“No,” Desdemona said, tossing her hair back from her face. Her eyeliner-smudged blue eyes glimmered like evening star-rise. In her eyes, night had already fallen. “Louis, no. You don’t have to do anything she says.”
“It’s okay, Des,” Louis said. “Don’t worry. I’m okay, for true.”
Galahad wondered if for true meant something else in Louisiana, because Louis was far from okay—in fact, he was on the other side of the world from okay. But Galahad appreciated Louis’s attempt to calm Desdemona.
Selene led Louis to the front of the piled-stone altar that Eddie had labored to build. Her eyes gleamed. “Time to create a shifter nation.” She unsnapped the leash from Louis’s collar and wrapped its red length around her forearm like a scarlet serpent gracing the flesh of Cleopatra.
“Untie me,” Louis said, his voice calm.
“Promise to cooperate?”
Louis stepped forward and kissed Selene. Pressed himself against her. Her hands slipped to his ass. Pleather squeaked beneath her fingers.
“That’d convince me,” Galahad said.
Nick grunted in agreement.
After a long moment, Louis ended the kiss. A heartbeat later, Selene’s hands slid away from his ass. A just-caught-the-mouse smile curved her lips. Unsheathing the blade at her hip, she stepped behind Louis and sliced through the flex-ties. The plastic cuffs fell to the ground.
Rubbing his red-marked wrists, Louis murmured, “Thanks.”
Selene resheathed her knife. Studied him. “I hope I don’t need to remind you of what will happen to—”
“You don’t,” Louis assured her. “Let’s just get this done.” Unfastening the red-jeweled collar, he pulled it off and dropped it on the altar.
“Now the rest of you will do as I ask,” Selene said, turning to face them, hands on her hips. “No more squabbling, no more resistance. When we’ve finished, you’ll be driven back to Eugene.” Her gaze skipped from face to face, pausing on Galahad’s. “Any problems and I’ll use the scythe on you myself. Understood?”
“Perfectly,” Galahad replied. He looked at Louis standing beside the makeshift altar and watched as he unbuttoned and removed his shirt. “Um . . . one question?”
Selene sighed. “Ask.”
Behind her, Louis stripped off his pleather pants, then crouched down on all fours, multi-colored dreads swinging forward, and closed his eyes. His muscles bunched and knotted. He shuddered. Galahad frowned. What was Louis doing? Had he lost all time sense? It wasn’t time yet to Shift.
“Your question?” Selene prompted, unaware of what was happening behind her, and Galahad thought it best to keep it that way.
“Yes,” Galahad said, meeting her gaze. “Were you killing off the fortune-tellers because they’d reveal your nefarious scheme?”
“ ‘Nefarious’?” Selene snorted. “A dramatic word choice, don’t you think? But no. Those deaths were mistakes. I sent my New Breed to fetch Louis. They kept grabbing any fortune-teller they stumbled across. And there’s quite a few in town.”
“New Breed? Your wolf-men?”
“Among others, yes. Shifters who remain in one mutated form all of the time.”
“An unnatural form,” Galahad said, unable to keep the disdain from his voice. He glanced at Louis and his breath caught in his throat. His heart hammered hard and fast. What he was seeing wasn’t possible. He swung his attention back to Selene. “Uh . . . why did your . . . New Breed . . . kill the fortune-tellers?”
Selene shook her head, her sunlit honey hair swaying against her face. “That was unintentional. They . . . uh . . . broke the fortune-tellers. So it was a good thing they didn’t find Louis right away.”
A big cat screeched. A black panther. A magic-brimming bayou cat.
Selene’s mouth dropped open. She whirled around. Louis padded toward her, muscles rippling, his black fur swallowing the sunlight. “Not possible,” she whispered. She glanced at the sky. The sun hung above the horizon. Daylight still burned. “Not possible.”
If he hadn’t seen Louis Shift, Galahad would’ve agreed with her. But there he was, in feline form. Possible or not.
Nick whistled. “How’d he do that, Gally?”
Galahad shook his head. He had no idea . . . unless . . . Louis could Shift at will. His pulse raced. Was Louis yōkai or lycan or neither? Mutation or evolution? A true New Breed? One not ruled by moon or sun? Excitement curled along Galahad’s spine. Pricked up the hair on his arms. He stared at Louis, wonder pulsing within him.
“I never imagined this,” Selene whispered. She fumbled for Desdemona, but the lovely one-shape skipped out of reach. “Stop or—”
The jack-in-the-box’s lid popped open.
Louis sprang and took Selene to the ground.
21
BLOOD MAGIC
A gunshot cracked through the air.
Louis crouched on top of Selene. Pinned his ears back. Snarled.
Galahad ducked down. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed Alan, a jumbled load of firewood at his feet, holding a gun. Smoke curled from the barrel.
“Next one goes into the purple-haired chick,” Alan said, taking aim at Desdemona.
Galahad groaned. Dammit. One more minute and the only blood spilled would’ve belonged to Selene and the rest of them would’ve been long gone.
“He means it,” Selene told Louis. “Eddie can always take her place.”
“Brrawwl,” Louis growled. So you think. He might’ve gotten lucky at that Warped Tour, after all. But he jumped free of Selene all the same, allowing her to roll away.
Galahad watched with a deepening sense of wonder as Louis, muscles rippling and straining, Shifted back to two-legged form. He rose to a kneeling position in front of the altar, his skin glistening with sweat.
Regaining her feet, Selene brushed dirt from her jeans. She looked at Alan, her expression grateful. “Tie his hands again, but in front this time.” Her attention returned to Louis, hardened. “You fooled me. It won’t happen again.”
Holding out his wrists for Alan to flex-tie, Louis met her gaze and held it. “Sounds like you don’t like getting a taste of your own medicine. We’ve got no choice but to trust you. No choice but to be your fools. And we can only hope that you’re telling it true.”
“You don’t need to do the ritual,” Galahad said, jumping to his feet. Selene looked at him, amber eyes bright. “You have everything you need in Louis. He could be the next step in shifter evolution. He Shifts at will, Selene. Focus on that. Learn from him.”
“That’s not enough,” Selene replied. “We need more. We need our own land. Our own gods. Our own hunt. Louis will be a part of that. You all will be. Now, I need to prepare myself. Eddie, is the cauldron ready?”
“But . . .”
Selene walked away, clearly done with the conversation even if Galahad wasn’t.
Galahad looked at Nick, saw his own frustration mirrored in his yellow eyes. Why did Selene insist on forcing them to play this stupid game? She didn’t need creaky old gods or a hunting preserve. The future of the shifter nation resided within Louis.
He Shifts at will.
Desdemona sat beside Louis, another fetching blush coloring her cheeks. Casually covering himself with his bound hands—for Desdemona’s sake, Galahad was sure. Louis seemed to have all the admirable modesty, or lack thereof, of a cat—he offered her a reassuring smile.
“I’m really starting to worry about Hal,” Nick said in a low voice. “I thought he’d be here by now.”
“Me too.” Galahad watched as Andy tossed something into the now-blazing fire. The sharp scent of burning pine and sandalwood incense curled into the air. “Let’s get this stupid ritual over with and get out of here. Maybe Hal needs us.”
“But what if Selene really does awaken those old gods?”
“Then we’ll dea
l with them—with Hal. But I’m betting Selene doesn’t even know how to cast a spell outside of watching old Bewitched episodes. We’re all going to lose a little bit of blood for nothing.”
“Good,” Nick said. “Let’s get this done and get out of here. I’m starving.”
Galahad’s belly rumbled in agreement. Some scrambled eggs and cream would be perfect right about now.
Selene, now wearing a twilight-purple gown, glided across the clearing, knife glinting in her hand. Eddie followed, carrying a copper cauldron.
Galahad nudged Nick with his shoulder. “Looks like the show is about to begin.”
Selene stopped in front of the altar where Louis and Desdemona sat. Face uplifted and defiant, Desdemona held Selene’s gaze, scorn burning within her own.
“It’s time,” Selene said. “Stand up, girl.”
Once Desdemona had risen to her feet, Selene motioned with the knife for her to turn around. Galahad could see the vein pulsing in her throat as she did so. Holding Desdemona’s bound hands still, Selene slashed the knife across her right palm. Desdemona bit her lower lip, but remained silent. Eddie held the copper cauldron beneath the wound to catch the sun-jeweled flow.
The scented smoke from the fire dizzied Galahad, made him catch his breath. He suspected something more than just pine and sandalwood went into the flames. Maybe opium, given that he felt like he was sliding into a dream, strange thoughts snaking through his mind.
Blood rubies. Heart blood.
Selene intoned, “Water.” And Galahad imagined a waterfall showering down on rocks, misting a rainbow into the air while a silver-skinned nymph combed her kelp-green tresses in the spray.
Selene motioned with the bloodstained knife and Nick went to her. Turning around, he offered his flex-tied hands. The knife flashed and Eddie caught the blood in the cauldron.
“Earth.”
Galahad dreamed, eyes open.
A wolf howled, calling down a harvest moon that filled the horizon.
Galahad realized he now stood in front of Selene, though he had no memory of standing or of moving. She walked behind him and smoothed out his right palm. He felt the cold slice of the knife, the warm trickle of blood—but no pain. From the cauldron, Galahad caught a whiff of blood and bitter myrrh.
“Fire,” Selene intoned.
A dark-haired youth with golden eyes and fire-edged black wings torched the forest with one touch of his slender fingers.
Selene slashed her knife across her own palm, spilled her blood into Eddie’s cauldron.
“Air.”
Selene took the copper cauldron from Eddie and lifted it into the air, murmuring words in a language Galahad didn’t recognize. Sunlight flashed like sheet lightning from the cauldron. He blinked orange and yellow spots from his vision as she pointed the cauldron in all four directions.
Brooding thunderheads piled up along the horizon, towered toward the sun. The day darkened.
Selene handed the cauldron back to Alan instead of Eddie. She held the one-shape’s gaze for a long moment, something dark flickering through her eyes. He nodded. Galahad frowned, uneasy and not sure why. He shook his head to clear away the smoke dreams.
Selene walked to Louis and urged him to his feet. With effortless grace, Louis stood. He climbed onto the altar and laid down. At Eddie’s insistence, Louis stretched his arms past his head so his bound wrists could be anchored with a rope to a heavy stone on the ground. Louis’s muscles flexed, knotted. He fixed his gaze on the churning sky.
Grasping the hem of her purple gown, Selene pulled it off over her head.
Tantalizing curves and golden skin. Selene walked to the altar, her taut, round ass mesmerizing. Not an ass for kicking, Galahad reflected. Spanking, maybe. Biting, definitely.
She trailed a long-nailed hand along Louis’s café au lait flesh, then stroked him. His jaw clenched. But he closed his eyes and gave himself over to her ministrations, quickly responding to her touch.
Galahad arched an eyebrow. Louis had nothing to be ashamed of in either form.
Selene mounted the altar, then mounted Louis. She rocked up and down, breasts bouncing, a hand against Louis’s chest. Her eyes closed. A smile curved her lips. The tension eased from Louis’s jaw. His lips parted. His hips thrust up to meet her.
Thunder boomed and rolled across the sky. Galahad stole a glance at Desdemona. She looked at the ground, her cheeks stained with pale pink color.
Maybe Desdemona didn’t love Louis as a sweetheart, but she cared about him, cared enough to search underground for him, and cared enough to refuse to give him up for dead in the tunnels. To watch him used against his will, and in such a personal way—because he wanted to save her—had to hurt.
The air seemed to thicken. Tingled with electricity. Smelled of ozone. The sun burned red behind the black clouds, spilling bloody light across the green hills.
Louis and Selene’s harsh breathing picked up tempo. Galahad looked at the altar. Selene rode Louis like a rodeo queen hoping for a championship trophy, her thighs clamped against him, back arched, head back, honeyed hair flying. She gasped. Cried out. Opened her eyes but didn’t stop pumping.
Alan stepped forward, cauldron cradled in one arm, and handed her a knife.
But instead of cutting one of Louis’s palms as Galahad expected, Selene rocked down one more time, and then slashed the knife across Louis’s corded throat. Blood sprayed onto her skin and misted the electrified air; a ruby rainbow. Pooling on the stone altar, blood sank into crevices and poured into the cauldron Alan tipped against the stone.
Louis choked on his own blood. His body convulsed.
Desdemona screamed, a gut-wrenching sound that echoed and reechoed within Galahad’s heart. He stared, stunned, mind blank.
Nick leapt to his feet. His hands knotted into fists. His eyes, twin yellow flames in the growing darkness, caught Galahad’s attention. Swallowing hard, Galahad shook his head. Too late. The boy was a nine-lifer. Had to be. Right? He’d breathed again after dying in the wolf-man’s belly.
But what if he hadn’t been dead? Just near death?
Louis’s head rolled to the side, colorful dreads snaking across his face, green eyes half-lidded. He went still.
Thunder rumbled across the sky. Galahad felt sick. Nine-lifer or not, Louis’s death had been ugly and cruel and unnecessary. What had Selene done? Why had she murdered the future?
Selene swung off of Louis’s blood-spattered body and lowered her feet to the grass. Nodded at Alan. He ran across the campsite with the cauldron.
“You killed him!” Desdemona screamed, voice raw. “You lying bitch!”
Picking her gown up from the ground, Selene wiped Louis’s blood off her body. Her thighs trembled. “The king must die,” she murmured, “then be reborn. We needed his magical blood to seal the land. All of it.” She looked at Desdemona. “He’s a nine-lifer. He’ll be back.”
Desdemona shook her head. “No,” she sobbed. “He was born human.”
Selene froze. “Born . . . human?” she said. “Not possible. The panther is his True Form.”
“No. It wasn’t. His True Form was human.”
Galahad felt gut-punched. Born human? Given Louis’s ability to Shift at will—both two-legged and pawed forms could be his True Forms. He could only hope that Louis possessed more than two lives.
Alan tossed the cauldron’s contents onto the fire. Smoke pillared into the storm-roiled sky, hissing and steaming. The mingled odors of burning blood, incense, and something Galahad couldn’t name, something dark and betrayal-bitter, snaked into the air.
“Release them,” Selene told Eddie, voice weary. “I’ll keep my word to Louis. They can go.”
Eddie cut their flex-ties, one by one.
Desdemona ran to the altar. Galahad tried to intercept her, she slipped past him. Nick sprinted ahead of her and bl
ocked her path. He parried her wild punches, dodged her kicks. Herded her back to Galahad.
“Dammit, let me go to him,” she cried.
Throat tight, Galahad shook his head. “There’s nothing you can do for him now.”
“Oh, Louis,” she sobbed, the fight draining from her.
Galahad wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. Her ragged sobs, the warmth of her tears against his shoulder, tore at him. He pressed his face into her tangled hair, breathing in the scents of wood smoke and cloves and lavender, the raw smell of her grief.
“Shhh,” he whispered. “Shhh.”
If Desdemona ever needed Hal, it was now. But what if Hal had never left the tunnel and lay there still—and would forever? Galahad’s throat grew even tighter. No. He pushed the treacherous thought away. Not Hal. He was still alive. He had to be.
Thunder cracked through the deepening gloom like a hammer splitting an anvil. Galahad jumped, skin tingling, hair rising on his arms. Lightning struck the cauldron tucked in Alan’s arm. Fused copper to flesh. The janitor stiffened for a moment, then toppled, smoking, into the dirt. The stench of roasted flesh, scorched cloth, and blackened metal coiled into the air.
“Holy . . .” Galahad let the word trail away as he stared at what remained of Alan.
“Shee-it,” Nick finished, his tone awed.
Thunder boomed again, pounding across the sky like a giant fist. Pulse racing, Galahad dropped into a crouch, pulling Desdemona down with him.
The ground trembled. Galahad looked up. The trees shivered, leaves rustling, then abruptly went still. A second later the rustling began again. His mouth went dry. This couldn’t be good. He tightened his hold around Desdemona.
“The Old Ones have awakened,” Selene said, triumph lifting her voice. She combed her fingers through her hair.
“Uh . . . but why did they kill Alan?” Eddie asked, face stark, terrified.
“Perhaps a final sacrifice was required,” Selene answered, expression uncertain as she regarded Alan’s smoldering corpse. “But, if that’s the case, I’m sure Alan would’ve been thrilled by the honor.”
Thinning the Herd Page 16
