With his help I managed not to fall."I told you to sit and keep your eyes closed. Come." He didn't sound angry, thank goodness.
He flashed me into the bathroom and magically did up my hair so it wouldn't get in the way while I vomited. It wasn't pretty, but he stayed with me, supporting my shoulders and not scolding me. When nothing else would come up, he waited while I washed my face and rinsed my mouth, then flashed me to my bed and made me sit up with two pillows propped behind me. A water bottle appeared in my hand.
I wiped away a couple of tears then took a swig. "That was awful. I thought I was going crazy." The only good thing was that I must have purged myself of most of the potion.
He pulled a chair over next to the bed and sat. "It was awful for two reasons. You drank it down too quickly, and then you fought the effects." He looked closely at my eyes for a few moments, then took my hand in his and speared my index finger with a sharp claw. He sucked in the drop of blood that appeared. "Good. It seems you managed to absorb some of the potion, so the next time you'll..."
"Uh, uh. Never again. And when did I give you permission to take blood?" I scowled.
"You agreed to obey me, so you will be enjoying another dose. Surely you can spare one drop of blood for the sake of your son?"
"You promised..."
"I promised to keep you safe. To me that means alive and hidden with all limbs and bodily functions still intact and in working order. Minor injuries or stomach upsets do not put your life in danger." He rose from the bed and paced, running a hand through his hair. "You'll be of no use to me at all if you don't have access to your magic You'll drink another dose tomorrow. Sleep now." I was suddenly under the covers wearing pajama pants and a tank top, just like what I usually wore at home. He'd used magic to change my clothes.
"Isaiah..." I covered my face with my hands.
He sounded amused. "I'll check on you later. Stan will get you up in the morning. Sleep."
There was magic in the word. I closed my eyes, unable to keep them open a minute longer as my awareness shut down.
CHAPTER TWELVE
After breakfast, a satisfying meal consisting of hot cereal, savory roasted meat and fruit, Isaiah appeared with another goblet.
I swallowed my last spoonful of cereal. "I'd rather not."
"I understand your hesitation, but I insist."
"No meetings today?"
"None that can't wait."
"I might get sick again." Maybe that would change his mind.
"Only if you decide not to follow my instructions."
"You didn't give any instructions yesterday." I pushed my plate away and glowered.
"This is key to your training. If you don't..."
"Okay." I raised my palm in defeat, then extended it. "Hand it over." There was no point in putting it off any longer. Isaiah would push and push and drive me crazy.
"Good girl." He slid it across the table, adding, "Two sips. Then we wait one minute to see what happens."
I sniffed the liquid and winced. It smelled different in a bad way. He noticed my discomfort, so he sat beside me and scooted his chair a little closer.
"If I feel sick..."
"I'm here." He placed his hand over mine, surprising me again. "We all have to make sacrifices." His joke earned him a weak smile. "Now focus, then sip."
Two sips later I was starting to tingle. "I feel something."
He laughed. "Where?"
"My gut. It's kind of like that feeling you get when you're going to vomit."
His eyebrows shot up and we were instantly in the bathroom again. "I'm beginning to think that your shifter magic is resisting. Try to reassure it."
I sat on the closed toilet seat with a thump. "Really, Isaiah? Do you talk to your magic, because I haven't had that particular experience."
"I'm pure-blood, totally in sync with my power. But for you, holding out an olive branch to both sides might speed the process along. Think of it as an existential exercise. Go to your first vision—that plateau you created—and try to pull in both shifter and demon. You may be surprised at the results."
He was referring to the cliff I'd conjured when I was first learning how to build my shields and use my newly discovered magic. My power was so much a part of me now that I rarely needed to anchor myself mentally before pulling in energy. The vision brought back memories of Garrett instructing me on how to protect myself by building a shield and then on another day, us making love during the solstice festival. Looking away from Isaiah, I smiled.
"I see you remember the place."
"Of course I do."
"It's neutral territory, and quite tranquil as I recall." He used his hands to gesture dramatically. "I remember a lush grassy cliff overlooking a sea of rainbow-hued ley line magic under a bright blue cloudless sky." He sighed.
I narrowed my eyes. "There are clouds. The big white puffy kind."
"You're feeling better?"
"Yes." The tingling sensation had stopped.
He held out the goblet. "Two more sips." This was an order. I groaned. He growled. I drank.
My eyes and hands started to itch so I looked at the mirror over the sink. My eyes were orange—okay that had happened before—and my claws were out. What the...? My claws? I looked more closely. These were not my cheetah claws. These claws were at least two inches longer and looked razor sharp."Uh, Isaiah..."
"Lovely, aren't they?"
"How do I get rid of them?"
"Will them away, like you do your cheetah claws."
"I don't have access to my shifter magic here."
"How inconvenient." He smirked.
"So how do I retract them?"
"Figure it out, little demon." He stood. "Come, I have work for you." He left the room quickly.
I waved my hands around as I followed him. "How the heck am I supposed to work?" He ducked into a doorway ten yards ahead of me, so I broke into a sprint to catch up. "You don't have claws in true form."
He spun, wiggling his fingers in the air. Very long black claws had appeared at the tips. "You were saying? I'm able to make use of them whenever it's necessary, as you will be too."
I should have known that. "Oh. Well, can't you show me how to get rid of them?"
"Of course I can."
"But you won't."
"Not a chance." Grinning he turned again and moved off, his claws disappearing with the first two strides. "I expect you to learn to use the magic of my world. The claws appeared on your hands. You can get rid of them the same way."
"They appeared 'cause I drank the potion." He was walking faster now, his long legs carrying him to another doorway. He disappeared inside. I had to hold my hands in front of me as I ran after him, so I wouldn't cut myself accidentally. Plus I had to keep opening doors with my butt. "Shouldn't I have another couple of sips? Maybe that will help."
He was halfway across a large ballroom."No, I think we'll wait until after lunch. I don't want you getting sick again." He kept walking.
I stopped walking and looked down at my misshapen hands, then shouted after him. "You're being a dickhead!"
He turned but didn't move any closer, which was probably a good thing as I'd managed once again to cross a line. His voice dropped an octave, taking on a slight growl. "Not today. Today I'm teaching you a lesson. I hope you never give me cause to behave like a dickhead, because pain will be involved." We stared at each other for another few seconds, then he spun and beckoned me to follow with a sweep of his hand. "Come. And try not to cut yourself. Stan hates to clean blood out of the carpeting."
He made me walk the entire way with my hands held out in front of me like some kind of animal/zombie hybrid. By the time we got to the receiving room, I was thoroughly pissed.
A small table and chair materialized by the throne chair. "Sit in that chair and lay your hands on the table in front of you, palms facing down." He laughed when he noticed my expression. "Bare your fangs all you want, I won't mind." I bit my lip and kept my mouth shut. "Goo
d. Are your fingertips feeling hot?" I nodded. "That's normal. Focus as you've been trained. Allow yourself to feel each spot where the claws erupt from your skin."
I nodded, starting to understand where he was going with this.
"Now remember how they felt without claws." I did and the claws were gone. "You will them gone and they're gone. Gosh, it's like magic," he teased.
I shut my smart mouth behind a locked door and took a deep breath. It was never a good idea to forget who was in charge here in the DR. "It is kinda like shifting," I grumbled. "But what if I goof and my hands disappear too?"
"This is your true form, as this is mine." He indicated his very handsome self. "You will not be able to lose a part of your true self through your own personal magic. One day you may be able to use glamour to change your appearance, but if you are seriously injured or unconscious or dead, you will always revert to your true form."
"So the claws are glamour?"
"They're part of your warrior form, which is considered a demon's natural glamour. These claws make excellent weapons and are much more versatile than cheetah claws. You can even pick a lock with them." He looked me over. "How do you feel?"
"Pretty much normal."
"Let's see the claws again." They popped out as soon as I thought about what it felt like to have them.
"Cool." I wiggled my fingers, fascinated to see that my fingernails had disappeared when the claws sprouted. "How come yours were longer?" His smile was wicked. "Don't tell me it's a guy thing. That's too cliché even for you."
"You can make them any length, shape or color you prefer. Sharpness too. It's simply a matter of taste and necessity."
Mine were a sleek and shiny black, delicate yet deadly "They're beautiful." I made the claws disappear, then rested my chin on a fist, elbow on the table. "So here in the DR, I'm part of the magic. It's natural to me like it is when I shift into my cheetah. When I do that, I just have to remember how it feels when I change and it happens. Is that right?"
"Not exactly. Think about it this way: when you shift, you pull in magic from an outside source, as do all shapeshifters."
"I guess." There was always that strange electric tingle before my body changed, so I supposed that's what he meant.
"But these claws,—” he'd made his appear and was waving them around "—these come from the magic that lives within you all the time."
Frowning, I argued, "But my cheetah is my true form, too." He scowled and shook his head. "It is. It's as much me as my human form. When I'm cheetah, it's not glamour...it's real...as real as this."
He leaned back in the chair looking thoughtful. "It may not feel like glamour, but I believe it is." He hesitated, wheels spinning behind his large brown eyes. "What happened to a werewolf when you killed it in wolf form?"
"He stayed a wolf."
"He was not born a magical creature. The virus makes him one. A creature born with magic will return to true form at death. All other forms are considered glamour. A leopard shifter will return to human form when he dies.
"A vampire..."
"Is different. At his final death he returns to the time of the oldest of his bloodline's origin. Francois' maker, Kostas Appellas, is still living. If a young vampire in his line were to pass on, his body turns to dust. Kostas is an ancient Greek, whose line goes back to an Egyptian named Nemorus who became an undead over five thousand years ago. Garrett's line is very old and so more powerful than most."
"Garrett is cheetah."
A stool appeared at his feet so he could stretch out in the chair. "Your mate is indeed a mystery. Thousands of shapeshifters were killed by vampires who wanted their power included in their nest. I know of no other who survived."
Whoa. No other shifter had survived the transition to vampire in all those centuries? "I still think cheetahs carry their own magic, no matter what you say. We don't need to pull in magic to mindspeak or to read each other's emotions. We simply connect."
"Master vampires can mindspeak with their nests, but that doesn't explain how you communicate. Logic tells me that you're wrong, but there is the bond. May I see your mark?" He reached across the table and took my left hand in one of his, tracing the cheetah's eye lightly with the fingers of his other hand. "Beautiful. There is magic here. I can feel it pooling beneath your skin."
"This happened when we shared blood." I flattened my mouth, trying to find more evidence to prove my point. "When I was a prisoner, I was able to hold onto some of Garrett and Liam's magic so I could heal myself. I wouldn't have been strong enough to unravel the last block without it." He still didn't look convinced. "I carry my own cheetah magic. Maybe it isn't terribly strong, but it's mine and it's always with me."
He released my hand and met my gaze. "Cheetahs are a mystery so perhaps there's something in what you say. We'll be finding out more once you convince your cheetah and your healer to cooperate with your demon blood. Remember this: your demon magic is also with you always, even at home and in Faerie. It's just much harder to access there. Sprouting those claws of yours would require great effort if you were visiting your fae friends, perhaps more power than you currently hold."
Something he'd said earlier came back to me. "Do I have a warrior form?"
"Yes, but a word of warning. You might be the biggest baddest-looking demon warrior in the entire DR, but if you don't know how to use that body to fight, Sinlae can beat you. Easily." I was quiet while I thought about that. "Do you want to learn to fight in that form?" He asked.
I shook my head. "No. I'd just be a bigger target, and then I'd have to spend all my time working on building up my muscles when I'd rather be refining my magic."
"That's my girl," he teased. "Make no mistake, we will be working on your fighting skills, just not in warrior form." The stool disappeared and he stood gracefully, pulling on the cuffs of his tunic and then running a hand through his hair. "We have more visitors. They won't be happy, because I've kept them waiting all morning. On purpose." He winked. Oh great. More angry visitors.
Another pad and pen materialized in my hand as I stood and moved into position behind him and to his left. This time I managed to hold onto it. "Ready?" he asked.
I straightened my back, giggled and said," At your service, sir," in my best "efficient secretary" voice. Lowering himself gracefully into his throne-like chair, he signaled to Stan to let the visitors enter.
"For this group you'll remain mute." He couldn't see my scowl, but he responded as if he had. "Your idea." Isaiah loved his games.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
His guests were three demons in true form, all of them tall with long hair but starkly varied features. I was surprised to see that one was quite homely. I guess I'd assumed that all demons would be good-looking like Isaiah, since every seelie fae I'd met was attractive, at least in an exotic way. Even Kennet would be considered attractive by females who didn't know what a horror he was.
Isaiah had made them wait for hours and hadn't provided them with food or drink other than water while they'd waited. Following Stan into the room, their downturned mouths and wrinkled brows left no doubt as to their mood. This could get interesting.
"Please sit, cousins." Chairs appeared around a table, none of them as large or ostentatious as Isaiah's. Two demons sat, while a very thin male with brown braided hair stepped forward and spoke. "Your servant informed us that we must speak in English. Why do you insist on this?"
"I feel it is necessary for all of us to keep in practice. When the day comes that we are called upon to attack our enemies on the fields of the mortal plain, it will be useful." He'd added some volume to his voice, the sonorous quality adding to the whole "I'm in charge here" vibe.
Slim went back to the table, mumbled something to the others, then sat. The good looking one with curly blond hair said, "We have been waiting in your home for most of the daylight hours. This is rude behavior, cousin, even beyond your usual standards." Blondie was well and truly pissed off.
"I made the slaugh
ambassador wait for three days and your rank is much lower." The blonde twisted his mouth into a snarl as Isaiah shrugged, then motioned to Stan who'd taken his usual spot by the door. Stan disappeared, probably to get some refreshments. I hoped it wouldn't be more of the green goop. These three looked ready to punch someone and I didn't want to end up covered in the stuff. I backed up a few more steps so that if the goo hit the fan, I could duck behind Isaiah's chair.
The braided one smiled. "It must have taken another three days for the slaugh stink to dissipate." He and Isaiah laughed while the other two frowned. At least there was one laid-back cousin.
"Ignoring males of our status is unwise, Isaiah," Blondie growled. He seemed to be the leader of the trio. Or at least the grumpiest.
Isaiah's eyes flashed orange. "Is that a threat, Malben?" He pulled a dagger from the usual sheath at his waist and started to clean his nails with it. The hilt glowed with power the same way Liam's had.
Rat face spoke up, maybe not trusting Malben's reaction. "We do not threaten our cousin. We only ask him to be more aware of social conventions."
My boss wrinkled his brow in pseudo-sympathy. "I apologize, Krannox, I have been overwhelmed by important matters vital to our realm." He swiveled toward me and winked, the others unable to see, then turned back. "May I offer you refreshment?" Stan had returned along with a train of servants and was placing platters of food and pitchers of drink on the table.
When Stan finished, none of the visitors made a move to eat. Isaiah turned to me. "Goûter la nourriture." Then he sent, "It means..."
"I know what it means. I have to taste their food in case it's poisoned." Apparently my job description had changed. I'd been whisked back to the sixteenth century. I was now the Lord's food taster. Jeez.
I walked in a mutely, yet dignified manner to the table, picked up an extra fork and tasted several dishes. The males watched me with more than a passing curiosity, their gazes flitting over my fake body. Isaiah's gaze held daggers. "No touching, gentlemen. Salina is my new toy."
rogue shifter 06 - torn apart Page 12