Shadow's Dream

by Jami Gray

  When Chay finally spoke, it startled Cheveyo. “Can I ask you something?”

  Letting some of his humor free, Cheveyo shot back, “Can you?”

  “Smartass,” the younger witch muttered without any heat.

  Grinning, Cheveyo simply shrugged as he waited for Chay’s question.

  It wasn’t long in coming. “What happened to you?”

  Cheveyo’s earlier tension came back with a vengeance. Slowly, he turned to Chay. “Excuse me?”

  The predatory move barely fazed Chay, who understood the reasons behind Cheveyo’s reaction better than others. “Before you decide to burn my ass, know that I’m asking as a friend. Not as a member of your house, not as a Wraith, but as a friend.” He studied Cheveyo before muttering, “Something I’m thinking you have too few of.”

  Chay’s observation hit too close to home for Cheveyo to deny. After standing witness on how deep betrayal could scar, Cheveyo wasn’t one to encourage close ties. Besides, as he told Tala earlier, a leader needed to maintain a necessary distance to ensure order within their house. It made for a lonely position. Yet tonight, when the doubts of his past collided with his worry of the future, he found himself answering his friend, “I’m still figuring it out.”

  “I’m happy to lend an ear.” A depth of understanding stared back as Chay made the offer.

  “Why?” As much as Cheveyo hated it, suspicion at such an offer was hard to shake.

  Chay’s answering smile carried a hard-won knowledge. “Because if I’ve learned nothing in the last year or so, it’s that if we’re going to survive this…whatever it is…we need to start thinking of ourselves as a whole, instead of separate pieces. Otherwise, we’ve done the majority of the Council’s work for them.” A militant gleam flashed before quickly being doused. “Much like you, I’m not at all comfortable with being led by the blind and arrogant.”

  Although startled by Chay’s depth of perception, another part of Cheveyo was secretly pleased. “When did you get so damn smart?”

  Chay grimaced and turned his face back to the night. “After spending endless hours holding Axel from death’s nasty-ass embrace.” Dark memories carved deep grooves into his face. “That spell was a bitch, but the mind that set it was twisted as fuck.” Fury lay under his words, making them a harsh whip. “I didn’t think Axel would make it. Hell, at one point, I wasn’t sure if I’d make it.”

  Cheveyo didn’t doubt that for a second. While both Chay and Axel were part of the Wraiths, the spell laid on Axel had tied his spirit to the Side, the realm belonging to the Amanusa. Didn’t much matter how strong you were, being trapped in a realm you were never meant to see was a hellish nightmare even Cheveyo didn’t want to imagine.

  Much like the shifters, the demons were dual in nature. However, only demons could survive in the Side, and when the castor anchored the spell laid on Axel in the Side, it had trapped his wolf in the demonic realm, while his human body lay in a coma. The only reason Axel was alive today was because Chay was a powerful witch in his own right, and just happened to be a stubborn-ass bastard. How he managed to hold Axel through the long flight from Alexandria to Portland stood as testament to the depth of his strength—both mental and magical. Yet doubt could weaken even the strongest warriors.

  “But you did.”

  Chay dipped his chin. “Yeah, I did, but something like that, it changes you.” He turned, his gaze serious. “Which is why I’m asking you this question now.”

  It was Cheveyo’s turn to look away as memories circled.

  Undaunted, Chay kept pushing, “The last time you were here, you spent days at the mercy of the Soul Stealer, and when you got back to Portland, you were quieter, darker.” He fell quiet, not needing to say more.

  Cheveyo knew the whispers circulating through his house. Yet with the betrayal of Warrick’s pack, Mulcahy’s death, and Natasha’s accession, he had chosen to ignore them. Especially since his patience hit an all-time low, along with his tolerance for petty tyrants. At least, he ignored them until someone forced him to defend his position.

  In the last year, he managed to put down a handful of challengers, rather brutally, actually. It hadn’t stopped the rumors, only made them softer, more careful. But it sure as hell made potential challengers think long and hard before stepping up. As much as he didn’t like this harsher aspect of himself, he didn’t deny it had its place in this new reality. “What’s coming can’t be fought with diplomacy.”

  “No, it can’t,” Chay agreed. “But you better know what weapons you’re wielding, or you may find more than your enemies lying at your feet.” Chay’s dire warning held a grim ring of truth.

  Cheveyo wasn’t comfortable with revealing everything, but giving Chay some of it? Yeah, that was doable, especially as Chay had more than earned it. If it wasn’t for the fact that Chay’s position with the Wraiths exempted him from being a head of house, this was the warrior Cheveyo would name as his successor.

  Studying Chay, Cheveyo started in, “When Raine and Gavin,”—the Witch-Fey warrior who now served as the captain of the Wraiths and his lover—“cut the Stealer’s ties to me, they weren’t worried about the long-term ramifications. And to be honest, neither was I.” Funny how long held beliefs fell by the way side when your survival was on the line. “The problem was the Stealer managed to do some serious damage to certain aspects of my magic.”

  Memories rose in a choking cloud, cruel claws digging deep, tearing through bonds once considered unbreakable. The Soul Stealer’s most grievous damage wasn’t to Cheveyo’s magic, but to his sense of self. He breathed through remembered horror until it receded, chasing it back with the reminder he was still here, different, but stronger than before.

  When he found his voice, it came out rough. “Between Tala and Raine, they did the best they could to repair the damage.”

  Unfortunately, Tala’s insistence that Raine fix him, forced Raine, with Gavin’s help, to do what was considered by some as unnatural. As much as they tried to deny it, the Kyn weren’t that far from their human cousins, and they too feared things they couldn’t understand or control. Including the fact that the magic the Kyn called their own was evolving with each new generation.

  In Raine’s case, she could not only see magic but manipulate it in others. Something she discovered when Tala forced her to repair the Stealer’s damage to Cheveyo. And what the couple did to him was far enough outside the realm of what should be possible magically that keeping their abilities quiet wasn’t just a matter of protecting them, but the Northwest as well. Theirs wasn’t the only new ability to show itself, but it was one of the most powerful.

  “But the scars go deep.” There was no judgment in Chay’s voice, but it brought Cheveyo out of his thoughts and back to the present.

  “Very,” he agreed. He tilted his head back and stared at the star-studded sky. “In the course of rehabbing my magic, I discovered while I’d lost some things, I gained others.” He dropped his head and rubbed the back of his neck.

  It was as much as he could give Chay without betraying Raine and Gavin, something he was loath to do. Even Tala was unaware of what the two had done to keep him alive, and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to tell her. Hell, he hadn’t admitted to Raine or Gavin, not even to ease the guilt Raine tried so hard to hide. Admitting knowledge gained him nothing, but staying quiet kept the couple on their toes, something that could be critical to their survival.

  Chay watched him closely, something working behind his eyes. “So is that why you came back here?”

  Frowning Cheveyo looked to the younger witch. “What do you mean?”

  “Did you come back here to find what you lost?”

  At first, he thought Chay’s question carried an unintended dual meaning, but when he caught a depth of intensity that wasn’t there earlier, he wondered if it was intentional after all. “I’m not sure,” he answered slowly, picking his words carefully, “that what I lost can be found.”

  “But?”

/>   The single word erased any lingering doubt Cheveyo carried, because Chay wasn’t asking about Cheveyo’s magic, but the woman sleeping in the house behind them. “Maybe I’ll get lucky.”

  A soft creak of wood underfoot spun Cheveyo around to see Tala pushing open the screen door. The shadows made it difficult to read her expression. “Is that what you think? That you lost me?” Her voice was soft, but there was no mistaking she’d been listening.

  “And that’s my cue.” Chay straightened. “Good luck.”

  Cheveyo couldn’t determine if it was pity or amusement, or a combination of both in Chay’s voice, but whatever it was left him silently cursing the younger witch for putting him in this situation.

  As Chay moved past him and up the steps, Cheveyo caught his rueful expression, a clear giveaway Chay she was standing there when he poised his question. Drawing even with Tala, who was holding the screen door open, he murmured something Cheveyo didn’t catch, then disappeared inside. With a soft whine of the hinges and the dull thump of the aluminum frame hitting wood, she let the screen door close behind him.

  Cheveyo didn’t move as Tala went to the rocking chair and took a seat, drawing her feet up until her chin could rest on her knees. Her hair, the curious mix of gold and sable, freed from her normal braid, fell around her like a living cloak and shielded her profile.

  The quiet stretched as he fought through his tangled knot of emotions. Frustration at finding himself in this uncomfortable position of facing things best left in the past, anger at Chay’s unexpected interference, resentment at how unaffected she appeared, and under it all, the reawakening of an old ache that never truly healed.

  She turned her head, resting her cheek on her knees. “Are you going to answer me?” Instead of the expected demand, her question came with an unusual mix of gentle teasing and wry poignancy, the combination leaving him powerless to resist.

  “Will it make a difference if I do?” He sank down to the top step, not sure he could say what needed to be said if he sat next to her.

  “What do you mean?” Her wary puzzlement made her words cautious.

  “Don’t,” he warned her softly, not looking at her. “If you really want to get into this now, don’t play this game.”

  “I’m not the one who likes games, Cheveyo.”

  That small bite of temper gave him hope. “Despite what you think, neither do I.”

  Her disbelieving snort preceded her, “Don’t you?”

  “No.” Her accusation stung, and his denial came out sharper than intended. “At the time I did what I thought was necessary.” And leaving her then, it hadn’t been easy. Far from it, but it was the only path he saw to ensure she became the woman who sat across from him now. A woman who knew exactly who she was, with the strength to wield the enormous weight of authority she carried. Had he stayed then, or asked her to come with him, it would mean this Tala, the one who embodied all he saw those many years ago, wouldn’t exist.

  When she didn’t say anything, he turned to find her watching him from the shadows. Her arms were wrapped around her legs, and she was absently rubbing her chin over her knees. Her gaze drifted over him like a phantom touch, but he didn’t look away. Finally, she asked the million-dollar question, the one that haunted his nights. “And now? Looking back, would you make the same choice again?”

  He wished he could offer her a comforting lie, but he promised the truth. “Yes.” Despite the scars it left on his soul. His answer dropped like a stone into the night, falling between them.

  She stilled then dropped her feet and rose.

  He held his breath, his body strung tight, waiting for her to walk away and take whatever slim chance he thought he had with her. Instead, she walked toward him, and, as she came close, he turned to keep her in sight.

  When she sank down beside him and laid her head on his shoulder, his breath left his body in a rough sigh. He didn’t dare move, even though it took a hellish amount of strength not to wrap his arm around her and pull her in tight.

  His tension slowly eased as the moments ticked by, and she held her position.

  Finally, she murmured, “Hindsight is a merciless bitch.”

  “On that, we can agree.”

  She gave a soft laugh. “That’s something at least.” She fell quiet, and he waited, knowing more was coming. “You were right, though, to leave. It took me a while before I could admit it, but I did need time to be on my own, to be seen as me, not part of you.”

  “You were meant to be a leader, Tala.” Finally daring to move, he curled his arm around her, taking comfort in just holding her. “It was why you were chosen to lead your house. You just needed the space and time to prove that to yourself and your people.” He rubbed his chin against her hair. “My presence diminished your authority, and even worse, made your people doubt your strength. When I realized how bad it was getting, I couldn’t stay. I never meant to hurt you.”

  She tilted her head back, and her hand cupped his jaw, her thumb gently brushing over his lower lip as her dark gaze roved over his face.

  He bent his head at the slight pressure of her hold, and she met him halfway, brushing her lips over his in a butterfly touch. That barely there kiss sent heat streaking through him, bringing his body to life.

  She dropped her hand and drew back, her smile sad and wistful. “But you did.”

  He caught her hand and pressed a kiss into the center of her palm before holding it against his chest, the warmth of her palm a brand against his skin. “I’m sorry for that, Tala.”

  Apologizing for how his decision hurt her wasn’t much in the overall scheme of things, but it was all he could offer. There was nothing more he could say or do for the past, but the future…well, that was different. Because, forgiveness, if she chose to give it, was her choice.

  Just as it was his to decide if pursuing a future with her would be worth the fight he knew would follow.

  She searched his face, but whatever thoughts were racing through her head remained well hidden. “So am I.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The next morning, Tala sat in the backseat of the SUV, Chay claimed the passenger seat, and Cheveyo once again played chauffeur as they headed to the Triune meeting. This time, Ash shared the backseat with her, his blocky head in her lap as she absently stroked behind his ear.

  Years of practice, allowed her to maintain her mask of serenity even as her emotions raged under the surface. Last night’s talk with Cheveyo left her torn between the familiar mix of resentment and anger and the new, unsettling fragile rise of hope. She was far from naive and knew damn good and well that love did not conquer all. And she did love Cheveyo, always had. Otherwise, even after all these years, she wouldn’t still hurt so much.

  The physical distance he put between them allowed her to step back emotionally as well. Which turned out to be a great survival tactic and a necessary skill for any Kyn leader. Yet, last year, when she had been at her wits’ end trying to uncover who was killing her people, reaching out to him for help was a foregone conclusion. Because when it came down to it, he was one of the few she could trust.

  Unfortunately, she hadn’t been prepared for the overwhelming impact seeing him had left. Thankfully, his time here had been blessedly short and packed with enough drama to drown out her emotional upheaval. When he went back to Portland, part of her had been hugely relieved, but a more important part ached.

  In the wake of his visit, she was left to reexamine her past choices. Choices driven by insecurity, guilt, and shame, but as she told him last night, hindsight was a bitch. Regret took anchor in her battered heart and sank its sharp teeth deep. The secret she carried would kill their chances of a future more surely than any known curse. Once he found out, it would be her turn to beg for forgiveness, and she wasn’t certain she deserved it.

  Her phone vibrated in her pocket, startling her out of her dismal thoughts. Shifting carefully, she managed to dig it out and answer before it stopped. “Hello?”

  “Ta
la, it’s Danny.” The medicine man’s voice was both tired and drained.

  Concern rose. “Hey, Danny. Are you at the hospital with Rory and Anne?”

  “I am, I just stepped outside to give you an update on his status.” He paused, and she braced. “Rory’s in a coma. The doctors can’t say if he’ll wake or not, but if he does, they’re worried there’ll be lasting damage.”

  Her stomach sank under the combination of worry and grief. “Is there anything you can do to help?”

  “I’ve tried, and I’ll keep doing so. So will his druid brothers. I wanted to let you know that I couldn’t find any magical traces during my healings with him.”

  She wasn’t sure if that was a positive or a negative at this point. “So it was just an accident?”

  “Maybe,” Danny’s one word answer was heavy with doubt.

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  His sigh echoed through the line. “Nothing, I just can’t shake the feeling I’m missing something.”

  Considering his depth of knowledge, such an admission was concerning. “What can I do to help?”

  “Come to Phoenix,” he answered. “I have an idea, so bring Cheveyo with you. And Tala?”

  When he paused, she prompted, “Yes?”

  “Get here as soon as you can, I don’t know how long Rory will hang on.” The grimness in Danny’s voice scared her, even as her mind spun through the reasons for his request.

  She raised her gaze and met Cheveyo’s in the rearview mirror as an idea began to form. “We’re on our way to the Triune, so it will be a few hours.”

  “As soon as you can, sitsi.”

  His gruff endearment left tears welling, but she held them back. “We will, Danny.” With that, she hung up.

  Even though Cheveyo’s attention was back on the road, he asked, “What’s going on?”

  “Rory’s in a coma and Danny wants us in Phoenix as soon as possible.”

  Chay half turned in his seat, a frown on his face. “Did he find something?”