Redeemed

by Ann Gimpel

  “Oh yes, it can. What the fuck do you think it was doing to you? Look.” Leif had cleared enough dirt off Lynda to expose her torso. The same bits of rock had impaled her, sinking into the soft flesh of her stomach, breasts, and hips.

  Lewis made a gagging sound. “Poseidon’s balls, mate. I am so fucking sorry. This was my idea. I was the one who fell for the trap.”

  “Never mind that. Help me.” Leif summoned magic to snap off the horns that had dug into Lynda’s flesh. Because two of them were at work, it went far faster than things had freeing Lewis.

  Between them, they dragged Lynda upright and walked her in a circle until she came around. “What happened?” She looked from Leif to Lewis. “I don’t remember anything.”

  “You followed me.” Lewis’s words held shame. “I was wrong.”

  “Stop. You can beat yourself up later. Right now, we need a way out of here.” Leif paused. “Shifting hurt. A lot, but we can’t leave as humans.”

  “I never shifted,” Lynda said. “Last I remember, I swam in here, but then everything kind of folded in on me.”

  “It was the same for me.” Lewis shook his head. “What is this place? I’ve never heard of anywhere in the sea where the dirt drinks your blood.”

  “Ewww. I need to hear what happened, but not right now.” Lynda shuddered and dragged one foot off the dirt, stamping it back down. “Damn it. The fucking sand just bit me.”

  “We have to keep moving,” Leif said. “What trapped us is sentient. We thwarted it, but it hasn’t given up.”

  “Let’s shift and swim out of here,” Lewis urged.

  “Not as easy as you might think,” Leif countered. “I had a hell of a time shifting to human, and for all I know the way in here was crafted with magic and no longer exists. Come on. We’ll walk as we think through our options. It should at least slow the thing that wants to drill through our skin.”

  “Ley lines look good here,” Lynda ventured. “I just peeked.”

  Leif switched to his third eye and scanned the lines crossing the cavern. “They do indeed. It’s how I found the two of you. Look over there.” He pointed.

  “Rocks and dirt,” Lewis muttered.

  “Use your third eye.” Lynda shot a pained look his way.

  “Tell me what you see,” Leif instructed, not wanting to influence the other two.

  “A cluster of the lines bend, and they all come together before they disappear through the wall,” Lynda replied.

  “Lewis?” Leif elbowed him.

  “Aye. I see the same thing. It’s odd. I’ve never known them to bunch up like that.”

  “Nor have I,” Leif agreed. “But they’re not shimmering or glittering or trying to lure us. I’m thinking maybe it’s a way out of here that won’t entail shifting. At least not until we’re clear of the magic powering this place.”

  “I want to know what’s behind luring us in here to drain our blood,” Lewis said. “I thought only Vampires did that.”

  “Many of the gods were bloodhungry,” Leif replied. “Toutatis, Esus, and Taranis for starters. Let’s save the philosophical underpinnings for if we manage to extricate ourselves.”

  “Those were Celts, weren’t they?” Lynda asked.

  “How’s your magic holding up?” Leif asked, ignoring her question.

  “Not bad.”

  Leif kicked sand closing over one foot aside. Something had clearly figured out they were leaving and was determined to stop them. “Whatever snared us won’t go down without a fight,” he told the other two. “Listen closely. When I give the word, we’ll draw magic and teleport to the other side of the wall as close as possible to the spot the lines all come together. I have no idea what we’ll find there. Maybe ocean. Maybe nothing.”

  “Maybe we’ll uncover whoever set the trap I fell for,” Lewis cut in sourly.

  “It’s possible,” Leif plowed on. “Regardless. Be ready to shift if we’re in the ocean. I have no idea how far it will be to the surface, and if we remain in our human bodies, we might drown.”

  “Got it,” Lewis said, sounding determined to redeem himself.

  “Why can’t we shift and take the tunnel?” Lynda asked.

  “It is another option. Maybe.” Leif considered it. “I have a funny feeling, instinct more than anything, we’d never find the passageway again. I felt magic prick as soon as I swam through the portal.”

  “I did too,” Lewis said. “Tried to turn around, but something wouldn’t let me. That’s when I knew I’d made a mistake. I called to both of you. Told you to turn back.”

  “Never heard you,” Lynda said.

  Leif hadn’t either, and it clinched his decision to go with teleporting through the wall. They closed on it quicker than he anticipated, but physical properties in this place were fluid. The air thickened with static electricity from proximity to so many ley lines.

  He herded them as close as he dared. At least the attack on his bare feet ceased as they neared the lines. Maybe malevolent energy couldn’t coexist so near the clean purity of the lines.

  “Ready?” he asked the other two.

  “Aye,” Lewis said.

  “Yup,” Lynda replied.

  Leif held out his hands. Lewis grasped one, Lynda the other. “Open your magic to me, and let me guide this.”

  He sensed glowing channels as his Shifters followed his directions, gratified their magic was in decent shape. Unless something truly unexpected popped up, they’d be out of here fast.

  “If we end up in the ocean,” he told them, “I’ll cut my connection to you. Shift immediately.”

  Leif drew magic until it bubbled and boiled around them. He didn’t want to underestimate and end up stuck in endless rock and dirt. Who knew what the other side of the cavern wall looked like? Since this whole shebang was probably magical illusion, the far side of the wall was anyone’s guess.

  He let power fill him until he was certain he had enough for almost anything and cast a teleport spell. The pool fell away as did the cavern. For long moments, they were suspended in a familiar, black, airless void. The space between Earth and the borderworlds.

  Leif urged his casting to locate the nearest point, be it borderworld or Earth.

  Light flashed, brilliant white, and they rolled out into the place he’d apprehended Amphitrite. “Yes!” He let go of Lynda and Lewis and fist-pumped the air, a decidedly human gesture.

  Ley lines stretched in both directions, glowing, healthy ley lines, so the guardian had continued restoring them.

  “Where are we?” Lynda turned in a full circle.

  “A borderworld. It’s the same spot I went with Moira and the whale.”

  “Which means we have a way back.” Lewis danced a jig, kicking and stomping dry, dusty dirt. “Woohoo! The surface isn’t trying to eat me.”

  More light flared, and magic pummeled Leif. He dragged a protective ward across all of them, ready for anything. “Look sharp. Something’s headed our way.”

  “It can’t be any worse that what we escaped from. Unless it decided to follow us.” Lewis twisted to face the spot throbbing with power.

  Leif readied defensive magic, letting it build as he tossed a growing ball of destruction from hand to hand. He’d lob it at whoever had the temerity to show up here. If he got lucky, he’d nail Amphitrite, returned to the scene of her thievery. He wouldn’t kill her, but the blow would hurt—a lot.

  Moira tumbled through a rip in the ether, followed by Juan and Aura. Leif extinguished the demolition balanced between his fingertips so fast it burned him.

  “What the hell?” Moira scrambled upright and faced them, hands on her hips. “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you—”

  Leif held up a hand. Steam rose from where he’d stopped himself from killing her on the spot. “We just got here.”

  “Aye, we were trapped,” Lewis said.

  “Trapped, but not here?” Aura strode forward with Juan next to her.

  “Yes,” Lynda said. “Lewis and I
would be dead, but Leif rescued us from a bloodsucking horror that—”

  “Later.” Leif made a chopping motion. “Apologies for any worry our absence caused. Have you seen any of the other sea Shifters?”

  Juan shook his head. “If we had, we might not have followed Moira’s lead and launched the cavalry.”

  Warmth fluttered deep in Leif’s chest. Coming after him had been Moira’s idea. He glanced away, hoping no one was looking closely enough to see either his delight or the confused welter of emotions running through him.

  “So long as we’re here,” Aura said, “shall we attempt to sort out who the guardian is?”

  “We’d planned to return to the boat,” Leif said, “but it’s a good suggestion.”

  “Exactly.” Moira nodded sharply. “Since half a dozen of us are present, we shouldn’t waste the magic it took to get here.”

  Leif raised his head and met her gaze. “You land Shifters don’t teleport well. How’d you get here without one of us?”

  “Our bond animals.” Moira tightened her lips into a line. “My vulture was most insistent.”

  “As was my cat,” Juan said. “Viktor pitched a fit, but I left before he could order me to remain.”

  “He wouldn’t have,” Aura said. “Ketha was on top of it.” She rubbed her hands together. “This place is fascinating, like something out of the olden tales. Where shall we begin?”

  “We begin here. I’m going to shift.” Moira drew shadows about herself and shucked her clothing. Leif did his best not to look, but the curves of her body were visible as she undressed. They drew him like a lodestone, heating his blood with need.

  Magic pulsed, bright and strong, and Moira’s vulture formed. Cawing, it flew toward the far end of the cavern.

  “Should have asked her what she had in mind,” Aura said. Switching to telepathy, she repeated the question.

  Caws, screeches, and delighted vulture sounds filled the cave. Leif smiled, eager to discover what Moira had unearthed.

  10

  Guardian

  Moira couldn’t have held her vulture back if she’d wanted to. If she hadn’t cooperated, her bondmate would have forced a shift amid shredding clothing. Far better to salvage what she’d worn so she didn’t freeze on the airless trip back through the void between worlds. She could count a handful of instances over the half century since she’d bonded with the bird when it had plowed ahead, heedless of anything but what it wanted.

  She’d known her bondmate was headstrong, but she’d dreamed the vulture when she was only a child. If there’d been a choice point somewhere along the way—an opportunity to select a more tractable partner—she’d never hunted for it. Being bonded was a lot like falling in love, the attraction hot and instantaneous. Once the vulture had materialized in her dreams, Moira never looked back.

  At least she’d shucked her clothing before wings and feathers formed, and she flew straight and true through shiny veils, one after another draped across the far end of the cavern. Shimmery with rainbow-hued light, the veils were gossamer thin and incredibly beautiful.

  She wanted to savor finding Leif alive, but events were moving at breakneck speed. Anything as prosaic as her probably one-sided attraction to the dolphin Shifter had no place right now. It didn’t help that he was buck naked and twenty shades of gorgeous, but she shouldn’t let that divert her.

  The vulture cawed and shrilled and cooed, more of a variety of sounds than Moira had ever heard from the creature. The veils came faster now, one layered atop the next. Her wings made a zinging, whooshing noise as she bypassed one after the other. Ley lines glimmered above, below, and next to where she flew, their energy palpable, but not threatening. They cast a fey light over everything, adding to the impression she’d fallen into fairyland.

  She wanted to ask her bondmate where they were going, but she’d find out soon enough. In the distance, a horse whinnied, harsh and strident. The vulture shrieked and flew faster.

  The thrum of hoofbeats, faint at first, grew louder. With a thunderous rip, reminiscent of burlap sacks shredding, a graceful ivory horse appeared. Suspended above the ley lines beneath its hooves, it galloped through air. Moira’s vulture executed an aerial flip and ended up clinging to the horse’s withers, talons digging deep enough to stabilize its perch.

  “Old friend,” the vulture cawed in a very ancient form of Gaelic.

  “Well met, indeed, old friend,” the horse responded in the same language.

  Moira had to stretch her language skills to understand. Even with the filter provided by her bondmate that allowed her to interpret things lost to her when she was human, the conversation was next to unintelligible.

  “You carry another within you,” the horse went on. “How curious. What is she?”

  “Too long a tale, but one I shall share presently. You met her. ’Tis who showed you how to mend the lines.”

  A sharp whinny was followed by, “That one? Better than the thieving bitch who crept in here and hid from me while damaging my children.” The horse twisted its long neck and rubbed against the vulture’s feathers, the gesture simple and poignant as they hovered above the rock-strewn surface.

  Moira longed to ask how they knew one another but didn’t want to interrupt what was clearly a heartfelt reunion. Had her bondmate been part of the world’s beginnings, right along with Eioha? Bond animals never talked about things like that. They knew all about you, but you only understood the parts of them they deigned to share.

  She hung back, watchful, not intending to be pushy but hoping her bondmate would address the fissure. Would Eiocha—if that’s who the horse was—help them? If Moira understood her correctly, she’d referred to the ley lines as her children The lines extended over the entire globe, crisscrossing its length and breadth, which meant there had to be lines on Wrangel Island.

  A different footfall pattern raced toward them, not hooves but paws. Big ones. Moira wasn’t surprised when Juan’s mountain lion leapt through the veil nearest them, landing lightly between two vertically placed lines scant inches from Eiocha’s churning hooves.

  With a low, purring growl it stretched its neck until it swiped a tongue over one of the horse’s front legs.

  If their situation hadn’t been so desperate, Moira would have smiled at what was looking a lot like old home week. Clearly, this trio had known one another since the dawn of time and were thrilled to be reunited. Magic glistened and shimmered around horse, vulture, and mountain lion, colors shading from white to blue to green to red to violet and back again as they vocalized their joy.

  “Moira?” Leif’s voice rumbled through her mind, tentative, questioning. Not wanting to interrupt but too worried not to reach out to her.

  “I’m fine. Reassure Aura that Juan is too.”

  The horse had settled to ground level between two lines; they’d spread to make room for her. Close up, her mane held silver strands mixed with the ivory ones, and her coat glowed as if lit from within. Wide and liquid, her eyes shaded from blackest night to a deep blue that reminded Moira of the ocean.

  Juan wove between her legs, rubbing against the horse in the way cats have where their bodies appear fluid, boneless. A deep, throaty purr rumbled from the mountain lion, the sound both threat and promise.

  Moira dragged herself back from what felt like a flight into whimsy, except it wasn’t. Not really. The mountain lion would stand against evil just as it always had, dragging Juan into its battles much as her vulture had pulled her along on its headlong flight a few minutes before.

  Aura was next to emerge from behind the veils. Unlike her mate, she walked slowly, deliberately, her cat a tawnier shade than Juan’s. Moira watched as Juan moved away from Eiocha and licked Aura’s nose. Tonight was a time for Shifters to take to their animal forms, at least here in this cavern.

  The horse bent her long, graceful neck until she was at eye level with Juan and Aura. “You are mated?”

  “Yes, Goddess.” Juan’s cat inclined its head and narrow
ed its green eyes to happy slits.

  The horse looked as if she were considering its words; Moira girded herself for an outburst of jealousy. Who knew what this bunch had been to one another once upon a time? Close, but how close? Was Aura in danger?

  Apparently, the same thought crossed Aura’s bondmate’s mind. The cat drew back its upper lip showing its fangs.

  “Do something,” Moira shouted to her vulture. “We do not need any more enemies.”

  “Awk, child. You don’t understand.”

  “How could I?” Moira countered. “You rarely tell me anything.”

  The vulture focused their shared attention on the horse. It had exposed its squared-off teeth, mirroring Aura’s mountain lion. “He was mine first,” Eiocha announced. “But everything was mine first. Lovers left me. Children left me. Friends left me until all that was left was the most important task of all. Holding the world’s magic together. Keeping it safe from those who would harm it, but my job has grown much harder.”

  A sorrowful whinny was followed by, “What has happened in the world? Why can others, like the one claiming to be queen of the sea, enter my realm and steal from me? Such events have never occurred before.”

  “Tell her,” Moira urged her vulture. “Everything.”

  “Yes,” Aura cut in. “Maybe, if she knows, she’ll help us.”

  “Who are you?” Eiocha’s equine brow creased in confusion. “My old companions, yet not.”

  “We are bonded with humans,” the vulture replied. “Please do not ask how it happened, for such is a very long tale. If we survive—”

  “What do you mean if we survive? Is there any question? Any doubt? How could there be?” Eiocha’s mind voice grew shrill.

  “How long since you’ve set foot on Earth?” Juan’s cat asked.

  Before she could respond, Leif, Lewis, and Lynda parted the nearest veil amid a shower of silvery sparks. “May we join you?” Leif asked.

  Eiocha angled her neck to one side, regarding him. “I remember you. You were here when the other one—the sea queen, except she couldn’t be anything so grand as all that—stole from me. Were you part of her scheme? Answer honestly. I will know if you lie to me.”