by Ari McKay
Whimsy stared at him as if he’d suddenly sprouted a second head. “I’m sorry, you said what now?”
“You heard me!” Julian ground out. “I stand by it too. You and Thomas don’t need to be here, not once we know where the cauldron is. Why risk yourselves?”
“Because I’m a fucking battle mage who can help with crowd control,” Whimsy said, his dark eyebrows snapping together in a forbidding scowl. “Because Thomas is a demon hunter who can deal with this shit better than the rest of us put together. Back me up here, Arden.”
“Whimsy’s right,” Arden said promptly. “By my reckoning, I’m the most useless one here, but you weren’t suggesting that I sit it out!”
“Because you’re three hundred fucking years old!” Julian snarled. “And your father didn’t seem too worried about your fate, so I’m not either. But Whimsy is specifically at risk.” Julian turned his gaze to the mage. “Yes, you’re a battle mage. Yes, you can handle yourself, but why take the chance if you don’t have to? And Thomas….” Julian couldn’t help it—his breath hitched as he thought about Thomas dying, perhaps only hours from now. “Three months ago he was a farmer! He’s fought a drude, he’s removed a couple of glyphs. When we faced those shifters, sure, he held back five of them, but he was drained for days afterward—and that was with the feather! Do you honestly think he can take on a fallen angel and survive?”
Whimsy’s frown softened as he studied Julian in silence, and then he clasped Julian’s hand and squeezed it gently. “What I think he can or can’t do doesn’t matter. He’s an adult, and he understands the risks. So do I. Gilorean’s prediction scared the shit out of me, as I’m sure it did Thomas, but I’m here because this is where I need to be. I couldn’t live with myself if I sat this out, especially if something went wrong. This is my decision and Thomas’s to make, not yours or Harlan’s or anyone else’s, no matter how afraid you are of losing either of us.”
Part of Julian knew Whimsy was right, but another part railed against the thought of taking unnecessary risks. Like the way he’d risked his heart on Thomas, and lost.
Shaking his head, Julian released Whimsy’s hand. “It doesn’t matter anymore. We’re here, and whatever is going to happen will happen.” His voice sounded bleak even to himself. “I should have known things could never work out. I’ve never been good at relationships, you both know that.” He didn’t say that if Thomas died, Julian had no interest in surviving either. Even if Thomas thought he was a controlling bastard, Julian would save Thomas or die in the attempt.
“Sounds like a self-fulfilling prophecy to me,” Whimsy said. “Is this really how you want to leave things between you?”
“Yeah,” Arden chimed in. “You should talk to him, Julian. Make things right.”
Julian wanted nothing more than for things to be right, but he didn’t see how. Thomas had hated Micah for controlling him, and he probably now hated Julian too. What could Julian say that would matter if they were both going to die anyway?
You could tell him you love him, a voice in his head whispered. That might matter.
Julian had never said those words to anyone, not since his mother had died. He loved Whimsy and Arden as friends, but he’d never made the words a declaration because neither of them had ever owned his heart. But he did love Thomas. He couldn’t lose Thomas, because if he survived the loss, nothing would ever matter to him again.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said quietly. “I’ll talk to him when we stop at the summit.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Whimsy said, offering an encouraging smile.
Arden offered a smile of his own before they both hurried to catch up with their mates. Julian appreciated that they wanted to make things right between him and Thomas. He knew Thomas was fond of him, and even if Julian hadn’t destroyed that affection during their argument, Thomas might decide that a cranky old vampire who lacked people skills simply wasn’t to his taste any longer.
It took another hour and a half to reach the summit, where there was normally a gorgeous view out over the distant valleys. But the clouds had been falling lower and lower as they climbed, so that now there were only gray shadows falling away into the drop-off. The wind had picked up as well, and Julian cocked his head to one side as a sound reached him, something that almost sounded like the whisper of many voices.
He spotted Thomas talking to Whimsy, and for a moment he reconsidered his decision. Thomas probably didn’t want to hear it, and Julian would be setting himself up for rejection. But as he stood, hesitating, a pair of hands gave him a sharp push toward Thomas.
Julian glanced back to find Arden there, fixing him with a stern look. “Go. Now.”
“But….” Julian was about to argue, but Arden glared at him fiercely. With a sigh, Julian shrugged. “Okay, fine. But if he tells me to get lost, you owe me a bottle of bourbon.”
“I’m not worried,” Arden replied, then pointed. “Go, I said.”
Grumbling, Julian headed in Thomas’s direction. Thomas noticed Julian approaching, and his eyes widened in surprise. But he didn’t turn away, and while he appeared cautious, there was a hopeful look in his eyes as well.
When Julian reached Thomas, he slanted a glance at Whimsy, who nodded and walked away. With no other excuses for delaying, Julian straightened up and steeled himself for rejection. “Thomas, I wanted to say something. I suppose I should have said it the other night, but it was… difficult.”
“We both got a little heated the other night. I’m sorry about that,” Thomas said with a small, rueful smile.
Surprised that Thomas wasn’t yelling at him, Julian nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess we did,” he replied slowly. “I’m sorry too. I just… I can’t… I don’t want anything to happen to you. You know that, right?”
“I know, but—” Thomas’s expression shifted to shock and alarm as he glanced behind Julian, and he went for his knives. “We’re under attack!”
For a moment Julian stood frozen. He’d been so focused on baring his soul that it took him a moment to process what Thomas was saying. And when he did, he wanted to scream in frustration. Why now? Fate must truly hate him to put him through this!
But Julian had been in many battles, so he drew his sword, turning to follow on Thomas’s heels as they rushed toward the oncoming shapes of wolves and bears advancing from the other side of the trail.
It didn’t appear to be a planned attack, and Julian wondered, as he hacked at the large, furry shapes in his way, if the shifters had stumbled upon them by accident. He caught sight of Eli and Harlan in their wolf forms as they dashed past him to attack their enemies.
The scene was chaotic, and Julian had to concentrate on auras to tell which of the werewolves were friends or foes. He heard a piercing whistle, and suddenly the attacking shifters disengaged and ran back down the trail, leaving their dead and wounded behind.
“Don’t follow!” Julian shouted, hoping their own werewolves would listen. “They’ll pick you off one at a time! Regroup!”
Tharn and Eli repeated the command, and the pack members obeyed, returning to their alphas. Julian found Thomas and looked him over with quick concern. “Are you hurt?”
“Not even a scratch,” Thomas said, giving Julian a shy smile.
A small knot of tension in Julian’s gut eased. “Good. I think this was a chance encounter. Which means they’re as close to the cauldron as we are.”
“And we’re pretty close,” Thomas said. “I can feel something calling to me. It feels similar to the feather, but much stronger.”
Julian was surprised. “You think it’s the cauldron, or something else?”
“Unless there’s another powerful artifact hidden around here that we don’t know about, I assume it’s the cauldron,” Thomas said. “Whatever it is, it’s not of the Unholy. It feels angel-touched.”
Julian’s surprise turned into disbelief. “But… why would a demon want it, then? Nothing I read ever suggested it was angelic,
just powerful magic of some secular type. If it is angelic, I wonder if….”
“Thomas! Over here!” Harlan called out. Julian glanced over and saw Harlan and Eli bent over the body of a bear. “This one is still alive! Do you think you could use the feather to cast out the demon?”
“I’ll give it a try!” Thomas called back. He paused and gnawed on his bottom lip as he regarded Julian pensively, and then he reached out and gave Julian’s arm a fleeting touch. “Excuse me,” he murmured before hurrying away.
For all that Julian hadn’t been eager to disclose his feelings, he found himself annoyed by the circumstances that had interrupted him. With a huff, he followed in Thomas’s wake.
The bear had been knocked out, and its fur was matted and bloody where multiple werewolves had attacked. But it was healing slowly, and Julian hoped Thomas could cast out the demon. Having a bear shifter on their side would be helpful—and one who had a score to settle with the demons would be even better.
Thomas squatted in front of the bear shifter and touched the white feather to its wide forehead, and he held it there with an expression of intense concentration.
Julian watched, and the bear growled before shifting back into the form of a man taller and broader than even Eli. He arched up, his eyes opening wide as he cried out in pain. Then it was over, and the feather vanished from Thomas’s hand—fortunately it would reappear in the box as it always did.
Harlan felt for a pulse, then smiled and nodded as he found it. “He’s fine. Just unconscious.”
“What are we going to do with him?” Arden asked. He was standing behind Eli, one hand on Eli’s shoulder as Eli crouched over the unconscious shifter.
“I’d like to take him with us,” Julian replied. He squatted beside Thomas. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Thomas said with a little nod. “The demon possessing him wasn’t strong enough to put up much of a fight, so it didn’t even make a dent in my energy reserves.”
“Good.” Julian was relieved, and he touched Thomas’s shoulder.
“We could take him, once he’s conscious,” Harlan said. “It shouldn’t be too long.”
“But is it time we have?” Arden asked. “They could come back. Or follow us, now that they know we’re here.”
“I know.” Julian grimaced. “Arden, why don’t you go with Eli and a couple of the other werewolves and scout ahead? Be careful to look for any traps. Talk to the dryads if you can, see if they know where the possessed shifters are massing. Harlan, ask Tharn if he can have Earl and a couple of others hang back a bit once we start moving again, to protect our flank.”
Arden and Eli gathered up the other members of Eli’s pack and headed after the possessed shifters. Harlan made his way over to Tharn, which left Julian and Thomas to watch over the shifter.
“I suppose it was too much to hope that we’d get in and out with the cauldron without them finding us,” Julian said softly. “This is why I’m not an optimist. Nothing ever seems to work in our favor.”
Before Thomas could reply, the shifter stirred and opened his eyes again, then sat up. “Where… what happened? Who are you?”
By the time Julian and Thomas had explained the situation and learned the shifter’s name was Garrett Stevens, Arden and Eli had returned. Arden reported that the possessed shifters had fled, but the dryads said they hadn’t gone too far.
“I guess we have to push on, then,” Julian replied. “Thomas feels something. If it’s the cauldron, we need to get to it before our enemies do—and before dark.”
With Eli’s pack scouting ahead and Tharn’s pack bringing up the rear, they set off again, following whatever force seemed to be pulling Thomas toward it.
They met no opposition as they left the Appalachian Trail for the Cloudland Trail, headed toward the site of a hotel that had stood on the spot in the nineteenth century. Julian had visited the hotel a few times, enchanted with the views, but like Thomas’s great-grandfather, he’d never felt anything supernatural in the area. But as they moved past the site where the hotel had once stood, the murmur of wind seemed to crescendo into a shriek, the sound so eerily like a human voice that Julian and everyone else stopped in their tracks.
After a few moments Thomas started moving again, walking fast as he continued to the west. The Cloudland Trail wasn’t as well defined as the main parts of the Appalachian Trail, and the terrain became steeper as they started upward again.
Everyone seemed to catch Thomas’s urgency, and Julian didn’t want to distract him by starting up another personal conversation. The day was also fading much more quickly than Julian would have liked, and he looked at his watch, startled to see that they only had two hours until darkness fell.
They reached the point where huge, lichen-covered boulders began to crowd in upon the trail, pushing back the encroaching trees. A short distance beyond this the way became even more barren, as they came to the stark ridgeline known as Roan High Bluff. Visibility was not only limited, but the clouds above them seemed to churn, the wind rushing up the steep angle of the mountainside as though to push them back.
“Where do we go?” Julian asked Thomas.
“Down.” Thomas looked over the stone barrier that protected the unwary from stumbling off the mountainside. “I think there’s a cave beneath us.”
“On it.” Julian had been prepared for something like this. If the cave had been easy to find, after all, people would have been stumbling into it for centuries. Part of the load they’d packed all this way was rope, since not even werewolves could get down the steep mountainside on their own. “I’m going to go ahead as mist, see if I can find a cave opening. It’ll be easier if we know exactly where we need to end up.”
“Please be careful,” Thomas said, and Julian nodded.
As mist, it wasn’t hard for Julian to descend the mountainside, but it wasn’t a fast way to travel, and it didn’t mean he could magically find the cave they were seeking. There were several openings in the mountainside, and he cautiously checked them out until he found one that he felt certain had to be the right one. The cave was set back into the mountainside, with a sharp jut of bare stone in front of it, forming a lip that was almost level, though strewn with branches and almost hidden from sight by the trees that clung with stubborn determination even here. And the thing that totally convinced Julian he had the right place was that he could hear the voices even more clearly here—voices that had nothing to do with the wind on the mountains, because they came from inside the cave.
He hurried back to the others and pointed out the location of the cave. They agreed that Tharn’s pack would remain on the ridge to guard the ropes. Julian couldn’t carry a rope in his mist form, but as a vampire he was far more agile than any human, even more so than the shape-shifters, and so he took one end of a rope and made his way back down to the area in front of the cave, holding the rope as first Arden, then Eli, then Harlan—with Whimsy clinging to his back—made it down to the ledge. Finally Thomas joined them, followed by the rest of the members of Eli’s pack and Garrett, who had insisted he had a score to settle.
Thomas pulled out his flashlight as he moved past all of them and headed into the cave, appearing half-mesmerized, as if the voices were acting like a siren song.
“This way,” he said, beckoning to the others without looking back. “It’s not far now.”
Julian drew his sword and followed right behind Thomas, the better to protect him if anything seemed threatening. He motioned for Whimsy to follow him. “Can you keep a lookout for magical traps? Or if you start feeling dark magic, let us know at once.”
Whimsy looked around intently as he moved closer to Julian. “Nothing so far,” he said. “Actually, the vibes feel pretty good in here.”
“That’s a relief. I think.” Julian smiled crookedly, then turned his attention back to Thomas.
They were in a narrow passage, but after a short distance, it widened into a proper cave. The ceiling rose at least twenty feet, co
vered by the sharp downward thrusts of stalactites. The floor was uneven and littered with stones, and while Julian had better vision in the dark than almost anyone else, he was glad for the illumination of the glowing orb Whimsy conjured.
Eli had directed two of his pack to remain near the end of the passageway to alert them if anyone decided to follow them into the cave. The rest of them kept close to Thomas, scanning the cave for any threats and on guard against danger.
After a few minutes of slow movement, they reached the back of the cave. Julian didn’t see any passages leading back farther, although the spectral voices continued to wail loudly. Julian couldn’t see any ghosts, which was puzzling. Where did the voices come from if not from lingering spirits?
Thomas pressed both palms against the cave wall and leaned forward, head cocked as if he was listening. “It’s here,” he said. “On the other side of this wall.”
Whimsy stepped forward and touched the wall gingerly. “It’s tingly,” he said, wiggling his fingers as if to shake something off. “I’m going to guess a door hidden by protective magic.” He glanced over his shoulder at Julian. “And you didn’t want me here.”
Julian scowled. “I didn’t want you dead,” he clarified, then waved at the wall. “Can you open it?”
“Just watch.”
Whimsy drew himself up straight and lifted both arms, and bright arcane energy swirled around his hands. He aimed the energy at the wall, where it clung to the rock and began to spread in a slow, gelatinous roll, and the rock appeared to dissolve, revealing a rough-hewn wooden door enforced with iron bands.
“Don’t touch it yet,” he warned when Thomas reached for the door handle, and Thomas yanked his hand back. “The illusion is gone, but the protections are still in place.”