“They were in a right flap, of course. They knew how I felt about Isaac. I burst into tears when I saw my mum—said we were calling it off, had to cancel everything. Dad was all up in arms—what had Isaac done to me and all that. I think they thought Isaac had been beating me. I finally said he’d been cheating on me, which I guess I felt like he had. Cheating on me with another … form. I thought he’d tell his werewolf and work friends that I’d run off with someone else also. Maybe that was too much for him. Easier just to say I’d died in a motorway accident.
“Well…” A long breath. “I didn’t expect to see him again. He drove a motorbike, didn’t even own his own car. But he rented a van and drove it up about a week later. Lots of messages, lots of ringing and me usually ignoring him. Just talking enough to say we were done—and he needed to leave me alone. Then he showed up in Keswick. He’d been to my parents’ home plenty of times when we’d still been in Ambleside. He didn’t come in, didn’t argue or defend himself when my dad had a go at him, telling him how he’d crushed me and what a cad he was. He’d just come to bring my things back. He’d packed them all up in boxes, clothes folded, everything very nice, very professional.
“I was upstairs. He’d come on a weekend, of course. I went down finally and we carried everything in. We didn’t talk. There wasn’t anything to say. Right at the end … he was getting ready to leave … keys in his hand, just starting to rain…
“I stood in the doorway and he stood on the path in the front garden. Storm ambled out. He’d supervised the whole job and he had to go say hello. He rubbed his head on Isaac’s trousers and Isaac scratched him while he rubbed all the way around his legs. Then Storm came strolling to the door, glancing over his shoulder at Isaac like, ‘Have a care, come on out of the rain.’ And I thought … I’m wrong. Am I really going to let this man go? Hardly as if I’d find another like him. But it was too much. It wasn’t a movie or a storybook. It was true and I couldn’t deal with it. I was so, so scared. So I just stood there.
“I’ll never forget the look in his eyes. He said, ‘I’m sorry, pet.’ Then he left and I went in and cried and spent the next year pretending I knew nothing about anything weird and life was normal, and I’d done the right thing. Working sixty hours a week helps. I love my community and this place—the Lakes. I knew I couldn’t do it. Maybe some people can learn that the world they know is not the world they know, and they can push right through. I can’t. Maybe I’ll never stop missing him but … I also know we could never be.
“Lately, this past summer, it started to feel so long ago it almost became a dream. Had it really happened? Was it a trick? Whatever happened to Isaac? So long ago it was time to stop asking. Pretend it really all had been a dream.
“When he came to the door last night it was the first I’d seen or heard from him since that day, the June before last, when he stood on the garden path in Keswick. This time he had a dying wolf with him and a whole gang of followers. Those friends he used to go off to see in Brighton, I suppose. And you … with the necklace…” She pulled in a breath. “Which is why I’m prattling on to you. I can’t honestly say I’m glad to see him again. But I’m glad to see you with that … and think … he’s not alone anymore. You say you’re human, though? And this is no surprise to you?”
“I was raised part of the community,” I said. I could not possibly say I was a witch. “There are some humans who are … different. Who know. Not many. Just like there are hardly any wolves. Werewolves, I mean. We’ll leave you in peace as soon as we can. I can’t thank you enough for having us here, for looking after Kage when … you didn’t have to. That was asking a lot. It still is. You’re both brave to have us.” Glancing to the cat.
“Brave…” she gave a little puff of a laugh, shaking her head. “Not hardly. But you clearly are.” She looked up from me to the doorway. “I need to turn in. I’ll check on your friend.”
I looked as well. Isaac stood quietly in the doorway with my mug of steaming soup.
He only nodded an acknowledgment as she spoke. I had no idea if he’d been there for half her story or just now stepped up.
She lifted the cat as she stood, ready to dump him back on the sofa.
“Do you think he’d sit with me?” I asked. “Would he mind?”
“Oh, he’d be chuffed.” She plopped Storm onto my lap instead, where he overflowed onto the upholstered chair like dumping out a bowl of cake batter—boneless and still purring. “He’s a brilliant therapy cat is Storm. Might help your head.” She smiled a little.
“I think so.” Keeping a hand on my mug, I stroked him. The cat turned his ear into my hand. “Thank you for looking after Kage. We’ll stay right with him.”
She nodded. “If you need me in the night, if we need to try a stimulant … just knock. I brought one but I don’t want to unless, well … unless he really needs it.” Like stops breathing? “I’ll set out the extra blankets. Stay down here or up on the daybed. Wherever you like.”
“Thank you.”
She turned off the TV while Isaac moved into the room to get out of her way, then she was gone.
Isaac settled on his knees beside my chair and held the mug for me while Storm stood up to greet him. Pushing past both mugs, forepaws on the chair arm, the cat rubbed his head against Isaac’s beard, filling the quiet room with the deep rumble of his purr.
Chapter 16
I’d wanted to go downstairs in the first place to talk with Isaac. Turned out, once I saw him, I didn’t have anything left to say. He sat with me for the soup—I was able to feed myself left-handed—and a visit with Storm, then helped me upstairs and to the bathroom.
They had my backpack in here with toothbrush and toiletries. I’d have liked a shower after the hospital and mud. They’d told me it was fine with the injury. The sling was only precautionary protection that could come on and off. Even so, I wasn’t up to that.
Soon, I crept out in tank top and pajama bottoms, the sling off for the night, but the light dressing still covering the arm so only the bruising was visible up to my shoulder and down past my elbow. In fact, most of me was bruised.
I dragged a blanket over to Kage on the floor. Amid protests and Zar trying to move me to the daybed, I lay on my left side, my head pillowed on the blankets already around him. Jason moved to lay along Kage’s back. I faced him, his four paws stretched out to me, and achingly extended my right arm to stroke his cheek, careful not to disturb the mask, while Jason buried his face in the back of Kage’s ruff.
Andrew spread another quilt over me while Zar was still protesting. Jed, furred, lay at my back with a sigh. Zar kissed my head, gave Kage’s ear a stroke, then left, going downstairs to sleep in the front room with Isaac. Andrew took the daybed.
Madison, or someone, had set up a nightlight plugged in at the foot of the daybed, not far from our heads as we lay on the floor. I was glad of it so I could watch Kage’s shut eyes once Andrew switched off the lamp.
Not for long, however. I sent more energy to Kage, watching and giving in the gentle glow, until I remembered the person growing inside me and stopped, only praying silently. It was not, after all, okay to give to my last breath anymore.
Still, I was out again, dreaming of the faie, who writhed and screamed and twisted in pain as their eyes were carved out with curved knives. Their bodies were hurled into shallow pits, the earth thrown over, the spells cast, and they crawled and fought their ways back out in droves, snarling and screaming as they came. Their once delicate, light bodies, all spirit and element, had solidified into grotesque creature shapes drawn from the natural things they used to embody.
I woke up sweating, breaths short.
The room remained just as dark, while the soft yellow glow of the nightlight showed me Kage unmoved, jaws slightly parted and eyes shut. Jason had drawn himself up so his face was on the top of Kage’s head, his nose between those pale eyebrow marks, mouth against Kage’s furry forehead.
He was clearly awake, stroking Kage’s
neck again. He breathed through his mouth, ragged and slow. I could only see the left side of his face. Tears trickled from below his eyelid, along his nose and into the short fur.
I hated being helpless. I hated being unprepared, not getting enough study time for a test, and the taste or smell of cilantro. But, mostly, I hated feeling and being helpless.
I wanted another spell with them—but I hadn’t slept more than a couple hours and knew I didn’t have it in me. I wanted to say Kage was doing better, that he was going to make it—but I didn’t know. I wanted even simply to embrace Jason, to say what I could say that was true: that I was so sorry, that it was my fault, that Kage never would have let those beasts rip him apart if not putting himself between them and me—but I couldn’t. Jason was obviously trying not to wake anyone. He hadn’t cried in front of me with the spell or holding onto Kage before.
I hated feeling helpless so much it built up with this fear for Kage and my own tears blurred my sight. I struggled to focus them into prayer again. Into a will, a force, something positive. Instead, my head ached, my arm throbbed, and I felt sick.
The best I could do was shut my eyes, hold onto Kage’s forepaw, and think over and over, You’re okay.
When I woke again, something dark was looming over me in a less dark room. Gloomy, gray dawn seeping into the little office, nightlight still on, Jed sitting up at my back. Watching Kage, I realized as I blinked up at him.
I shivered. Jed would have heard a change in his breathing or pulse. I blinked, rubbed my eyes—ah, hurting right arm, aching all over lying on the floor—and tried to focus on Kage.
Jed was right. There was something off about Kage’s breathing. His ribs seemed to puff and flutter. Like he was gasping for breath, even choking, though he didn’t make any noise aside from a slight huffing. The mask remained in place.
Heart in my throat, I pulled myself onto my elbow, forgetting the various pains. “Jed,” I breathed, mouth dry, “wake Andrew. He needs to get Madison.”
Jed only leaned in closer, his chest pressing my shoulder, his nose stretched out toward Kage’s face for careful scrutiny.
Keep breathing. Goddess, please.
Jason stirred, asleep, his face still at the top of Kage’s head.
I drew up the magic, offered it to Kage, gave it to his lungs, his blood, his beating heart. “Kage?” Whispering, my hand on his muzzle, relieved in a flood by the strong warmth there, the jaws moving against my hand.
Jason drew back, trying to see him. The daybed creaked: Andrew sitting up. Jed leaned in even more.
Then, with my nose almost on the mask, focused, holding on, Kage’s eyelids fluttered.
“Kage?”
His jaws worked, he raised his head off the blanket an inch, as if expecting he could simply get up, stopped by his own body.
Jason pressed his face into Kage’s fur again, hugging his neck.
“Shhh … shhh—” I kept stroking his face, my tears falling on his muzzle. “You’re going to be okay. We’re here with you. You’re fine. We’re all fine.”
His ribs heaved in a sigh and his jittery breaths of waking evened out. His glazed eyes cleared and again he strained his head, pulling free of the mask, moving his face back to Jason’s, trying to see or smell more, his nostrils quivering.
I thought of the cats, the strange place, how jumpy Kage could be about going into somewhere new, keeping track of every detail.
“It’s okay,” I whispered again, struggling with the words through my crushed throat. “We’re with a friend. Jason and Jed and Andrew are here. Isaac and Zar are downstairs. We’re safe here.”
He kept trying to push his head back and Jason lifted his own so Kage could see him. He kissed Kage’s muzzle and eyelids, also whispering. “Neä amaus Vinu.” And more in Lucannis that I could not understand.
He brought up his right hand, so Kage’s head rested on Jason’s right forearm, and held onto his muzzle, palm against his whiskers, fingers inside Kage’s mouth so Kage could lick them and hold onto Jason’s hand in his teeth. Like holding hands, the way Kage understood the gesture and weakly bit down.
I stroked Kage’s throat, blinking while the tears flowed, Jed resting his chin against my shoulder, and said, Thank you, thank you, thank you. Until Andrew was there on his knees, bringing water. He, then Jason, dripped this onto Kage’s swollen tongue with their fingers.
Andrew, without a word, picked me up, carried me to the daybed, and put me into it.
“Madison needs to look at him—”
“I’m sure she’ll make a point of it, darling.”
“He’ll need pain meds. And antibiotics—”
“He’s had them intravenously.”
“He’s sensitive. He can’t heal if he’s in so much pain that—”
“We’ll keep an eye on that, Cassiopeia.” Andrew kissed my forehead, pulled the quilt up, and I didn’t remember the door opening or Madison’s visit with Kage, or anything else. I was asleep. This time blissfully deep and mercifully dreamless.
Chapter 17
Kage went on sleeping, hardly moving, seldom waking, for that day and night. I missed most of it, however, because I also slept, with brief bouts of waking, checking on him, for twenty-four hours.
It rained all that day. The next was brilliant sunshine. Isaac and Jed carried Kage carefully downstairs, Jason made a bed for him in the gravel behind the garden shed so the neighbors could not see him out their back windows, and I followed.
Kage lay on his chest in the sunlight, eyelids drooping, while Jason rested on the blankets with him, stroking his back, and I sat beside him, leaned on the shed wall, my arm also exposed to fresh air.
The arm was a sight. Deep punctures, a few stitches, but mostly vast bruising in a range of black and purple shades. Kage also looked dreadful, shaved and stitched and patched together with as many seams as a stuffed animal. Not to mention those terrible tubes sticking out.
But we were alive and together. And that sun felt so, so good.
We had to go back to work, keep moving. We had to figure out what the hell was happening. Yet I was only starting to care again.
Isaac talked on the phone with Diana. Zar talked to his mom and Gabriel on his little pay-as-you-go push-button phone. So I rallied myself to call, not text, Rowan, Gavin, and Melanie. I had to leave voicemails for the first two, only asking them to call me back: that we needed help. A quick conversation with Mel in which I said we were just ducky, the Lake District was beautiful, and how was she holding up?
Then I thought of where else to turn, who else to ask. Zar knew what those dead things had been. He knew some sort of magic users had supposedly weaved their animated bodies from death thousands of years ago. But he would have thought them no more likely to be involved in this than Loki or Hercules or Ganesha.
“I wasn’t even sure if they had ever existed, or it was just one of those mythic horror stories,” Zar said. “The idea that someone is right now, in our time, slaying kindred and creating reavers is…” Shaking his head, pushing a hand into his wavy hair, at a loss with the enormity of it.
“Bad,” I said quietly. “It’s very bad and we need to figure out who’s doing it. Reavers? That’s what they’re called?”
“The broken, or soul-breaks, or reavers… It depends on what you read.”
What you read…
I called Stefan in Portland as well. Left another message.
I longed to call Richard and talk to casters with Broomantle. The trouble was … this kind of magical power? Creating such a monster? It meant that Broomantle had never been higher on my list of suspects.
While we sat in the garden, Zar joining us, Andrew bringing me instant coffee, and everyone mostly quiet, taking in sun with Kage, I could not think what came next.
Andrew put this confusion into words as he stood against the shed, me leaning into his legs, sipping the warm but weak drink. At least my stomach had been okay this morning. Morning sickness dying down? Would it go back an
d forth?
“So it’s not wolves,” Andrew said.
“No,” I said.
“We don’t know wolves aren’t involved,” Zar said.
“But we have little evidence now to suggest they are,” I said. “In fact…”
“In fact,” Andrew said, “it almost feels like someone wanted us to think it was wolves.”
“Yes, it does,” I said. “The images I saw, thought I saw, in scrying pointed to wolves. The druids thought it might be wolves. The vampires were—or are—certain it’s wolves. Peter and the others were killed by large, four-footed creatures. It’s almost as if…”
“Someone right at the start put out that vibe,” Andrew said. “Let’s get the vampires and druids and shifters all to cry wolf. Then we’ll have a jolly good laugh.”
“So you don’t think I’m being paranoid.” I looked up, squinting in the sun. “Because I started to think the same thing.”
Andrew shook his head.
“I agree,” Zar said. “Everything fitting together, pointing to wolves from the start. But, Cass, what about the shamans? What about the messages?”
“We already know. Part of the magical community,” I recited.
“It has to be casters,” Andrew said quietly, looking to Zar.
Zar shrugged. “Some sort of caster is who can make a reaver … but I don’t even know…” Trailing off helplessly.
“It’s not a normal caster thing to do,” I said. “Not a normal magic thing to do.”
“You mean you’re mostly all run of the mill standard wizards and this is specialty class necromancer?” Andrew asked.
“Have you played D&D and not told me?” I tried to look at him again.
“Have you and not told us?”
“College friends played.”
“Do you know of other groups of casters?” Zar asked. “Groups that might be…”
Moonlight Whispers: A Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (The Witch and the Wolf Pack Book 8) Page 9
