by R. C. Murphy
Shayla yawned. “One step at a time. I think I can deal with that.”
“Go to sleep, Shayla. We’ve both had a really long day.”
He didn’t have to tell her twice. Within moments, her body relaxed against his side. Her breathing evened out. Deryck tried to join her, to find the bliss of sleep without worrying about the hell of the Inbetween awaiting him when he woke. He couldn’t sleep. Energy thrummed around him, making him twitchy. He was perfectly comfortable, sated. He had a gorgeous woman using him as a pillow. So why couldn’t he slip away to the dream realm?
Shayla stirred in her sleep. The energy surged. Frowning, Deryck unwound from her arms and sat up, looking down at her. He placed a hand over her chest and closed his eyes. Concern ate at his stomach.
Her eyes fluttered open. “Again? Twice in one night is enough for most men.”
“Shh.”
She stilled. Deryck focused and sent a strand of his awakened power through Shayla’s body. He sensed something different about her. As much as his ego wanted to believe sleeping with him changed her life in a vital way, he didn’t believe it.
“Did Min do anything to you during the ceremony?”
Shayla sat back against the headboard. Her hand raked through her hair, pulling it out of her face. “No, not that I remember.”
“Maybe you touched his blood?”
“Some spilled on my hand. I didn’t lick it or anything.” She wrinkled her nose.
“No, but you could have introduced it into your bloodstream after you cut yourself.” Deryck cursed and scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. Min doesn’t do anything by accident. He intentionally gave his blood to Shayla.
“What’s going on, Deryck?”
“Something isn’t right. You should be a power null now, aside from the latent power humans hold. But your energy is high. It kept me awake.” He shook his head. “We need to find someone who knows more about these sorts of things than I do.”
“I’m fresh out of people with more universal knowledge than the demi-god in my bed.” Shayla hugged the blankets to her chest. “Min told you, ‘Enjoy your gift.’ What if whatever is going on is that gift?”
“We still need to know what has changed in you.”
“Can you summon Min and ask? It seems like the easiest solution.”
Deryck shook his head. “He’s done enough damage”
“Being stubborn won’t get you any answers. There has to be someone you can talk to.”
Any and all of his resources for universal knowledge were in the God’s Lands. Despite his demi-god status, he wouldn’t be welcomed there. Shayla would have better luck asking the gods for help than he would. That’s it.
“Wolfrik.”
“The incubus slash healer you told me about? He’s not exactly walking around downtown where we can get to him, Deryck.”
“No, but he can get to a place where you can talk to him.” Deryck jumped out of bed, heading for the door.
“Where are you going?” Shayla called.
“I need a tree branch.” He heard her feet slapping against the hardwood floor.
“You might need these.” Shayla shoved the sweatpants into his arms and wrapped her robe around her, securing it with the sash around her waist.
Deryck shoved his legs through the pants and pulled them into place. He made left at the hall. The back door was at the end of the hall. It was a straight shot from the front to the back, he noted. Shayla leaned against the doorframe to her bedroom, watching him with a concerned look on her face.
He jogged outside and surveyed the trees available. There were two small trees in the far corners of her yard. He didn’t know off-hand what kind they were. In a pinch they’d work. Deryck looked to the neighbor’s yard. An apple tree, just beginning to fill out with small green leaves, hung over the tall fence separating the houses. Perfect. He reached up and tore off a decent-sized branch. Breaking off the smaller parts, he was left with a four-inch piece of apple tree about an inch in diameter. He hoped it would be enough space.
Back inside, he grabbed Shayla’s hand and pulled her toward the kitchen. “I need a knife that’ll work on wood.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m making a way for you to meet Wolfrik.” He urged her to keep moving, before his mind lost its grip on the image it held.
Shayla slipped into the kitchen in front of him and rummaged through a drawer filled with so much junk, he couldn’t believe the bottom didn’t fall out. Finally, in the back corner of the drawer, she uncovered a pocketknife. She handed it to him. Deryck unfolded the blade and tested it against his thumb. The blade was sharp, it’d work.
He sat down and leaned against the cabinets. Methodically, he peeled away the bark lengthwise on the forward-facing half of the stick. When the last piece fell away, Deryck carved the intricate swirls and symbols of Wolfrik’s incubus tattoo. Shayla joined him on the floor, crossing her legs under her. She stayed silent. He was thankful she didn’t question his sanity. Even he had his doubts with the plan, but it was the only one he could think of.
Deryck flicked away one last piece of apple wood. He folded the knife and set it on the counter. Taking a moment, he located the broom and dustpan near the washer and dryer closet and cleaned up the mess he made.
Silently, they walked back to the bedroom. Deryck sat on the side of the bed and motioned for Shayla to join him. He handed her the stick. “This is an incubus totem, like the one I gave you to call me. Put it under your pillow when we lay down and it will summon Wolfrik to you. Make sure you introduce yourself as soon as you see him. He is a good friend, but first and foremost, he is an honorable male who does his duty without question. If you don’t tell him who you are, he will assume you are there to have sex.”
“Will it work?”
“Wolfrik is the only person I can think of who may know what is happening to you, or at least, point us in the direction of someone who can help.”
They stripped and climbed under the covers again. Deryck made sure Shayla tucked the totem inside her pillowcase so it didn’t fall off the bed during the night and cut off her meeting with Wolfrik prematurely. She rolled onto her side, facing away from him. Deryck scooted closer and wrapped an arm over her hip. Shayla snuggled back into him. He kissed the soft skin behind her ear and returned his head to his own pillow—he didn’t want his powers negating the power of the totem.
“Remember, tell him who you are.”
“I will.”
Thin fog covered the narrow side street Shayla walked down. She’d picked a neutral location downtown to meet Wolfrik. The street and buildings on either side were abandoned and dark, lit by a setting sun she couldn’t find no matter how hard she looked through the lifting fog. It was creepy, unsettling. But that was the way of the Inbetween. A woman was given the man of her dreams to do with as she pleased. Having someone else in their fantasy would ruin the experience. She didn’t care if she was seen with Wolfrik, they’d be talking—hopefully without the gods listening in. Shayla had no clue what would happen to her if they found out she’d been dosed with Min’s blood. Would they kill her?
Shayla’s knees wobbled dangerously. She sat down on a nearby bench and started counting the blocks of sidewalk leading east down the street until everything was swallowed up by mist fifty yards away.
The fog swirled. A shadow moved through it, coming closer. The man stepped through into view. Shayla gaped. Deryck didn’t prepare her to face yet another sex god. Wolfrik—she assumed it was him; the charm was made to summon only one incubus to her side—walked like a man who owned the world. His hair trailed behind like a black ribbon. The denim vest he wore showed off a set of muscles human males spent every day in the gym building. His jeans were a relaxed fit, but he managed to make them work just fine. She frowned at his feet. They were bare. When she visited Deryck in the Inbetween, he wore shoes.
Wolfrik stopped in front of the bench. His brown eyes locked with hers for a moment and d
ropped. “Hello, Mistress.”
Shayla took his wrist and urged him to sit beside her. Automatically, his hand slipped to her thigh. His fingertips traced circles along the inseam of her jeans. She moved his hand. “No, Wolfrik.”
His head snapped up. “Who are you? No one knows our names.”
“My name is Shayla. I have a feeling you know far more about my life than I do, if Deryck is right.
Wolfrik put a few inches of space between them. “Don’t tell Deryck I was trying to seduce you. He is a true friend, but gods—even diluted ones—tend to be possessive.
“I’ll remember that.” She crossed her ankles under the bench. Her right foot tapped against the sidewalk. “I don’t know how to ask you what I’ve been sent to ask,” Shayla admitted after a silent moment.
“Did something go wrong after you freed Deryck? I know it worked. A new incubus was brought in to replace him a few hours ago.”
For a horrible moment, Shayla thought, That could be my child sent into the jaws of whatever woman wanted to use his body. He’ll never know anything but the life of a slave and all because I was weak enough to believe a man wanted to marry me for who I am, not what I can do for him. Tears stung the back of her eyes.
“It wasn’t your son, Shayla,” Wolfrik said. His hand patted hers.
“Can you read minds?”
“No. I read everything on your face. How did Deryck have such a hard time getting to know you when everything about you is right there on the surface?”
“He was more nervous than I was whenever we saw each other, I think. Plus, millennia of sleeping with women does not prepare a man to handle a woman on an emotional level.”
“Then why are you here, Shayla?”
She turned to sit sideways on the bench. The wood hurt her ass. Getting up, she moved to a small patch of grass behind the bench. Shayla took a trip around a nearby lamppost and came back with a blanket. She spread it out and got comfortable. Wolfrik didn’t question her. He walked over and sat across from her on the edge of the blanket. Man, he was the most patient being in the universe.
“We think Min intentionally gave me his blood.”
Wolfrik’s calm mask slipped. “I need more details than that. Did he force you to drink it?”
She shook her head. “Actually, aside from him playing Big Bad when he arrived, Min behaved like a gentleman. But during the bloodletting, he missed the cup and splashed blood on my hand. I guess when I tried to stop the bleeding from my arm a little later, his blood mixed with mine. Neither of us noticed until after I got home and Deryck sensed something different about me.”
Wolfrik sat up on his knees and crept closer. “May I have your permission to touch you?”
“Touch how?”
“I need to lay my hands over your temples.”
Shayla scooted in so he wouldn’t have to reach so far. “Go for it.”
His hands cradled her head. They were warm, soothing the stress she felt, despite being asleep. Wolfrik smelled wonderful, a mix of pine forest and man. She understood all too well he’d been bred to be as appealing as possible. If he ever went to the human realm, women would eat him alive. Exotic looking men were all the rage in the US. No one wanted to date a man that looked like Joe Blow from next door. American women were bored with their own kind.
“You’re thinking too much. Focus on breathing and clear your mind for me, Shayla.”
“Sorry.”
She closed her eyes and took a few slow, deep breaths. The tension drained from her shoulders. Warmth seeped from Wolfrik’s hands and trailed through her head, down her body, until she was blanketed in it. The warmth spiked in her chest, arm, and head.
After a few minutes, Wolfrik dropped his hands, taking the heat with him. “You’re positive Min did nothing else to you.”
Shayla struggled with the truth. Min told her not to tell Deryck what he’d said, but Deryck wouldn’t know what she told Wolfrik, right? The only way she’d get answers was to be completely honest. “He spoke to me, in my head.”
“He . . . what?”
“Min told me the truth about Deryck’s mother, how he provided for her until her death. He didn’t want Deryck to hear, so he said it in my head.”
“Shayla, telepathy isn’t one of Min’s powers. He can only communicate with blood-kin that way. Even if he was a telepath, the invasion of an other-world voice in a human mind is crippling. The people who end up in asylums, claiming God talked to them, they’re telling the truth. A god spoke to them privately and it drove them insane.”
Uncomfortable with his bluntness, Shayla drew her knees to her chest and hugged them. Like she could protect herself from what he was saying. “What does it mean?”
“Despite the change in your body after carrying a demi-god for eight months, if Min touched your mind, you should be drooling into lukewarm oatmeal inside padded walls.”
“That’s real comforting, Wolfrik.”
“I’m sorry.” He laid a hand on her arm. “Think carefully, Shayla. Are you positive Min’s blood got into the cut you made for the ritual? Picture it. Walk through everything you did. I’m going to slip into your mind and bear witness.”
She closed her eyes and went back to Min’s temple in her mind, remembering the way the dusty air smelled, the moonlight blanketing the stones around them, the concern on Deryck’s face moments before she made the second cut. The warmth of Wolfrik’s power was there with her—a pool of heat vapors out of the corner of her eye. Shayla ignored him and refocused on the memory and played it through until she finished wrapping the cut with gauze.
Wolfrik sucked in a breath. It broke the memory to shards. “It did.” He unwrapped the fresh gauze on her arm. The cut had faded to a pink, glossy scar. “I did not attempt to heal you at any point during our conversation. You’re different now. You’ve heard of Greek and Celtic heroes, right?”
She stared at the scar. The other cuts, those from Harry’s failed ritual, were thin white lines now, barely visible unless one knew where to look. “Greek heroes? Of course I have.”
“The myths are somewhat true. Only a handful of the heroes were from diluted bloodlines, children and grandchildren of demi-gods. Others were chosen to serve as a champion of the gods. They were given an elixir—the blood of the god who needed them.”
“But there are no heroes nowadays, not in the same sense as, say, Hercules.” Shayla rubbed the scar on her wrist. Gods and heroes? She was fine believing in the gods after meeting two face-to-face, but trying to wrap her head around Min choosing her to be his champion in an age when the gods were no longer worshipped as they had been made her head hurt.
“Min did this on purpose. He has indeed given you and Deryck a gift. You will live longer than most humans, be stronger than them. To what extent, I can’t be sure. You may also develop psychic powers along the lines of Min’s.”
“He’s a fertility god.”
“In part. Min was worshipped for numerous reasons. Deryck inherited the ability to quicken a woman’s womb, make her more receptive to a man’s seed. He is completely unaware of this power. Though, with his binding tattoo removed, he will learn of everything soon.”
An idea snaked into Shayla’s mind, making her mildly nauseous. “The power worked on Faye when she dreamed of Deryck.”
Wolfrik nodded. “Yes, I believe it did. His power has been a blessing for many women who were unable to bear children before.”
His reassurance did very little to calm her. “What am I going to do?”
He stood and offered her a hand up. Shayla put her hands in his, noting how easily he hauled her off the ground. Wolfrik wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze. “Enjoy your life—with or without Deryck; that is up to you. There’s nothing else you can do; Min’s blood has changed you for good.”
“And if I develop freaky powers, like being able to make a man pitch a tent in his pants by blinking at him?”
He laughed. “You can always visit me here again.
I will help you learn how to control them. Deryck is in the same boat. His powers have been bound for so long, he won’t remember how to use them. You can teach him what I show you. It won’t be easy over the next year, but I have faith in you.”
She turned under his arm and gave him a hug. Wolfrik stiffened, but wrapped his arms around her anyway. “Thank you, Wolfrik. I’m sure you’ll be seeing me again soon.”
“Not too soon, I hope. You are strong, Shayla. You can handle this.” He stepped back from her and waved. Wolfrik vanished, leaving only a pair of footprints in the grass.
Everything went dark. Shayla sucked in a breath and sat up on her elbow. The light from her alarm clock was too bright. It also told her it was far too early in the morning to wake Deryck and discuss what she leaned. She rolled onto her other side and found him lying on his back, one arm tucked behind his pillow, the other holding the blankets. Scooting closer, she rested her head on his chest. They had a lot to talk about when they woke. If she had her way, they wouldn’t get out of bed for at least another four hours. Shayla tugged the blankets under her chin and drifted back to sleep.
The office was small, but not claustrophobic. Its walls were a soothing baby blue with white trim. Shayla thought the colors made it look like her mother’s kitchen and daydreamed about afternoons spent sitting on the counter helping her mother bake cookies. Daydreaming wasn’t why she was there, though. The person sitting on the leather chair across from her deserved her undivided attention.
“Now for the hard questions. Do you believe having a baby together is healthy for your relationship? Are you using the prospect of a child to keep the two of you together?”
“I . . . um . . . that’s a hard question.”
“Feel free to think on it a moment.”
Shayla leaned back in her chair. The soft leather squeaked under her weight. She’d insisted they get a matching set of oversized chairs. It would put their clients at ease, make them equal with her. They weren’t offering serious psychological help. The counseling center opened with the idea of helping people who were going through or going into the rough process of fertilization treatments. And if they happened to find a couple who wouldn’t conceive no matter what doctors did, Shayla and her partner helped things along a little.