by Eileen Wilks
“It’s hard to say how long a dragon in a bit of a hurry will take,” Nathan said, “when we don’t know what he’s interested in. You might want to arrange for that private space Cullen wanted to use to check out those who’ve been bitten.”
Ackleford heaved a sigh. Kai didn’t hear what he muttered—the level of babble in the room was rising again, as people got over their shock at having a dragon right outside. She decided to have a word with Arjenie and headed back to where Arjenie was still sitting with her laptop. Kai took the chair next to hers. “You checking out more deities to annoy Benedict with?”
Arjenie grinned. “He does hate having gods messing with us. I can’t say that I blame him.” She cast a quick glance at the restrooms. “How long does Dell usually take to feed?”
“She doesn’t know Benedict’s tolerance for blood loss, so she’s taking it slow, stopping to check with him. Um . . . I thought you should know that deities aren’t the only ones who can pull off transformational magic.”
“I’ve heard that sidhe lords can, but surely only on their own terrain?”
“A few could do it elsewhere, but you’re right—it would be a lot harder. Still possible for some, though. But also, we don’t know for sure that we’re looking at real transformation. It could be illusion.”
Arjenie looked dubious. “They weren’t really butterflies?”
“No, they probably were. But we don’t know that they started out as flowers. They might have been bloodsucking bugs all along, but we saw flowers. That would be an easy illusion for an elf whose talents ran that way.”
Arjenie’s brow puckered. “Okay, I can see that. It wouldn’t explain where the creatures came from, though, or why some elf wanted them to bite us.”
“True. No doubt I’ve got elves on the brain after dealing with them so much.” Kind of like the way Benedict assumed the lupi’s enemy was behind this—he’d been dealing with her way too much. Kai suspected that her own response wasn’t as reasonable as his. Benedict knew for certain that an Old One was actively seeking to destroy his people. Kai had no reason to think there was an elf anywhere in this realm, much less one who’d send butterflies to suck her blood. She shrugged. “I thought we should keep the possibility in mind.”
“Sure. Until we have more data, we can’t—”
Pay attention. I won’t be here long.
The mental voice that cut through Arjenie’s physical voice was as cold and crystalline clear as ice. Sun Mzao, Kai thought, her heart jumping once, hard, in her chest. The black dragon. One of the four beings whose thoughts were utterly hidden from her, though the reverse was emphatically not true. She had shields, but nothing that would keep out the Eldest.
Glancing hurriedly around, she could tell by their expressions who else had heard him. Arjenie, yes. Nathan. Also Ackleford, who looked like he’d been hit in the head. But the lieutenant was talking to one of her officers, oblivious.
Nathan Hunter is correct that today’s event almost certainly did not involve the being we do not name. He is also, obliquely, the cause of the event, which created considerable disruption in the probabilities. Those took me some time to trace, although I was reasonably certain of their origin. I have now confirmed that origin. Kai Tallman Michalski.
“Yes?” Had she squeaked like a mouse? She felt like one, with the weight of that mind pressing on her.
Did you see any sign of intention in the thought patterns surrounding you at the time of the event?
“I had my Gift turned off. Looped, actually, not turned off, but the effect’s the same. The eye drops the doctor used messed it up. My Gift, I mean. I was afraid I’d go into fugue.”
You have been taught to loop your Gift?
Was it scorn or incredulity flavoring that icy voice? “Um. Yes.”
Your instructor is either incompetent or has little regard for your welfare, the Eldest observed dispassionately. You are far from ready for such a technique. It is unfortunate that you chose to employ it at that particular time. I can say definitely that the event was caused by an outbreak of chaos energy. I cannot say whether this outbreak was directed or random.
“The knife.” Nathan’s voice rang with sudden understanding. “Nam Anthessa. You’re saying that its power didn’t return to its maker when I killed it.”
That is both clear and puzzling. I can theorize about why the power remained here, but I do not know, nor do I have time to speculate. I have delayed longer than I like already, but since you are in this realm at my request, I chose to discharge my obligation before leaving. I do so now.
I see two possibilities, both of which will entail additional outbreaks. In the first possibility, the chaos energy was undirected, in which case it will continue to break out randomly until it has been exhausted. In the second, the chaos energy was directed. If so, it is unlikely that Dyffaya áv Eni achieved his goal—whatever that may be—with a singular outbreak, so you may expect more.
“Wait a minute,” Kai said, her stomach going tight and unhappy. “Wait one minute. Dyffaya is the sidhe god we just—well, not killed, because he was already partly dead. Defeated, I suppose. But his knife is truly dead. Nathan killed it. That was supposed to destroy his link to our realm.”
So we believed. But while Nam Anthessa is gone, its energy is not. If that energy is being directed, who better to do so than the god of chaos? This is why I owed Nathan Hunter a warning before departing. Dyffaya is best known as the god of chaos, compulsion, and madness. He was also, at one time, the god of revenge.
SEVEN
“YES, but it was a very long time ago,” Nathan said.
Kai straightened from extended triangle back to mountain pose. “How long?’
“Dyffaya hasn’t been the god of revenge for . . . eh. I’m not sure of the years, but he hadn’t yet been killed when he lost that particular domain, and his body-death took place during the Great War. A very long time ago.” He tossed several pairs of socks on the bed, where a small pile of underwear and two pairs of jeans waited.
Kai inhaled and bent to the left. When they got back to the lupi Clanhome, she’d traded her glasses for extended wear contacts. She didn’t even have to take them out at night, which she loved; waking up unable to see clearly had been a problem on one of her quests. “So you don’t think he’s keen on getting revenge on you for killing his knife?”
“I expect he’d like that very much. I’d better have the new suit along, don’t you think? Just in case.” He went to the closet.
Now to the right. “You don’t seem upset at the idea.”
“I don’t much care for suits, but—oh. You meant about Dyffaya. I’ve made enemies before. I expect I will again.”
“You have any other enemies who are gods?”
“I don’t think so. Should I take one dress shirt or two?”
Exasperated, she stopped to look at him. He was studying the clothes on the bed, his eyebrows pulled together in thought. His colors were as thoughtful as his expression—blues and greens, mostly, with traces of the amethyst she always saw in the Wild Sidhe.
Even at times like this, when she was ready to knock some sense into him, the sight of him pleased her eyes. Not that he was extravagantly gorgeous like Cullen Seabourne. Nathan was more Jimmy Stewart than Brad Pitt—tall and lanky, with the kind of face that made people feel welcome instead of making them swoon. A Hispanic Jimmy Stewart, that is, or Native American, or some other nationality with warm brown skin and hair as black as the space between stars. Hair as black as a hellhound’s, in fact. At the moment, it was much shaggier than those sleek beasts. Nathan didn’t let his hair grow long, as that gave an opponent something to grab in a fight, but he hated haircuts and put them off as long as possible.
He must have felt her looking at him, because he looked up and smiled. A soft, pleased pink washed through his thoughts.
When she first met him, N
athan hadn’t smiled often. He smiled more now, but each one still arrived like a discovery, created on the spot for just this moment. This particular smile said, there you are, with as much pleasure as if he’d been looking for her for hours instead of sorting through socks and underwear. She smiled back. She couldn’t help it. “I think it doesn’t matter about the shirts. You don’t even know for sure you’ll be going anywhere, much less when or where.”
“The when and where depend on when and where the next chaos outbreak occurs, don’t they? Maybe it will happen nearby, maybe it won’t. Best be ready to travel if I need to.” He gave a single nod. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter about the shirt, easy as it is here to buy almost anything. I’ll just take the one.” He set his backpack on the foot of the bed.
It was a queen-size bed, which was nice. Neither she nor Nathan was bulky, but they were tall enough to find a double cramped. It was a nice bedroom, too, with a comfy reading chair, the dresser where her chain with its collection of charms waited, and enough space for yoga. The room used to be reserved for the heir to the clan. When Isen offered it to them three weeks ago he’d said, “Rule and Lily have their own place now, and in any event they’ll be leaving soon for their honeymoon. I understand that humans need more privacy than my people, so I won’t be offended if you decide a hotel would suit you better—but I hope you don’t. Dell would be happier here than in the city, I think, and we can provide pasturage and care for any livestock you need to feed her. And,” he’d added, his eyes merry, “I can promise that your food will be delicious, too.”
He’d been right about Dell and about the food. Right, too, that Kai’s first impulse had been to opt for the purchased hospitality of a hotel, where guests owed nothing more than money and a certain level of courtesy. She suspected Isen Turner was right about people a great deal of the time.
“Did you get hold of your grandfather?” Nathan asked.
“No, but I got hold of his neighbor. Calvin had a message for me. Grandfather’s gone up the mountain. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be.”
“Odd time for it, with him expecting us to arrive soon.”
“When the mountain calls, he goes.” Finished with the extended triangle, she set her feet about seven inches apart and bent forward for the big toe pose. Funny how she’d had to leave Earth to learn to love yoga. She’d always been athletic, but yoga had struck her as a trendy way to avoid a real workout.
Kai rolled her eyes at her previous self and exhaled as she lengthened her torso and pulled on her toes, deepening the bend.
Turned out yoga was anything but easy. During their travels, Nathan had offered to teach her some basic poses—he was on board with the Eastern concept of chi and he liked the way yoga combined fitness with the smooth flow of energy through the body. At first she’d felt challenged to prove she could do it, but gradually she’d fallen in love with the practice.
Kai released her toes, put her hands on her hips, inhaled, and swung back upright.
Best be ready to travel if I need to, Nathan had said. Not we. I.
Of course she’d go with him. He hadn’t asked her, hadn’t said she needed to pack, too, but he probably just assumed she would. They were a team. They’d been a good team, too, on all three parts of her quest . . . which was over now, wasn’t it? Maybe she was the one doing the assume thing. She’d been part of Nathan’s hunts while they were in the realms, but those hunts had been connected to her quest. This one wasn’t.
She should just ask him. But what if she didn’t like his answer? Kai sighed, unhappy with herself. Where were all these doubts coming from, anyway?
Done with the standing poses, she lowered herself to the floor. First a gentle twist—bend her knees, swing her legs to the side, left ankle resting in the arch of her right foot . . . “Only elves would think a god of revenge was a good idea.”
“I don’t know about that. It was the Dirushi, not the elves, who elevated revenge to an art form.”
“You’re kidding.”
“P’tuth, it’s called. You might think of it as a type of performance art.”
Revenge as performance art. Kai shook her head and dragged her wandering mind back to her routine.
Nathan planned to go up against a god.
Hush, she told her mind, and eleven, twelve, thirteen . . .
The relationship rules might be slightly different when you were involved with a man who used to be a hellhound, but most of them still applied. Like the one that you do not interfere when your beloved is doing what he was born to do. Nathan was born to hunt.
From cobra she shifted into downward dog. Knees below hips, hands in front of shoulders, toes turned under, and exhale and lift . . .
But he was hunting a god this time.
No, she told herself firmly. She didn’t know that. Even the Eldest didn’t know if chaos had erupted at Fagioli because the god was directing it, or if the power freed by the knife’s destruction was breaking out randomly. If only Kai had left her Gift open! She might have seen the orderly thought-remnants left by the intentional working of magic. But if she’d left her Gift open, she’d probably be trapped in fugue still and unable to report on anything she’d seen or not seen.
Enough with the might-have-beens. The point was, if the black dragon didn’t know if today’s chaos outbreak involved a semidead deity, who could?
She lowered herself into prone position. She’d been so busy arguing with herself she’d failed to pay attention to downward dog, which was a favorite of hers. She needed to do better with the next pose. The upward bow or wheel was basically a very tight backbend, and it required both strength and focus. So: roll over onto her back. Bend her knees, tuck her heels up against the ischium bones . . . the sit bones, many yoga instructors called them, but Kai had been a physical therapist until the collision of a starving chameleon, a Hound, and a queen sent her off to Faerie. She called the donut-shaped bottom of the pelvic bone by its proper name. Bend her elbows and flatten her palms on the floor by her head, fingers pointing toward her shoulders . . .
Nathan was on a Hunt.
The Eldest might not know, but Nathan did. He was on a Hunt; therefore, there was someone or something to be hunted. His instincts wouldn’t have been triggered by some random outbreak of chaos.
“If you’re too tired for the wheel,” Nathan offered helpfully, “you could substitute—”
“No.” She said that through gritted teeth. “Lack of focus is slowing me down, not lack of energy.” And she forced her mind back on track, and got through the wheel and the next two poses without injuring herself. She skipped Sukhasan, being not at all in the mood for quiet reflection, and stood.
Nathan was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, head cocked. “You want to tell me what’s got you all wound up?”
“I’m going with you,” she told him fiercely. “I ought to ask if that’s what you want, but I won’t, because it doesn’t matter what you want. I’m not letting you go hunting a god by yourself. I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but you are not going without me.”
His eyebrows flew up. He uncrossed his arms and came to her and laid his hands on her shoulders. “Kai.” He looked at her intently, his storm-cloud eyes grave. “Have you been reading women’s magazines?”
Well, there went that nice head of steam she’d worked up, dissipated in pure bewilderment. “Uh . . . have you heard the phrase non sequitur?”
“This is relevant. You were at the doctor’s office today. Doctors always have magazines lying around, and there are dozens of those infernal women’s magazines. Maybe hundreds,” he added darkly. “And they are all crammed with advice. Mostly about losing weight, but about men and children and sex and cooking and exercise, too. And relationships. A great deal of the advice is about relationships, and a lot of women must read them, or they’d all go out of business.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand wh
y every woman in this country isn’t hopelessly confused. How can so much advice do anything but muddle your mind?”
“My mind seems muddled to you?”
He stroked her cheek. “You thought I might not want you with me. That’s muddled and mazed.”
It was. It was, and she knew it. She might not understand why Nathan felt the way he did, but she knew he loved her, and he was incapable of loving halfway. Kai put her arms around him. He accepted her as easily as he always did, and the warmth and delight of his body smoothed her out. She sighed. “I got to muddled all by myself, without any help from infernal magazines.”
“Did you, now?” He paused, giving her a chance to speak. Since she lacked any explanations, she didn’t offer one. After a moment he went on, “I maybe ought to make a push to get you to stay behind, only I can’t seem to persuade myself you’d be safer that way. Nathveta on Dell for urging me to hurry today, even if she couldn’t explain why.”
A prick of confusion told Kai that the magical translator in her head didn’t have an English word for the elvish one he’d used. She leaned back, keeping her hands at his waist, and dug into the rather fuzzy options the translator offered. “Nathveta means blessings?” Her brow furrowed. “Or maybe fulcrum. And something about debt?”
“Eh, that’s nothing English deals with, is it? Blessings, yes, offered to one who acted as a fulcrum or lever, altering events in a way that creates . . . I wouldn’t call it debt, though elves might. More like a strong desire to favor the one who acted.”
Her mouth twitched. Her lover and her familiar had a good deal of respect for each other, but they did not always get along. “You strongly desire to favor Dell?”
“I do. My suspicion is you were his target today.”
“His . . . you mean the god? Dyffaya?”
“You were bitten twice as much as anyone else.”
Cold gripped the base of Kai’s spine and walked up it with clammy fingers. It pissed her off. Did she have to be scared for everyone now? “It wasn’t enough that I was frightened for you. Now I have to be afraid for me, too, and maybe for Dell, in case this Dyffaya decides he’s pissed that she messed up his plan for me, whatever that might be. If he really does have a plan. I can’t see why he’d be after me.”