The Wild Rites Saga Omnibus 01 to 04

by Anna McIlwraith

  Emma patted Felani’s hand and turned, seeing Fern and Red Sun waiting by the chopper. “I’ll be there in a second Felani, I promise. Go get comfortable.” Felani frowned at her, but headed back to the chopper.

  Alexi was already walking away. “Wait.” She jogged a few steps to catch him but stopped short of grabbing his elbow — she liked her hand perfectly well where it was: attached to her arm. He turned, braid slithering over his shoulder as he twisted to glare down at her.

  “What is it?” His tone dripped with impatience.

  “This.” Emma fished in her pocket, refusing to think about the stupid move she was about to make. But what could it hurt? It wasn’t like she was going to see him again any time soon — maybe, some part of her wondered, ever.

  She held her fist out. “Here. For you.”

  He narrowed his yellow eyes at her, chin hardening with suspicion as he set his jaw. Emma shook her fist. “Take it, or I’ll put it in your pocket myself, which will involve touching you.”

  He glared down at her, fury lighting his eyes, incredulous outrage finally transforming his features into something alive and responsive. It almost made Emma feel all warm and fuzzy inside; Alexi’s outrage was something she was used to. Of course, she was not used to the way the scars either side of his mouth turned to zigzags of livid purple as his cheeks tightened, terrible and entrancing. And she doubted she would have the opportunity to get used to that .

  Cool wind brushed at Emma as Alexi jammed his hand out, palm up, underneath Emma’s fist. The humid jungle heat was still a sticky, suffocating soup, but Alexi’s power curled through it like frigid smoke, licking up Emma’s forearms and fanning her neck — usually scary, but in the warm, wet air, it was almost a relief. Emma sighed and opened her fist.

  The iPod dropped into Alexi’s hand. The earbud cord began to unravel, unfurling like a live thing from being crushed in Emma’s hand. Alexi frowned at it, arm still extended as though the little device might bite.

  “It’s not that hard to use. You’ll figure it out.” Emma tossed sweaty hair from her eyes. “Goodbye, Alexi.”

  She ran before he could throw the thing back in her face. When she finally looked over her shoulder as she climbed into the chopper, Alexi was standing in the entrance to the palace, fist clenched at his side, yellow eyes watching. Just watching.

  The choppers spiraled up, and Alexi turned away from the sight. Down the cool stone stairs, into the jaguar palace, the painted walls with their crumbling pigments restless and whispering with old ghosts, ancient ghosts, the echoes of centuries soaked into the hulking edifice. Bare feet silent against the grit of the passageway floor; ahead, the march of boots as the jaguar guards carried their ever-sleeping burden into the main hall.

  Alexi came through the archway, feet slapping against smooth tile mosaic and echoing in the cavernous greeting chamber, and met the dark eyes of the jaguar king, almost black in the dim false dusk of the stone chamber, where only filtered sunlight from rooms away reached with weak fingers through the adjacent archway.

  Seshua raised a brow; the rest of his face stayed perfectly still. “I was not expecting you.” His deep blue gaze never wavered from Alexi, but every inch of his body broadcast that his attention was on the stretcher the jaguar guards held between them.

  Alexi hissed through his nostrils, suppressing an annoyed sound. “When the priesthood received word that I was well enough to travel, they ordered me to bring Massimo straight back to Amapa.”

  Seshua grunted a laugh. “Ah. That explains perfectly why you are here in Nicaragua, instead of Brazil.”

  Alexi’s fist tightened on the thing in his hand, the thing the caller of the blood had foisted on him. “You know how I detest direct orders.”

  “Aye,” Seshua nodded, gaze flicking to Alexi’s fist. “I do. Did you see her?”

  Alexi didn’t need to ask who. He shrugged the duffel bag higher on his shoulder and padded across the mosaic floor, avoiding Seshua’s eyes. “I plan to stay here a few days, make them wait. Unless you have an objection to that, my lord.”

  Seshua chuckled, moving to circle him. “Try not to sneer so much when you say that last part.”

  Alexi kept walking, heading for the exit, the hall that led to the vast network of guest rooms. “I’ll take that to mean I’m welcome,” he tossed over his shoulder. “As well I should be.” He stopped at the archway, turned. “You might be lord, but we are allied together, Seshua, and I have already paid more than my fair share of loyalty to you and yours.”

  Seshua crossed his arms over his bare chest, a guarded look on his face, anger simmering. “Yes, and you’ve the scars to prove it. How does she like them, Alexi? How does she like your new face?”

  Alexi went still, the image flashing in his mind, unbidden: her brown eyes wide and roving over his face, her expression never changing, gaze like some quick devouring thing, no hesitation. Was it an act, or did she just not care, was she so hardened by what little time she’d spent in the company of animals?

  But then, there was the hard little plastic thing in his fist, the way she’d demanded he take it. So like her, so foolhardy — so unafraid.

  Alexi smiled, felt the stiffness of muscle and tissue that would never be the same, stretching his face. His hand tightened again on the gadget she’d forced him to accept. “Oh, I think she likes my face just fine, jaguar king.” The smile died a nasty death on his lips and he turned to go, didn’t need to see the possessive glint in Seshua’s oceanic eyes to know he’d touched a raw nerve.

  “What happened to Massimo, Alexi? What happened in Egypt?”

  For the second time in less than five minutes, Alexi froze, and cool power started to leak off him, though he stayed cocooned by the warmth of sudden inexplicable alarm. Not fear, but close to it. How could Seshua know? The answer was, he couldn’t. He couldn’t know what happened in those few moments after Emma and Kahotep defeated the false jackal king and his vizier; after Alexi used Emma’s mind to rip the location of the stolen serpent priest from the vizier’s mind as Emma lay dying.

  Mouth dry, Alexi let out an endless breath through his nostrils, back of his throat chalky, the taste of copper on his tongue. “What does it matter? The serpent priest is here, and the priesthood won’t move against you, not without an excuse.”

  Alexi heard linen shifting. The swish of Seshua’s pants. Reluctantly he turned around again. Seshua stood over the shrouded form on the stretcher, gazing down at it as though he could see through the wrappings. The fabric whispered with a shallow rhythm, the serpent priest’s thin respiration, almost undetectable.

  Seshua didn’t look up when he spoke. “Have you given them another excuse, Alexi?”

  Silence stretched between them, tight and fashioned of things that could never be said — not within walls, with the ears of palace guards nearby, guards too young to be trusted, too weak to withstand torture by anyone determined enough to take what they might know.

  Finally Seshua looked up, eyes glinting flat reflective blue in a spear of light from the archway at Alexi’s back. “We had a visit from the Russian wolves today.” Alexi didn’t blink at the change of subject; it was Seshua’s version of diplomacy. “They requested our help, and Emmalina has bid me give it to them. We go to Russia in less than two days. Emmalina and her guards will follow a day after, giving us a chance to assess the situation, and cancel the entire expedition if need be.”

  Alexi cocked his head. “We?”

  Seshua mimicked the movement. “We are allies, Alexi. Besides, if you’re avoiding the rest of the priesthood as you no doubt must be, what could be a more convenient reason to delay your return to Brazil?”

  Anger swirled thickly through Alexi’s nerves, sending out a curl of cold power. “I won’t go. If it’s safe enough for you to agree to go, then you do not need me.” He paused, only just now turning it over in his mind. “You did not merely agree to this request, did you? She persuaded you.” Seshua said nothing, dark eyes hooded. Alexi
sneered. “You gave in to her, as you have since the first moment she stepped foot in your sanctuary. You are a fool. How close was it in Egypt? Must I remind you?” Alexi checked himself, voice rising, cold filling the room, a tinge of olive green beginning to shadow the tips of his fingers, the backs of his wrists. Calm down. “You would risk it all again, simply because she asks.”

  Something invisible rippled through Seshua’s body, and he was suddenly bigger, thicker, darker. His mane of black hair shifted and his voice was painfully low when he spoke, biting each word off as though it hurt. “She is Caller of the Blood, and you cannot mock me with the bond which ties my will to her whim.” His eyes flashed blue fire. “Incomplete as the bond may be, it is still an honor — and every time I concede to her, it takes me one step closer to making her mine. Something you may yet wish you’d known sooner.”

  Alexi narrowed his eyes, set his jaw, and ignored the hot challenge in Seshua’s words — in the electricity of his gaze, in the humid breeze of power gusting against Alexi’s skin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said flatly. “And I’m not going to Russia. The serpent priesthood acknowledges no power in the prophecy of the caller of the blood, and surely it is as caller of the blood that Emmalina goes to Russia. If that is your sole reason for offering aid to the Russian wolves, then all claims to my time and allegiance based on such are unsupported by the priesthood.”

  Seshua barked a delighted laugh, threat and challenge melting away from him. “You deliver the company line with such finesse, Alexi. But what about you, personally? You cannot tell me you doubt her. Call me all the names in the world, but I’ll never be fool enough to think you doubt her now.”

  Alexi didn’t bother with an answer, didn’t bother defending himself, just turned and walked away. He was tired, and jetlagged, and besides — the blue bastard was right.

  The solid green of the landscape far below was breaking up, becoming quilt-like as jungle turned to farms and villages the closer they got to the coast. It made Emma giddy to watch, but it was better than watching the thick, off white, amorphous clouds at the distant horizon. For some reason, watching the clouds nauseated her. Instead she watched the ground as the Brus Laguna air field came into view and the chopper began its descent.

  Fern nudged her with his mind. Something’s bothering you, has been since you spoke to Alexi.

  She looked away from the window and met his eyes in the gloom. His cheeks were flushed for some reason, she thought — and then realized that while she’d been gazing out the window, lost in her own thoughts, Fern had been talking enthusiastically with Tarissa, one of the maidens. She couldn’t recall what their chatter was about, only their raised voices and laughter.

  What was bothering her? Something about the way Alexi had spoken of the other serpent priest. Maybe Emma was just wigged out because she’d never seen the other priest before now. After all, she and those she cared about had gone to Egypt and risked their lives to rescue him, but her only contact with the kidnapped priest in question was a brief glimpse in her mind as she merged with Alexi in the final terrible battle, siphoning information from the corrupt king’s vizier in order to uncover where they had hidden the priest.

  And in that moment, something had happened. The tortured priest’s mind had touched hers — theirs — but then the world went black.

  For the life of her, she couldn’t remember that moment clearly. Not surprising, considering she’d been run through with a sword and ridden by an ancient Egyptian goddess whose presence had been the only thing keeping Emma upright, and then the goddess had fled Em’s dying body.

  No wonder she couldn’t recall the exact details of her brief mental merge with Alexi and the other priest. But damn, she had the feeling it was important.

  And hadn’t Seshua implied at dinner that Alexi was avoiding the rest of the serpent priesthood?

  Alexi had something to hide, and it was directly related to the comatose serpent priest, but she couldn’t put it together.

  The rest of the trip went smoothly, though when they had boarded the jet and were back in the air and Emma could finally get Fern to herself, he didn’t have much to offer on the subject of the serpent priests.

  As though he hadn’t eaten enough the night before to give an elephant indigestion, Fern returned to his seat with a packet of peanuts and slouched into the plush leather beside Emma. He sat in silence for a moment, thoughts lightly shielded. The serpent priesthood has strict vows, y’know. He picked at the fiddly opening of the bag of nuts. And every one of them is batshit crazy. The rest of the priesthood wouldn’t take kindly to anything they perceived as Alexi stepping out of bounds — maybe that’s why he’s avoiding them.

  Emma blinked at him. But how would Alexi have stepped out of bounds?

  Fern opened the bag of nuts with too much force, and the plastic tore, spilling nuts all over them both. He sighed and looked at Emma meaningfully.

  She frowned at him. He bit his lip, thoughts shielded once more. “Fern…” Her tone was warning enough.

  He shifted in his seat. The priesthood aren’t fans of the prophecy of the Caller of the Blood.

  Emma nodded. “I know.” She caught Ashai and Teremun watching her with identical expressions of curiosity, because she seemed to be talking to herself, though they both knew about her link to Fern. She resolved to stick with mind-speak. So?

  Fern was rounding up the rogue peanuts and dropping them into an empty water glass at his elbow. So, they might not take kindly to any, uh, more meaningful contact between you and Alexi.

  Emma scowled and picked a nut off Fern’s knee, popping it in her mouth. Alexi and I don’t have any “meaningful contact.” Fern choked on a nut, halfway between laughter and pain. Emma thumped him on the back even though she was pretty sure shapechangers couldn’t choke to death.

  Recovering, Fern wiped tears from his eyes. You’re still trying to win him over.

  I’m not trying to win him over. She clenched her teeth to keep herself from arguing out loud. It hadn’t been about winning him over, making him like her — it was more like trying to make peace. Or to thank him for fighting to protect her, even if he was just carrying out orders from his priesthood and his king, thank him somehow when words were useless.

  But what had really made her brave was the knowledge she might not get another chance. Doesn’t matter what I was trying to prove, I’ll probably never see him again, Emma sent, slumping back in her seat. He was there in Egypt to get his serpent priest back and ensure I did whatever was necessary to make that happen — he was not there by choice. I can’t see him putting his hand up for any more Caller of the Blood security detail after that. He’s made it abundantly clear how he feels about me.

  Fern made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat. He has?

  Emma met Fern’s black eyes and gave him a get real look. He has. He despises me. And it bugged the shit out of her.

  Fern grunted. He’s ancient, Em, with a slim grip on his sanity and about seven hundred years worth of axe to grind against the world — the jaguar kingdom in particular. And you’re part of the jaguar kingdom now. It’s not personal, Fern added. People like Alexi don’t have friends.

  Emma was reminded of one of the first conversations she’d ever had with Seshua, right after he’d tried to hypnotize her, have sex with her, and forge a bond between them by awakening the full range of her powers via an ancient ritual. Thankfully, he hadn’t gotten any further than hypnotizing her.

  Funny, she sent. Seshua said almost the exact same thing about Telly — people like Telly don’t have friends. The more Emma learned about Telly, however, the more she understood why. Telly was the walking god. At first, Emma had thought that was just a title, but she knew better now; couldn’t help but know, because he’d marked her with his power, which happened to give him access to her mind — and her to his. Also, she’d been doing some digging, and she was pretty sure she’d found an actual, historical clue to Telly’s existence. We
ll, maybe not historical — more like mythological.

  Telly was unfathomably old and terrifyingly powerful, but limited in some fundamental way by walking in the human world. So yeah, Emma could imagine that would make socializing a little difficult.

  Alexi had said it too, in Egypt, hadn’t he? I am not your friend.

  Of course, when Emma’s mental shields were firmly in place, she could be honest with herself and admit that it wasn’t exactly the desire for friendship that made her want to reach out to Alexi. Made her search for some kind of sign that he did not, in fact, totally despise her.

  It was pathetic, and she knew she should let it go. She also knew she wasn’t going to. Y’know, if she ever saw him again.

  Thoughts wandering, she looked down into the palm of her right hand, where the mark Telly had given her for her own protection sat, flat and black like a tattoo, a starburst — a little scorch mark. A scorch mark from a piece of otherworldly fire, burned into her hand, in another time and another place in a world that rested alongside this one. Telly had given it to her to protect her from Seshua, to strengthen the weak, dormant powers Seshua would have awakened for his own ends — but Emma knew Telly had also given it to her because he hated the thought of Seshua having her. He hated Seshua, in a similar way to how he hated Alexi.

  But he was older than the both of them — older than humanity, and older than the shapechanging races, if their oral traditions could be believed. Emma believed it.

  Impossibly old, definitely older than Emma knew what to do with. How is a god born, and when? How do you measure it?

  Fern didn’t answer her; he didn’t know.

  There had to be a connection — Telly hating the jaguars, him and Alexi hating each other, Alexi being made to serve the jaguars as punishment. And Alexi hated her, too, had seemed to hate her on sight.

  Because of his history with Telly? Did he see her as somehow belonging to Telly? She wouldn’t be surprised; it was just how the old ones seemed to think.