Lychos

by Larsen, Patti

  When I turn back, it’s to the sight of Sage pinned to the carpet, Caine’s wolf jaws descending to my love’s throat. I have no time to reach them, to save Sage. Caine was right after all.

  I’m too late.

  Sage! I scream in his mind, my magic the only part of me fast enough to close the distance, to show him what I’ve uncovered, discovered about myself, my sorcery. And in the split second between his coming death and his last moment of life, Sage’s mind breaks through the controls, seizing his dark power, and I feel him return to me.

  Caine’s teeth close on empty air as Sage, human and thinking again, does the unexpected. He scoots sideways, out from under Caine’s body, twisting as he goes, legs locking around his opponent’s. I’ve seen this move, had Sage use it on me before in the dojo. Only this isn’t some marital arts training session, it’s life and death. And, I know Caine doesn’t stand a chance against this maneuver, now that Sage is back.

  I’m not too late after all.

  It’s Caine’s turn to howl as Sage strikes, extended claws slicing through the Californian’s shoulder and neck while a mist of black undulates beneath them, Sage’s sorcery drawing on Caine’s strength. Panting and still struggling despite the loss of blood, Caine reverts to human while Sage does the same.

  “No!” Rupe’s scream takes my attention from my love and his success, to Syd pushing with relentless purpose through the shielding protecting the sorcerer. I’ve never seen her look so determined, or so full of the need to kill. The werewolves of my nation are falling to their knees as the coercive field fails. Eyes no longer glazed, they remain unable to fight, their very lives sucked away by Rupe, as are the sorcerers he made part of his trap. I focus on my sorcery, on the connection he has to all of them, and feel the embedded thread of darkness running under the floor of the throne room. It has many branches, like the sickening tentacles of a mythical kraken, drawing out the power of those it's tied to. I follow it back to the root, to the edge of the shield Syd forces herself against, and link with her.

  She sees what I’ve discovered the moment our minds touch and, with my power tied to hers, slashes outward with the power of the maji, cutting the cord.

  The whole room sighs, bodies hitting the floor, the sudden release and recoil of their magic sending the werewolves down, but the sorcerers flying backward.

  Rupe’s scream of denial echoes in the huge room as he claws at the air around him, as though trying to pull the threads back. His body begins to morph into wereform, but I know immediately something is wrong with his transformation. Misshapen and incomplete, his limbs seem oddly bent, patches of baldness on his exposed flesh showing diseased skin. He leaps from the throne, personal wards still in place, still strong, though weakening now he has no one to feed them, shifting back and forth between horribly mutated werewolf and mad human.

  The pressure is so powerful I clamp my hands over my ears, my fellow weres doing the same. Something must give or we will all rupture from the intensity of the two magicks coming together.

  It’s Rupe’s that breaks, snapping back from Syd like a bungee cord severing under too much weight. She staggers, enough time for Rupe to spin, red face still clutched in madness, and run behind the throne. She runs after him, but I can feel his power sucking at the energy in the room and know he’s already gone.

  The sorcerers he brought with him lay scattered, mostly unconscious, around the throne room. I cannot bring myself to feel sympathy for them as the werewolves of my pack begin to round them up.

  I turn to run to Sage, relief making me giddy. And gasp as his smiling face turns to me, not seeing the hate in Caine as the injured Californian rises and lunges for my love.

  I’m already throwing power at Caine, but Sage is in the way and I can’t risk hurting him. Too late, this time, I’m out of position and Sage is too slow to spin at the sound of Caine rising. Time slows. I’m locked in a well of inching seconds. Sage turning, Caine lashing out with sharp claws, the strength of the blow surely enough to remove my love’s head from his shoulders.

  Three shapes—one white, one gray and a third black—streak across the carpet. The black wolf is fastest, slamming between Sage and Caine. Time snaps back into motion and I’m running already, grasping for Sage, shoving him out of the way, my own claws striking, taking Caine across the face with one paw, the other embedding itself up under his ribcage to grip his heart.

  He gapes at me as I jerk the pumping muscle free and hold it in front of his dying eyes. He shifts to human, falling at my feet, blood pooling around my paws, his heart jerking two more beats in my hand before falling silent.

  I look down, at the white wolf who is my mother, the gray who is my brother. I realize the third, the black shape who saved Sage, now lying in a river of running blood with his body cut almost in half, is my father.

  I fall to my knees at his side, the white wolf whimpering as she licks his face. Raoul is human again, but when I reach for him with magic, I feel his wolf dying, unable to heal the massive injury. I’m crying, clutching at him, pushing power into him, but it’s not enough, will never be enough.

  It’s only the power of the wolf that keeps him awake, aware, as he looks into my eyes. My grandfather joins me, kissing his son, weeping openly while Raoul tries to speak.

  “Olena,” his voice is a wet, bubbling sound as his lungs fill with blood. “I did as you asked. Everything I did, I did to protect our children.” He meets my eyes. “Including taking the first chance I had to free Charlotte.”

  Free me? And then, I understand, and I’m sobbing, a broken-hearted little girl who blamed her father for the wrong thing. I thought him a coward, without caн. But Raoul Moreau gave up his own honor in order to align me with Syd, to force me to bond with her.

  “How did you know?” I bend over my dying father, tears mingling with his blood.

  “No one ever,” he coughs, gasps, “stood against the Dumonts. Until her.” He twitches, the light in his eyes dimming. “If anyone could free you, it was Sydlynn. And her family. At least you would be with those of honor.”

  I bow my head, heart squeezing tight with regret. So long I blamed him, held him in scorn. But he did what he did to save me.

  Breath bubbles heavily in his chest. A normal would be dead by now. Though we’ve had our differences, and I’ve doubted his courage, my father saved me the only way he knew how. And now, he’s given his life to save my love when he could have let Sage die. For that, I will always be grateful. As I must be grateful I at least have a chance to say goodbye.

  The wolf in me is that practical.

  My father’s fingers rise, run through my mother’s fur, a tiny smile on his lips and love in his eyes. And then, his gaze glazes over and Raoul Moreau dies while the werewolves in the room howl over his loss.

  ***

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  I feel my grandfather stir next to me, turn to embrace him. He’s still Oleksander, though he’s lost weight from his time in captivity and I can only assume Caine and Rupe have treated him badly.

  When I pull away, he touches my face with gentle, giant hands, weeping openly. “My darling Sharlotta,” he whispers.

  The white wolf who is my mother barks sharply at him. Oleksander looks up, stares at her with sadness. “Forgive me,” he says. “If you are still there, Olena, I beg of you to forgive me.”

  She tilts her head to the side, ears perked.

  “Grandfather,” I say. “I think there’s a way to make it right.”

  He doesn’t argue with me, debate werelaw as he once may have. Instead, he hugs me and kisses me before nodding. “The days of the old laws no longer serve us,” he says, sounding old and tired. He releases me, slowly standing from the remains of his fallen son and turning to face the assembled magic users. I stand with him, the two wolves at my feet, Sage standing back, though I long to have him next to me.

  I’ve almost forgotten those who came to help us and meet Femke’s eyes as my grandfather’s booming voice deman
ds attention.

  “There is a time and a place for everything,” he said, deep voice sad but strong. “And though her actions once went against the laws of our people, she has proved to be the very were we need to lead us.” He releases me, bowing to me as the rest of the werenation bows in response. My entire body tenses as they fall to their knees and lower their heads. “I am abdicating the throne,” Oleksander says before I can choke out a word to stop him, “a throne stolen from me, and won back for our people by your princess, your future queen.” The world is closing in around me and though I knew this could be the end result, I didn’t expect it to happen now, here, while my hands and knees are wet with my father’s blood and the entirety of magickdom seems to stare in wonder.

  Oleksander has no qualms, however. He salutes. “All hail Sharlotta Moreau, ruler of the werenation.”

  I accept their roar of answer, resolute as the vampires, witches and Steam Union join in the happy cry. But I can’t forget who brought me here, to this moment. I turn to find Sage watching me with empty eyes.

  I reach for him with my magic, but he blocks me with his. And then I’m swept into the arms of countless werewolves, embraced and celebrated while all I want to do is deny them, reject the responsibility, go to Sage.

  Maks finally sets me down as Femke approaches, smiling. “It is our great honor to see you take the throne,” she says. “Congratulations, Princess Sharlotta.”

  I’m numb, but I nod to her anyway. I just need a moment alone with Sage right now, but I guess I’m going to have to wait.

  Though I expected less from her, Eva Southway joins Femke in shaking my hand.

  “I’d like to offer support in the future.” I’m shocked at her offer, frankly. She’s shown me little but disdain and opposition since we met. Perhaps my impending change of status influences her. “So this can never happen again.”

  “If that support,” I say, “is to teach werewolves to use their sorcery, your help is welcome.”

  She seems startled herself. But I’ve already worked it out in my head, long before she brought it up, shortly after Syd showed me what to do. We have to be our own people, with our own protections. And to do that, we have to not only embrace change, but willingly discard our beliefs while realizing our full potential.

  We’ll be working on that for a long time to come.

  “An excellent idea.” Syd chooses that moment to return, cranky and touchy. She pushes herself between Eva and me, bristling with argumentative energy. “Don’t you think?”

  Eva accepts the conditions graciously. “I take it Rupe is gone?”

  Syd spins on me, anger cracking around her. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Her eyes fall on my father and all the rage runs out of her. She cups both hands over her mouth, gaze lifting to mine, full of tears. I don’t give her a chance to say a word, hugging her instead.

  “All’s well,” I say, choking up again at the memory of what my father did for me, “that ends well.”

  She nods and lets me go, both of us watching as four wereguards gather up the remains of Raoul Moreau and carry him away.

  My anger smothers sadness as Maks and Isabelle, aided by Gwen and Finlay, herd the last of Caine’s pack into a knot of misery and force them to face me. My power crackles with the need to hurt them, to punish them, but as I open my mouth to snap orders to have them imprisoned, Sage practically leaps between them and me, face set and determined.

  “I take responsibility for these werewolves,” he says.

  I gape, anger tempered, but still there, now aimed at him, though I have no idea what he has in mind.

  Sage, I send, desperation in my mind. I need him to distance himself from them, not claim allegiance. Especially if he’s to be with me. What are you doing?

  Silence is my answer.

  “They are enemies of the werenation,” I say out loud.

  “Led by someone who knew only darkness,” Sage says. He turns and the gathered Californian pack nods at him. It’s true, they seem less aggressive and more shaken by the death of their leader, anxious even. Not one of them feels even remotely eager to take up their leader’s fight. “Council Leader Svennson.” Sage addresses Femke directly, cutting me out of the conversation. It stings, but I let him say his piece. “We would ask you to acknowledge us as true werewolves and free us from the fear of prosecution.”

  Femke glances at me and back again. “The Witch Council accepts you are no danger, not revenants, though it is up to the werenation to declare your pardon.”

  Sea green eyes meet mine. “Do we have it?”

  My love. My mental voice is a wail, my wolf whimpering at him.

  Charlie, Sage answers, his own tone heavy and dark. I love you. But feel around you. I do, knowing what I’ll sense. The animosity of my people, the disgust and hatred for him, no matter the proof he’s no threat to us. They won’t accept me. They won’t accept us. Is he referring to him and me or to the pack now hunkering around him? It doesn’t matter, I suppose. I know you would go against your people to keep us together. Defeat flavors his mental voice. But I can’t let you give up the life you were meant for. Not now, not when they need you more than ever.

  We can find a way, I send, my need for him an ache I know I’ll carry with me the rest of my lonely life if he leaves me.

  His beautiful eyes are shadowed. You are my heart and soul, he sends, soft, full of grief. And I’m asking you to please let me go.

  My voice will crack if I speak out loud, but I must. The gathering watches, waiting for my response to his question. How can I just release him now? He’s not thinking straight.

  Then again, neither am I.

  Charlie. Sage’s mind hugs mine, his wolf proud and strong though hurting as much as mine. Princess Sharlotta. You were right all along. It’s time to say goodbye.

  I nod at last though my wolf fights me, chest tight with emotion. I’ll find him later, talk him out of this. For now, he can have this victory. No matter my resolve, I find I have to clear my throat before I speak. “You have proven you are true werewolves, not the revenants our people fear.” My jaw tightens against my need to hug Sage, to pull him aside and have a more private conversation. “But that doesn’t erase their traitorous actions. They conspired to remove Oleksander from the throne, to turn you into a revenant, knowing it would mean your death.”

  “Your pardon,” one of the weres speaks up, a slim woman covered in tattoos with three giant rings in one ear but a serious, even professional, demeanor. “We were only following the orders of our pack leader. And there were those of us,” nods from the group as she speaks, “who spoke out against this plan.”

  In human law, following orders isn’t a defense. But in pack law… without the pack, a werewolf is nothing. I ponder a moment, wondering if I let them go if they will even be accepted by the rest of the werenation, no matter the pardon I’ve granted. Chances are, I’ll be dooming them to a life outside the full pack.

  “What is your name?” I gesture at the werewoman who spoke up.

  “Nina Dillon,” she says, still firm but calm. She feels steady, trustworthy.

  “You will accept this were as your leader, Nina?” Perhaps I can encourage the pack themselves to reject Sage.

  But she nods, taking a step closer to him. “We’ve learned safety in numbers,” she says. “And I will accept his leadership for now.” She shrugs, the rest bobbing their heads in agreement. “At least until we can settle it among ourselves.”

  In true werewolf fashion. My last hope is gone.

  Sage’s gaze doesn’t judge me, but he isn’t friendly, either. “I will lead them and guide them,” he says. “And you have my word they will never harm anyone again.”

  Give him this. Syd’s voice is soft in my head. He’s earned it.

  I want him with me. My own weeps to her.

  I know, she sends. But he’s made his choice. And you have a throne to sit on.

  She’s right and he is, too. I should fight for him, to keep him her
e with me, but I can’t make him do anything. Wouldn’t want to.

  “Granted,” I say, my lips moving though I feel frozen with grief. “Be free, Sage America.”

  When he turns to go, I gasp a breath. I didn’t expect him to go now, without a word. I reach for his mind, to beg him to return, to talk this through further.

  I have to go, he sends, cutting me off. Before I ruin everything by changing my mind.

  I could pull him back, weep at his feet, kiss and hold him. I know I could make him stay. But I’m held back by my pride and the watchful gazes of all assembled, forced to simply stand there and let the love of my life leave me.

  I won’t give up on him. Once he’s settled, I’ll find him, talk it through. Convince the werenation to accept his pack. Surely, I can convince him to come back to me.

  The white wolf pushes her nose into my hand, startling me. I look down into her eyes, emotions jerked from the loss of Sage to the hope of my mother’s return. My hands grasp for Syd, lips barely able to force out the words.

  “Can you restore them?”

  I worry, tossed between fear she can’t and excitement she can, when I watch Syd study them, Femke beside her, Eva joining the investigation as the three powerful magic users examine my mother and brother. Could a part of my mother and brother always be lost? They had both been trapped in wolf shape for so long.

  No matter. Whatever the outcome, I have them back in my lives, even if they remain wolves forever.

  The moment Syd sighs a happy “ah-ha!” with a snap of her fingers, I beam a smile, discarding my stoic need to accept the best I can get. I barely have time to draw a breath before my mother’s white wolf shape shifts upward and she’s human again. She totters on her feet, long years balanced on four feet obviously shaking her equilibrium. I grasp her hands, holding her steady, staring into her eyes, and seeing the woman I remember stare back at me.