by SJ Himes
Here he could not do to the alpha as he’d done to Sarah; the silver in the young male’s body was too concentrated, compared to the relatively minor amount of poison left in the cub. With Sarah he’d chased it out of her body through her skin to be lifted away as dust—here, the poison must be expelled in a larger volume, and quickly.
“I need a bowl, something, now,” he murmured, eyes shut, hands still clasping the other wolf’s, his breathing slow and measured. He felt weightless; as bodiless as he had during his dramatic return to human-form, in the white and silver cloud. Footsteps came to his side, moving fast, and he let go with his left hand to reach out for what must be a bowl of some kind, hard and weighty and cool. There was a bit of dust on it, and it smelled like this room, so maybe a silly piece left out for looks on a table.
He sensed the contractions building in Gabe’s abdomen a second before the first sickening moan spilled past his lips in warning, and Ghost opened his eyes and stepped to the side in time to let the alpha vomit into the bowl. He held Gabe’s hand in his right as he caught the heavy, foul smelling liquid that reeked of burning flesh in the bowl he held with his left.
Kane grabbed Gabe’s other arm, helping him stay upright as he moaned again, stomach rolling, and Ghost closed his eyes one last time, sending more energy into the young alpha as he spit into the bowl. The silver was gone, his magic and Gabe’s light forcing the last remaining dredges out as he spit again.
Ghost kneeled quickly, depositing the bowl on the floor, and stood, putting his left hand over Gabe’s heart. He pulled power to himself first, from the light pouring warm over his back as the morning sun rose closer to noon, then gave it to Gabe filtered with intent through his star to the alpha’s. Gabe needed energy, and his body would do everything else on its own, without guidance.
He had more than enough magic to give away, and he heard the whispering again in his ear, but it came from nowhere in this room. Soft satisfaction rumbled through him as he heard a hint of a laugh, pleased and proud. He was still listening, and he would for as long as she spoke to him.
Gabe stood taller, his shaking muscles regaining their control, and Ghost smiled as the bruising on his cheek and the injuries he could sense on the alpha’s body healed themselves. A heartbeat, then two, and almost on the third beat—Gabe was healed, restored. His body was perfection, and Ghost felt a pang of sadness that he could not heal the hurts the alpha carried on his soul. He would help, but he did not know how to ease them. Maybe someday he would learn.
Ghost let Gabe go and moved away, the whispering back. He cocked his head, listening, and followed the subtle nudging on his mind, looking to the wolves past Gabe. Kane was speaking to Gabe, lifting the younger alpha’s shirt to see his unmarked skin, both of them casting glances at the bowl. Ghost couldn’t hear their words, as they were buried under a rising hum of whispers, and he stepped around the alphas toward the couch.
Sarah beamed up at him from where she was practically bouncing in excitement next to the other cub, whom he guessed to be her brother. Ghost felt the nudging again, and he listened. He knelt on the floor in front of the couch, and the cub stared at him while he fussed with the muffin, uneaten. Ghost said nothing, just gave the cub a small smile, and he put out his hand. This little one was about twelve or so, but small, seeming younger. He was close to his wolf too, from the way the gold light from the windows caught on the reflective surface that came and went in his moss green eyes.
Sarah poked him with her elbow when he flushed and looked down at his hands, not looking up at Ghost. He gave his sister a glare, and she poked him harder, before leaning into him and whispering in his ear. He was shy and annoyed, but he looked up. Ghost waited, patient, the humming of whispers quieter, softer, and pausing somehow along with him.
A small hand crept over a slim leg and hovered a second , before slipping into Ghost’s grip.
KANE WAS at a loss for words. Ghost was doing a work of magic so grand and complex Kane had never seen anything like it, and he was doing it without training or effort. River was at his side now, both of them checking Gabe over for injuries. The acrid scent of silver and burnt flesh rose from the glass bowl he’d handed Ghost, thankfully in time to collect the expelled poison.
River appeared to be as shocked as he was, both wolves and the newly restored youngster looking at each other askance. Kane realized he couldn’t see Ghost and stepped back from examining Gabe in time to see Ghost use his gifts again, this time on the youngest cub, the sorely abused boy from the bedroom at the apartment.
Kane tried to breathe past his surprise and found himself walking to stand behind Ghost, just as the cub glowed as his sister had done downstairs. Behind them, Kane heard a whoosh of soft scraping, and felt the rise of chilled air. He glanced over to see a window opening on its own. The cub glowed, brighter, the little one gasping, and the warm wind was back, rushing around Kane and Ghost, milling over the cub, then racing away. It ruffled hair on wolves and their clothing as it flowed to the window, and the pane slowly closed itself as the wind died.
He looked back in time to see the cub’s injuries fade away exactly as his sister’s had, the cub smiling for the first time in days as Ghost patted his tiny hand, then let him go.
Kane reached down just as Ghost turned his head and saw him, and he reached up a hand. Kane helped him to his feet, and he gasped, feeling the subtle thrum of power under the shaman’s skin. Ghost smiled up at him, those tempting lips of his curved into a smile. Kane was helpless to resist, and dipped down, tasting him. Sweet and lush, Kane licked his plump lower lip, his shaman smiling as he kissed him back.
Kane slowed his kiss, mindful for once that they had an audience. He plucked another quick kiss from the succulent lips he wanted to taste forever and squeezed Ghost’s hand. He got a return squeeze, and he was immensely pleased by such a small gesture. He eased back, and Ghost tugged him along as he walked from the couch to the loveseat nearby.
“Will you let me help?” Ghost spoke, not to him, but to the shy beta mother who huddled on the cushions, too terrified to look up at them. She shook her head, and Ghost sat on the coffee table in front of the seat. He held Kane’s hand, in fact refused to let it go, even when he would have moved back, so as not to frighten her further.
The cubs, now healed, wormed their way past Kane, and jumped up on the loveseat with the beta. They snuggled up to her sides, and she held them close, eyes shut as she breathed in the scents from their inky black hair. She seemed to gain strength from them and relaxed the slightest amount. She was as battered as any of them, but her spirit was especially fragile. They were all wounded in their hearts and souls by their experiences, but she seemed to have suffered the most, each memory a harsh and constant remembrance played out in her eyes.
“The pretty lady said he’d help. Remember?” The tiny female cub whispered to the older female, and she stiffened and shook her head. Kane was again left wondering who ‘she’ was, who this person was who was telling them about Ghost. Did they mean Andromeda?
He looked back towards the doorway, where Andromeda now stood alone, the door closed at her back. She met his eyes, and shook her head in a brief negative. It wasn’t her then, telling the Suarez wolves they’d find a healer in Ghost. He returned his attention to Ghost, where everyone was watching. The young shaman was unperturbed by the attention, oblivious, his focus on the injured beta.
“She wants me to help you. If you cannot trust me, can you trust her?” Ghost asked softly, leaning forward the smallest degree. He still held Kane’s hand and carefully reached out with his free hand. She stared at his hand, and seemed to be frozen, not even blinking.
“I can hear her. She spoke to you as well, in your dreams. She spoke to all of you, all you need to do is listen. She wants what is best for you, if you’ll trust her,” Ghost whispered, and she sobbed once, hard, eyes watering. “Listen. She is speaking to you.”
Kane fo
und himself stilling, chin down, as he listened as well. At first he heard nothing, other than everyone’s breathing and the combined heartbeats in the room. When it started, he lifted a hand and tugged on his ear, unsettled. It felt like someone was standing over his shoulder and trying to get his attention. He took a quick look, feeling foolish for doing it, and got a glimpse of River’s expression as well. The older shaman was standing at the window now, the one Ghost opened, and his face said he was experiencing something odd as well. He didn’t appear to be disturbed, not like Kane. He looked like he was hearing news that he couldn’t figure out how to handle, whether to be happy and pleased, or angry and disappointed.
Ghost was still on the table, hand out, infinitely patient. Waiting. The sensation rose again, and Kane wanted to step away, to move, but Ghost’s grip on his hand was iron-tight. The young shaman, his soulmate, was in the back of his mind, and Kane, while constantly accustomed to having his wolves in his mind, found that Ghost’s presence was one far more powerful than he was used to. The hand in his squeezed tighter and the whispering rose and fell in waves, a susurration of half-heard words that danced through the quiet.
When she moved at last, Kane was startled from his trance, trying to listen to the unseen whisperer. Ghost began to work his magic on the beta mother, and Kane let himself blend with Ghost deeper, their connection richer, more complete. Ghost’s presence in his mind rose as well, and Kane sucked in a deep breath, and on the exhale, found his vision usurped by the shaman’s Spiritsight. The physical world dropped away, and Kane was in Ghost’s head, seeing as he saw, hearing his thoughts.
Kane’s knees went weak and his breath caught in his chest when he realized just what, or rather who, was talking to Ghost.
All shamans answered to the Great Mother. In the early years of their kind, according to legends, the shamans would literally speak to Her, the Great Mother, in actual face-to-face conversations in the land of spirits. Their history was full of tales where a shaman would seek her out, and gain the knowledge or boon to avert disaster or save lives. Such tales were naught but stories, and Kane, like many generations before his, saw the Great Mother as a distant but benevolent spirit, a being less concerned with the individual trials of the wolfkin, and more focused on their species as a whole. Many wolfkin didn’t believe at all, and Kane was in the minority that he trusted the shamans solely on the belief that they were shamans by her grace. As she chose the First Shamans, so she chose every shaman born thereafter. Many wolfkin saw the shaman’s powers and gifts as a result of bloodlines and chance, and trusted the ancient teachings and codes of conduct instilled in the new shamans during their apprenticeship to guide their behavior, not some obscure deity.
Yet now, in this moment, the quiet faith Kane had nurtured in his heart grew to a joyous swell of ecstatic joy and overwhelming relief. Their Goddess, the Great Mother, the Wolf of the Northern Star and the creator of their kind, was here, now, and Kane could hear her.
She spoke now, to his soulbonded mate, and worked through him. She blessed the shaman, and him, and every wolf in this room by her presence, and Kane felt for the first time in a very long time that the future had more in store for him and his people than strife and conflict. There was love and healing, and there was more to come.
He closed his eyes, holding back his tears, and gripped Ghost’s hand as the shaman healed the injured wolves one by one, his strength unfailing and beautiful to behold. Kane stood quietly beside his mate, his long lost wolf, and silently thanked his Goddess.
The Family We Choose
“WHERE IS he, Glen?” Cat asked as she paced, arms folded over her chest, staring hard at the door.
Glen pushed off the wall, where he’d been watching Cat pace, and walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her and stilling her anxious movements. She stiffened, but he held tight, and she sighed, relaxing. Her head dropped to his shoulder, and Glen pressed a kiss to her red hair over a delicate ear.
“They’re his people, Cat. They won’t hurt him. You saw Ghost last night with that big guy yourself, right? Ghost looked happy, practically sat in that guy’s lap.”
“Guy? Guy? He turned into a wolf, Glen! A wolf! I saw it!” Cat whispered harshly into his shirt, and Glen hugged her, trying to calm her down. “Werewolves! Are we going insane, or are we surrounded by werewolves?”
“Certainly looked like werewolves to me, so I don’t think we’re both going insane. We might die of hunger, but I don’t think we’re going insane,” Glen murmured, eyeing the door. It hadn’t opened since the naked woman and her shape-changing cohorts had unceremoniously packed them up and carted them off through the woods, depositing them in the well-furnished but locked cabin.
It was morning, nearing noon judging by the sun. Their cell phones had been taken away, and his camera equipment as well. Thankfully he still had his e-reader, so they’d watched movies after their one and only attempt to get out of the small cabin had been greeted with deep-throated growls and eyes that glittered in the dark outside the front door.
“What are they going to do with us?” Cat asked, hushed, shivering.
“Well, I’m not sure, but I’m thinking I’m hungry. And I could use some aspirin for my head. Let’s go for a walk,” Glen grinned, and stepped away from Cat, grabbing her hand and their jackets.
“Glen! They’re out there!” Cat hissed, trying to pull him back from the door. Glen just gave Cat her jacket, and shrugging on his own, walked to the door. He flung it open, golden light spilling into the cabin over the threshold, the snow blinding. He held a hand up to shield his eyes from the glare, and blinked rapidly, eyes tearing.
“Mr. Mitchell, Dr. Medeiros, are you ready for lunch?”
Glen stiffened at the melodious voice that came out from the light, the words lilting with an accent that wasn’t one he was familiar with, and he’d spent years around the world hearing all sorts. He lowered his hand and tried to peer out through the light.
His eyes adjusted, the figure on the bottom step of the cabin porch coming into focus. A woman stood on the bottom step, a slim wisp of a thing with thick waves of golden white hair to match the sunlight and snow behind her. She smiled, her cheeks fair and blushed with the faintest of pink, and her eyes were the bright blue of the sky above.
“Oohhh,” Cat sighed from his shoulder, as entranced as he was by the vision smiling up at them.
She was wearing a thin dress, the cotton a light gray that contrasted with the gold and white light that filled the mountainside. Somehow the dove gray drew the eye far better than the brightness around them, and his heart thumped hard in his chest as she smiled again, a smile that was somehow sweet and slightly predatory. He could get no grasp on her age, the dress and her body suggesting youth, but the way she stood and the way she tilted her head, even the dangerous and beautiful smile, all said the woman in front of them was far older than she seemed.
And she wasn’t human.
She stood barefoot in the ice and snow, the wind chill below freezing, in a dress suitable for high summer, and she looked perfectly comfortable.
“Glen? May I call you that? And Catherine? Although Ghost tells me you go by Cat. Delightful name, it suits you.”
“Oh! Yes, Cat… Cat is fine, thank you. Who… who are you?” Cat stammered, and she slid her hand in Glen’s. He was still trying to find his tongue and could only give her a tremulous smile in return.
“My name is Andromeda.” She took a step away from the porch, and waved a graceful hand towards the path. “The young wolf you named Ghost is waiting to see you. Shall we go?”
She didn’t wait for them, merely turned in a smooth motion and walked down the path. Glen and Cat turned to each other, thinking for a second, then shut the door firmly behind them as they hurried after the mysterious werewolf woman.
“AREN’T YOU tired?” Kane asked him, and Ghost shook his head once, leaning into his mate’s side, e
njoying the heat that poured off the bigger man.
“No, I am fine. Hungry. Is there more bacon? Sarah ate all mine.” Ghost walked back into the kitchen, his nose leading him to the stove. He sniffed, and he could smell bacon, but the pans were gone and the sink empty. Someone must have done dishes while he was upstairs healing the Suarez wolves.
He spun and stared at the fridge, the door opened with a hiss on its own. Kane laughed, and he spared his mate a glance as he hunted among the plastic containers on the shelves inside, hand darting out when he got the scent of beef. Kane was leaning on the doorway, long legs crossed at the ankle, thick arms crossed over his hard chest. Ghost paused in opening the container, eyes trailing over the handsome man who was smiling back at him, a wicked gleam in his dark eyes.
He grinned back and stepped away from the fridge, letting it close with a mental nudge. Kane laughed again, a rich deep sound that sent tingles all over his body and heated his loins.
“Put that back, youngling, I’ll be making lunch soon. And look at you, using magic like a trained shaman. Don’t let River see you showing off, he tends to see the less fun side of things,” Andromeda said, as she strode into the room and pried the plastic tub out of his hands. He whined and mourned the loss of a snack as she put it back in the fridge, firmly shutting the door. “And your humans are here, they’re in the foyer.” Andromeda pointed to the front of the house, and Ghost forgot the beef.
Ghost ran from the room, eager to see his humans. Kane was on his heels, the big man silent on his feet despite his size. Ghost was happy to have him there, as he was suddenly nervous to have his humans see him in his new form.
Glen and Cat were hanging up their coats in the foyer on a tall coatrack, toeing off their boots. Cat saw him first, and her eyes breezed right past him as if she didn’t see him, settling on Kane instead. Glen turned and saw them too, and Ghost saw him recognize Kane as well. Glen gave the alpha a brisk nod, and both humans looked around the foyer, as if they didn’t see who they wanted.