The Wild Rites Saga Omnibus 01 to 04

by Anna McIlwraith

  His faded jeans had been replaced with soft looking buckskin leather trousers, laced from hip to ankle. The feet that poked out the cuffs of them were furred, and clawed — like his hands.

  “Emma,” he said. She realized her jaw was hanging open and closed it. She looked away and — oh, boy. Her breath left her in a rush. The brilliant thing sitting by her side was Bruce, had to be Bruce, used to be — but his body shone and swam with running rainbows of light, like melted crystal, and his eyes…

  One blazed liquid orange, and the other burned fierce amethyst. He shook himself, and sparks cracked and popped in the candy hued haze surrounding his body.

  Then Emma looked down at herself — but everything was the same. “How come I didn’t get a makeover?”

  Telly laughed, musical like a deep bronze bell. “Some things, we’re not meant to see.”

  Unhelpful bastard , she thought at him. He laughed again and grinned. “Some things have changed. Look with your hands instead of your eyes.”

  She stared at him blankly for a second — and then her fingers flew to her neck. Smooth skin, save for two bumps about an inch and a half apart. Scars.

  “I’m healed.” She shook her head. “But it’s still inside me, isn’t it? The spider. The venom. Whatever it is.” Then she noticed it, like the cool absence of a well worn piece of jewelery, that she couldn’t feel Fern’s mind. She could still feel the difference in her, running through her blood, connected to some part of her that was more than merely physical, but when she reached for Fern’s mind, she got nothing but silence.

  “Nothing can undo what Fern’s done to you,” said Telly. “I’m sorry.” He stood up and held out a hand to her. Like a paw, only with long human fingers instead of short toes, complete with thick black pads on each fingertip. She took it and let him lift her up next to him, marveling at the softness of his — of his fur. At the rough, leathery texture of his palm. “Come with me,” he said.

  She followed him as he picked a path through the stones and strange rock formations that filled the cavern, and Bruce paced beside her, bleeding light onto the shadows like a liquid prism. His gait rolled with a rocking horse grace he didn’t have before, and when he brushed against Emma’s leg, she heard a hum like struck crystal.

  “Why is Bruce prettier than you? Don’t tell me he’s special too, part of all this.”

  Telly barked a short, surprised laugh. A muted echo drifted back. “Thank you, really.” Still chuckling, he said, “Dogs have their own magic. He is special, surely, but not the way you mean. Come this way.”

  He waved her on, the cavern sloping downward and curving away to the right. The cave itself branched off into more chambers, some narrow, some high and wide like the first. All of them looked spectacular. And the walls seemed to vibrate with a kind of subliminal hum; not at all electrical, more like the unseen rush of wind or water all around.

  “Are we underwater?” Emma asked as she brushed her fingers along the stone surface to her left. Her fingertips tingled when she took them away.

  Telly shrugged. She waited for him to say something, but he stayed silent. His pale animal eyes looked far away.

  Emma sped up so she could peer at him while they walked. “What is this place?”

  Telly paused, cocking his head as though listening to the growing pulse of energy thrumming through the walls, eyes glittering. Bruce loped ahead, trailing smears of light. “If life is the river,” said Telly, “Then this place is the undercurrent. This is a place made of time itself, where there is no time, where everything is forever and never and all at once. It is the river beneath the river.”

  She was having a hard time with this. “So it’s like, fairyland. Made of caves?”

  “Something like that, though these caves are only a part of it. The river is a realm all its own, but it doesn’t exist independent of the world you come from. Humans sense it, dream it, they create it and are created from it in the way of all other living things, but they don’t believe it is real. And it’s not how they would believe it to be, even if they did.”

  Emma was pretty sure he’d just executed the most epic dodge of a question ever, but he started walking again, faster now, pulling ahead. The hum of energy had become tangible, insistent, and somewhere pulsed the steady beat of drums. She followed Telly around another turn in the cavern passageway, her steps growing urgent as though her legs knew something the rest of her didn’t.

  “Why do you call it a river?” Emma asked, catching up with him.

  He grinned, flashing fang. “There’s a poem. Poetry is one of those things that humans do very, very well, by the way, an invention rivaled only by bagels and indoor plumbing.” He raised his voice then, and when he spoke next it raised the hairs on Emma’s neck. “Time is the substance from which I am made. Time is a river which carries me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire. Jorge Luis Borges,” Telly finished, breath coming faster. He took her hand and squeezed. “Did you know that’s why the gods loved humanity so? We live to dance, but we only have the music — and humanity is so good at the song .”

  Emma stumbled, remembering what Fern said: Nicknames are a way of defusing the power of a god.

  He caught her, swept her along beside him. “Let’s dance.”

  “Telly,” she said, but he started to run, and she didn’t know what else she would have said to him. She ran too, feet flying over sand and stone as though they belonged to someone else, Bruce a streak of color ahead of them, and then the sound of drums rose all around them, rumbling through the shadowy caves as they both flowed like water over stones and through passageways. Emma’s head felt full with the throbbing urgent beat, Telly like a vast magnetic force that tugged at her body and dragged her onward. She twisted her fingers through his as they rounded a bend, and his grip was the only thing that stopped her from plunging headlong into the bonfire that blazed in the center of the cavernous chamber.

  Fear and old grief seized Emma when she saw the flames. Here the frantic drums were deafening, but then they abruptly ceased. Thick silence descended. The fire popped and cracked, the flames painting the walls in leaping red and orange, almost drowning out the shine of the dog standing at the fire’s edge, tail aloft like a flag.

  As her vision adjusted, Emma caught sight of several hooded figures standing back from the flames, hidden in shadow. Some of them perched on the outcroppings of rocks and boulders that formed a gallery around the edges of the wide, dark space; their forms seemed to leap and shimmer in the firelight like shadows themselves, blending with the darkness and arching up towards a ceiling too high for Emma to see.

  Telly hissed. Emma looked at him. He seemed electrified, his pale eyes reflecting fire, hair tawny and wild. He radiated a heat that matched the bonfire, a steady glow like sunshine. He moved forward, her hand still captured in his, leading her, and she swallowed past the urge to plant her feet, following him.

  His gaze roved, glittering. He stopped mere feet from the flames, the heat like a blanket. Sweat broke out across Emma’s skin, but not just because of the heat. Don’t freak out, she told herself.

  “I thought the old gods were lost,” Telly murmured, as if to himself. “How can this be?”

  One cloaked figure stepped away from the rest and circled the fire. Telly’s hand tightened on Emma’s. Bruce danced over to stand in front of them, the graceful arc of his neck thick with hackles, but his ears were forward, tail straight and swishing. As the figure came closer, Emma caught the scent of flowers, thick and rich, tropical and heady. Then the hood of the cloak dropped back.

  The woman seemed carved of raw amber, and her shining obsidian hair shook free of the hood like a creature unfurling, tangled and wild — framing a lined and weathered face, a face that radiated youth and tireless vitality…yet was somehow ancient.

  Immortal. Emma didn’t know how she knew, she just did, better than she’d ever known anything, surer than
she knew her own name. The woman’s eyes shone like black jewels, but turquoise light streamed out from them, leaving weird trails in the air. Like glimpsing lightning, or fireworks. Like human eyes couldn’t hold her image for long.

  “Katli,” Telly said.

  The woman turned to him. “Telheshtevanne .” Her voice was a trebled echo, like wind in caves and rustling grass and something sweet and melodic. She reached out a hand and held it, palm facing outward. It wavered like a mirage.

  “Telly?” Emma’s voice wavered like the woman’s hand. Telly slid his hand up Emma’s arm and encircled her shoulders, and he turned to her, putting his mouth to her ear. She realized for the first time that in this place he was taller.

  “Don’t be afraid. This is the goddess Katli.” He lowered his voice a notch, his tone reverent. “You would know her by another name. The Aztecs called her Coatlicue, though she is far older than your ancient cousins. Typically depicted as wearing a skirt made of snakes and a necklace of human body parts,” he added conversationally.

  Emma’s eyes went wide, and she silenced her first response.

  Don’t be afraid? Sure. Right. She failed to see how meeting a goddess could not be nerve-racking.

  And never for a second did she not believe; later there would be time to pretend it hadn’t happened, but not here. She was stubborn, but she wasn’t a damn fool.

  Emma met the turquoise gaze of the goddess, fear forgotten. Coatlicue radiated serenity, and was definitely not wearing either a skirt made of snakes, or a necklace of human pieces.

  “I guess they got your outfit wrong,” Emma said in a small voice.

  Telly snorted. The goddess arched an eyebrow. “You haven’t seen beneath this robe,” she said in a wry voice.

  Emma couldn’t help the panicked look she shot at Telly. He flashed her a quick smile and turned to the goddess. “I did not expect you here,” he said. “I am glad you’ve come, but I will give the fire to this one, whether you approve such a thing or not.” Telly’s tone fell gently in the cavern, where the only sound was the muted roar and hiss of the fire, but his shoulders were set with quiet determination.

  Katli nodded. “We are not here to hinder you. But it has been a long time since I walked in this world that lies so close to hers. And we do not walk in hers as you do. When all we can do is sleep and dream down the ages, it becomes easy to forget about her human world. ” Katli paused, sighed out a breath that seemed to go on forever. Her features were unreadable. “A world we used to care about. A world that used to care about us.”

  Emma glanced at Telly; he frowned just a little, like beneath the patient veneer, he wondered what the goddess was getting to.

  Bruce glided forward and circled the goddess, brushing against her robes. She crooned something under her breath and caressed his head, and where she touched, he flared deep magenta.

  The goddess made a rustling movement as though settling herself, and Emma caught a wave of tropical scented heat, sugar and flowers and rain. “We do not wish to stop you from bestowing upon this human whatever you choose,” said Katli. “I ask though, if I too may give her something to take back into the world in which I cannot walk. Something small. Something like a stone dropped into deep water.”

  Telly stiffened, and it set Emma’s alarm bells ringing. Katli read the hesitation on their faces and shook her head. “I give my word, it is nothing that will bring harm to any. Just a small thing.”

  “Your word.” Telly didn’t make it a question. Emma guessed questioning the word of a goddess was a bad idea. He turned to Emma and put his mouth to her ear, and she had to clench her teeth to stifle a gasp. “When a goddess wants to give you a thing that will harm none, it’s not to be refused lightly. You can refuse, but…” He pulled away, gave her an enigmatic half shrug and said no more.

  But what? You can refuse, but it would be rude? Or, you can refuse, but she might eat your face off?

  Emma sighed. “Okay.”

  Telly’s shoulders relaxed. “Okay. But first, time to get what we came here for.” Telly gave Katli a long, unreadable look, and she returned it. Then he turned towards the fire.

  With his hand wrapped around Emma’s, he led them both to the edge, where the sandy stone of the cave floor turned to soft gray ashes and then black charcoal. The ashes were soft and superfine against Emma’s bare feet. And the flames were blistering. She stopped, squinting, holding a hand over her eyes to stop her face from damn near melting off.

  Telly let her hand slip out of his, but he kept going. He walked right up to where live coals burned atop black charcoal and he crouched, toes nearly touching the red embers. He looked into the flames for a long time, his pale eyes red with reflected light, his longer mane of hair blowing around his face in the hot wind coming off the blaze. Then he reached out a hand and plunged it right into the glowing coals.

  “Don’t!” Emma bit herself off mid-yell. His flesh seemed untouched. He swept his hand from left to right as though trailing it through water, searching for something, but just watching him do it made Emma’s knees feel loose and watery with anxiety.

  His hand closed. He brought it to his chest and stood. Little redhot bits of ash and tinder shook free of his furred hand and floated into the air like fairy dust, burning out.

  “Here.” Telly held his free hand out to Emma, palm up, the pads of his fingers and the heel of his hand dark and leathery like an animal’s. She stared at it, knowing this was crazy, knowing she should run. She couldn’t do this — not the fire.

  But she couldn’t turn away from him, couldn’t make herself say, no .

  Because part of her didn’t want to say no. Part of her wanted to see this through, all of it. Part of her knew that having come so far, there was no going back to that room they’d left without whatever they had come for. No going back empty handed, because it wasn’t just about her, it was about protecting everybody else as well. Ricky, Anton, even Fern. They’d all done what they had done with the best of intentions, no matter how badly they’d fucked it up. They’d done it because of her.

  She owed them.

  “Give it to me,” she said, putting her right hand in Telly’s, palm up. “Whatever it is, give it to me.”

  Telly smiled. His teeth were sharp and beautiful. He slapped his other hand down over hers and closed her fingers around the object as it started to burn a white-hot hole into her flesh.

  She tried not to scream, and failed.

  Telly let go. The pain, like a light, winked out. Just like that. As though someone had placed a scoop of ice cream into her palm, except no one had. Emma looked down at her clenched hand with a combination of sick relief and disbelief; real burns didn’t do that, real burns stuck around and threw a pain party.

  She unfurled her fingers. Dead in the center of her palm lay a scorch mark, starburst shaped, tattoo-black and raised like scar tissue. It radiated out from the center as though a tiny incendiary bomb had exploded there, the size of a plum, its scorch pattern barely reaching the base of her fingers and the heel of her wrist. There was nothing else to be found of the small ember which Telly had placed in her hand.

  “What have you… What does it do?” Emma gazed down at it, flexed her hand. The skin was stiff, but not sore.

  “Hard to explain,” he said. She looked at him, found his face wary, more animal than ever. A predator battling indecision. “Think of it as a safeguard,” he said finally. “It will help you protect yourself, make it harder for Seshua or anyone else to bend your will to theirs.”

  She arched a brow. A familiar feeling nagged at her; he wasn’t telling her everything. “So I don’t have super strength or anything like that now.”

  Telly grinned at her. “Nope. Sorry.” She sighed. Couldn’t somebody just give her a big gun? Wait, scratch that. Her stomach roiled involuntarily at the thought, and she swallowed it down.

  Katli stepped forward, seeming to melt out of the shadows thrown by the firelight. The dog swirled away from her and curled like rai
nbow smoke around Emma’s legs.

  The goddess touched Telly’s shoulder with a strong, weathered looking hand. “Seshua. I know of him.”

  Telly’s sandy eyebrows went up. “Know of him?”

  “Yes.” Katli nodded. “I’ve dreamed of him, true dreams. Caught echoes every now and then, of this recent jaguar king of yours.”

  “He’s not my king.” Telly’s words rustled with dry disdain. “And he’s not recent. He’s been king of the jaguars for over four hundred years.”

  Emma did a silent doubletake that neither Telly nor Katli seemed to notice. Katli smiled. “No, but he is her king, now.”

  “He’s not my king either,” Emma cut in, frowning. “He does not rule me, no matter what he’s trying to pull. Besides, he’s a tyrant. Good kings aren’t tyrants.”

  The goddess frowned back at Emma. “I did not mean to say you were his subject. What I said was, he is your king.” Katli cocked her head. “But Seshua, a tyrant… I don’t know. He certainly can be… How do you say?”

  “An asshole,” Telly finished for her.

  Katli laughed, the sound filling the cavern like the muted symphony of wings. “That’s not quite what I meant.” The goddess shifted her gaze, studying Telly for a moment, casting his face in the sea-green light of her eyes. “I don’t need to tell you nothing is ever what it seems. Perhaps you’ve walked too long in the world without shadows, old fox. I understand it gets harder, to stay and to go.”

  Emma watched Telly’s face and saw something strange stir in his features, fluid and sharp as grief. His eyes, so pale, glittered like ice. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Katli brushed past him and put herself in front of Emma.

  Up close. Too close. Bruce hummed like whale song. Emma’s mouth went dry, and her right palm itched. She wished Telly had said whatever it was he might have said, and wondered just how useful it could really be to have the favor of a prehistoric goddess.

  When was that ever going to come in handy?