Iron usually did on a Fae.
“You know?” Eire asked and Melina nodded. Of course she knew. Knew Eire was Fae just like Henry and Vanessa Jones were Fae. Those green eyes gave them away. No one had bright green eyes like the Fae.
Of course, Eire wasn’t exactly like Vanessa and Henry. But a Fae was a Fae, and as much as she didn’t blame Eire, as much as she still loved her childhood friend, the woman made her skin crawl. Goddamned Fae. Shit, she’d need to deal with those feelings. But not now. Now, she was too angry.
“So, when do we leave?” Melina asked, turning to Damon.
“You’re not—”
“Start with me, Damon. Just try it.” She saw his eyes take on their gold glint and the glint called to something in her. Heartstrings tugged.
He blew out a breath and she knew she’d won. Of course, she had the weapon. That made all the difference.
“Tomorrow night,” Damon said rubbing his hand over his scruff again and again. “We head out tomorrow night.” He gave her a suspicious look. “Where’s the weapon?” She raised her eyebrow at the question instead of answering and he once again rubbed his scruff. “Shit, Melina. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” She still wasn’t budging. This was her kill. She’d earned it more than anyone.
Eire’s gift of Stone might have worked. Its power to destroy was legendary. But Melina doubted the woman in front of her had the full gift of Stone, and even if she did, it was malfunctioning a bit.
Not to mention, Eire had too much to live for.
Melina would see what life gave her.
More days? Less days? She didn’t care either way. She lived day to day. That was her motto, her only life plan. Experience what she could. And she had. So, she’d take this path the gods had put her on, even though she’d ignored them so many years earlier.
Because life had a way of coming full circle.
“What’s going on in that head of yours, Eire?” Nicky asked as he got ready for bed and she sat on the couch. She’d been mostly quiet since he’d picked her up from Girls’ Night.
No. Since before that, really. Even after they’d had fucking fabulous sex earlier, she’d been quiet. He’d thought it was because of the case he’d mentioned. Even when she’d had all that ice in her veins, Eire had a soft spot for kids. But Eire understood the world. A little too intimately.
So, this quiet might have had something to do with the case or even with the new information she’d relayed to him about Nessa and Lochlan. But his gut was telling him that the quiet had to do with him, and he hated not knowing what he’d done wrong. He hated not being able to fix whatever he’d fucked up this time.
She jumped up from the couch and started pacing. The ice queen had never paced, but he’d noticed Eire struggled with her emotions more than others, like they were right there on the surface all the time. If she’d been human, he’d have said she had anxiety. But he wondered if it was more. She was Fae. Swords and Stone, but her Stone was something unique altogether. He wondered if feeling everything was a part of her Stone, and if that was what she needed to get that Stone back to full capacity.
“We’re not mated,” she said, stopping and looking at him. Her eyes pleaded with him, but he knew what he’d felt earlier.
“Oh, we’re mated,” he said, moving to her. He didn’t try to pull her in. He understood the need for space. He was the same. “Didn’t you feel that earlier?”
“I felt it, Nicky, but I don’t feel it still.” She looked at him, pain in her eyes, and he felt helpless.
She was right. Damn it. He’d wanted to believe it was in his head, but he was pragmatic above all else. The lack of a completed mating bond didn’t make sense. Each connection between fated mates was different, yes, but he no longer felt the swirling colors and the kiss of her refreshing cold. He knew she was his fated mate, though. Knew it with every fiber of his being. So, what was wrong?
“Is it because you’re Other?” he asked and it took him a moment to realize his mistake as he watched her angry, retreating form move into the guest room, her room.
“Jesus Christ, Nicky!” Eire yelled, but there was so much hurt in her voice that he cursed his stupidity. “No, it’s not because I’m Other. It’s because you won’t admit what you are.”
Nicky felt a punch to his gut, but ignored it. He wasn’t ignoring who he was. He was a Vuković wolf. Different, yes, but still a Vuković wolf from the Light Clans.
“I don’t know—”
She cut him off and he really didn’t want to hear what she was about to say. Call him an asshole. Call him a fucked up shit. And Danny would if he was here. He knew that much at least. But he didn’t want to hear what she was going to say.
“You’re the fucking great-grandson of the Queen of the Fae, of Titania, of a goddess. You share blood with Morrigan, Titania’s mother, and the goddess who created the Others—”
“Eire, I’m not doing this—”
“Because you want to be one of the shiny people, perfect and poised and all Light. Fuck that, Nicky!” She blew out a breath. “Fuck that,” she said in a lowered voice.
He was frozen to the spot. He wanted to leave. Wanted to run. Wanted to take on his wolf form. But he knew the strangeness of his wolf would only remind him that he really was different. He didn’t want to be that different. He didn’t want to be—
Shit, he didn’t want to be other, separate from the Clans.
“Have you ever read the Other Histories?” Eire sat down on the bed, looking defeated. “Have you?” she asked again when he just stood there. He was a man of action. He always had been.
Always running. Always seeking out the newest adventure, the newest problem to solve. He loved tackling a new mission. This mission was one he didn’t want to fucking deal with, though. But he couldn’t move. Because a part of him was curious. Where was she going with all of this? So, he shook his head and he propped himself against the door frame.
“Of course you haven’t,” she said derisively. “Why would you? The Clan Councilors like you to have the shiny pieces.”
“That’s not—”
“It is.” She didn’t leave room for argument, and he gritted his teeth because he really couldn’t argue. Arguing for the Clans was habit. They were the Light. The Others were the Darkness.
“Our Histories were written at least a couple thousand years earlier than yours, did you know that?” Her green eyes shone brightly in the darkness of the dimly lit guestroom. “The Clans only started writing their Histories when the Skröm started changing, when the Skröm started taking on the Darkness. Before that, they didn’t need to write the Histories. Their Azima and Taryn Clan members retained the history of their creation and the knowledge was passed through story, through oral tradition.”
That made sense. His own parents preferred the oral traditions themselves, probably because of their ancestry and the way they’d been raised.
“But when the Skröm started changing, they needed to spin things a certain way, didn’t they?”
“That attitude in your Histories, too, Eire?”
She smiled a bit, but her voice got serious again. “It’s between the lines, Nicky.” She started pacing again in the small space, and she moved to the window flap that was opened and looked out into the expanse of the neverending sea of stars. He felt his skin shift. He wanted to be anywhere but here, wanted to be running away, but despite the lack of a long lasting connection and his fear, he didn’t run from those he loved anymore.
“That night we found Ina,” Eire said, “I told you and the others of the Darkness’ creation.”
Nicky nodded, remembering the tale, even as she repeated it yet again.
He absorbed the story a second time, feeling the truth of its message in his bones.
But now, there was something that was coming to him that made his breath hitch, made his knees weak. He slid to the ground, his back still against the doorframe.
He looked up at Eire, but her gaze was still fixed on the aby
ss of stars outside of the small window. She stood almost still, her breathing level, and he realized the retelling of the story, the retelling of her truth, had relieved some of the emotional pressure she’d been feeling.
And then he thought on what she’d said.
Morrigan had risen up as a symbol of protection and peace and a reminder to the people, to the gods, and now to the newly created Others and Fae that times were once Dark, but that Light was always possible. And maybe more important than that truth, that Light and Dark were both necessary.
“Created from the Darkness…” His voice trailed off, and Eire nodded, but still did not look at him. He was okay with that for now. Soon, he’d fix shit, but right now, in that moment, as he processed the truth of her words, he just let his breaths come and watched her still, beautiful, breathing form. “Created from a battle with the gods. Created from the emotion of a goddess who fought on the side of humanity.”
He rubbed his hand across his jaw and cursed. “A friend once told me that the poets call war a terrible beauty.” He didn’t share which friend. That story wouldn’t put him in Eire’s good graces right now. “The poets are right. I’ve been to war, Eire. I’ve seen what happens.” He paused and looked at his mate. “The battlefield is hellish. When the Histories say that the Others were created from Darkness, they’re talking about Darkness, yes, but they’re also talking about the circumstances from which they were created.” Everything shifted in his mind and he blew out a breath, but still didn’t stand. “Shit. Eire,” he said, looking to her. “Shit. This is huge.”
“To you, yes. To Devon and to Alexia, who have both asked to read the Histories now,” Eire said, looking at him. “Others know this history. Always have.” She took a couple steps his way and then slowed, as though she was afraid she wouldn’t be welcome. “Darkness is not evil… Darkness is emotion. It is the breath of a goddess who had lost everything as she created justice and vengeance and the Darkness, the Other, the Fae. Darkness is a reminder that we are not invincible.”
Nicky stood slowly. He wanted to stay seated because he knew what she was about to say. She’d already said as much.
“And Morrigan’s daughter, Nicky,” she said, wringing her hands and lifting her chin. “Well, as you know, that goddess’ daughter, Titania, helped create the Vuković.”
The truth of her words slammed into him. And as much as he wanted to go to her, as much as he wanted to take her into his arms and pretend everything was okay, things weren’t okay. Nothing was fucking okay. Nothing would ever be okay.
He backed away and then barreled through his living area, barely making it to the front flap of his yurt before his clothes were shredded and his wolf exploded from his body in a painful breaking of bones and a shedding of the human skin that was his cover in this world.
His paws hit the refreshing cold of the newly fallen snow. The snow came down heavy, coating his fur and he shook his hide as he ran the length of the mountains behind his yurt. He let each fall of his paws against the steady earth soothe his soul. Let each movement of his muscles remind him of who he was. Wolf. Clan. Vuković. The Light. Shining. Good. He repeated this over and over again. Except, no matter how many times he repeated the words, they felt wrong now, and so much of him was angry at Eire for taking that one piece of himself he’d always been sure of through everything. Vuković. Clan. Good. Clean despite it all.
His movements stuttered and he felt his bones cracking as the sun rose overhead. How long had he run for? All night? Jesus, it had been months since he’d run for so long, since he’d let go of it all and just run as a wolf.
Too long since he’d been his true self.
He let the change take him, let himself feel the back-bending pain as it moved across his nerves. And his mind, instead of revolting against the pain, accepted the moment of pain for what it was.
There was no joy without pain. Two sides of the same coin. Darkness and Light.
Neither evil.
The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and he turned, recognizing that he was in the last clearing where’d they found the body of the devoured Other and child.
He walked into the clearing, and the hair on his arms stood on end. He was drawn, ever so slowly toward the large tree at the North of the clearing, one of the four trees with a pictogram of a wolf on the trunk, and he shivered, not from his nudity and the cold, but from the feeling that was overtaking him. He looked at the trunk, at the strange drawing of the wolf and the swirls that surrounded the carving and he felt a shifting of his mind, a tip-of-the-tongue moment hit him instantly.
What did the drawing remind him of?
He knelt down, so he was eye-level with the carving, and he wracked his brain in frustration. He knew this drawing. He’d known it since he’d seen the first scene, but now, the surety felt stronger, like he was on the cusp of a revelation that was fighting for power but being held back. He cleared his mind, taking a deep breath, and searching the recesses of his memories, and an image of the Histories he’d been reading in the cabin with Mally, Graham, and Kai flashed into his mind.
A story.
A shifting Blood and Bone Fae.
The pieces that had been left of young Vuković.
The family crest with the image of the wolf.
The recovered knowledge stretched across his mind, expanding, and he felt a sharp pain in his scalp before everything went black.
Eire was trying. She was really trying, but fuck it all, it wasn’t easy just sitting there. She’d never been good at just sitting, and that much had not only not changed; she’d only become more unruly and anxious since she’d let her ice go.
“Breathe into the moment,” Ginny said from in front of her, like some goddamn yogi, and Eire’s temper flared. She cracked an eye open to look at the Skröm woman sitting cross legged on the yoga mat facing her, and she wanted to shake her.
She’d come here for some peace after Nicky had left the night before. Shit, not after he’d left; after he’d run clear out of their yurt, away from her and away from the truth. She shouldn’t have pushed. She should have waited. But Ina’s speech about letting the truth out had really resonated with Eire, and she’d just been so damn angry.
Why couldn’t he…well, why couldn’t he grow up? Stop trying to please whoever the fuck he was trying please and just grow up? Jesus, but who was she to judge? She’d had to see her best friend from childhood spread naked and tortured on a bed before she’d finally woken the fuck up.
Shit. She needed to give him time.
Her stomach churned at the thought of the word time and she exhaled loudly.
“I can practically hear your mind screaming, Eirey-not-as-much-of-a-bitch-but-still-a-bitch,” Ginny said and Eire kept her eyes closed, but threw two middle fingers up in the direction of the lovable but psychotic Skröm. She knew Ginny’s eyes were closed. Woman never gave in to Eire’s antics. But still, the Skröm laughed. Eerie. The woman was eerie as fuck.
“Focus, Eirey. Focus.”
Eire opened her eyes and looked around.
She had never been very good at focusing inward. She knew she should have listened, should have taken in the lesson, but she needed to truly connect to what was around her, and for her, that meant she needed to use the nature around her as a visual.
They were in the same clearing where Eire had first met Carrie. A wide, open field with two standing stones and trees of all shapes and sizes. She’d been trying to find her center, her peace, and to reconnect with her Stone. If any place was going to help her do that, this was that place. Where the standing stones glared at her like a beacon.
She felt the pitter-patter of her heart in their presence, but she could admit it now, over six weeks later. She was scared. Terrified. Not spine tingling so; more like that feeling of impending censure when you know you’ve done something wrong and you’ve got to face the music.
Because she understood now.
The mother’s embrace she had always felt at the use
of her Stone really was a mother’s embrace.
Morrigan.
Titania’s mother.
The myth. The history. The mother of the Fae and the Others.
The once leader of the Shades who had sacrificed herself in grief to save her daughter, Titania, and created the Others. The leader who had breathed new life into the Shades and created the Fae.
The Goddess whose power, whose Stone, had seated itself in Eire herself.
She was afraid the mother’s embrace would be something else, something not welcoming after the mistakes she had made.
Nicky never blamed her. Even through his anger or frustration, he had never once thrown her past back at her. But she was worried that there were certain sins a goddess could not forgive.
The wind whistled through the clearing like a soothing mountain breeze meant to calm the weary traveler, and she was weary. So damn weary. So damn lost without the Stone she had denied all these years.
She closed her eyes slowly to the midday sun, feeling the warmth coat her skin in change and growth. Felt the rays as they touched her bare shoulders and stomach. She wore only a sports bra and a pair of black leggings. Her feet were bare, and she let them plunge steadily into the snow, feeling the tickle of the cold and grounding herself in the moment.
She might not be ice any longer, but she was still Eire Donovan. She was still tough as nails, even with her recently acquired overstimulated emotions and anxiety. She could do this. She would do this.
She let herself sink deep into the moment, trees and standing stones whispering to her in a steady thrum of peace and harmony and natural vibration, surrounded by the field of snow that felt like home rather than uncomfortable and cold. She felt the tension in her temples, face, neck and back calm followed by the relaxation of her toes, her legs, her hips, and her core.
Thoughts of Carrie and the mystery of what she was doing in the Clan clubs came and went. Fears over her relationship with her gift of Stone came and went. Anxiety and anger over Nicky came and went. All her worries, her fears, her frustrations…she let them enter her mind, but she did not dwell on them and she did not invite them in. She just breathed.
Rage Against the Devil (Wild Beasts Series Book 2) Page 30