us an added edge, but why would you help the House of the Cat?”

  “This is my home,” Keira said in an icy tone Jarlath had never heard her use before. In contrast, her glare was hot enough to sear at fifty paces. “Why wouldn’t I offer my assistance?”

  “I have other magical spells that might aid your soldiers,” Zarbo said.

  Jarlath appreciated the magic man’s impeccable timing with his interruption, but Keira never stopped glaring at Ellard. His friend glowered right back.

  “I’ll see you’re given remuneration in exchange,” Jarlath said. “You have my promise.”

  “You will sign a chit, which I shall present for payment.” Zarbo glided away and disappeared into a storage room, his robe rustling. His mutters drifted back out to them, a low rumble of unintelligible sound.

  “We don’t know him,” Ellard said. “He could put anything in those spells and make us cluck like damn chicklets. How do we know we can trust him?”

  “We don’t,” Jarlath said. “But we have to do something. Returning to the castle and hiding isn’t an option. Sooner or later our attackers will strike.”

  “Would you rather have Razvan taking over the leadership of Viros?” Keira stared down her pert nose at Ellard. “That is the alternative.”

  “How do we know you’re not siding with the Cawdor already? You bear the mark of the crow.” Ellard heaved a mighty sigh, and Jarlath helped him struggle to his feet. “I bet you know more than you’re letting on.”

  “I don’t have to listen to you assassinating my character,” Keira said. “I’ll go and talk to Zarbo.” She stomped to the storeroom.

  “Wait, Keira.” There had been a certain something in her expression, a flicker of thought he didn’t want to grasp. In her face, he’d seen guilt. Yes, he’d seen regret and shame at Ellard’s accusation.

  She ignored him and slammed the storeroom door, closing herself inside with Zarbo. She was in an enclosed space with another man. Jarlath’s feline let out a snarl of protest, and he had to fight the urge to wrench open the door and grab her. He let out a chuff, a tiny bit of him amused at his possessive reaction. He ripped his gaze from the door and forced himself to concentrate on his friend.

  “Jarlath, you can’t trust her. You haven’t known her for long. She comes from Gramite. She’s a plant, put there by the House of Cawdor to spy on us and gather information.”

  Ellard had a point—Jarlath admitted it, but in his heart, he didn’t believe she was the enemy. A snarl erupted up his throat, his feline agitated and restless, stretching under his skin and objecting to their separation from Keira.

  “Put your teeth away,” Ellard snapped. “I’m your friend.”

  Jarlath sucked in a breath and another to settle his feline. “Keira helped us to enter and exit the castle. She didn’t need to do that. She didn’t need to come into the city today either.” But Ellard’s harping had started him thinking. Why was she so insistent about the magical charms when she’d grabbed a handful on the night of the first appearance? “No, we met Keira because I decided to take a different route through the forest.”

  “Keep telling yourself that, Jarlath. She knows about magic, actively seeks out spells for personal use.”

  “You’re saying she cast a spell to make me choose that path?” No. No, he didn’t think she was capable of that sort of deception.

  Keira stomped from the room with a bag hung over her shoulder. “I’m going to check on my factory then go home. This isn’t my fight.”

  Ellard snorted.

  Keira whirled on him with a screech. “What?”

  “Walking away makes you look guilty.”

  “Enough,” Jarlath snapped. “Leave her alone. We have more important things to worry about.”

  “I don’t think you should go off with Kiera without me,” Ellard said.

  “I said enough,” Jarlath said. “Are you all right? Can you walk under your own steam? You lost consciousness for a while.”

  Keira muttered something under her breath, and her scowl grew wider, her ire concentrated on Ellard.

  “I have a hard head. I’m fine.”

  Keira mumbled something else, which Jarlath decided to ignore.

  Zarbo shuffled from the storeroom with several charms in his big, bony hands. “Here you go. I found more protection spells. This one here in the baggie is stronger. That should do what you need it to, Miss.”

  “Thank you,” Keira said.

  “Anything else before we go?” Jarlath asked.

  Ellard managed to walk a few steps and his balance wasn’t quite as precarious as earlier. “Yeah, I have a question for Keira. Exactly what spell did you purchase from the magic man? Why was it so important for you to come here and place yourself in danger?”

  Chapter Ten

  The man was strumming her last nerve. She had enough in her worry box without Ellard poking holes in her character. Razvan was ready to make his move. It was like someone rubbing her feathers—no, skin—the wrong way. She’d never had real feathers, never would because of her half-breed status.

  “Cat got ya tongue?” Ellard asked in a soft voice, which straddled taunting.

  Jarlath crossed the distance between them in two giant steps, and to her surprise, aligned himself with her by slipping an arm around her waist. “We’re all going. Ellard, we’ll make sure you get to the lower guard station and help you check out the situation.”

  “Thanks, Zarbo. Stay safe,” Keira said and allowed Jarlath to guide her from the magic man’s abode.

  “Don’t let Ellard get to you,” Jarlath murmured.

  “I’m not.”

  There were more people on the streets now. Some wandered, white-faced and in a daze and picked their way through the rubble. Others lay on the ground, limbs torn asunder and bleeding. Men and women comforted each other. Some cried. A few prowled in feline form and roared their displeasure.

  Their pain was a living thing. It gripped and twisted her insides. Their fear communicated with her crow, became one with her.

  “They’re broken,” she whispered.

  “We have to help. Set up a treatment base,” Jarlath said.

  Behind them, Ellard groaned. “Defense more important. More injured if we…can’t stop the attacks.” He staggered, his hand held to his head as if it was paining him.

  “You need to shift,” Jarlath said.

  “The injured need to shift too,” Keira said. “Why aren’t they shifting?”

  “Jarlath, need you to carry my shirt and jacket.” Ellard said, and there was warning along with the pain in his voice.

  They paused while Ellard partially disrobed and handed Jarlath his pendant. He shifted and trotted beside her, so close his hot breath pierced the syncotton of her trews.

  Telling them about Razvan’s appearance at her house wouldn’t help. Yet guilt trickled through her veins, pounded in her head. They couldn’t let him win because the idea of her half-brother in charge, the idea of being at his mercy was untenable.

/>   On the next level down in the city, the scene appeared much the same. Traumatized citizens with dozens injured beyond the help of a medic. Twining with the scent of dust and burning dwellings was the metallic odor of blood. Beneath her skin the crow flapped and scratched and clawed and pecked and protested until Keira wanted to scream. Instead, she sucked up her inner torment and marched at Jarlath’s side. She scanned their surroundings, any bright colors sending new waves of anxiety swirling across her skin.

  At least Ellard seemed to be doing better in his leopard form. He was a big beast, powerful and stocky, and he kept pace beside her, his hot breath on her leg reminding her he could leap at any sec. A bite from his powerful jaw, a twist of her neck and she’d be gone.

  On the next level down, the street was devoid of rubble and fallen citizens.

  “Why did they leave this street?” Her whisper sounded loud in the oppressive silence, and she flinched.

  “I don’t know,” Jarlath said.

  She scanned the street, her crow chirping with uneasiness. “The atmosphere is wrong.”

  Ellard let out an unhappy bark of agreement, and they resumed walking, although at a slower pace, their gazes taking in every possible hiding place. Before they reached the end of the street, four figures appeared. They wore robes the color of fresh blood. The figures spread out and paused, as if waiting for their approach. Keira’s hand slid down to her weapon, the hard grip of the butt reassuring.

  The figures didn’t communicate, but sprang in concert. Their red cloaks swirled. Large bodies twisted, faces shifted.

  Flying stars, they were felines.

  Beside her Jarlath cursed.

  Ellard sprang at a leopard in mid-shift.

  Keira pulled her weapon, squeezed the trigger. Missed.

  A large paw swiped at her arm, connected with her blaster. She cried out, tried to maintain her grip. The weapon flew through the air, clattered to the ground.

  Instinct told her to jump. She jumped and the charging feline missed her. She found her knife in her hand, slashed and slashed again. Blood spurted from the leopard’s chest. A wound she had inflicted. The creature gathered itself to leap, faltered.