Fine, but we kill him if we see fit, a new female voice said.
Leila frowned at the cat disapprovingly. “No deal. No harm will come to him, or I’ll find a way to hurt you just as badly.” She didn’t know what she could do to what was essentially pure power with an attitude and a personality disorder, but she was confident she could find out.
If Gris-Gris could be this irritating, it had a weakness she could exploit.
The conduit was strangely silent for a long moment. It backed away, unblinking, until it hit the cushion of Alex’s couch.
Then several things happened at once. The sounds of birds chirping and nearby traffic dimmed from the direction of Alex’s bedroom. Beau was freed, which he made clear when he bounded up to Leila, practically knocking her down when he jumped up to place two big paws at her shoulders and his nose directly against hers. That done, he lowered himself to all four paws and went to explore the house, undoubtedly to look for Alex.
Following him, Leila realized Gris-Gris had fixed the damage done in Alex’s bedroom. Those invisible barriers had fallen with Beau’s, allowing her free rein of the house again. Satisfied an inopportune rain wouldn’t ruin Alex’s home, she ventured down the hall from his room to the studio he’d built for her.
Gris-Gris hadn’t fixed this. She gaped at the cement walls where mirrors had once been. Now they littered the floor in shards.
“No, Beau. Stay off that.” She shooed him out the door and closed it so only she and Gris-Gris were inside. As tough as Beau was, she was confident he could get cuts on his little, well, rather big, paws.
“What happened here?” She walked in front of the bookcase where Alex kept his talismans. It used to be filled, with two rows of energy-full books on almost every shelf.
Ten books were left, less than half of the smallest shelf’s row.
The conduit moved beside her, and the room shifted, like a semi-opaque film had been thrown over Leila’s vision. She could still see what was underneath, but the image above was clearer.
A shrill scream tore from her throat. Next to her, where Gris-Gris was underneath the image, stood a pretty, middle-aged looking woman with soft brown curls and laugh lines around her mouth and eyes. She wore sweatpants and a pretty blue scoop-neck top. Leila knew spirits were housed in the conduit, but she’d never expected to see what one of them had been in corporeal form.
“I’m Jill.” The woman smiled warmly. “They agreed to let me show you what happened here. Since we were already throwing an image, I figured I may as well let you see me for who I was.” Jill rolled her eyes, but she didn’t lose her smile. “It’s got to be better than talking with a cat who speaks into your mind.”
Leila couldn’t keep herself from laughing shortly. “You’re right,” she said, nodding to the woman. “Thank you.”
Jill inclined her head and turned her attention to the space in front of her. Alex entered the room shirtless, with a pair of hastily buttoned jeans hanging low on his hips.
“Come on, Brendon, be wrong,” he muttered, his blue eyes wild. “Be wrong.”
“Oh he’s right,” a woman called. A male voice laughed. The sounds reverberated off the mirrored walls, growing louder when, by all laws of acoustics, they should have faded.
Uttering a string of oaths, Alex threw no less than five books out, causing the air above him to shift and swirl, but the sounds of warlocks laughing didn’t lessen. Others joined the first two, creating a terrifying symphony Leila knew would haunt her no matter what happened in the coming hours.
Holding his hands out in front of him, Alex somehow lifted all of the books. Leila could hardly see the string of electric-blue energy connecting him to his talismans, but it was there, changing location so quickly she had to concentrate to find it.
“We already have Brendon. There’s nothing you can do that he didn’t.”
Swords, four feet long and wickedly sharp, shot from the bookcase into every corner of the room save where Alex stood. Roughly half of them shattered the mirrors and fell to the floor, while others sank into something softer and stayed put. Leila could hear blood pouring, but there was none to be seen, no one to be seen.
One by one the hidden warlocks appeared, their mouths open wide in silent moans.
Silver ropes, so different from the vines Alex had used with the assassin last night, snaked toward him. They were so thick even Leila couldn’t deny their strength. Alex’s eyes darkened. A number of his books shriveled to powder, and the ropes stopped a few paces away from him. Then they reared back and shot through whatever shield he’d created, causing a low cracking sound to meet Leila’s ears. She cringed, reaching out as they met Alex, but knew there was nothing she could do.
This already happened, she reminded herself. I can only help him now, wherever he is.
He screamed. More books evaporated as he fought his restraints. The warlocks who remained alive continued laughing, loud enough to make his sensitive ears bleed around his clutched hands.
Alex was powerful; Leila had no doubt about that. But he wasn’t all-powerful, and he was outnumbered, at least ten to one. If he fought any more, he could cause himself permanent damage. Which they’ll just give to him anyway, no matter how well he defends himself.
The laughter turned to whispers Leila couldn’t understand. They were too low…and was that French? She caught one of Alex’s favorite French curses, but understood nothing else.
Alex hung his head as he listened, crouching in his bonds.
The rest of his books went away in the blink of an eye, spreading even more dust onto the floor. This time, the disembodied voices roared, making Leila involuntarily whimper. His head bowed, Alex disappeared, but Leila could see he was smiling almost imperceptivity.
Underneath her feet, the powder left over from the used talismans pushed its way back to the bookcase. There, it rose to form the books Leila had seen left over. It was little compared to what Alex used to have, but it was better than nothing. Leila was grateful for the small miracle.
Next, the crumpled bodies she’d hardly paid any attention to—they wanted to kill Alex and every other creature in the world, after all—disappeared along with the now-visible blood pooling on the floor.
It left the room exactly as Leila had seen it when she walked in.
“What did he use the last of his energy on?” Leila asked before Jill could rejoin the other conduits in cat form.
Jill smiled knowingly. “He used everything he could to erase you from their memories. The warlocks threatened you, and he all but turned you human in their eyes, requiring a massive amount of power. He also shielded you and Beau so no one could get to either of you—it’s why you were locked in the bedroom earlier.”
So the warlocks hadn’t done it so they could have easy access later. It was Alex’s attempt to protect them. But it still left one question unanswered.
“How did that hole appear in his ceiling?”
“We did that.” Jill raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you want the chance to get out and save your man?”
Rather than yell at Jill, Leila chose to kick a few pieces of glass. And then the wall. She took a deep, fortifying breath, but it did nothing to appease her need to yell at the friendly-looking specter before her.
“You could have saved him, couldn’t you?”
The woman nodded. “But we like the outcome better when you save him.”
“When I get the chance to, I’m going to royally fuck with you, you uppity psychopaths!” Leila lunged for Jill, unsure of what she might do if she got her hands her.
The film the conduit had placed over reality lifted, brightening the battered studio and leaving Leila glaring menacingly at an innocent-appearing, cat-like, and insane woman.
She’s fun, a young male cried. Let’s keep her.
No, George, she said a bad word. Or maybe more than one? a girl asked.
“How do I find and help him?” Leila asked in a low voice. She didn
’t try to sound civil or appeasing—she was beyond furious at the warlocks, at Gris-Gris, and at every other sect of creatures who’d allowed the warlocks to get this far.
Basically, she was angry at everyone she could think of.
You become the trifecta you were meant to be. Leila recognized this to be Jill. Rather than sounding offended, she seemed as calm as ever, despite having a pissed-off banshee after her.
Leila was really going to have to work on her intimidation skills.
“What’s a trifecta?”
An impatient snort. This wasn’t Jill. A trifecta is part Fey, part witch, and part were. Three very different types of magic all present in one—it’s so rare, one such as this is almost mythical even among us.
Basically, you’re going to be the first trifecta since a family of them ran around ancient Greece claiming to be gods, an elderly-sounding woman said dryly. No, a half-faery, half-werewolf mating to a witch wouldn’t cut it, which is why it’s so unusual. Alex is full-blooded were and witch, creating the circumstances to make him a trifecta by mating you as well.
Hopelessness nearly overwhelmed her. “I can’t become whatever you’re talking about until the next full moon. It’s over a week away.” Leila kicked away the glass under her and sank to the ground, where she dropped her head into her hands. “All I can do for Alex is yell at his enemies.”
That didn’t even work on us!
After that excited proclamation, the conduit remained quiet. It did, however, put its head under Leila’s fingers. She scratched its ears, fully aware she was petting something extremely deadly that wasn’t even close to a real cat.
We can bring your mating bond early, Jill said. It was already burgeoning, another rarity before the mating is consummated, but not nearly as rare as two mates knowing each other for so long without committing the act. The conduit plopped in her lap and put its head down on her arm. It’s why you were a different color on the warlocks’ map, you know? Jill continued. You weren’t powerful enough yet to be yellow, but you were already becoming a trifecta. There was no label in their spell to describe you. Gris-Gris batted at Leila’s chest with a small, soft paw. You have to be open to the bond, just as you would be during the full moon.
That warlock’s going to be real surprised when he becomes part banshee, a male murmured with a snicker.
Leila lifted her head. “Do it.”
A wind picked up, lifting glass from the floor and the books from their shelf. They flew around Leila, who found herself rising as well. Air pushed behind her, sounding like a particularly large paper fan, but she was too concerned with the pain rising through her body to pay the sound much attention.
Over the year since Mary had become mated to Raphael, she hadn’t mentioned how much it hurt to go from a wholly separate being to someone so connected to the other that their very lives were entwined. It felt like pop rocks partying in her blood, causing it to bubble and spit while inside her veins. She boiled with something other; she couldn’t help it. Leila started to scream, her head whipping from side to side.
For a sliver of a second she opened her eyes. Either she was shaking, or Alex’s house trembled violently…or maybe both. More debris joined what was already circling around her, falling from the walls and ceiling courtesy of the power behind her agonized yells.
Between one moment and the next, her voice became louder, clearer, and the soothing smell of wet earth rose to meet her. It calmed her despite the burning, shooting stings moving from every inch of her body to concentrating on her back and the tips of her fingers. Now, it felt less like an angrily boiling potion moving inside her and more of an extraordinarily irksome case of limbs that had fallen asleep from lack of use.
Except clenching her fingers didn’t help, and her back had never fallen asleep, to her knowledge.
The tempest surrounding her died. Leila fell weakly to the floor, landing on a soft pile of dirt that cushioned her knees, bloodied from her earlier landing on the roof. Something pulled at her from all sides, but she couldn’t see any hands or ropes. Obviously, she was still disoriented from the spinning and other, less understandable things that had just happened to her.
Now that the rough sound of stirring air calmed, the whuh, whuh, whuh, of that fan was more pronounced than ever.
It was the clearest noise she’d heard in over ten years, since before meningitis took her natural hearing.
Habitually, she reached up to feel the piece of equipment behind her ear, and the magnet set in her hair.
They weren’t there. Frantic now, Leila dug her fingers through her hair to find the missing pieces, blatantly ignoring the gravity of what she’d discovered.
Without a connected external processor, she shouldn’t be able to hear anything, no matter where it was. She found nothing in her hair. The broken glass, pieces of books, and splinters of bookshelves were buried under the thick layer of dirt she crouched in.
“How can this be?” she whispered. The moment she heard her voice, she hunched over, tears falling, sobs wracking her body.
Her words were so clear, like water lazily trickling in a creek. There was no feedback, no distortion. Simple, pure, words.
“Is this real?” she asked, her heart kicking up once she’d spoken again. She gripped a handful of soil as if it could anchor her. “Will this change be permanent?”
Your immortality wasn’t enough to heal the hair cells in your cochlea, a man Leila hadn’t heard from yet said tentatively, as if he wasn’t used to speaking. She recognized his medical jargon instantly, having listened to similar terms since she first came down with meningitis. The cochlea, or inner ear, processes sound by the bending of its outer and inner hair cells, an action caused by sound vibrations. That action also detects sound, allowing the auditory nerve to tell the brain that she is, in fact, hearing something.
Her hair cells had become infected by bacterial meningitis, causing her permanent deafness. Sounds could hit her ear fine, but without those tiny hairs, she couldn’t detect anything without her cochlear implants.
But immortality was almost enough. Over time, maybe decades or a century or so, your hair cells would have completely regenerated. With your new earth elemental powers and with magic now situating in your blood, the cells immediately healed. For as long as you and Alex live, you should have perfect hearing.
Perfect hearing. Leila laughed, the sound so wonderful to her ears, it felt like the most flawless of bells.
Just wait until I hear what Alex really sounds like. More than likely, she’d beg him to take her then and there. She blushed at the thought, but it also took her back to what she was doing, and why she’d pushed the mating bond before the full moon’s arrival.
Now, maybe, she had enough power to get him back. She was a trifecta, after all…whatever that meant.
“Thank you,” she told Gris-Gris. “Not only for saving my hearing, but for agreeing to help me get Alex back.”
Lady, aren’t you going to ask why you have wings? The little girl sounded more than a little put out.
Wings? Her heart sputtered again, its rate rising with her shock. That sound from behind her, whuh, whuh, whuh, kept the same beat. Mentally, she tried to make it move harder, to displace enough air to propel her up.
WHUH.
Her legs still bent in her kneeling position, dirt falling from where it had stuck to her knees and calves, she rose. It wasn’t graceful—she tilted to the right—but she wasn’t at risk for tumbling down either. She made the mistake of glancing behind her to see what these wings looked like. It jolted her to the side without showing what she wanted to see. She righted herself quickly, deciding to get back on two feet so she could get a quick glance at her wings and then go find Alex.
She’d have plenty of time to fly and listen to every beautiful sound she could get her hands on later, when she knew he was safe.
Seeming to read her mind, Gris-Gris managed to put a small mirror onto the wall. She twirle
d and gaped at the two mother-of-pearl faery wings, shaped like that of a butterfly, protruding from her back.
Later.
“Can you take me to him?” she asked the conduit sitting to the right of the mirror. It watched her with its head cocked to the side, its green eyes glittering.
You have something else to do first, Jill said firmly. If you don’t, Alex will die within the next ten minutes.
Leila struggled to breathe exactly as she would have if a bodybuilder had kicked her square in the chest.
Ten minutes. Now, nine minutes and fifty seconds. Tick. Tock.
“What do I do?” Courtesy of her raised voice, a crack appeared in the wall. Dirt filled it, and a white flower peeped out. Guilt snagged; she loved this room Alex had set up for her and didn’t want to damage it further. Worry about that later.
“What the fuck am I supposed to do, Jill?” she yelled a moment after she received no answer.
Feel that power tugging at you? the woman answered, finally. That’s all the energy warlocks have claimed without asking permission. It wants you like we wanted Sebastian. They sense what you are—you’re a magnet to energy because now you house every kind of power, merging them to form something stronger than what even they house.
Take their loyalty, and they will follow you and Alex like we do Briony and Sebastian.
A man interjected, the same man who’d explained about her hearing. No one will be able to take the power away from you, he said reassuringly. Once a conduit freely gives itself, it cannot be taken away. It’s how we won’t become yours.
Time was running out. There was none left to ask any more questions, not even a spare moment to question her next move.
Leila simply acted, shoving the possibility of Alex’s death somewhere it wouldn’t hinder her attempt to help him.
Holding her arms out wide, she let her new wings lift her up high. “I accept all of you!” she shouted, projecting her voice with her first real power, inherited through her mother. She kept the banshee venom from her voice, but was able to lift it higher, louder than she’d ever done before.
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