Becka’s one exception to decorum were the sea-silk gloves Maura had gifted her. They were a beautiful gesture of inclusion, and she hoped the reduced risk of skin contact with others would keep her from breaking things. The last thing she wanted was to break another priceless item on this somber occasion, especially out of respect for Tesse.
Quinn walked close behind her in silence. Neither of them had had many words, and she suspected he was as lost in his own thoughts as she was in hers. Her impending change in guild status cast uncertainty over their budding relationship. She also knew that the bonds they’d formed during this stressful period might not hold up over time. Assuming she’d wanted to pursue...whatever it was that was building between them.
Becka chose a spot far enough back from the pyre to make a hasty exit, but close enough to see everything with clarity. The pyre stood at the center of the meadow atop a broad granite slab, which stood about two feet higher than the surrounding ground. The field was peppered with intermingled clusters of scarlet paintbrush, white yarrow, white clover, and the yellow, orange and red daisy-shaped petal gaillardias. There were other flowers, but she couldn’t recall the names. Perhaps evening primrose? The entire glen was surrounded by a mixture of blue spruce and aspen thickly clustered. She could hear the melodious trickle and bubble of a stream somewhere beyond the tree line, accompanied by the songs of finches.
From what she remembered of protocol, no one could force her to stand with family nor make her stay any longer than she desired. Besides, she didn’t want an up close and personal view of her twin burning.
Even from this distance, she could see the eight layers of base logs laid in alternating directions. She knew from her fae studies that the logs would consist of a combination of ash, oak, hawthorn, and hazel. On top of this was a woven chamber where Tesse laid upon her bier, wrapped in the finest silks.
Above this chamber perched an intricate sculpture of roses formed from rowan wood. Had it been carved by hand or magically transformed into that shape? She hadn’t paid attention to the details over dinner, but remembered hearing the work had been a special commission.
Living in the city she’d been to a couple of human funerals, one a student from one of her classes and the other a university regent, neither of which was a cremation nor pyre. Staring up at the pyre and the wrapped form of her sister inside who they were about to watch burn, the word barbaric floated around the back of her mind. She’d been around human sensibilities too long for this to read as typical.
Quinn turned to watch the crowd behind them, his body close to hers. “Any further thoughts on your power’s impact on the glyphs last night?” he said in low tones.
Their eyes met for a moment, a sense of shared uncertainty hung between them. “No. I think if I want to understand my gift better, I’ll have to take Astrid up on her offer of training.”
“It seems a reasonable next step.”
“Assuming I stay with House Rowan.”
He looked at her sharply. “But what other choice do you have?”
Becka sighed. “Right? Humans won’t sanction a gifted fae taking up residence within their cities.”
“That’s correct. Unless you have a work permit and those have to be re-approved every two years.”
“So, I’m stuck here. It’s not like another house would take me in.”
“With your ability? I think you might be surprised.”
Becka shrugged. “I prefer the cities. I can be whomever I want in the cities.”
“Once you are trained, you can apply for a work visa. Now that you are a guilded fae, the civic service requirements will kick in.”
“Of course, from the compromises listed in the peace treaty.” She pursed her lips. “It’s the ‘required’ part that bleeds the fun right out of it.”
Their conversation was interrupted when a hush fell over the crowd, as an androgynous triad from House Elder entered the clearing. The House of Memories presided over all funerals, ensuring the integrity of the spirit as it passed from one form into another. They were a secretive house, which she only remembered seeing at funerals clad in all-natural robes. The torches they held high each uttered a low roar, so hot and fast-burning was their fire. They wore traditional House Elder gowns made from layers of elder leaves, ranging the gamut in ombre coloring from light green to verdant green to pale brown.
When the triad reached the pyre, they split and circled the structure, processing around it in a stately fashion, their eyes downcast, expressions somber. As the light of the torches encircled the pyre, Becka could make out the form of her sister within the central space, causing a reflexive shiver to run down her spine.
At least Tesse would be put to rest without those hideous glyphs marring her flesh.
A chant began, perhaps with the officiants or others in the crowd, Becka couldn’t tell. It spread quickly, and recognizing it, Becka joined in.
“From the Earth, of the Earth, we return to the Earth.”
The words didn’t grow in volume, so much as in clarity. The officiants from House Elder extended their torches down and into the pyre as they circled, and the tinder between the logs quickly sparked. When the flames were well and truly caught, the triad laid their torches at the foot of the pyre and took a few steps back. Each withdrew a parcel from their living robes and, tossing each into the raging flames, spoke in unison.
“To our families, to our blood, to our memories...may they return and comfort us.”
As the bundles caught, roiling plumes of smoke rolled out and away from the pyre in great wafting circles into the crowd. This smoke was differentiated from the bonfire smoke, which poured upward on heated drafts, a column of thick cloud rising up and up to dissolve far above them into the sky.
Becka was relieved to see the smoke touching her feet and clothes. “It’s not magical,” she whispered.
“No,” Quinn replied, also whispering. “Sometimes it’s just an incense they use it to cover the smell, but more commonly it’s a combination of mild euphorics intended to enhance the gravity of the experience.”
“Right, Becka said. “I remember how common magic is used during fae events, it’s just remarkable as I’m not used to it.”
She watched the flames grow and listened to their roar drowning out other ambient sounds. The incense did its job, she noticed as a lassitude filled her mind and spread out over her limbs, which suddenly felt heavier. She watched as the rowan wood carving of roses atop the structure finally caught, and when it did, it glowed like hot forged steel. Now that was magical. Becka could hardly take her eyes away from the sight.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Quinn said, touching her elbow. “We should go now.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she replied, a feeling of laxity spreading through her mind and limbs. “I’m finally starting to enjoy a fae-borne event. I mean my head isn’t even hurting.”
His gaze flowed over the crowd. “I am afraid I have to insist.”
His unusual state of concern nudged at a part of her mind, but it was suddenly too difficult to think clearly enough to make sense of it. She gave in and let herself be led, Quinn insistent despite her lazy and stumbling amble. She kept glancing back, drawn to gazing at the roaring flames.
Wait, why was the House of Memories trio lying sprawled out upon the ground? Why were others nearby falling, or sitting down, their movements jerky and clumsy?
“I think something is going on,” Becka said, surprised to hear her words slurring together.
“What was your first clue?” Quinn replied. “Even with my Oak constitution, I am feeling the effects. We need to hurry.”
“Okay, but I’m so tired. If I could just sit for a moment?”
“No.” His stern tone brooked no argument. When Becka tripped over someone’s cast away shoe, Quinn scooped her up and carried her, holding her close to his chest.
They’d made it most of the way out of the grove and were back on the trail to the Manor when Brent and two of h
is shifter guards cut them off.
“Move aside, wolves,” Quinn said. “There’s been some kind of incident with the pyre smoke. We need to get help from the manor.”
Brent growled low in his throat. “We were there. Something wasn’t right. We had to go.” He looked half-turned already, as did the shifters next to him. Becka realized none of them were wearing shirts.
“What happened to your clothes?” she asked. “Are you feeling fuzzy too?”
“I haven’t felt this good in forever,” the wolf to the left of Brent replied, advancing on them a step. Becka didn’t remember her name, but she was one of the ladies who’d been guarding her the day before. “You’re supposed to leave today,” she said, pointing at Quinn.
Brent growled. “That’s right, Enforcer. Time for you to go.”
Quinn set Becka down on her feet behind him. Their gazes met, he waited for her to get steady on her feet, and then he turned to the shifters.
“According to my Chief, I have until sunset to vacate.”
Brent rocked his head from side to side. “I don’t think so, Quinn. Let’s go.”
“Look, this isn’t about me, look at the people laid out in the meadow! How about we contact the manor? I have a phone right here.” He reached inside his jacket to pull out his phone. “I can have them send more guards.”
Brent howled. “You do that, and then we’ll wait for them together. When they get here, we’ll all escort you off the property together.”
While Quinn was occupied with the amped up shifters, Becka retreated towards the grove. She could tell her mind wasn’t fully engaging. Something was off, but she couldn’t quite tell what.
Urged on by the sound of the argument behind her, Becka wandered along the path until she reached the clearing. They hadn’t gone far, but in the time they’d been gone everyone in the clearing had been knocked unconscious.
Becka felt her dizziness intensify...but then she saw the glyphs.
There was one on the cheek of a young boy lying next to his mother. She, curled around him, had one on her calf. The marks had similar sizing to the ones on Tesse. Same gray-black coloring. Same variation in texture.
Becka walked deeper into the crowd, curiosity overriding the building sense of anxiety in the back of her foggy mind. How long had these marks been on them? Months? Just in the past week? Today?
Everyone had at least one mark. Had it come from the smoke? She quickly checked her exposed skin, but couldn’t locate any. Her feet were heavy again, her limbs leaden.
Rounding the still-burning pyre, Becka saw someone checking on the fallen spectators.
“Hello? Do you know what happened here?”
The figure stood, and something about the movement sparked an immediate sense of panic. Becka took a step backward, and then two, staggering in her movements. The sudden spike of adrenaline wasn’t enough to make her feet work together.
When the form turned to her, all she could see was black. A black robe and some sort of black gauze fabric covering their face.
“You are full of surprises.” His voice had a familiar quality, but her mind was so muddled Becka couldn’t quite place it. “We have been waiting for you for a very long time.”
Becka backed away from him, but he held up a gloved hand as he continued to take slow, steady steps toward her. Anxiety pounded through her veins, and she pulled off her gloves, intent to defend herself.
“A moment, Lady Becka. I want to do you a kindness.”
Becka shook her head, which only made her dizzier. She held up her hands in front of herself, as if to ward him off. “I don’t want anything from you.”
“I can take away your gift,” he whispered, but he was close enough now that she had no trouble understanding him. “Isn’t that what you want?”
She stopped dead in her tracks, faltering. “Can you? Wait, how would you know to offer me that?” She was missing something, and couldn’t quite fit the pieces together.
“Hold on,” the man said, suddenly moving close in to her. He placed a hand over her nose and mouth, his other arm winding around her waist. Becka pushed against him with her hands, kicked with her feet, willed her magic-breaking to work, but to no effect. Something on his glove smelled funny, increasing the dizziness in her head until she crumpled against him.
“It is not far at all. Do not worry, we will have all the time we need.”
Becka tried to hold out, but soon blackness engulfed her, swallowing her whole.
Chapter 28
An acrid smell filled Becka’s nose. She thrashed her head to and fro, attempting and failing to avoid the fumes. She coughed and tried to sit up, but something cut into her chest, arms, and thighs, preventing her movement. Her head throbbed and ached and she tried desperately to remember what was going on. There was something important she needed to remember. Try as she might, Becka couldn’t manage to open her eyes.
Silken fingers stroked down the length of her arm, lingering on her exposed wrist. She tried to pull away, but considering she was tied down it didn’t do much good.
What had happened to the silk gloves? Oh yeah, she’d dropped them back at the grove. Perhaps someone would find them, and come looking for her?
Pain shot up her arm and Becka’s eyes flashed open. In a split second she took in her surroundings through eyes that couldn’t quite focus. A man clad in black stood over her right arm, the blade in his hand the only thing she could focus clearly on. She lay on a small bed, blood pooling slowly under her right wrist. The man in black cut the cord holding her arm down and lifted her wrist to her lips.
“I need to verify you’re the one we are looking for,” said the man, his voice sounded oddly familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. He pulled off his hood, throwing it to the floor. “But to be honest, I just wanted the first taste of you. If you are all that we hope, then I’ll take you far away from here.”
An image flashed through her mind from the student safety course during her Freshman year at college. Never let them take you to a secondary location, the instructor had warned. In retrospect, it was great advice. Too bad she hadn’t been able to follow it.
Becka pulled against the cords holding her down, her movements frantic, her vision clearing as her anxiety peaked. She recognized the small retreat cabin as a place she’d stayed in as a youth. At least she was still in House Rowan territory; he hadn’t taken her far. But it was far enough if no one knew where to look. Did anyone even know she was missing? And where was Quinn? Oh right, she’d wandered off. Would he or the shifters look for her when she wasn’t found with the others in the funeral grove?
She looked up at the man, and recognition dawned on her. “Lagan! You’re the one Quinn’s been talking to!”
The realization that she knew Lagan and had revealed to him about her frustrations despite knowing there was a potential killer within their midst hit her square in the solar plexus. He’d managed to abduct her the one time she’d been apart from Quinn.
He looked down upon her, as if remembering she was a person, not just a thing to be used. “I was born Lagan, but you may refer to me as Woden. And there was no way I was waiting another day for your Enforcer fling to bring you to me.”
“He’s not my fling!”
“Oh please, the first time I saw you two together I realized he would never hand you over. I knew I’d have to come up with another, unaided, plan.”
Luckily she wasn’t bleeding heavily yet, but his iron grip on her wrist and her growing pool of blood didn’t bode well. If he was taking her somewhere, at least she wasn’t about to die here and now. Right? “Where did you say you were taking me?”
“My business affords me the movement I need between cities and territories, but I didn’t say where I was taking you.”
“Huh. Wait.” Her head was swimming and she had to fight to stay afloat. “Woden...like the ancient fae ancestor?”
“Indeed.” He may have intended his smile to exude confidence, but it was just creepy.
>
Becka decided to push her luck. It’s not like things would get worse, and perhaps by delaying things, it would give someone else the time to notice she was missing.
She tried to ignore the drip, drip, drip of blood falling from her wrist.
She needed to keep him talking.
“Taking his name seems...pretentious. Gauche?”
“I am reclaiming my birthright, as is my due. The fact that the fae-touched accept the limitations our originators set upon us grieves me. We are capable of so much more.”
“I disagree. They uplifted us, but never intended us to be all powerful. When they bequeathed to the world their half-human children, we were meant to continue on as a tribute to the memory of the fae. We’re just a remnant of their overblown egos,” she said.
Woden’s rich laugh filled the small cabin. “It’s true, they sought to limit us. But we can transcend the boxes they left for us. The shadow-dwellers are already more than the fae ever dreamt we could become. With your help, soon we will be boundless.”
His words chilled her to the core. Whatever ‘help’ they planned for her to give certainly didn’t assume any level of consent on her part.
Woden brought her wrist to his lips and lapped at the blood oozing from the wound with vigor. Becka’s stomach churned and her head throbbed and ached in pain as she watched him consume her blood.
Woden groaned with pleasure as the golden sheen in his eyes flared with intensity. “I have fed on the blood of all of the houses, and yours is indeed singular. Which is curious, because you are such a flawed vessel.”
“Pardon me?”
He gestured over her, head to toe. “Look at you. With your late gift emergence you’ve been living in the city, away from proper rearing and culture. Between your pink hair, your pierced ears, and your utter lack of taste in clothing...I have to say you’re an embarrassment to your people. You don’t even speak properly, or with due respect to your peers and elders.”
Twinned Shadow (The Shadow Series Book 1) Page 19
