This was her Calling, after all, and how could she say she'd earned her staff if she didn't do most of the legwork? I'll just have to make sure I get the feather myself.
But Edith didn't mention her concerns just then, unwilling to risk an argument where others could overhear them if Isaac took exception, and inquired instead, “Where's this nest?”
Proving he was just as aware of the potential for being overheard, Isaac simply stated, “I'll tell you when we get there. But it's long distance, so it'll take me a couple of jumps.”
At that, he pulled her in and wrapped his thick arms around her, a devious smirk on his lips when he directed, “Just hold on tight.”
Edith might've argued under normal circumstances, but was too distracted by the way his body felt against hers to quickly respond. Besides, she was honestly too curious to see how Isaac managed long distance teleports with a mute on his abilities to say a word, and did as he'd directed by gripping him tight.
It was a decision she regretted just moments later when his first jump had them reappearing in midair several hundred feet above what she assumed was the Atlantic Ocean.
As soon as they materialized, the pair began falling toward the likely-frigid waters below, yet Isaac didn't immediately teleport away.
Sadly, Edith wasn't at all fond of heights, squeezing her eyes shut while clutching him even tighter as they fell, and she nearly took over by the time he made his second jump. Yet this same thing happened several more times before their feet found solid ground, leaving her extremely disoriented.
The sensation had her pressing her face into Isaac's chest to keep from becoming dizzy, and they still hadn't arrived at their final destination because he teleported twice more.
Finally, they arrived in a sparse grove of trees with the stars sparkling brightly above. The lack of light pollution to dull their glow suggested they were a good ways outside of any city, and the temperature had taken a nosedive, making Isaac's hold even more appealing.
So without pulling away, Edith lifted her head with a muttered, “Are we there yet?”
“Yeah, we're outside of Belfast, and the nest is over that hill,” he answered, motioning his head toward the incline behind him.
Belfast? Edith couldn't help her excitement—she'd always wanted to visit Ireland.
But her immediate attention was on Isaac's breathing. He'd sounded winded while speaking, and she guessed, “That teleporting wore you out.”
“Nah,” he countered, “just takes a few seconds for the mute to chill. It's why I don't teleport again right after each jump.”
That sounded suspicious, prompting her to inquire, “Then it doesn't just mute your abilities, it causes you pain, too?”
Hesitantly, he nodded. “Yeah, starts burning like I was just branded. Gets worse if I overexert myself, but it heals fast.”
Edith didn't like the sound of that at all. Quickened regeneration or not, Isaac shouldn't have to suffer just to teleport her to a far away place so she could save a minuscule amount of magical energy, prompting her to qualify, “Next time, I'm taking us.”
“It's not a big deal, Edith,” he interjected. “I do this shit all the time.”
“By yourself,” she countered. “Isn't it harder to carry someone else?”
In response, Isaac shrugged apathetically, giving her the feeling she was right—he just didn't want her to worry.
“Seriously, Isaac. I can teleport us, at least long distances.”
“Yeah, and what happens when you need that magic for something else? You're just here for a white harpy feather, and I can grab that myself.”
Hearing this, Edith was reminded of her misgivings about their partnership. She knew Isaac meant well, but on top of making her feel useless, he was depriving her of experience she wanted to obtain.
So she pulled away from his grip regardless of how inviting it was, particularly in the cold night air which she hadn't dressed for. Not only did she want to keep him from realizing what kind of impact his closeness truly had on her, she needed a clear head to make certain he understood her position.
She just hoped he'd accept it without turning this into an argument.
Eleven
• • •
It felt so good having Edith cuddled against him that Isaac nearly forget why he'd brought her to Belfast.
They hadn't been in such close proximity since their lunch together a week prior. Ever since, she'd been avoiding him, which wasn't entirely bothersome. The reasons why were clear—Edith was shy regarding their relationship, and Isaac was happy just to be helping with her Calling and providing whatever she needed.
What did bother him was his oath preventing any questions from being asked that might remotely relate to their matehood.
Such restraints had definitely slowed his progress on getting close in nearly any capacity. So now, all he could think about was holding her for as long as he possibly could.
But the more they spoke of their trip and what they'd come to do, the more rigid Edith became until she pulled away from him completely.
Isaac wanted to grab her again, then kiss her until she forgot whatever he'd said wrong—and he knew something he'd said had ticked her off. But there was his oath again, stopping him from making such an impulsive movement without her invitation.
Still, Edith distracted him from the thoughts almost entirely when she took a few steps back and announced, “Okay, look. This is my Calling, Isaac.”
“So?”
“So I appreciate your assistance, but I need to do these things for myself.”
That's what this is about? Realizing she was taking exception to his offer of grabbing the feather, he asked, “Why wouldn't you wanna save magic if you knew there was a way to do it?”
“Because the Final Calling is a rite of passage, but also a learning experience, just like standing in a lab concocting potions and memorizing formulas,” she explained. “I've never dealt with harpies before, and if I saw them up close, I could turn myself into one later if need be. But not if you do this for me, Isaac, and besides, how can I honestly say I crafted my staff if I didn't do any of the legwork?”
Isaac let a sigh that bordered on a growl, but only because she was right. If he were suddenly offered some means of forcing Edith to accept their matehood, such as a love potion, he'd turn it down flat. For as badly as he wanted the woman, and as much as he valued expedience over careful planning, it simply wouldn't be the same if she didn't desire him because she truly felt the kind of gut wrenching need he'd experienced for her.
And that was a need Edith fed when she hiked her shoulders and announced willfully, “Now, I'm gonna go figure out how to get what I need, and you can either assist me with it, or park your happy ass here in the dirt until I get back.”
With that said, she strolled past while Isaac watched with an erection he thought might rip his jeans open. Not only did he admire her fiery determination, but the way her ass swayed as she walked toward the hill was icing on the cake—and there was no way he was going to sit there and wait.
So he quickly followed and removed his jacket on the way, knowing Edith's short sleeved shirt wouldn't do much to combat the low temperature. Once he'd caught up, he draped it over her shoulders, grateful that she didn't protest.
Instead, she slipped her arms inside the sleeves while looking out from the thinning trees where they stood before a field with an old, ruined castle in the near distance—the harpy nest.
The land surrounding the structure was barren and dead, the walls crumbling and the thatched rooftops broken open in several places. But the definite sound of screeching could be heard emanating from within, proving the nest hadn't been destroyed.
“Sounds like they're still around,” Edith remarked, casting her gaze back in Isaac's direction. “Any ideas on where the crone might be hanging out?”
“The last time I was here, she was in the tower.”
Edith nodded as if taking his information into consideration
, and Isaac sighed impatiently.
“Just let me teleport in and grab it, Edith.”
“And leave me out here all by my lonesome?” she asked sarcastically, her southern accent more pronounced. “What if some assassin attacks and I have to use magic to defend myself?”
Groaning, Isaac pointed out, “You don't know where your Calling is gonna send you before the end, Edith. I've heard some mages—”
“Some mages expend all their magic trying to attain a single item,” she finished, turning to face him. “Yeah, the inept ones who think they have it all figured out. I mean honestly, do you think I'm really gonna do more than necessary? Or that my energy is so limited one spell will drain me entirely? You're already with me as backup, and that's saved me a good bit.”
Grumbling, Isaac asked, “Then what do you wanna do?”
Edith turned toward the castle and took a breath in deliberation, then finally made a request.
“Teleport us into the tower. Seems like the best place to start looking.”
Glad she was at least letting him save her some magic, Isaac took her hand to transport them inside of the dilapidated structure, preparing for a fight if any of the crone's sisters were around—or the crone herself.
They arrived in a room with wooden floors so rotted they groaned and creaked in protest at Edith's and Isaac's weight. Rats skittered around them, startled by their sudden appearance, one heading directly toward a shadow just before getting crushed beneath a large, hawk-like talon belonging to none other than the crone.
The old harpy stood before them, only fifteen feet away with her back turned as she rummaged through a pile of stolen objects with her opposing foot. Her wings were folded at her sides, yet the feathers attached were speckled with gray and had black tips.
Only her large tail feathers were purely white—and one lie on the floor about five feet away from Edith.
Seeing it, the mage grinned, obviously planning to quietly snag the item and go as she bit her bottom lip and carefully crouched to reach out. Thankfully, any creaking her movements caused in the floorboards were drowned out by the crone's movements, leaving the older harpy oblivious to the intruders.
Regretfully, those floorboards weren't prepared for the extra weight.
Just before she could snag the feather, a loud snap abruptly sounded, and several of the beams broke in half beneath Edith's feet, their edges jutting up as she fell through.
Isaac automatically tensed to move, but found himself being plowed into the far wall by two large talons with the crone's black eyes glaring down at him.
Her claws dug deep into his back, preventing him from teleporting away. Additionally, her angry shriek rang out in time with several of her sister's more distant shrills, proving the nest was now aware of its visitors—or Edith, anyway.
Unfazed by the crone's attack—and her halitosis—Isaac slammed his fist into her jaw hard enough to loosen her grip, then immediately teleported out of her clutches and down to the floor below to help Edith.
But she wasn't there.
“Edith!”
Just when worry was starting to knot in his gut, his mate answered on a casually annoyed tone, “I'm out here.”
Isaac quickly moved through the door to find her standing on the steps leading down into the courtyard, watching a bloody fight taking place in midair between the harpies. Edith had apparently charmed some of them to keep the others at bay, but he was more concerned by the notice of a rip in the left arm of his jacket where he spied blood dripping from her fingertips.
Grabbing it, he lifted her hand to inspect the injury.
“It's just a scratch,” Edith explained, and he realized she was right. The cut ran halfway to her elbow from her wrist, but it was shallow.
Relieved, he listened as she went on, “I teleported out here before landing to keep the beams from falling on me, and charmed some of these harpies to protect me from the others.”
Isaac was impressed by her presence of mind to teleport out of harm's way, though there wasn't any time to comment when a loud crash sounded behind them, accompanied by a shriek.
Glancing into the old tower, he saw the crone turning to face them as if she wanted to continue their fight—and he was completely ready to kick her feathered ass.
Yet Edith chose that moment to state, “Let's get the hell out of here.”
“But you need … ,” he trailed when she grinned and held up her right hand to show him the white feather dissolving into her cache.
So in addition to protecting herself during her fall, Edith had also managed to grab what she needed, and now the harpies were killing one another in midair at her hands.
Isaac had only one thought in response. Never wanted a woman this fucking bad.
As the crone lunged for him, he took a few steps forward without tearing his gaze away from his mate, causing the old harpy to pass right behind him while asking, “So, ever been to Belfast? I could show you around.”
A younger harpy nearly landed on Edith, but was intercepted at the last minute by a charmed sister while the mage ignored them to casually reply, “I'd love to see Belfast, thank you.”
Grinning, Isaac wordlessly took her hand to travel into the city.
Twelve
• • •
The only thing better than facing down a nest of harpies and proving oneself superior was winning the admiration of a sexy demon in doing so.
Edith couldn't recall a time that she'd ever truly felt desirable. But standing with Isaac beneath a bloody battle waging in midair, she was overwhelmed by the heady sensation, and all because the look in Isaac's fiery eyes said he considered her nothing less.
She'd impressed him, and the resulting satisfaction was addicting.
Of course, she still worried she was taking advantage of his instinctual interest. The only reason Edith let him join her on her Calling to begin with was his strength and skill, as if having him around was simply convenient instead of meaningful.
But in taking his hand to leave the nest, it felt like they were a team again, and their tour of Belfast offered hope of even more.
By the time they arrived in the city, snow was flurrying, lightly dusting the buildings and streets in a thin white blanket that shimmered in the streetlights. It was only a few hours until dawn, leaving the sidewalks bereft of people and most businesses closed. But that didn't stop the pair from doing a little shopping to attain warmer garments—and Isaac insisted on stopping at a pharmacy because of the scratch on her arm.
She wasn't the only one who'd sustained an injury in the harpy's nest either. His shirt had bloody holes in the back where the crone grabbed him with her talons. But the puncture wounds had already healed, and his full attention was her.
So Edith allowed him to tend the cut—and it became increasingly hard not to stare. Perhaps it was his gentle care combined with his close proximity, but a sense of adoration soon rose up in her that made the urge to kiss him nearly undeniable.
Isaac had to be experiencing the same desire, didn't he? He simply couldn't act on it unless she invited such a move—and Edith almost felt guilty in some strange way.
But the more surprising sensation was irritation.
Did she really want him to kiss her again so much? Or was her curiosity to know whether he actually would if his oath wasn't holding him back getting the better of her? Perhaps it was a little of both, and she did have the option of releasing him from his promise. Edith simply wasn't sure she was ready to deal with the advances of a demon who'd waited so long to find her—particularly one who was so shameless and attractive.
It was something to consider anyway, and she allowed him to finish with her bandage before teleporting them to a nearby clothing boutique that sold a variety of styles. Naturally, Isaac wanted to just take the clothes and go, but Edith insisted on leaving some money to cover the cost of whatever garments they acquired.
So he teleported away to grab the proper currency—and the short amount of time tha
t passed during his departure had her suspicious.
But by the time he'd returned, she was half naked in one of the dressing rooms with some very specific clothing selections slung over the door. So she decided to turn a blind eye to any unscrupulous methods he'd used to obtain the money if only to prevent drawing his attention, and continued dressing.
In the process, she idly mentioned, “I can't wait until I can conjure an outfit, or mask what I'm wearing with magic instead of having to change every time I need something new.”
Looking up from where he stood at a clothes rack several feet away, Isaac asked, “Wait, does Chandra do that?”
Edith looked over the top of the dresser door, pursing her lips uncertainly. “Promise not to tell?”
He offered a sincere nod, and she sighed, but admitted, “A lot of archmages do, and Chandra definitely has the biggest wardrobe I've ever seen. But there are times when I guarantee you she's wearing a plain old tank top and jeans masked to look elegant.”
Isaac's grin couldn't have been bigger, and Edith grumbled, warning him, “Don't ever breathe a word to her that I said anything, or I swear I'll curse you.”
“I won't,” he promised, still browsing the racks in his new fur lined leather jacket that Edith had to admit looked extremely sexy on him. Or he's just sexy anyway. Damn it.
With a sigh, she returned to the task of dressing in the effort of putting such thoughts out of her mind. But Isaac soon recaptured her attention when he remarked at random, “Heh, ass floss.”
Looking out of her stall, she saw him holding up a very sheer thong just as he added, “No, wait. It's not ass floss … ”
At that, Isaac fished a coin out of his jeans and used the thong as a slingshot to send it across the shop where it bounced off the front window, then landed in a coin funnel set up near the entrance for donations to a local charity.
The Final Calling Page 11
