Motor City Mage

by Cindy Spencer Pape

  After assessing the damage to their belongings, he reloaded everything into the backpack, along with the scraps of Lana’s instrument. She’d be sad about that, though she’d put a brave face on it. Maybe later he could fix it, but he couldn’t afford the magic now. He used a little magic to get her onto the bedroll without jarring her remaining injuries and then covered her with the blankets. Sitting next to her on the mat, he fed another chunk of deadwood into the fire before pulling the map across his legs and studying their position.

  “I wonder if Peaches could fly,” he murmured, though Lana couldn’t hear him. “That would explain…a lot.” Like how he’d accessed a portal that was halfway down—or up—a cliff.

  The good news was that the road was supposedly on this side of the mountain. So they wouldn’t have to find a way to climb back up. Also, based on what Des could decipher, they wouldn’t be in the snow for much further. The road just a few hundred yards from where they were now, wound steeply down into a valley, where, Des hoped, the climate was a little warmer, at least based on the absence of little snowflake symbols on the map. The cliff, now that he looked with a more critical eye, had appeared on the map to be just a hillside, so Des was inclined to take all the markings with a grain of salt.

  After a few more minutes, he chaffed Lana’s chilled hand between his own and found the next most serious of her injuries. Again, with his magic boosted by the environment, he rebuilt her rib cage, removing the pressure on her lungs before repairing internal bruising and her dislocated jaw. Her breathing eased and he sent more warmth around their link, keeping her well clear of hypothermia.

  He ate some nuts and dried meat to keep his own strength up while he continued to study the map and let his magic rebuild. Eventually he began to make sense of some of the notations Vin had apparently missed. A squiggly line that might mean flying, for instance. That would have been handy to know.

  Fortunately, that one didn’t appear again in their proposed route. There was one mark that looked suspiciously like an avalanche or mudslide, though. That one worried him a bit, but not enough to keep him from planning to move forward as soon as they possibly could.

  He waited another half hour or so, then took care of the rest of Lana’s internal injuries. Exhausted by the process, he cast a small heat reflection spell on their blanket and crawled under it with her, dozing lightly, but primed to wake up if they suddenly had company. A career as a paranormal enforcer had trained him to sleep with one eye open, but the alertness that never quite shut off was part of what he’d been born with as a Wyndewin.

  After another couple of hours spent alternately dozing and healing, he finally woke Lana. “Good morning, chán-láng. How do you feel?”

  Lana tested her fingers and toes, then arms and legs. “Thank you. Everything seems to be working,” she said. “How about you?”

  “All healed.” He got to his feet and helped her up. “Still good?”

  “Just a little stiff,” she determined after a couple of steps. Her stomach rumbled, and the sound made him smile. “And hungry, I guess.”

  “I suspect healing took most of the fuel out of your system.” Des rummaged through the pack and came up with a couple strips of jerky, which she pretty much inhaled while he repacked the bedroll. She even licked her fingers clean after she finished. The sight of that pink tongue flicking out made Des groan. They didn’t have time for this. Not now. “Come on,” he said, with a little more gruffness than was probably warranted. “We need to get out of the snow before nightfall.”

  “Aye-aye, Captain.” She tugged her gloves back on and then hefted the backpack. “So any idea which way is down?”

  “I found the path while you were asleep,” he told her. In all honesty it had been when he’d moved away to take a leak. “It’s just around that rock.”

  “Lead on, then,” she said. “You are such a Boy Scout, Sutton. Sometimes I think that should worry me.”

  Des chuckled. “You’ve never complained before about me being prepared.”

  She snorted, following in his footsteps through the calf-deep snow. “That’s what you think.”

  * * *

  Perhaps three hours passed before they reached the first village, just a little way down the mountain from the snowline. It was small, something like a tiny Swiss village or Colorado ski resort, with outlying buildings giving way to a bustling town square.

  Though there were a few six-armed folk from Fish’s world and other species walking about, Lana breathed a sigh of relief when she realized most of the people looked pretty much human, with two arms, two legs and hair on top of their heads. The skin tone ranged from orange to green, but compared to what they’d seen recently, these folks looked positively normal. Of course the language they were speaking was entirely foreign, so if they were talking about Lana and Des, the two earthlings couldn’t understand it.

  Outside one building they saw a sign with a steaming mug. “Restaurant?” Des asked.

  Lana peered in the window. A counter, a table, a menu board and all the other recognizable accoutrements filled a bit of warm space around a large stone hearth. “Oh, yeah,” she sighed. “Can we go in?” She was still tired enough not to care that he was being bossy.

  Des shrugged. “I think something hot would be good. No more than a half hour though.”

  “Deal.” Lana had already pushed open the door. The scents of food and drink were heavenly, though not recognizable, and the heat from the hearth drew her like a magnet. First, though, they moved up to the counter.

  A woman with yellow skin and blue hair said something in a rapid-fire tongue to Des, ignoring Lana completely. A man with similar coloring sat at a desk behind the counter, ignoring the exchange, though the woman occasionally cast a nervous look back over her shoulder. Male-dominant society. Right.

  Lana and Des looked at each other and shrugged. “Drink?” Lana mimed holding a mug and sipping. Des repeated the gesture.

  The woman nodded and pulled out a piece of paper from under the counter. On it were hand-drawn pictures. A mug of something steaming, one of something foamy, a bowl with chunks floating in it, and a plate of some kind of noodles.

  Lana and Des both pointed at the bowl and the mug of hot liquid. Des made sure they ordered two of each and then pulled a variety of their smaller silver coins out of his pocket and laid them out on the counter, tipping his head as if in question.

  The woman shook her head at the biggest coins, picking up the three mid-sized ones, and holding up one more finger. Des nodded and pulled out one more coin that matched. The woman accepted that coin and pushed the others back toward him. He took most, but slid a few of the smaller ones back across the counter to her. She beamed and shooed them off to the dining area.

  Lana beelined for the hearth. “Nice job there, Sutton. I’d almost say you were learning some actual social skills.”

  “What can I say?” He helped her off with the backpack and her cloak and then dropped the bedroll and his own outer garments as they took a seat by the fire. “I’ve been taking lessons from a rock-and-roll wolf.”

  “Just don’t get carried away.” She smiled up at the green-skinned young woman who brought them their meal. The girl gazed avidly at Des’s tanned skin and black hair. “I don’t want to have to beat down the entire female population of this planet. We don’t know what the locals are capable of.”

  “Aww, are you saying you would fight for me, chán-láng?” He took a sip of his hot drink and sighed in appreciation.

  “You’re my ticket home, mage.” No way was she going to admit she loved him. Hell, she hadn’t figured it out entirely for herself until she’d been lying paralyzed on a mountainside, praying to hear his voice. “And for some strange reason, your sister is fond of your hide. She may be tiny, but yeah, she scares me.”

  “Poor little wolfie. Eat your soup.” He rolled his eyes and she knew he didn’t believe her for a moment.

  She ate. It wasn’t as good as the previous night’s fare,
but it beat the hell out of dried meat and nuts. She ate it all, not quite bold enough to lick the bowl. “So what does that mean, anyway?”

  “What does what mean?” He drained his mug, which had tasted a little like bark, but had definitely been refreshing and warming. “‘Eat your soup,’ is pretty self-explanatory.”

  “Chán-láng.” She mimicked his accent, hoping she got it right. “You’ve been calling me that. Sometimes I think it’s an endearment, sometimes I think it’s a curse.”

  “Neither, just a nickname. It means…wolf.” He hesitated just long enough that she didn’t quite believe him.

  “And if I were to ask Elise when we get home, would she tell me the same thing?” She bit her lip as his skin flushed faintly.

  “Uh—she might wonder why you wanted to know.” He cocked one straight black eyebrow.

  “True. Good thing there are translator programs online.” She stood, spotting a door with a symbol on it that remotely resembled a toilet. Please let there be restrooms. Maybe even with actual toilet paper. “I will find out you know.”

  Des motioned toward the possible facilities. “You figure it out. I’m going to see if that’s a bathroom.” He strode off before she could say she’d been heading there first, leaving her to wait with their stuff until he got back.

  Jerk. Yeah, she loved him, but he was still a jerk sometimes.

  “I cleaned it up a bit,” he said when he returned. “You can go ahead.”

  Okay, so not so much of a jerk. “Fine. But being polite isn’t going to get you out of telling me what it means.”

  “Just go to the bathroom, Svetlana. I want to get moving while it’s still daylight.”

  “Call me that again, Desmond Theodore Sutton, and I’ll hurt you,” she warned. Elise had told Lana his middle name weeks ago. “Don’t think I can’t do it.” Stepping into the lavatory, she slammed the door in his face. He was damned lucky she loved him. Otherwise she’d make his life a living hell.

  * * *

  She was making his life a living hell, Des mused a few hours later as twilight began to fall. Lana hadn’t spoken a word to him since the last time he’d refused to tell her that while láng did indeed mean wolf, chán was actually a compliment. It suited her, but he didn’t want her to know how much he adored her. It would only make their eventual break up when they got home all that much harder.

  Instead of talking, she’d insisted on whistling. For someone who was a great bass player and had a sultry singing voice, the woman couldn’t whistle worth a damn. The grating screech was driving him crazy.

  Given the hours they’d lost after falling, he didn’t think they were too badly behind schedule. The road was relatively flat and mostly downhill so far. Both of them were healthy and had long legs, so they were making good time. Of course, starting late did mean they’d be camping tonight in one of the rough wooden shelters scattered periodically along the road. According to the map, the next town was a full day’s walk from the one where they’d eaten lunch.

  “The sky here is a bizarre color,” she finally said. “Kind of mint green with yellow swirls. I like it, don’t you?”

  “It’s interesting,” he agreed. “I’d like seeing our own sky even better.”

  “No shit, Sherlock.” She whistled again, this time something he thought was a Guns N’ Roses tune.

  “Let me know if you get tired,” he said. They’d passed the camping shelters, in clusters of two or three, about every half hour, and most of them were unoccupied. “Vin said there weren’t a lot of night predators, but it supposedly gets pretty cold once the sun sets.”

  “Yeah, it’s dropped a good ten degrees already,” she said. “And it’s getting harder to see the road. Next open shelter, we can camp.”

  “Deal.”

  She started whistling again.

  “Láng really does mean wolf,” he conceded. “If you don’t whistle again between here and the portal, I’ll tell you what chán means.”

  “You are so easy, Sutton,” she said with a chuckle. “So how do you feel about singing?”

  He loved her voice, but felt the need to punish her for hours of whistling. “If you sing, I sing, darling.”

  “And can you sing?” She turned to him quizzically. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you.”

  “Well, according to my grandmother,” he said, “—the woman who loved me more than anything in the world—when I sing, goats die, dogs howl and children scream.”

  Lana covered her ears and laughed. “All right. I get it. No singing either.”

  “See how easy I am to get along with?”

  “Yeah, easy like a rash.”

  “Lana, I’m touched. Are you saying I’ve gotten under your skin, or that I make you itch?” She sure as hell did both to him.

  “More like a royal irritation,” she grumbled. Then she looked up at him and sighed. “All right, I’m sorry. I’ll admit, I’m getting used to your grumpy-assed self. You’re not so bad to have around. Happy?”

  “I’m happy I get to share a bedroll with you tonight.” He reached out a gloved hand and tugged her close. “Come on. Let’s go find somewhere to sleep. Maybe even have a little fun first.”

  “Now you’re making sense. It shouldn’t be far. I’ve got a good sense for distance.”

  Sure enough, around the next bend they found a cluster of three shelters, all unoccupied. Lana made up the bedroll while Des built a fire in the metal-lined fire pit and then they each made a trip to the outhouse behind the tiny huts. They sat on their blankets and shared a meal from their backpack in comfortable silence.

  Finally, Des set wards across the door of their shelter while Lana banked the coals. Then Des joined her under the covers, stunned to find her totally naked. “You can’t sleep like this. You’ll freeze to death.”

  “I’m not ready to sleep yet,” she said with a sexy chuckle. “For the next few minutes, I think we can keep each other warm.”

  As usual, she was right. It was much later when they put on their underclothes and crawled back under the furry blanket to sleep.

  Chapter Nine

  Lana felt great the following morning, though by rights she should have been stiff from sleeping on the ground. Something about hot sex before sleep, though, relaxed her to the point where she woke refreshed, regardless of the over-firm bed. When she came back in from the latrine, Des looked up at her from where he’d been studying their map and smiled, letting her know he felt the same.

  “The sunrise is as pretty as the sunset,” she told him.

  “Not as nice as the view from here.” His gaze took in her tousled hair, and her cloak over her under-tunic and boots. It lingered on her nipples, puckered from the cold, poking hard against her thin shift. They tightened even more as he stared.

  “It’s cold out there. That is not an invitation.” But she grinned as she sat and picked up a mug of the tea he’d made over their fire and the bread made with dried fruit he’d sliced and set above the fire to warm.

  “If all goes well today, we should make it to about here.” He pointed to a small village. As they descended out of the mountains, the towns grew closer together. “So if the timing works, we can find an inn for the night.”

  Lana nodded. “I wish we spoke the language. They might even have some kind of, I don’t know, stagecoach route, or something. Or horses to rent. Even a train.”

  “From what we’ve seen, the road is the primary way of travel, or they wouldn’t have the shelters and we wouldn’t have passed so many pedestrians or farm wagons yesterday.” Des rolled up the map and tucked it into his bundle along with the bedroll. “So probably no trains.”

  “Damn, you’re right.” She rinsed out her metal cup with the remains of the hot water, then dried off both pan and cup and stowed them in the pack. “Well, maybe we can hitchhike if we see a wagon going in the right direction.”

  Des nodded, watching intently as she donned her outer tunic and leggings, then her coat and gloves. Her hat she left h
anging around her neck. Hiking made her warm. Though she couldn’t shift, her body temp was still higher than a human’s, and as they set out, the gentle sunshine felt warm and welcome, even though it was on the back of her head instead of her face.

  “So, Obi-Wan,” she said, bored after the first mile or so of no talking, or singing, or even whistling. “What’s the League’s beef with my people, anyway? What’d we ever do to them to warrant the permanent stick up the ass?”

  “The League doesn’t trust anybody but the League,” he said after a couple long minutes’ contemplation. “It’s an old organization, some say started in Spain during the Inquisition, some say earlier. Since the name is bastardized Welsh, I’m inclined to believe those who say we formed in Britain during the Roman occupation. Little-known fact that the Romans used wolves and other shifters as part of their army to conquer most of the known world. Witches and wizards too, from all over the empire, so with all different kinds of magic.

  “When they got to the fringes of the island, Wales and Scotland, the terrain sucked and the old ways had more sway, meaning there was a higher percentage of part-blood Fae and other people with magical ability. According to legend, all these mostly human mages—druids, wizards, witches, whatever you want to call them—banded together to keep out the Romans and their magic. In fact, the Legions got so sick of their harassment, they eventually built Hadrian’s wall, and they didn’t penetrate the Welsh mountains. Every so often they’d send a band of werewolves across, as sort of a sortie, and the early Wyndewin would beat them back.”

  “Okay, so they set themselves up as the defenders of humanity, or at least of their own local humanity against the invaders. I get that. But why not team up with the full Fae? I’d think they opposed Roman occupation as well.” She smiled at some curious children staring goggle-eyed at them from a wagon going the opposite direction. “Especially as you just said most Wyndewin were part-bloods to begin with.”

  “Because the Fae were busy trying to chase all humans, and most of the mixed-bloods, out of their territory. And given the amount of power they wield—well, let’s just say there were plenty of battles there as well before they retreated almost completely Underhill, only coming to this world with a human glamour.”