Lost Little Wolf

by N. K. Vir

  “What exactly are they accusing Tanith of?” Daisy asked.

  “My attempted assassination,” Wills calmly answered. Lucas growled. Wills raised a hand forcing him to silence himself. “Adam gave me as much advanced warning as he could. Kane’s been keeping a close eye on him lately in case he should choose the wrong side.”

  “You said you bought us time; time for what?” Lucas asked finally using his vocal cords for speech.

  He could feel life returning to his muscles. It had been the sound of Adam’s name that had encouraged him to focus on getting back on his feet. He hated the demigod, that was never a secret, but it was what Adam had said to him just before he vanished. A small piece of important information he had it and they all needed to hear it.

  “To prove Tanith’s innocent,” Wills responded to Lucas’ question.

  “How much time do we have?” Daisy asked.

  “Five…days,” he finally managed to speak up. Weakly he climbed to his feet and set his eyes on Wills. He finally understood what was wrong, he could see it, and he could feel it. He bit back the anger, the guilt and the fear that gnawed at his gut. He could finally see what he had done and any sense of accomplishment he had felt earlier when he had defeated Adam seeped away, draining him quickly of his pride.

  He looked deep into Wills’ sightless eyes, “Adam said we have five days.”

  He crept into her room and sat in the shadows just to watch her sleep. It was a habit he’d picked up lately. Things were quieter, peaceful, when she slept. During the daylight hours and even sometimes well into the dark hours before dawn her mind was always working, her eyes…always moving. The only time things felt real was when she was asleep, and dreaming.

  He never intruded on those nighttime images. The ones he hoped he played at least a supporting role. He left her those; but he liked to watch. Sometimes her face would change, almost as if nature rolled back the clock and gave him a glimpse of the tiny angel he’d fallen in love with when he was just a little boy.

  He’d promised then, just the promise of a boy who’d earlier made the same solemn promise not to steal one of Marian’s freshly baked cookies, that he would always be there to protect her and that he would never hurt her. Promises were easy to give and impossible to keep; but even then, without the concept of what tomorrow was, it was a vow he swore to himself that he would always keep.

  Until today...

  He barely remembered it, the tingle, like his feet had fallen asleep. The electrical pinpricks slowly spread from the tips of his toes to wrap around his ankles before stabbing a fiery path up his calves. Then it spread like a rapidly invading disease hell-bent on consuming its current host and spreading outwards to infect everything it could touch. He had no idea anger could spread so quickly, could burn with such a need to consume. Then it began to gain control; to form into the matter that would have the power to strike. The force of the devastating blow had just erupted out of him; escalating beyond his control. The only way to be free of it was to push it away and aim it at the villain who had inspired so much hatred and fear. He had launched the bolt at Kane. His intention had been to inflict as much damage as possible. He never expected the attack to backfire.

  When he was nine Daisy had dared him to touch just the tip of his tongue against a nine volt battery; never one to back down from a challenge he had accepted her dare. To this day he could still taste the metallic energy on his tongue. The child’s play he had engaged in that day would never, could never, have prepared him for what he had channeled that day. He had called down blue fire from the heavens and it had struck hard and fast. The soles of his feet had instinctually sunk deep into the Earth, her dark warmth had insulated him, protected him, while damning everyone else around him and striking Wills with the most devastating blow.

  He couldn’t explain it; the force and power of the anger that had coiled tightly in his belly. It was as if years, no centuries, of unspent rage had clawed its way out of him. Something dark and ancient whispered seductively in his ears; this was how it began and this was how it would end. In that moment it did not matter who was hurt, who was burned as long as Kane felt the singe. The dark voice had wanted to hurt Kane, it needed to hurt him, and in that moment he had embraced the burning anger and rage; not caring who he hurt.

  Now, in the deep dark before dawn, he could see the cost.

  Her thick eyelashes rested peacefully upon the pale curve of her cheek. The dark, natural shadow of her eyelids hid the truth. Her eyes had ceased to function as they had when they opened the morning before.

  Tears, that he hadn’t realized he had been building, blurred his vision and for a moment he could no longer see her peaceful sleeping form stretched out comfortably on the bed in front of him. He blinked rapidly, forcing his vision to clear. He needed to see her. Needed to see what he’d done. Needed to know that for the moment she was safe; and hoped that the light of a new day would see her healed.

  He hadn’t realized he’d moved until he was kneeling besides her. The heel of his trembling palms pressed tightly over her eyes as words painted with prayer dipped in the well of spell weaving spewed silently from his mouth. In that moment he would do anything, give anything, to give back to her that which he had taken.

  Her hands seized his wrists; prying them away from her eyes, and dragging his palms roughly down her face. Her soft hands held a tight grip around his thumbs until his own hands were clear of what they sought; to heal. The tips of his thumbs scraped roughly over the soft skin of her lips. The air fled from his lungs as her eyes popped opened and she stared blankly up at him.

  “Wills?” her name was drawn from him, involuntarily. “Please?” he pleaded not knowing what for.

  He rested his forehead against hers. His eyes tightly clenched shut closing off the damage he’d caused from burning into his eyes. “Please,” he whispered again his lips moving softly against hers.

  Her lips parted on a sigh, pulling in his bottom lip in the gentlest of embraces. His mouth was helpless, help captive in an erotic dance with hers he moved with the rhythm she set. Hot tears streamed down his face as his mouth entwined with hers, begging for her forgiveness. Suddenly she pushed him away. Her soft hands squeezed his face, her sightless eyes locked on his.

  “Do no harm Kieran,” her hollow voice spoke.

  Her words bit like a curse. Burned he tried to pull away from her but she held him tightly, and unable to escape her embrace his ears were forced to hear her accusation again.

  “Do no harm Kieran!”

  He pushed away from her escaping the twisted dark dream with a gasp. His clothes clung to him like an uncomfortable second skin. His eyes found her without thought or direction. She hadn’t moved and he was still safely wrapped in the dark shadow that had welcomed him that night. His mother’s brew still held her in the warm embrace of a dreamless sleep but he had not sought refuge in the same cup. Instead he’d allowed himself to be tortured by dreams of the day’s events. In that confusing moment between the draw of sleep and the harsh call of alertness he found he had only one choice.

  He ran.

  Chapter Six

  Do No Harm

  Sleep, surprisingly, was easy to obtain that night. He had anticipated spending an edgy evening chewing a new wear pattern in the rug beneath him while pessimistic thoughts floated in circles above his head. When he awoke refreshed and alert he suspected Sinclair magick; not Kieran, no. Once Kieran discovered what he’d actually done to Wills he’d shoved his hands in his pockets and fled to one of the upstairs bedrooms to chew on his guilt. He had expected more from his longtime friend; but the accusing looks on the faces of everyone in the room seemed to drive him to accept a hasty retreat.

  Wills was stoic; she seemed confident that her vision would soon return just as her hearing had. When James and Kelly Sinclair appeared at the door fifteen minutes later they all knew who had summoned them and why. It was James and Kelly he was blaming for his good night’s sleep.

  Momen
ts after they appeared Kelly had Wills wrapped up in her arms and swept her away to the safety of the underground library. James immediately headed for the kitchen. The next thing he remembered was the sound of a tea kettle and a warm mug being pressed into his hands. An overwhelming need to sleep had driven him to find an empty bed upstairs shortly after he had consumed the contents of his mug. He had slept dreamlessly last night; but this morning the problems were still there and so was the edgy need to follow and protect Tanith.

  He knew she was thinking of running. The first year she had spent with his family it had been a constant battle to keep her from taking off and disappearing into the unknown. In times of fear people, magickal or not, reverted to what had saved them in the past. When Kieran had brought her to his door she had been running then. Something had scared her, terrified her; she had not been that scared girl in a long time. Last night he saw that same look haunting her eyes.

  Ten years…a decade…

  He’d been so different back then, more bone than muscle; his eyes straining in the darkness to read the latest book he’d managed to sneak into the house. His father was the Alpha of the Stride pack, a pack built around power and strength. He was the weakness, the sickness that sometimes struck an alpha. It was a rare occurrence, so rare that it was thought to have been carefully bred out of the royal lines; the lines that could directly trace their ancestry to Kane. Every alpha was expected to breed, prolifically. Sons, of course, were valued but so were daughters. An alpha was expected to produce many of both; a genetic deformity his father possessed allowed him to only conceive sons. The birth of a seventh son was considered a curse in pack lore. He would grow to be an anomaly, a runt, unable and incapable of maturing to the age of twenty without going insane with the curse of rage and anger. The seventh son would ravage, destroying everything he loved and cared about.

  Ten years ago he had been gifted with a rare and precious gift, Tanith. When he was near her he felt stable, his mind focused and he had been able to escape the curse of a seventh son. If she were taken from him…If he lost her…He feared the curse who revisit him; stronger and more dangerous than before.

  He shook off the negative thoughts; they did little more than pave a quicker path towards the madness he had been desperately been running from his entire life. Wills had seemed so confident last night; her voice had captivated the room and for one tiny moment what he knew to be impossible was suddenly possible. She had bought them time and had, somehow, built a defense for Tanith by just uttering a few words that seemed to force Kane to retreat in anger. She had been confident that the answer to saving Tanith from execution lay hidden in the library beneath the house. He needed to breathe in that optimism, if only to chase away the darker parts of him.

  He crept quietly down the stairs in case the others were still sleeping off the effects of the Sinclair’s sleeping brew. He was not surprised to find the offending couple sitting comfortably around the kitchen table. Plates mounded with eggs, bacon, sausage and fruit were set out on the small black marble island in the center of the kitchen. His stomach, unaware of ferocity of its hunger until his nostrils and eyes detected the food, growled loudly. There were reasons fables warned against accepting food and drink from witches. Last night had been a perfect example. He wasn’t ready to dive into the breakfast feast the Sinclair’s had prepared this morning in case they had planned on replaying last night’s trick.

  “Eat, Lucas,” James encouraged nodding his head in the direction of the delicious smelling breakfast.

  Lucas eyed the island of food like a starving man at a free buffet. “I’m not hungry,” he lied ignoring the betraying rumbles of his empty stomach.

  “I promise there is no valerian root in the eggs,” James assured him with a sly smile as. To prove his point he shoved a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. “See,” he proclaimed talking around his full mouth.

  “Or the bacon,” Kelly chimed in flashing him an innocent smile over the rim of her coffee cup.

  He forced his eyes to the floor. The Sinclair’s had always been good to him. He wanted to trust them, he knew he should trust them, but paranoia was ruling his rational mind. A high pitched chirp interrupted his deluded thought process. James answered his cell phone and immediately switched to speaker phone as if he sensed Lucas’ heightened state.

  “James is Lucas up yet?” Wills’ voice projected.

  “Yes,” James replied settling his green eyes on Lucas. “He’s afraid to eat.”

  “I would be too if I woke up and realized you’d spiked our tea with Valerian root and howlite water,” she curtly replied. He could hear the rustling of pages in the background and realized she was already hard at work in the library.

  “Really Rosemary,” Kelly scoffed sounding offended. “We were only looking out for your own good.”

  He hid a smile at the sound of Wills blowing a harsh raspberry in reply. “Lucas!” she barked. “Load up a plate and get down here I have a rather twisted idea and I need your help.”

  He hesitated for a moment before tearing through the kitchen taking all the food his plate would hold. What didn’t fit on the plate he shoved immediately into his mouth to quiet his very vocal stomach.

  “Don’t forget to hydrate,” Kelly said slipping a bottle of water into his hand. “Valerian root can dry out the mouth,” she whispered.

  He nodded his head in thanks and she winked up at him. The nurturing and care they were showing him this morning allowed him to forgive their transgression last night. He tucked the water bottle under his arm and reached for another. At least now he understood why he was so thirsty.

  “Oh and Lucas,” Will’s voice but in. “Grab me another one of those cranberry scones. Kelly please stop calling me Rosemary,” she chided,” And James, you can hang up now.”

  He had eaten half of the plate by the time they’d reached Wills’ research room and was grateful James had the foresight to load another plate with an extra helping and a scone for Wills. He should have been embarrassed by his manners but he was too hungry to care. Luckily James did not once comment.

  “This place never ceases to amaze me,” James commented shaking his dark blonde head. He placed the plate down on the only vacant space on the desk in front of Wills.

  Wills cocked her head to the side and leaned in the direction of James’ voice. “James?”

  “Yes,” he replied sadly. Lucas did not miss the slight disappointed sag in James’ usually perfect posture. Eyes that matched the color of his son’s suddenly found a particular spot on the floor. “Your other senses haven’t compensated, that could be a good sign,” he said trying to sound hopeful while the look on his face was anything but.

  Wills sighed and rolled her sightless eyes towards the ceiling. “I’ve been blind for a little more than twelve hours. I doubt my other senses have caught up with the sudden change.” Her tone was sarcastic but not tainted with malice. “Scone?” she asked holding out her hand.

  Lucas plucked one off the plate and carefully placed it into her empty hand ready to catch it in case it fell. She smiled blindly at him and nodded her head in thanks.

  ‘Help her,’ James mouthed silently to him.

  Wills sighed and carefully placed her uneaten scone on the table in front of her. “Stop sending secret signals back and forth,” she chastised pointing a finger in their direction.

  “How did you-,” he gasped astonished.

  She giggled and shrugged her shoulders. “It’s what I’d do James,” she stated before her tone suddenly turned serious. “I have a question,” she asked before taking a delicate nibble out of it.

  “Anything,” James replied with a perplexed look hovering in his green eyes.

  “The Wiccan rede states: And do no harm, correct?” she asked hiding her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “Yes,” James cautiously replied.

  “Every Wiccan has at least a drop or two of real witches blood in them right?” she asked spinning her desk chair in hi
s direction. “I mean the path finds them right?”

  “Yes,” he replied again with caution.

  “As above, so below?” her rapid fired questions left no space for them to reply with more than a word or two.

  “Yes,” again a confused one word answer was forced from him. Confused he looked to Lucas hoping for clarification. He could only shrug his shoulders and continue to shove food into his mouth. He’s mind was too consumed with his own confusing, racing thoughts to make sense of Wills’. He knew she would get there in the end and was more than willing to wait. “But-?”

  Wills slammed her hand on the table forcing their attention back to her. “Answer the questions,” she commanded. “Don’t ask. I have five days,” she reminded them holding up her hand for emphasis. “I need to make sure I’m heading in the right direction before I settle knee deep in research,” she cryptically explained.

  “Alright,” James softly conceded holding his hands up in surrender.

  “So,” she continued, plastering a brilliant smile on her face. “Do no harm,” she said holding up one finger. “Plus, as above so below,” she said holding up a send finger. “Equals whatever you evoke…”

  “Will be returned to you tenfold,” James supplied. “But witches don’t hold themselves to the same rules as the Wiccans.”

  She waved a dismissing hand at him. “Was the first human witch a Sinclair?”

  “Yes,” again he answered with one word.

  “Thank you James, you have helped me more than you know.”

  James, sensing he had been dismissed shrugged his shoulder s and shoved the plate he’d been carrying into Lucas’ now empty hands. “If you two need anything else just call,” he said waggling his phone. “We’ll be upstairs making sure you guys all eat,” he said throwing a look in Lucas’ direction.

  He waited until he could no longer hear James’ footsteps echoing on the concrete floor before he tried to speak; she clapped her hands loudly, nearly deafening his sensitive hearing. He covered her hands with his own.