Shattered Bonds

by Faith Hunter

  “Janie?” He whirled and followed me.

  “I’m the Dark Queen. I’m the freaking Dark Queen,” I ground out. “Not crowned by Leo, but a power chosen for myself. I put the crown on my own head. The magic in it claimed me. It has to mean something. It has to come with power of some sort. I took Leo’s blood. I have this magical crap.” I held out the two icons. “I have star-shaped scarlet energies in my body that I don’t know how to use, and that are growing cancer, maybe because I can’t use the magic and it has to go somewhere and do something so it settled on disease. Maybe I have to be able to use the power and the magic, or let its pressure off, like a steam valve. I need to be able to access it. I just don’t freaking know how to do that!”

  Bruiser’s eyes went unfocused and his thoughts turned inward as we reached the landing. “The last Dark Queen didn’t end so well. Alex found a record that suggested she vanished and was never seen again.”

  “She must have timewalked into danger and died. Or timewalked and caused herself to never be born.”

  “Impossible. If she was never born, then she was never the Dark Queen. Time-traveling paradoxes are likely multidimensional, creating new universes or interdimensional pockets, or even opening rifts between universes.”

  “Yeah,” I said, crossing the central space, cool air drafts sweeping by, stirred up by the fans. “Like the rifts where the arcenciels fell through to Earth. But the office and power of DQ have to come with more than that. More than just timewalking.”

  “I agree. But it might require blood.”

  “Sweetcheeks, I don’t care if it requires blood, sweat, and couple of fingers.”

  Bruiser burst out laughing. “You’re still calling me sweetcheeks?”

  I flushed red. I wasn’t sure I had ever called him that out loud. “You have the best butt I’ve ever seen. Deal with it.”

  “Oh, my love. I deal with it every day. It’s good to have you back.”

  “Yeah. Depression and grief and dying suck.” We reached the TV room. To Alex, I said, “Update.”

  Alex looked relieved and happy instead of like the young, worried kid he had been for weeks. Interesting. All I had to do to restore balance in the house was be demanding. I’d remember that. He said, “Molly said she’d talk to you about the danger when she sees you. She and Big Evan pulled into the drive while you were upstairs. They took the sleep charm off Angie and put it on Shiloh. Then they did some kind of stasis spell on the vamp so she doesn’t go bonkers with bloodlust. Eli put a stake in her belly, just in case, and he’s with her in the back of the van.” The Kid had a familiar—and recently missing—mischief in his eyes. “Clan Yellowrock’s in town and ready to fuck some shit up.”

  “Alex!” I said. And then I burst out laughing. My face felt weird, creased up with a grin instead of down with pain. And my belly didn’t hurt nearly so bad.

  On the main screen, the Everhart-Trueblood van pulled to a stop at the front of the inn and the side door opened. Angie Baby sprinted from the van and up the steps.

  Because of the magic cancer, I no longer bent or bubbled time, but I made it to the front porch before Angie did and fell to my knees as she rushed into my arms. EJ—or Evan Junior or Little Evan, depending on who was talking—followed close behind, though my head was down and he probably didn’t see whom he was hugging as his arms spread out. I had them both.

  Kitssss, Beast whispered deep inside me.

  “Yeah,” I said aloud. “Kits.”

  Eli appeared from the van, still in his cold coat, but now it was bloody. He bounced a sleeping vamp up over a shoulder. Shiloh. She was even more bloody than my partner. Molly stepped out of the van and reached into the back seat, her hands busy with the straps on the car seat. Big Evan stepped out and the van rocked. Molly placed the baby in his arms. The infant looked like a toy against his bulk.

  “Love you, Ant Jane,” Angie said, drawing my attention back to them. “Is this your new house?” She pulled away to race into the middle of the inn. Stopped beneath the giant black wrought-iron chandelier in the vaulted high ceiling and turned in a circle, her head back, staring up, around, at the vast space. “I love this place, Ant Jane! It’s magic, right here!”

  “Wuv—love—you An’ Jane,” Little Evan said. He popped a slobbery kiss on my neck and rushed to his sister.

  “Yes,” I murmured to them, though they wouldn’t hear me, and were now running to see Alex. I stood and walked out onto the steps. Snow was still falling hard and the cold made my bones ache, but I waited there as Eli entered with Shiloh in a fireman’s carry. Dripping blood.

  Climbing the steps behind him were Molly and Evan, the baby on his shoulder, bundled against the winter, asleep. My BFF was smaller than when I last saw her. She had lost a lot of the baby weight. Her red hair was longer and less curly. Snowflakes were melting in the waves.

  “They were right,” she said. “You look like shit.”

  I burst out laughing again—hadn’t laughed this much in months—and held open my arms. Molly, decorated by snowflakes, stepped to me and I closed my arms around her. Breathed in the smells of Molly, baby, milk, diaper cream, baby urine, and French fries.

  “Is Shiloh going to be okay?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I said. Vamps were destructible, but not by bloodletting or being staked in the belly.

  “Good. But son of a witch on a switch,” she whispered. “You’re nothing but skin and bones. You can’t be expected to fight a big bad ugly.”

  “It’s okay. We have two days to get me well.”

  Molly made a grieving laughing sound. “Well, in that case, no problem.”

  I released her and led the way indoors, closing the big, well-balanced wooden door behind us. The door was carved with a grapevine heavy with bunches of wine grapes, the vine coiling on a wooden fence. I had fallen in love with the carving. I might be falling in love with the house now that the screams of children and the noisy stomping of running feet were echoing in the vaulted ceiling so far overhead.

  Evan handed off the baby to Molly, and my BFF brought my namesake to me. Cassandra Evangeline Jane Yellowrock Everhart Trueblood was tiny. Cassandra for one great-great-grandmother, and Evangeline for another (not for her demon-calling aunt), and Jane for me. For all the weighty names, she was a little smidge of a baby.

  Kitssss, Beast thought again.

  Molly leaned in and snuggled the baby into my arms. “Say hi to your godmother, Cassy.”

  Holding a baby always felt awkward, but Beast reached out and encircled the bundled baby into my/our arms and against my/our chest. My eyes filled with tears. “Hey there, Cassy,” I whispered. The baby was redheaded like her daddy, a bright copper-penny red, and her skin was peaches-and-cream. She would be nothing like me, not in looks or temperament, but I adored her and I adored that she carried my name.

  Cassy opened her eyes. Looked right at me and smacked her lips. Something turned over inside me, something warm and joyous and full of life. Something that had been missing for a long time.

  From the corner of one eye, I glimpsed Eli as he entered the elevator with Shiloh. I figured he was going to place the vamp in a tub. The blood would have a nice place to drain and no furniture would be ruined. And the kids wouldn’t see the body.

  I grinned, holding the gaze of the infant. “Hey, beautiful,” I crooned. “You got your mama’s eyes and your daddy’s hair and . . . Well, I’m sure you got lots of something from them both.” Molly’s and Evan’s witch X gene, one from each side. I could see the witch magic coursing through her and it was waaaay too early. I glanced at Molly. “Really? Three of them? Three witches at once?”

  Molly sighed. “Yeah. It’s going to be challenging. So we’ve agreed. No more ankle biters for me.” The baby made smacking motions again. “She’s hungry. Anyplace private where I can nurse?”

  Bruiser said softly, “I put aside two s
uites for the Everhart-Truebloods.”

  No more babies? Yeah, sure. That was never going to last. I handed the baby back to her mama and leaned my bony spine against the door, the cold shut out, watching as Bruiser led Molly to their rooms. Alex had already started the kids making s’mores at the biggest fireplace. And this was . . . this was amazing. My clan gathering under one roof. If we weren’t all in danger, this might be fun. Except that Molly and Evan needed to go back home, out of danger.

  Kitssss, Beast thought at me.

  Yeah. Kits. Family. Clan.

  Big Evan pulled off his coat and hung it on one of the hooks by the front door. He walked to me, his eyes studying me. I could tell he was using a seeing working and knew he’d be able to discern the shape of the magic in my middle. I let him look. He stopped in front of me and crossed his arms over his barrel chest, folding them over the tail of his bushy red beard. “Pentagram-shaped? When did that happen?”

  “Not long ago. The cancer came shortly after I had been timewalking. I’ve been assured by Soul that timewalking is not an activity meant for a human body. Or a skinwalker’s body.”

  “You working with a traditional healer?”

  “An Elder of The People has been contacted and we’re supposed to start sessions soon. Eli built a sweathouse. One of the first things he did when he got here.”

  “He was almighty pissed at you for running away.”

  “Yeah. We had that conversation. It wasn’t pretty.”

  “Hmmm,” Big Evan said, the vibration more like the rumble of boulders rubbing against each other than a human larynx. “Thanks for the warning about passing the bloodsuckers. We had just enough time to get pulled over and a hedge up. Two red SUVs, right?”

  I nodded, not letting my thoughts travel to what might have happened had the vamps somehow seen and recognized the van and tried to stop my friends. The fangheads wouldn’t have won, but it would have been messy and dangerous. I frowned. “Why did y’all come on? You drove up and found Shiloh, bleeding in the snow. You know about the danger. It’s going to get worse around here, not better.”

  “Molly made the point that no place is truly safe. Plus . . .” He rubbed his face, the beard making a scratching sound. “I know it sounds improbable, but Angie said the house was a dangerous place to be right now. She said we needed to be with Aunt Jane.”

  “Your kid is scary.”

  “Yeah. We noticed.” His tone was loving and gently possessive.

  “Where’s KitKit and George?”

  KitKit was Molly’s not-familiar, because witches do not have familiars. It’s simply not done. Except for Molly. And George was Angie’s bassett hound.

  “Dropped ’em off at Bedelia’s.” Bedelia was Molly’s mom, and I wondered why the kids weren’t there too, except that Bedelia was getting on up there in age and might not be up to having the pets, Carmen’s little one, and Molly’s three around. “I’m hungry,” Evan said, interrupting my thoughts. “Eli got food?”

  “Pork shoulder and all the fixins in the fridge. Leftover pizza on the counter.”

  “Good.” He didn’t move away from me. I met his eyes, mine asking what was up. “Don’t know if I ever said it. But I’m sorry I was an ass.”

  “I’m sorry your family was placed in danger just by being my friend.”

  “Life’s a bitch, ain’t it?” he said. “We’ve said all this before. Think we got it out of our systems this time?”

  “I think if we say it any more we’ll have to hug.”

  “God forbid.” Moving like the boulder he sounded like, he rolled on toward the kitchens. Over his shoulder, he added, “Soon as I eat, you need to try to reach Edmund. As leader of your own fanghead clan, you should be able to touch his mind.” He paused, his eyes scanning the floor and walls and high vault where his daughter had turned in a circle studying the inn. “This will do for a circle.” Then he walked on.

  Angie had stood in the center and said, “Magic . . .” Precognition? I crossed my arms and shivered.

  Kitssss, Beast said.

  So soft it was little more than a breath of air, I said, “Family.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Beast Needs Dead Cow for Magic

  The kids ate enough pizza and sweets to have a sugar high, but crashed in the Charles Frazier Suite, two of them smelling of chocolate and marshmallows, all three on the king-sized bed, hemmed in by rows of pillows, what their mother called a bumper, with chairs pushed around the edge to keep the kiddos from falling off. The infant, my namesake, was at the foot of the big bed, sleeping like the angel she was, her bow-shaped mouth puffing with each breath. Their parents stood on either side of the bed, drawing protective workings over them, healing, warnings, love, and prayers. The magics they drew were blue and purple and golden and they shimmered like a holy net across the big bed. It was a magic anyone could see in the parents’ eyes and it woke in me a longing I didn’t understand as they closed the protective circle that placed the kids in safety. Molly and Evan met at the foot of the bed and clasped hands, bowing their heads in prayer. I left quietly, knowing I was intruding on a moment that was just for the two of them. And wondered where the nearest church was. It had been a long time for me.

  In the open area of the main living space, Eli was unrolling a rug he had carried in from one of the furnished bedrooms. It was thick, dark blue, and had buff fringe on two sides. Simple and manly enough to be a rug from his own room. He placed it directly beneath the wrought-iron lighting fixture. I assumed that Alex had overheard Big Evan’s plans and not that Eli had ESP and mind-reading ability. He disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a beer, which usually meant that he was off guard duty, but tonight he was still wearing weapons, so maybe he was relaxed but not. The former Army Ranger was often a mystery to me.

  I set le breloque and the Glob on the rug and wasn’t surprised when Eli came back, toting oversized pillows from the TV room. “One of these is sticky with chocolate and marshmallow.” He dropped three pillows and carried one off, saying, “The kids are charming but messy. Told you we’d need washable shams.”

  I vaguely remembered that. So maybe he did have ESP. “Where’s Shiloh?” I called to him.

  “In your tub.”

  “Oh. Yuck. You coulda put her in a guest bath.”

  “Babe.” He stopped and looked back at me. Took a pull on his beer. There was an almost-smile on his mouth. “I certainly could have.”

  I stuck out my tongue at him, as if he was my big brother and I was a brat. And once again, I didn’t hurt quite so much. I had family. I had clan. I had kits. Life could have been a lot worse.

  * * *

  * * *

  Big Evan half fell, half rolled onto the pillow, his legs bent uncomfortably, and told Eli, “You know you’re going to need a forklift to get me up, right, dude?”

  Eli gave a faint smile. “I’ll manage.”

  “I’m still weak from childbirth,” Molly said, taking her seat. “If I can roll to my knees and get to my feet, you can, too. Stop whining.”

  Evan said to me, “She’s been this way ever since she gave birth. Bossy.”

  “She’s always bossy,” I said.

  “I’m sitting right here,” she said. “In the room with you.”

  “When she was giving birth to Cassy, she ordered the nurses around, and when they refused to do every little thing she said, she knocked over the IV pole and broke things. Then she threatened to kill me if I ever touched her again.”

  “I knocked over the IV pole because I was in pain and no one would give me the good drugs. I threatened you for the same reason.”

  “Uh-huh. Bossy. And I love you for it.”

  Bruiser was hovering in the shadows of the opening to the back mudroom entry. He was half-hidden by the kitchen island and was watching me with such tenderness, my heart turned over and landed in a puddle of coron
ary mush. He raised his brows in a question and gestured at the big space. His lips moved soundlessly: You okay?

  I nodded.

  He blew a kiss my way. It was a sweetness I had never experienced before. My coronary mush was so syrupy it was like molasses and brown sugar and marshmallow cream. I smiled at him and eased down to the pillow placed for me. When I looked up again, Bruiser and Eli were exchanging hand signals. They were both weaponed up and wearing comms headgear and multi-ocular eyepieces, ready to protect the inn while the rest of us were occupied trying to find and reach Ed.

  Molly was watching me, wearing an expression I couldn’t name. It was penetrating and affectionate and I turned my head away, uncomfortable. People loved me. It was weird.

  The circle had been made by flour from the kitchen to represent Molly’s earth magics and with five small wood flutes placed at the five points of the pentagram. The flutes would call to Evan’s air magic. The two-foot-tall rosemary plant by Molly’s knee was a call to life. I studied the plant, inhaling the rich herbal scent. Molly had brought a dead rosemary plant back to life once. . . . I looked my question at her and she gave me a saucy grin, as if she was saying, Yeah. So what? She was in control of her death magics, which was good. “I’m ready,” I said.