The Wild Rites Saga Omnibus 01 to 04

by Anna McIlwraith

  Red Sun shoved his plate out of the way with a harsh scraping sound. He leaned his elbow on the table and fixed Emma with a look, eyes almost black. “Mayhap they tracked you somehow, but they would have come up against Telly’s magic and drawn a blank.”

  Yevgeny made an interested sound. “Your sanctuary is shielded? How?”

  Red turned to the wolf king. “God magic.”

  Yevgeny’s nostrils flared. He didn’t look surprised, which was more than Emma could say for herself; she knew Telly’s magic shielded the ranch, she had not known Red knew more about it than she did. He even seemed to understand it. The only shield magic Emma had any experience with was the bad kind, the kind that had prevented her from touching Fern’s mind in Egypt.

  Fern sent her an involuntary pulse of dull horror, like a shiver down her spine. He’d been listening in to her thoughts.

  “Does no one care to explain just who this enemy of yours is,” said Yevgeny, “Who can overpower a full pack of royal wawkalaki?”

  Before anyone could answer, the French doors opened, and Alexi strode in, cool dusk wind gusting around him and carrying the scent of jasmine into the rooms. Emma twisted in her seat, heart in her mouth.

  He met her eyes and blinked, arched one thick, perfect brow. “Did someone die?”

  When nobody said anything, he curled his lip and stalked out, the hard tail of his leather wrapped braid slapping against his back.

  Emma turned back to the table and met Yevgeny’s eyes, opened her mouth, tried to summon the will to tell him about Alan — and then the door to the hall swung open, and Leah stepped through, eyebrows raised. She looked around at the guards seated at the table.

  “What’s Alexi’s problem?” She shook her head and came to the table with a nod to Yevgeny. “Emma, my lady,” she said with a tired half smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Emma looked up at her, dread curling in the pit of her stomach.

  “What is it, Leah.” She hadn’t meant to sound so sharp.

  Leah sighed. “The jaguar king is ready. Whenever you are. He said to take your time.”

  Emma couldn’t help imagining the unspoken part of that — take all the time you need, because he’ll have you eventually.

  If she decided she didn’t want to, then what? What happened to Katenka?

  Emma suddenly, fervently wished she hadn’t eaten. “Thanks Leah.” She jerked her chair away from the table. “I’m done here. I’m just gonna go upstairs and —” And what? “Something.” Fern made a grab for her hand and she ducked out of his way, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. Dimly she heard Katenka say something in a low voice, but she was already halfway to the door.

  She made it out of the room and to the stairs before Katenka’s voice jerked her to a halt. “Wait!”

  Emma turned. Nadya stood there with Katenka in her arms, the white blanket in disarray, the princess’s face solemn and determined and glowing pale in the shadows of the hall. “Take me upstairs,” Katenka said.

  Emma clenched her jaw, swallowed a sob. She was cracking up, losing it; she’d be fine if she could just find a nice corner by herself to curl up and freak out in for a while. “I can’t —”

  “Just take her, ” Nadya said. She walked straight up to Emma and held her arms out. The princess was almost as tall as Nadya, but the woman handled her as though she weighed nothing. Katenka stared as though accustomed to being passed around.

  Emma shook her head. “I’ll drop her.”

  Nadya snorted. “Be quiet and do it.”

  Emma felt like laughing hysterically. “You wolves are real pushy, you know that?” The laugh died in her chest when she met Katenka’s wide jade eyes. With a sigh, she held out shaking hands and steadied herself with a deep breath. When Nadya placed the princess in her arms and let go, she had to stifle a noise of surprise; she really did weigh nothing, like a pile of bones with soft fragrant hair and skin the color of cream. Katenka put her arms around Emma’s neck, hands clasped loosely.

  Nadya brushed a few white-blond strands from Katenka’s eyes before heading back to the dining room without a word. The princess tipped her head back to look at Emma. “Do all your keepers let you run away all the time, without trying to stop you?”

  “Keepers,” Emma said, starting up the stairs. “Cute.” She leaned forward as she climbed, paranoid of overbalancing and tumbling back down the stairs. Katenka might not weigh much at all, but holding her made stairs a challenge.

  “Well don’t you ever feel that way?” Katenka’s voice was soft. “Like you’re some pet they have to take care of. Like a caged animal.”

  Emma almost lost her footing. “Yeah,” she said, “Actually, I do.” She reached the first landing. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

  Katenka tapped Emma’s shoulder. “Keep going up.”

  Emma looked around. “What?”

  “You know, the stairs?” The princess brought her voice to a hoarse whisper. “The third floor. I want to show you something.”

  Emma gave her a suspicious look, confident the girl could see in the dim light. “Is this like how you wanted to come down and meet me when I first arrived, and then you knocked over that urn and got yourself in trouble?”

  Katenka grinned. “Exactly like that.”

  How could she say no? Emma headed for the next set of stairs, hoping Yevgeny would forgive her for getting suckered in by the princess’s wiles.

  Emma climbed to the third floor hallway, where Katenka directed her to the end of the hall and into a dusty room filled with odd shapes under white sheets. Bookshelves lined the walls, but it was too dark to read the spines of the books they held; there was an old, leathery smell that reminded Emma of museums.

  “What is this place?”

  Katenka wriggled. “Observatory. Papa doesn’t like to come here, it was mother’s hobby. Keep going, the window, come on.”

  The princess was almost squirming free of Emma’s arms, making it hard to maneuver through the various covered objects. Their shapes were recognizable now — telescopes. The one wall not lined with bookshelves held framed maps and charts, all antique. Emma managed to reach a set of French doors without breaking anything, and when Katenka requested to be set on her feet, Emma only hesitated a moment — if the princess fell, she could catch her. And besides, her excitement was starting to rub off. If Emma had to face the jaguar king on his terms tonight, she may as well have some fun first.

  Not that Seshua wouldn’t make tonight fun. It just depended on your definition of the word.

  Katenka swung the doors open with a little grunt of effort, and Emma couldn’t help the sound that escaped her throat when she got a load of the view. Beyond the doors lay an an observatory deck; beyond the deck, the grounds of the estate sweeping out into the soft indigo dusk, hills in the distance midnight blue. At their backs, the sun would be setting, and already a few stars wavered in the twilit sky.

  At the edge of the extended balcony there was a nest of blankets and a duffel bag, along with a couple of dogeared paperbacks, a tin of pencils, and a large number of discarded candy wrappers.

  Emma came to stand next to Katenka, who settled in the blankets with a tired but pleased sigh. “So, you come here a lot?”

  The princess rummaged in the duffel bag, nodding. “Papa doesn’t know. It took me forever to bring all this stuff up here, I can’t climb the stairs as fast as you do. Couldn’t carry it all at once.”

  Emma sat, crossing her legs. “Isn’t it dangerous for you to be out here without him knowing?”

  Katenka turned, eyes dark in the twilight. She stared at Emma a while, then finally tucked her knees under her chin and hugged her shins, and spoke. “Danger is sister to freedom. I am twelve years old, and a wolf, even if I cannot call the change. Without freedom I would die.” She reached with one hand into the bag, came out with a fistful of something that crinkled. “My father knows it, he just refuses to think about it. He has spent too long worrying about my health, my sick body, my weak beast, he has forgotten wh
at it is that keeps us alive in the first place — our spirit. Truffle?”

  Speechless, Emma accepted the small cellophane-wrapped chocolate.

  Danger is sister to freedom.

  When was the last time she felt truly free? Maybe riding Sefu through the fields at the ranch… But no. Always a sense of boundaries that couldn’t be crossed, the safety of the forest that bordered Telly’s land, the safety of Telly’s magic.

  Was that why he left?

  Her old life hadn’t been as dangerous as this one, but the dangers had all been hers, and so had the freedom. “What happens to your spirit when there’s no freedom,” she asked Katenka. “Only danger.”

  Katenka swallowed thickly, licking chocolate from her fingers. “Then you’re in deep shit.”

  “Katenka!” The princess grinned at her, and she couldn’t pretend to be offended. Laughing, she shook her head and peeled the wrapper from the truffle in her hand; if she didn’t eat it, it would melt, and she didn’t have the heart to give it back. She popped the thing into her mouth and sighed as the taste of rich chocolate mingled with the scent of jasmine drifting up from the gardens below, carried on the cooling dusk air.

  She stopped chewing for a moment. “Damn, Katenka, you’ll get too cold.” She scooted closer and started tugging the plush blanket higher around the girl’s shoulders. Katenka let her, with the patient air of someone accustomed to being fussed over — and with a little sadness in her eyes.

  Emma sat back on her heels. “I’m sorry. For treating you like everybody else does.”

  The princess shook her head, hugging the blanket. “You don’t have to apologize to me.” She stared up at Emma, and her gaze changed. Emma watched it fill with stark, raw awareness. “You don’t have to sacrifice yourself for me, that’s never what my father intended to ask. Nor I. You aren’t trapped like me. You can choose, if you want to.”

  Emma forced herself not to look away, and forced the truth out; Katenka didn’t deserve platitudes and lies.

  She didn’t even know what she was going to say until she spoke. “I made a decision, Katenka. You can’t accept your destiny and then quit when the going gets rough. I chose this life because otherwise it would have chosen me, and I try to meet it on my own terms, and that’s what I’ll do with Seshua — because if it’s not on my terms, it’s on his.” She sighed. “It was always going to happen. But I wouldn’t throw your life away even if it meant being free of Seshua forever.”

  Her own words made her pause. Was she that noble, or was she beginning to like having Seshua around?

  Maybe like was a strong word. Appreciate came closer.

  Katenka made a thoughtful sound, and suddenly the ancient look in her eyes was gone. She dug another truffle out of the bag at her side and tore the wrapper off. “My father would say you are full of rubbish. That destiny cannot be chosen. That either you give it or you take it, you lead or you follow, there is no in between. That is why he hurts so much, because he cannot change what destiny has done to me, and why he has so much trouble with you — because you don’t lead or follow.”

  Emma sat back and crossed her legs, wondering if Yevgeny really would say she was full of rubbish. Probably he’d put it in more diplomatic terms — but he’d still be wrong. “I’ve been learning there’s more to it than that,” she said, smiling. “That sometimes you’ve got to be strong enough to choose to follow. I think destiny’s like that.”

  Katenka sighed. It turned into a low rumble that reminded Emma the girl was wolf on the inside. “I think,” she said around a mouthful of chocolate, “That destiny is exactly like that.” The princess turned her face to the sky, eyes dark and glittering, reflecting starlight.

  It was dark now, stars winking into existence in the navy blue sky — even the faint glow of lights from the lower levels of the house couldn’t detract from the perfect dark of nightfall away from the haze of city light.

  Emma’s spine prickled with sudden cold, but it wasn’t the breeze. She was suddenly aware of how isolated she was. Sure, the house below was full of people, but the sky that stretched above and went on forever was not her sky, the horizon was a strange one, the country beyond the walls of this estate not merely foreign but completely unknown. She had no concept of what lay even three, four miles away — perhaps more of the same, but who knew? She could almost imagine she was alone in the world, with just Katenka breathing softly at her side, like a small white elf — just as thin and weightless as the night air or the scent of jasmine, or cherries, or grass…

  Or…

  Gasoline?

  The mark on her hand flared to life.

  Katenka stiffened beside her. “Emma?”

  She grabbed Katenka’s arm and came to her feet. Somewhere below, something made a sound like an avalanche: whump-crump. Orange light flared against the darkness beyond the deck.

  They ran.

  19

  FERN!

  Emma threw her consciousness at his, and his mind whirled against hers in response, not just the confusion of whatever was happening downstairs but also the sensation of movement. He was coming for her. Emma reached out for the door handle — and then something dropped from the sky.

  It grabbed her arm and pulled, man-shaped — Emma couldn’t see its face — she screamed, let go of Katenka and brought her right fist around with no aim. It connected with what felt like fabric and looked like a head — ski mask — and then her entire hand went numb with impact. She heard a snap, grunt, the attacker stumbled and Emma thanked God for the mark, but then Katenka screamed.

  Roared was a better word. Emma whirled and fear almost made her lose consciousness; four more masked attackers, black clad and climbing with too much grace over the edge of the deck, another had Katenka in his arms and the princess thrashed and adrenalin pulled the world into focus. Part of her wondered where Fern was — the other drew the Beretta from its shoulder holster and clicked the safety off even as she swung to her right and fired into the blur of movement coming at her.

  Sound crashed around her and then disappeared and so did the man’s head, point blank, no need for fancy shooting.

  She spun toward more movement and squeezed off shot after shot, aiming for head height, less accuracy that way but Katenka was short and if she aimed any lower she’d risk hitting the girl. One more crumpled — not the one with Katenka — before another leapt on Emma and swung her around with her arms behind her back. A hand, strong and unforgiving, mashed the bones of Emma’s wrist together and she dropped the gun with a strangled, frustrated shout.

  She could hear again, faint and tinny. Something behind her exploded and lit the deck in sickly orange, blowing heat — she knew now why Fern hadn’t reached her. She smelled burning flesh and knew it wasn’t her own or anyone else’s there, knew it wasn’t even real but coming to her from the bond with Fern. He was still alive: she felt the impact as the blast threw him clear of wherever he was, felt the vague tumble of bodies on stairs, almost heard the roars of fury — the whole third floor of the house was ablaze. Some of them were coming anyway. Some, unlike Fern, were more flame resistant, and Fern’s frantic mind told her without words that Yevgeny and Seshua were coming for her. It was their flesh he smelled.

  Just stay where you are Em, please try to stay! He’d absorbed what was happening to her and the princess from her mind, and panic welled out of his mind into hers like blood from a cut vein, hot and startling and so very dangerous. You can’t let them take you, Red’s wounded, he can’t —

  Fern didn’t finish the thought. A sob clawed out of her throat. She slumped, and when the man behind her shifted his grip, she dug her heels into the deck and shot upwards and slammed the top of her head into what she assumed was his chin, pain and stars behind her eyes again but her hands were free — and then they weren’t and she’d barely made it a step toward Katenka.

  “Now!” A voice, male. Emma’s captor swept her legs out from beneath her and caught her, one hand still shackling her wrists behind
her back, hogtying her just as effectively as if it were ropes holding her limbs instead of arms and hands. What the hell were these people? Fern! They’re going to —

  Her captor ran for the end of the deck and she had a moment to hope to hell they weren’t human before they were airborne and she couldn’t think at all. Every sense she possessed roared that she was about to die, she couldn’t survive a fall this high without hands or movement or something .

  Fern merged with her and she felt phantom limbs thrown out around her, all eight of them, still not enough to stop the fear. Katenka screamed, human and shrill this time. They turned in midair; Emma’s stomach tried to right itself and couldn’t, she tasted bile and something even more bitter and wondered for a second if she was going to pass out. Fern tightened her body with his will alone and then shattering impact smacked her teeth together before the ground rolled over her — or the man did, whatever — and she got a face full of grass and clod.

  The world tilted. The man sprang to his feet and sprinted, cradling her, as if he hadn’t fallen three floors.

  Not human. What did it matter? Only Fern’s merge stopped her from vomiting. She tipped her head back, felt her neck crack, looked around through the whirling dark for Katenka. Somewhere in her field of vision there was hot brightness, the blazing house lighting the night like a torch, and she knew there had to be people coming after her. She couldn’t see them, but they must be there.

  We’re coming, Fern boomed in her mind, voice like a terrible bell, as though her body were made of steel and with both of them inside, he was louder, more real. She clung to the feel of him, but merged as they were, she knew they weren’t coming fast enough.

  “Emma!” The girl was a pale blur off to the left. Emma flung her upper body against the man carrying her, every step of his jolting her, trying to climb him with her shoulders to get a better look at Katenka — with Fern’s strength she made it, reared up out of his arms — stomach muscles screaming as she strained against his hold, felt the skin of her wrists tear.