The Wild Rites Saga Omnibus 01 to 04

by Anna McIlwraith

  That “here and now” really filled Emma with confidence. Obviously it didn’t do much for Telly either, because he loosened his grip on her arm, but didn’t let go.

  “And you,” said Alexi, pinning her with his creamy yellow gaze. “You don’t know what he is, do you?” He flicked a glance at Telly, and Emma frowned. Alexi met her eyes again. “How amusing,” he said, looking anything but amused. “Now, little girl, stop projecting at me. Your thoughts are asinine. If I wanted your opinion, I’d take it from you.”

  “Excuse me?” Emma narrowed her eyes at him, but she was already beginning to understand.

  Just what she needed, somebody else who could read her mind. Only, Alexi was a whole lot more arrogant about it than Telly.

  “Telly can’t read your mind,” Alexi said softly. “I can, though. Pick thoughts out of it like grapes from a bowl of fruit.” His voice had gone low.

  Emma gave him the driest look she could muster. “Thanks for that mental picture. Really.”

  He cocked his head. One corner of his thin, cruel mouth pulled down. “You didn’t know you were projecting.”

  “No.” Oh, good Christ. I am fucked.

  Alexi’s eyes flared with a fierce light. “You truly are uninitiated,” he said with a little wonder. “Out of your depth, and sinking fast.” Wonder changed to scorn, scorching as boiling oil. “I would expect nothing more from your kind. Fragile and useless.”

  Emma couldn’t come up with a fitting retort; she was too busy silently freaking out. Sweet Jesus, this was bad. She desperately tried to clear her mind, before she thought of any of the things she didn’t want Alexi to know.

  Shit. There weren’t many things, but boy, they were doozies. They slid beneath the surface of her consciousness, and she pushed them down, filled her mind with something, anything else. If those thoughts broke the surface, and he could read them, she was screwed.

  She concentrated on the closeness of his face, because she didn’t know what else to do. It wasn’t hard to distract herself. Her eyes followed the hollow plane of his cheek, and she noticed for the first time his skin was iridescent. The surface of it held a kind of sheen when the light hit it. Scales, he had tiny scales, and up close they shone like fairy dust.

  Alexi frowned at her, cocking his head to the other side, eyes narrowing on her. She let herself be afraid. She took a deep breath and felt panic flutter in her throat like a bird, watched the corners of Alexi’s eyes crinkle with satisfaction. Waiting for her to think something at him, for her to slip up. She could see it in his face. Only a matter of time for him; he was used to people being afraid of him, and fear made a person make mistakes.

  But then, she thought, so did arrogance.

  She licked her lips, trying to calm her pulse. Alexi showed the barest hint of teeth, anticipating whatever kind of mistake he expected her to make. His teeth were very white against the crushed lilac blue of his lips. His nostrils flared, air sighing out of them, his breath against her face. It was cold, and it tasted like water, like ozone. Like the smell in the air just before rain, or like asphalt after a downpour.

  Emma stared at his mouth and wondered before she could help herself if it would taste the same against her tongue.

  Alexi jerked as if he’d been slapped. He took a step backward, eyes wide and furious, mouth turned down. A muscle in his neck jumped, tension singing through him like electricity. His eyes burned into Emma’s face; he stared at her as though she was something fuzzy that had gone and grown fangs and a barbed tail. Just like that, she felt him pull away from her mind, felt an enormous pressure she hadn’t even realized was there lift, peel away from her like a hand.

  As good as it was to have the pressure gone, she had pissed him off, and that couldn’t be good. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what for, but I’m sorry.” Nothing wrong with apologizing so long as you meant it. She looked carefully at the floor as she said it, and found herself staring at Alexi’s bare feet. They were long and lean and color spread across them like bruises, the same mottling effect she’d seen on Ricky’s skin when the change was close.

  She couldn’t help but look up into his face again.

  He fumed, nostrils flaring like a startled horse, chest rising and falling as though he’d been running. He was seriously pissed. Shit.

  “I suppose you think you’re funny,” he said, biting each word off and making it a harsh thing.

  Emma shook her head. “I don’t know what you —”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Alexi motioned to the guards, and several of them stepped forward. “His majesty awaits us,” he said with a dismissive motion of his hand. “Separate them.”

  The guards moved around Alexi, towards Emma.

  “No.” Anton’s voice was loud and deep, and punctuated with an involuntary squeeze that drove the breath from Emma’s lungs. She coughed.

  “Anton,” said Ricky, his tone half warning, half question.

  The nearest guard drew a short sword from a sheath belted around his hips, and planted his feet in a ready stance. He had deep red hair styled up in spikes, his skin a deep bronze. He bristled with weapons, and sweat shone on his face, but he looked calm and he held his body with the ease of experience. He met Anton’s eyes.

  “You’re outnumbered. There are guns at your back. We will not harm her, but the rest of you are expendable.”

  “Hey,” said Emma before Anton could reply. “These expendable people are my people. We cooperated on the condition none of us were hurt.”

  “And if you cooperate now, then you will all leave this room unharmed.” Emma thought about the way he’d worded that, and didn’t like it. It was too much like Alexi saying he wouldn’t harm her “here and now”. Too specific. They were playing word games. Why didn’t they just lie?

  Oh, right. Shapechangers. They could probably smell lies.

  “If everybody’s leaving this room unharmed, then why can’t we leave together?” Emma asked the redhaired guard.

  “You have an audience with the king.” The redhaired guard glanced up at Anton, then sideways at Ricky. “They don’t. Now come —”

  “Why can’t they come with me?”

  The guard frowned. If he didn’t like her questions, there was nothing he could do about it; he had said, after all, she wouldn’t be harmed. Certainly he couldn’t run her through with his sword for being a pain in the ass.

  She hoped.

  He opened his mouth, and then shut it, thinking. “You have to be… Prepared. For the occasion.”

  Prepared? Emma frowned, staring hard at the redhead. He shifted uncomfortably.

  Oh, this couldn’t be good.

  “What do you mean, prepared?” She had visions of being strung up like barbecue beef on a spit. If that was their idea of “no harm,” she didn’t want to know what they did to hurt you.

  Alexi pushed forward through the guards. “Enough of this,” he growled. “You are going, you have no choice in the matter, and your friends will not follow you. Understood?” He glowered at Emma, his power rolling off him in cold waves. But he wasn’t trying very hard. The power didn’t steal her breath or frighten her now, not like it had.

  “I understand,” she said, “That if you try to take us by force, you’ll have a fight on your hands, and you’ll risk damaging me. You’ll also risk these guards. It’ll be messy, and messy will look bad for you.” Hell, she was just guessing, but what did they have to lose if he called her bluff? “So we can negotiate, or you can risk the displeasure of your king, whichever you prefer.” She put her hands on Anton’s forearms, and Telly’s hand on her arm slid down to rest on her waist. He still wasn’t willing to let go of her, but maybe Anton would. Hard to feel tough with men wrapped around you like shawls.

  She tugged at Anton’s arms, and they loosened enough for her to shove them down to her middle and cross her arms over her chest. This way she could even pretend she was standing on her own, like a big girl. She mentally rolled her eyes.

  Alexi stared at
her like he hadn’t seen her before. There was anger in his face, but not violence, and he was thinking furiously. One point for team Emma.

  “The guards can handle themselves,” he said. “And the jaguar king is not my king, so I care very little for his displeasure either way. But you are right. Negotiation costs us nothing.”

  Emma narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him. Why did she get the feeling he’d thought of a way to twist this to his benefit? “Then they come with me.”

  “They cannot. You are to be groomed for the king’s audience. You will go with the maidens, and no male is permitted in their quarters.”

  “Oh.”

  So, a makeover, not a barbecue. Why didn’t that make her feel any better?

  She glanced at Telly, asking him with her eyes if Alexi was telling the truth. For once Telly’s knack for reading her face actually worked in her favor. He nodded.

  She sighed and turned to Alexi. “Then how can you guarantee their safety? I won’t cooperate without knowing they’re safe.”

  “Emma,” Ricky whispered, “You can’t worry about us, it’s not your job —”

  “No, Ricky,” said Telly. “She has stepped up to negotiate for us. Don’t undermine that.” He didn’t bother keeping his voice down, and the warning in it was plain for any to hear. For whatever reason, he saw some importance in what she was doing, and it wasn’t just because she was trying her best to preserve his own hide. She just wished she actually knew what she was doing.

  Alexi took a step towards her, his face carefully neutral, his power nothing but a whisper against her skin. He was being good. Emma decided it was scarier.

  He inclined his head just a touch. “I can give you my word that between now and when next you see them, in the presence of the king, they will remain unharmed so long as they cooperate. Beyond that is beyond my control.”

  She thought that over. “Your word?”

  He nodded. “My word.”

  Shit. Why on Earth should she trust him? She wasn’t capable of smelling a lie, damn it.

  “How do I know your word is worth anything?”

  He stiffened, and the temperature of the air dropped perceptibly. An almost invisible quiver of movement rippled through the surrounding guards.

  “My word is good,” Alexi said from between clenched teeth, “But my patience is poor.”

  “Telly.”

  “Emma?”

  “His word, is it good?”

  “Good enough.”

  Alexi shot Telly a look that could have peeled paint, but remained motionless, save for his power sliding off him invisibly like waves of heat off hot tarmac. Telly looked at Emma, his face neutral, open, waiting. He wasn’t trying to warn her away from taking Alexi’s word as good. She got no sense from him they were going into a trap. There was still no good reason to trust the serpent priest, but it was the only choice they had; Telly could probably take care of himself, but risking the lives of Anton and Ricky for the sake of a futile last stand was unacceptable.

  “Fine,” she said. “I’ll go with them. On the condition that between now and when I see them next, in the presence of the king, they will remain unharmed as long as they cooperate.”

  Alexi paused for a moment, considering his own words fed back to him. He gave a quick nod of his head. “Acceptable.” He retreated until he was no longer within the immediate circle of guards that surrounded them.

  The redhaired guard studied Emma and the men for a moment. Three more guards moved to flank him, fanning out behind him as he stepped forward and slid the sword into its sheath.

  “Emma,” said the redhead. “You must step away from the men. And the, uh, dog. My guards and I will escort you to the maidens’ quarters.” He spread out his hands palm up in front of him. “I approach with empty hands,” he said formally, his eyes locked on her face.

  In spite of all their negotiating, she was still apprehensive. The earnest look in the guard’s dark eyes was meant to make her feel better, but nothing was going to do that. May as well get it over with.

  What were they going to do with Bruce? She looked down at the dog, and sensing her gaze on him, he lifted his head and gave her the full force of his mismatched eyes.

  Telly whispered into her hair, “We’ll take care of him.”

  She glanced at him. Goddamn mindreaders. “You’d better.”

  Telly grinned, and Emma wondered just how nuts the guy was. Never mind. “Anton, let me go.” Anton’s arms tightened for a second. He swallowed a frustrated growl and unlocked his arms from around her waist, but his hands stopped on her hips. He bent his mouth to her ear.

  “I’m sorry.” She heard him swallow. “We will see you again.” Those last five words promised more; they were a vow that she would be rescued, and they promised violence for the people who were taking Emma away from his protection.

  Well , she thought, no offense Anton, but your protection hasn’t been working out so great.

  Alexi snorted loudly. Anton’s hands dropped from her hips. The warmth of him disappeared as he moved away.

  “Telly,” Emma said. His hand was on her waist, palm hot through the cloth of her t-shirt. He gave her a squeeze, just the pressure of his fingers against her side, and then he let her go.

  Her vision wavered for a second. Fear cloyed at her throat, as though the air pressure in the chamber had climbed impossibly high, as though Telly’s hand on her had been the only thing making the air breathable. But it passed. She swallowed, took a deep breath, a nice normal breath.

  “Bruce,” she said, dropping into a crouch to look the dog straight in the eye. She smoothed a hand over his long brow, let her breath out deep and slow. Had to be calm. “Go with Telly, Bruce.” She pressed her cheek to his, smelled shampoo and fur and heat. “I’ll see you again soon, I promise. Okay? Okay.”

  She stood, ignored the strange looks the guards gave her, turned to Ricky and wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back, burying his face in her hair.

  The redhaired guard spoke. “Emma, move it along. Please.”

  She ignored him. “Ricky, be careful,” she said quietly. Of all of them, the thought of leaving him terrified her the most.

  “I don’t want you to go.” Voice muffled against her hair.

  “I know.” She pushed against his chest until he dropped his arms. She looked him in the eyes and saw fear there, and regret, and a terrible despair as though he knew in his heart something would happen if she left him, something irreversible, something bad. He had none of Anton’s anger or resolve. And there was nothing she could do to take that look from his eyes.

  She turned to the redhead. “What’s your name?”

  He blinked, uncertainty flickering across his features. “Marco.”

  “Well then, Marco, let’s go to the maidens’ quarters.” She straightened and stepped away from the protection of the three men, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder. Marco held out a hand stiffly, inviting her to walk before him.

  She gave in, looked over her shoulder once more, at Bruce. “Stay, Bruce. Good dog.” He whined low in his throat, ears flicking back and forth. But he stayed.

  The crowd of guards and maidens separated, guards moving away, maidens solidifying out of the mass like oil and forming a glittering train in front of her. One of them took hold of her hand, the maiden’s face impassive, the pressure in her fingers slight but strong enough to direct Emma to follow the gathering maidens and head for the far exit. Was it the angry maiden who had preceded Alexi when he made his grand entrance? Emma couldn’t tell for sure, but maybe it was. They were hard to tell apart.

  They walked past Alexi. He tracked Emma with his canary yellow eyes, an unreadable expression on his face. She glanced away quickly. It would help no one for her to make him angry again just as she left his immediate presence, and there seemed to be something about her that just flat pissed him off. It’d be great if she only knew what it was. Like she’d told him, if she was going to piss somebody off, she want
ed it to be on purpose.

  She paused as they reached the wide, high rectangular doorway Alexi had come through. A cool, musty breeze blew through the corridor that lay beyond. It smelled of cold rocks, and earth. It was an underground smell that gave the impression of great cavernous depth, of many chambers.

  She couldn’t help it; she looked back again. Every eye was on her. Ricky and Anton stared at her with matching miserable faces, but Telly dropped a hand to the dog’s head and smiled a small, fierce smile just for her. Kal had moved up through the crowd of guards, weapons up but out in plain sight.

  The maiden gave Emma’s fingers a brief squeeze, an unobtrusive command to keep moving. She turned away from the chamber and stepped out into the cool corridor, feeling suddenly very cold, and very alone.

  14

  Anton and Ricky watched as the heavy sliding panel groaned into place, sealing the chamber off from the corridor once more. Sealing them away from Emma. But Telly’s eyes were on Alexi. The temperature in the chamber dropped several degrees, and the guards bristled, shifting uncomfortably.

  Alexi drew his power up, gathered like a muscle, bunched and waiting to jump. The air turned thick and hard to breathe. He moved forward and the atmosphere seemed to tighten around him like coils; his walk was stiff, the movement uncomfortable, head cocked to the side, nostrils flaring. He stopped a few paces from the captive men.

  Ricky’s eyes were firmly on the floor. Anton’s burned with hatred, even as his chest labored to leech something, anything breathable from the air.

  Alexi stared at the men, but when he spoke his words were for Kal and Marco. “See that they’re caged and restrained. They can keep company with the harpy maidens in the holding cells.”

  Alexi’s words had the effect he’d evidently been hoping for. Anton’s face flushed with anger and he took a step forward. “You’re holding the Harpy Queen’s wards hostage?”

  Alexi just stared at him, eyes mocking.

  “Will you kill them?” Anton demanded. “Would you go so far?” He shook with outrage, his green eyes glassy and wide.