Wild Women Collection

by Rachel Sullivan

Nineteen

  I fought the pull, thrashing my arms and legs to make it back to the surface; the surface that grew farther and farther from my line of sight with each second. Cold fingers pressed into my right ankle, pulling me deeper. I kicked to loosen the fingers, but to no avail. I peered down, set on prying the fingers from me, when I stared directly into the glowing eyes of Drosera. Like seaweed, her hair floated around her, bouncing on the waves my movement caused. Nothing short of pure moonlight glowed from her skin and stars from her eyes.

  Her otherworldly appearance stunned me into stillness. I watched, awestruck, as she turned her eyes away from me toward where she took us, her glowing fingers still gripped to my ankle. The fact that I could still breathe occurred to me, as though air circulated around my face.

  Drosera picked up her pace and rapidly pulled me deeper, straight down now, as I lifted my hand to my face and found what felt like a pliable bubble beginning at my forehead and extending to my chin. What looked like the light of hundreds of yellow, flickering candles glowed beneath a dome below us. I watched in stunned stillness as Drosera maneuvered me through her grasp on my ankle, toward the dome where her sisters waited.

  As we neared the dome—its exterior a glowing blue layer of light—its dry contents became clear. The body of their fallen sister, Azalea, lay atop leaves and cut fern branches. Wild flowers created a circle on the ground around her and a crown made of vines and twigs sat atop her head. Flat stones rested over her closed eyes. No fires blazed as I’d thought I’d seen, no candles either. The rusalki lit the bubble with their glowing skin. Only one rusalka, the one laying in the center on the leaves, failed to add any brightness. The pale skin of what was once Azalea reminded me of how ashen and unnatural Gabrielle’s skin had appeared after she’d met the birch scissors. So lifeless.

  Drosera pulled me through the exterior of the bubble, my exposed skin feeling the lack of moving water the moment it entered the dome. Once my face entered the dryness, the bubble enabling me to breathe burst and I fell toward the ground.

  I landed in Drosera’s arms as she cradled me for a quick moment before setting me onto my feet. I tripped forward and then back, before gaining my footing.

  The questions that should have been running through my mind gained no traction past my repeating thoughts at the sight of Azalea. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

  At the Washington Hunter’s cabin, when Azalea had been killed by the Hunter’s daughter, Clarisse, her body had disappeared. Now, seeing the reality of her fate brought a heavy pit to my stomach. My throat threatened to close in on itself. “I’m sorry,” I repeated, this time to Azalea more than to her sisters. Tears filled my eyes. In rescuing my sister, theirs lost her life. “You didn’t deserve this; this shouldn’t have happened to you.”

  “It was a fate I chose freely,” Azalea reminded.

  I jolted and peered in the direction of the voice. An iridescent version of Azalea, naked, peered back at me. Her lips tilted in a smile. I could barely see the crinkles of skin around her bright eyes. She wasn’t see-through, but wasn’t covered in flesh either. A glowing violet hue pulsed from her being.

  I rushed to hug her. Rather than the feeling of matter pressed against me, tingles vibrated my skin wherever she touched in her returned embrace.

  “Are you a ghost?” I asked after pulling away to get another look at her.

  “We are all souls,” she answered. “Some more hidden than others.”

  “The huldra coterie and the Hunter have come for assistance in helping the succubi,” Drosera told her sister’s soul, who smiled lovingly at us all.

  Azalea nodded.

  “The timing is difficult for us,” another rusalka said, Veronia. “The energy of grief is a healing balm to the mind, if used correctly, however it leaves little energy behind for other tasks.”

  “Such as the one you wish us to complete,” Drosera added.

  Despite me learning this from the rusalki, this made perfect sense to me.

  Tears filled my eyes again. My partner sister stood, whole, living, on land; their sister could not. “Azalea,” I said after clearing my throat. “You’ve given your life for my sister. What can I give to help your sisters?”

  Azalea glowed a little brighter. “I am always with my sisters, unseen by others of the outside world. And my soul energy is pure and so very strong. But it is not the energy they lack.”

  “The succubi are imprisoned,” I reminded. “They’re the only ones who can help with energy.”

  I turned to gaze at her lifeless body in the center of the dome, but Azalea’s soul placed a violet glowing hand on my arm and gained my attention. Warmth and tingles penetrated my skin and bones. Once she had my full attention, she spoke. “In my more realized connection with our Goddess, Mokosh, my sisters have been forced to lessen their own, due to grief.” Her gaze bore into my eyes and my heartbeat quickened. “Bridge that gap.”

  “Anything,” I muttered, transfixed on the depths of everything and yet nothing within her glowing eyes.

  She gave a nod and her living sisters stood around me in a circle. At once, all three sets of hands pressed onto my head. My heart skipped a beat and then beat wildly, my pulse thrumming in my ear. My huldra arched and stretched within me, causing an ache to push out from my center, followed by an unnerving strength that pulsed from my center, to my skin and back again, over and over. This pulsating picked up pace until it pinged around my body so violently that it had nowhere to go but out.

  I gasped as vines shot from my fingers and roots burst from the soles of my feet and buried themselves deep into the lake bed beneath us. The rusalki began whispering and before I could register their words, my roots traveled through the dirt desperately in search of others of similar kind. One root separated from the rest and latched onto the root of a lake plant; the rest pushed further until they found tree roots and fern roots to tie around.

  The deep sigh of what I instinctively knew was a tree reverberated through my roots and into my body. The flash of a battle scene played behind my eyes, of powerful huldra warriors protecting their forests from those who sought to steal its trees to build fires with which to burn human women. Another scene flashed—an aged huldra, wrinkles worn as badges of wisdom from a life fully lived, white hair framing her face like the veil of a high priestess. The old huldra changed her skin to bark and seemed to sink into the oak tree before she disappeared within its bark. Another flash and a black snake coiled up a different tree, wrapping around its trunk in what I oddly sensed was an embrace.

  Suddenly my roots released their hold and retreated back into my feet. The vines wrapped around my fingers and wrists and arms receded as well. With a snap they each reentered their exit point and rusalki hands pulled back from my head. I let out a gasp and opened my eyes.

  I blinked. “Who was the old woman?” I asked Azalea while catching my breath. “The old huldra? I’ve never seen a huldra so old. Our lifespans aren’t that long.”

  Azalea only smiled.

  “Revelations show themselves when the time is right,” Drosera answered. “We are ready to help the succubi.”

  The rusalki walked toward the blue dome keeping the water out. “Wait,” I called to them. “What just happened?”

  Veronia held my hand and I walked beside her. Before we hit the dome wall she answered, “You connected to your plant friends who willingly gifted you with the energy of our great mother, of Mokosh, for they live deep within her womb and carry her strength. We extracted such energy from you, and now our bond with Mokosh is reinforced, our abilities partly returned.”

  So I’d connected with my roots, literally. The revelation was humbling. If only I knew exactly what they’d shown me. Within the vision lay answers to questions I’d never thought to ask. If I could only figure out what they were, I had a feeling it would change everything.

  Twenty

  As soon as I came up from the lake floor and walked onto the shore, all of my sisters spouted questions at me
. I brushed off their queries when I noticed a lack of Marcus on the shore and realized he’d jumped in after me and had been searching the lake the whole time I was under. Amazingly, I hadn’t even noticed while I was down there. Not amazingly, he could have gotten himself killed. I doubted the rusalki’s birch scissors only worked on land.

  When the ex-Hunter finally surfaced and spotted me, he swam hard and then ran once his feet hit land. He wrapped me in his arms and picked me up, into the air, raining kisses onto the top of my head. I allowed it for a minute, but then pulled away to scold him for interfering in Wild business, which the moment the words left my lips I realized my mistake in speaking them. I didn’t get to decide when Marcus was invited to involve himself in helping us and when he must stand by—when Marcus could show concern for my wellbeing and when he couldn’t. As if I needed more proof to my screw-up of acting like I had a right to dictate his feelings, his expression revealed a flash of anger, dissipating his concern, and then nothing, as though a switch had been flipped to turn his emotions off altogether.

  After flying back to Portland, the incubus Aleksander had met us at the arrivals sidewalk of the airport in a shiny new black Escalade. The late afternoon sun hid behind thick layers of clouds. We had no luggage to throw into the back, only one small bag for all of us, so we piled in and set off for the yellow rental house.

  “How was your trip?” Heather’s incubus asked politely. Aleksander had sent the same young incubus he’d sent yesterday…or was it the day before...to let us know the succubi had been captured. The whirlwind trip messed up my sense of time and date.

  “Any new news on the succubi galere?” Celeste asked, ignoring politeness and getting straight to the point. She sat in the front passenger seat, so the incubus had no chance of ignoring her.

  “No, nothing,” the man said, solemnly.

  “Thank you,” Celeste paused. “I’m sorry, I forgot your name.”

  “I’m sorry I don’t have better news to report,” he replied, turning to share a weary smile. “It’s Mason, like the jar.” Mason continued, “We’ve been keeping an eye on their apartment while ya’ll have been gone. Nothing new to report there either. Everything’s been quiet.”

  “Too quiet,” Marcus commented, in thought.

  Mason caught Marcus’s gaze in the rearview mirror. Unlike his disdain for Aleksander, Marcus didn’t seem to hate this incubus. He’d stopped shutting me out too, somewhere over the Midwest. My sincere apology whispered into his ear during take-off had a little something to do with it.

  “You think the Hunters are planning something else?” I asked the large, dark-haired ex-Hunter sitting beside me, his hand on my thigh. I made a mental note to be more careful with his feelings. The patriarchal culture of the Hunters didn’t only demonize us Wilds, it also implied the big, strong males were made of logic and brute, leaving no room for actual emotions. While neither of us were human, the roles we were both placed in by the Hunters dehumanized us, stripped us from acknowledging what lived beneath the surface of one another. Marcus had proven his ability to see past my huldra exterior and into me. I needed to remember to do the same, to look past the warrior and into his heart.

  Marcus didn’t pull his gaze from Mason, but rubbed my thigh as he answered, “I do think the Hunters are planning something else.”

  “So Mason,” he called to our driver who currently negotiated the streets of Portland. “How long have you been an incubus?”

  Mason shot a gaze back to the rearview mirror and narrowed his eyes for half a second. “Only forty-five years, Marcus,” he answered robotically.

  I watched the two men, their tight expressions. Marcus crossed his arms over his wide chest. Definitely the larger of the two males.

  Minutes later, Mason continued, his tone more conversational, like before. “Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Marcus answered, uncrossing his arms and putting his left hand back on my thigh.

  In that moment, I would have given anything to read his thoughts.

  But then Marcus opened his mouth again, and becoming a mind-reader was no longer necessary. “I’m interested in the process of becoming an incubus.”

  I shot him a questioning glare. Mason noticed it too, from his rearview mirror, probably even felt my energy shift from curious to what-the-fuck-are-you-thinking. Marcus glanced at me with a placating smile and returned his attention to the incubus.

  What the hell was going on with everyone? Celeste was clearly falling in love with a succubus and now Marcus wanted to be an incubus/Hunter hybrid? I rubbed my temples and looked around the car. My coterie members were too exhausted and weary to take part in the males’ conversation or even to know how out of place it was.

  Mason gave a nod, his attention set on the road. “It is a topic I don’t mind discussing, but not in the presence of females.”

  “Why?” I asked, my irritation rising. “Because we’re too simple-minded or because we’re easily grossed out?”

  The incubus raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Neither,” he said after his bout of confusion passed and he realized I was being sarcastic. “Because females cannot, in any circumstance, become incubi. So it stands to reason that if you cannot join us, then you are more plausible to try to beat us. Sharing the process of changing would be essentially giving you detailed information as to the best time to attack our kind.” He looked at me from the rearview mirror and looked back at the road. “I am no fool, Faline.”

  I didn’t like that his answer made complete sense. It occurred to me that Marcus may have been planning on telling me the information once he received it. Yeah, I needed a nap. That took way too long for me to figure out. Feeling stupid, I nuzzled closer to Marcus and rested my head against his bicep.

  We arrived at the split-level rental too soon for me to relax enough to fall asleep on Marcus. By the time we all eased from the Escalade in search of a comfortable place to sleep, I wanted nothing more than to feel Marcus’s body beside mine as I drifted off to dream land. But when Celeste jumped from her seat and headed into the house, Marcus gave me a tight squeeze and planted his lips on mine.

  He pulled away from my embrace leaving me more than a little confused. “I need the extra key to the house. I’m going to go with him. I’ve got my new cell on me if you need anything.” He hopped into the front passenger seat.

  “Wait, why now?” I asked, too confused for the amount of exhaustion that lured my mind to a place of rest and not a place of puzzle solving.

  Marcus gave a reassuring smile that failed to reassure me. “I’ve just got a few questions I want answered. Don’t worry, I’ll be okay.”

  I watched the black Escalade drive away as my stomach tightened into a heavy lump of anxiety. I didn’t know how many more times I had it in me to stand there while someone I cared about disappeared from my protective grasp, from my sight. More often than not lately, saying goodbye for now meant possibly saying goodbye forever. And if I were a betting woman, I’d wager my bad luck was about to get a whole lot worse.

  Twenty-One

  The anticlimactic homecoming to our temporary abode involved seven huldra shuffling down the halls and some down the stairs, in search of their claimed beds. My partner sister followed me to my queen-sized bed. Shawna tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable on the mattress we shared, and only settled once she reached a hand to rest on my arm.

  She was definitely improving, but her need to touch someone in order to fall asleep, especially when she was so drained, concerned me. As I dozed off, I thought about Marie’s explanation of Shawna’s post-traumatic stress disorder and how the succubi can’t heal my sister, only make her feel better in the moment. I wondered if the incubi had the same limitations.

  “Faline,” the male’s voice called, interrupting me from my rest, pulling me from blissful sleep. I considered rolling over and ignoring whatever the voice wanted. But then I remembered where I was and whose voice it was that spoke to me.

  I peeked
one eye open to focus on Marcus’s square jaw and smiling lips. He ran the back of his knuckles along my temple. I closed my eyes at the sensation, and thanked Freyja for returning him to me, for not letting yesterday be the last day I got to hold him.

  “I’m back from visiting Aleksander and I think we should talk,” Marcus whispered. A new layer of realization struck me like a frigid wind and I opened the other eye.

  Shawna, still touching my arm, twitched, but didn’t wake. I slowly moved her hand from my arm and slithered out of bed. Marcus and I crept from the room and out to the back deck.

  Once the sliding glass door closed behind us, I gave him a once-over. “You’re not an incubus now, are you?” I asked, unsure how I’d be able to tell if he’d changed.

  He gave a deep chuckle. “No,” he said, placing his hands gently on my shoulders and kissing my forehead. “I am not.”

  “Good.” I tilted my face up to get a kiss on the lips.

  We sat across from each other on the wrought iron patio chairs and leaned our arms on the matching table. The peaceful quiet of darkness covered the backyard as a fall breeze ruffled my hair.

  Marcus took no time in getting to the point. “I can’t stand Aleksander,” he started.

  “So then it makes perfect sense you’d go hang with him,” I countered, joking, but also urging an answer to my unasked question.

  “He’s cocky,” Marcus continued.

  “Also true,” I said.

  “But he has good reason to be cocky,” Marcus explained. “Dude is old as dirt. He was changed around 900 years ago, Faline. He’s had that many years to hone his incubus skills and recruit an army.”

  “A passive army,” I added, unable to wrap my head around the idea that someone could live that long without warring.

  “They refuse to involve themselves in other people’s battles,” he said. “Aleksander apparently created the first incubi hoard, not to fight wars, but to defend their way of life. Normally incubi live by themselves, sexual nomads, basically. Aleksander got tired of that life, and of seeing others like him be picked off. So he found a way for them to all come together.”