The Wild Rites Saga Omnibus 01 to 04

by Anna McIlwraith

  Red Sun stood up with Ashai draped over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, the jackal guard still a jackal and still unconscious. “Sure are.” He shook his head. “Can’t believe it, but we are. Huh. You okay, Leah?”

  The tall blond finished retching and straightened, wiping her mouth, and walked back to them on rubbery legs. “Just fine. God.” She crouched to check on Marco and Horne, still in unconscious jaguar form. “I thought you could only Travel with two passengers.”

  Red glanced at Emma, cheeks darkening. “Got an upgrade.” Before Emma had time to fully appreciate that Red Sun was blushing, the sound of hoofbeats became audible — a lot of hoofbeats — and Red pointed down the slight hill they were on. “Here’s our boy now.”

  That was an understatement. Kahotep was on horseback, so was his queen, and so were the two dozen guards flanking them in columns to both sides. The guards were only lightly armed, which meant they were bristling with weapons but naked from their waists up — the guys knew how to load a belt. And thanks to Kahotep pushing and shoving them into the twenty first century, they all carried guns, too.

  Leah moved to stand in front of Emma and Seshua, hand hovering over her own gun. Emma could see a blade in the other hand, tucked back along her forearm in concealment.

  “It’s all right, Leah,” Seshua said.

  “It doesn’t look all right.”

  Emma stepped forward slightly. “This is probably the smallest number of guards he could wrangle without causing a mutiny. Their queen is pregnant. They would’ve brought heavy artillery to meet the Easter Bunny.”

  “Ah.” Leah relaxed, slipping the knife back to wherever it came from. She stayed standing in front of Seshua and Emma though.

  Kahotep sprang from his horse and made the rest of the way to them on foot, while his queen, Nathifa, took his horse’s reins and remained seated. Half the column came to a halt, and the other half dismounted and moved with Kahotep, fanning out in an arrowhead formation.

  “Forgive me,” Kahotep’s voice rang out. “I could not get them to stay at the palace.”

  Emma couldn’t stand still any longer. She darted around Leah and managed to restrain herself to a walk as she came to meet the Jackal King, but when he broke out in a grin and opened his arms, she sprinted. He caught her and swung her around in a crushing hug before setting her back on the ground and holding her at arm’s length to look at her.

  Kahotep was medium height and built slender, like a dancer, with long muscles under smooth, toasted brown skin that held a burnished bronze tinge from countless hours in the desert sun. His features were like something copied from an ancient Egyptian frieze — long jaw, high cheekbones, a fine, almost feminine nose and sculpted lips. His one remaining eye was huge and almond-shaped, soft brown, and kind. He wore a black patch over the other, and the band that threaded across his forehead and wrapped around his skull lay flat against the shaved half of his head; the other side was hidden by a cascading fall of rich brown hair that fell to his waist.

  To say he was beautiful wasn’t enough. They were bonded through the pledge he’d made to save his soulmate, his kingdom and the lives of Emma’s friends; his spirit was a touchstone that renewed her, even as her own power healed his people and made them stronger. And it had been Kahotep’s power that helped her defend herself when Alan held her hostage in Russia. Seeing him, touching him, pushed back some of the darkness and exhaustion of the last few hours.

  His expression sobered. He took her hands. “Where is he?” Kahotep said softly.

  Oh God, he meant Sefu. “Ah…I don’t know how to put this. Okay yes I do. Sefu isn’t dead.” Kahotep’s eye widened and he opened his mouth to say something, but Emma held up a hand to stop him. “Sefu is human.”

  Kahotep’s mouth closed with a clack.

  “And his name isn’t Sefu,” she added. “It’s Shadi. There are a bunch of other titles and stuff that I can’t remember. It’s a long story?”

  Kahotep’s gaze moved past Emma, eyebrow going up.

  “What an illustrious introduction,” Shadi called from behind Emma. “Truly befitting an ancient prince of his people such as myself.”

  Emma sighed. There were officially too many royals in one place right now.

  “Come,” said Kahotep. “We will see to your wounded and to you, and then you can tell us.”

  The palace was really more of a well appointed villa, extravagant by Emma’s standards but modest by royal tastes. Nowhere near as imposing as the old palace. Two stories high, it boasted a large walled garden and brought to mind Greek architecture rather than Egyptian, and the murals and statuary looked very little like anything that might be found in an ancient Egyptian exhibit, although the themes were similar: gods bestowing blessings upon supplicants, winged or anthropomorphic figures presiding over ritual scenes. Part of Emma hoped she’d have the time to come back and take a closer look; another part of her knew how unlikely that was.

  A dozen jackal warriors had escorted Emma and Fern to the garden, which was about ten times the size of the apartment Emma had given up after the Jaguar Kingdom found her. Paved with beautiful glazed tile, it boasted a large natural pond, ringed with reeds and waterlilies; several date palms would shade most of the gardens during daylight hours, and a few smaller trees with low, cascading branches had stone benches beneath them, providing more private places to sit. But what caught Emma’s eye were the two pairs of statues that stood either side of the wide entrance that led from the outer gardens to the inner courtyard they’d just come through to get there.

  To the right of the wide stone doorway, stood Isis and Nephthys. To the left, Osiris and Anubis.

  “They’re the same statues, aren’t they,” Emma said. “Kahotep and Nathifa brought them here.”

  Fern nodded, staring up at Osiris with quiet awe. For a moment she just watched him. He looked better than he had in weeks, black eyes bright, his slender face filled out again and the deep bruised circles under his eyes gone. The change of clothes that the jackals arranged for him emphasized how broad and solid he’d become in just a matter of hours: maroon linen shirt with loose laces down the front and at the cuffs, a pair of dark gray combat fatigues, and a new pair of boots that added an inch to his already tall frame. Sure, he sort of looked like he’d stepped out of a historical romance novel, but he looked good.

  His black gaze slid sideways and fixed on her. Romance novel?

  She was unrepentant. Yeah. Y’know, old-timey and dashing and sliiightly goofy.

  He rolled his eyes. Blame the jackals, not me. You lucked out; Nathifa loves her jeans. He was right — the jackal queen’s black jeans were a little long, but otherwise fit Emma well and were better than the leggings she’d spent the night and morning in. Wow, it was jarring to remember they’d gone from morning to evening in the blink of an eye. Anyway, she’d borrowed a fitted black long sleeved t-shirt from Nathifa too, so she felt almost normal, but a bra would’ve been great. Oh well.

  Fern smiled. Then he cleared his throat. “This statue is different.”

  “What?” Emma looked closer. “They must be different statues then.”

  Fern pointed. “His hand was originally palm up, as though offering something.” Now it was raised at his side, in a gesture of greeting, or peace. “Maybe it isn’t the same statue.”

  They looked at each other, and Emma’s scalp tingled as all the hairs on her head stood up. “I say this with love and utmost respect,” she said to the statues, and then squeezed Fern’s hand. “We’re going to back away now.”

  Wordlessly, Fern agreed and followed her further into the garden, taking the winding mosaic path that the tiles carved between palms and big stone planter boxes full of fragrant green things. They had time to kill before the others arrived. Seshua had gone with Kahotep and Nathifa to tend to their injured guards; Marco and Ashai had still not regained consciousness, and their kings were worried.

  Emma was worried too, but she was always worried — it was when the p
eople who never worried were worried that you really had to worry.

  Sefu — Shadi — had gone with an escort of jackal warriors and the mares to the stables, to ensure the horses were comfortable. Did he still think of himself as a horse? As Sefu? And who was he?

  Sefu had died. He wasn’t gone, but he’d died. Emma’s grief was gone, too, but she still felt bereft. Which was stupid; she should be grateful. It was a miracle.

  But it was also kinda like she’d told Red Sun at the Roadhouse — the magic of the caller of the blood, her magic, had a way of making things convenient. Altering reality.

  Fern’s mind sighed against hers. You’re getting paranoid, he said gently. Sefu — Shadi — was what he was when we first came here to Egypt. Whatever he is, it’s not your fault.

  I know it’s not my fault. That’s not what I’m worried about. They stopped when they came to the pond, and Emma leaned back against him, letting him take her weight and savoring his warmth seeping into her. What are the odds, that I come to Egypt and the very horse they give me to ride to the jackal king’s sanctuary happens to be — well, whatever the hell he is.

  It’s a coincidence, Em.

  She tipped her head back to look up at him. I don’t think it was. I don’t think the magic of the caller of the blood deals in coincidences. I think it deals in subliminals, and that makes it dangerous, because I don’t know how to control that.

  Fern was silent, chewing that over.

  He sighed. I don’t know about Shadi — we won’t know until he tells us — but I think you’re right about the magic, that it works in ways that aren’t…obvious. Works in lots of obvious ways too — I mean, you can call our beasts, and you can call our non-animal sides back if they’re there to be called. You can create metaphysical bonds that repair the damage done to a shapechanging species’ collective lifeforce. In more mundane terms, the prophecies suggest you’ll unite us against a universal threat — that threat being the wasting disease. And when someone offers the Pledge, they personally gain something. But that can’t be all there is.

  Emma looked away from the intensity of his gaze. Because this is prophecy we’re talking about, she thought.

  Dammit, maybe she was being paranoid and jumping at shadows. The whole Caller of the Blood thing did have a way of making her question absolutely every last little detail, watching for some clue as to what the hell she was supposed to do and what the hell might be coming next. Then again, if only she’d been keeping a closer watch in the preceding days, maybe she could’ve prevented the attack on the ranch.

  But if she’d done that, Shadi would still be Sefu, wouldn’t he? And surely he preferred being a man to being a horse. Unless he’d been deliberately disguising himself as a horse, maybe to avoid these magi and assassins he’d mentioned — which was a distinct possibility. Who the hell knew.

  She frowned. Something Fern had just said was tugging at her. She tried to run his words back through her mind. She met his eyes; his frown matched hers.

  The prophecies suggest —

  There was the unmistakable sound of all the jackal guards coming to attention, a metallic symphony of weapons being unsheathed. Emma and Fern hurried back to the path, but before they got the chance to ask what was going on, a heavily accented voice rang out from behind the wall of armed jackals.

  “You will let me see her, or you will learn what it means to insult a prince of the magi.”

  Fern looked at Emma and shrugged. “He has Sefu’s personality.”

  The jackal guards wedged into even tighter formation. “Where is your escort,” one of them said darkly.

  Shadi affected a suspiciously innocent tone. “They were slow. I think perhaps they were tired. In any case they are sleeping now, and if you do not let me through, then perhaps you, too, would like to —”

  “Shadi!” Emma moved forward and caught a glimpse of him from between the guards. “Let him through, it’s okay.” The guards parted at once, and Emma winced as she realized she’d used a trickle of power in her voice. Oops.

  Or maybe not so bad after all. She breathed out through her nose and consciously let the power seep into her tone as Shadi came towards her. “What do you mean when you say the guards are sleeping.”

  He stopped. At least he was clothed, in much the same fashion as Fern, though his shirt was white and brought out the burnished oak tones in his skin. His hair was pulled back from his face, the length of it folded somehow and bound into a club with leather thong so it looked much shorter. “I meant what I said, my lady. They sleep. They will wake.” He shrugged. “I have done no harm. The Pharaoh bid them watch me as though I were a criminal, a thief, and since I have had my fill of captivity…” His expression turned dark, and the flames from the braziers made reflections dance in his pale eyes. He went to one knee. “I wish to serve you, Emmalina Chase, Caller of the Blood and commander of hearts, and I would give my life for you as I did for the dear ones in my care, but I will not sacrifice my freedom.”

  Whoa. Okay. Emma bit her lip. First things first: she was not going to ask why he called her commander of hearts. She didn’t need to know that in order to know he was serious. The look on Shadi’s face was enough, but her senses were tingling too; she couldn’t “feel” Shadi’s power, or his aura, but she felt something. Goddamn magic.

  She cleared her throat, held his gaze. “I would be glad of your service, Shadi, prince of the magi and master assassin.” He inclined his head in spite of her having gotten his titles wrong. Close enough was good enough. “But there is one problem you should consider before you agree.”

  He frowned up at her. “What is it?”

  She spread her hands. “I can’t guarantee your freedom. My enemies are just as likely to capture you as they are to kill you. I was held prisoner in Russia, and though I wish I didn’t have to say this, I have no way of protecting you from any of them. You should know that before you sign up.”

  Shadi came to his feet and closed the distance between them, and Emma saw Sefu’s gait in the way he moved, saw the proud arch of his neck in the way he held his head. She felt electrified, couldn’t believe he was real. Her knees wobbled, and she did what she always did with Sefu when she experienced that shiver of fear — she straightened her back, widened her stance, and planted her feet as though she was solid enough to stand against anything.

  He did what Sefu always did in response. He lowered his head to hers and exhaled against her hair. Emma smelled grass and leather and heat, and she closed her eyes, unable to process how he felt so much like Sefu but was also this.

  Emma felt Seshua’s presence before he even made it through the entrance to the gardens, so when she looked up as Shadi turned, she was prepared for the thunderous look on the jaguar king’s face. Kahotep and Nathifa flanked him, and they both looked more wary than he.

  “Why,” Kahotep asked no-one in particular, “Are fourteen of my guards asleep in the passageway near the stables?”

  Fern spoke before anyone else could. “They’ll be fine.” He gave a little wave in Shadi’s direction. “They spooked Shadi, he put ‘em to sleep, they’ll wake up. Soon? Right?”

  Shadi snorted. “Soon.”

  “Like I said.” Fern gave his best aw-shucks smile. “Soon.”

  Seshua simmered down, but Kahotep still seemed pretty pissed. Nathifa shot him a look and strode into the gardens.

  The jackal queen was barely into her first trimester, so she wasn’t showing; her outfit left no doubt about that. Nathifa wore traditional jackal warrior dress: midriff-exposing hand tooled leather vest and belted linen skirt constructed of two separate panels, one each for front and back, secured with leather thong and exposing the queen’s endless legs from hip to toe.

  The woman was pretty much Beyoncé with darker skin and natural hair, except that she could also kill a man ten different ways with her hands tied behind her back.

  Shadi bowed deep. “Your Radiance.”

  Nathifa inclined her head, smiled sweetly, and s
narled, “Wake them. ”

  The prince of the magi and master of assassins flared his nostrils, eyes going wide. Proving that he wasn’t as rash as he came across, he nodded once. “Of course.” The air snapped. “It is done.”

  Emma hadn’t seen or heard him do anything, but Nathifa’s shoulders relaxed. She ordered half the guards present to go and keep the rest away, and then turned to Emma, holding out a hand. “It’s good to have you here, in spite of circumstances.” Emma took her hand and she squeezed, the queen’s dark eyes tired but happy. “There is food waiting in the dining hall. We will have our war council. But first,” she glanced at Shadi, “I think we need to hear this one’s tale.”

  14

  The dining hall boasted a vaulted ceiling, beautiful murals and an endless slab of carved stone table, and was about eight times the size of the living room at the ranch. Not that the ranch had a living room left, Emma reminded herself, heart clenching.

  Fern’s mind stirred against hers, wordless and soothing, and she was able to smile at Nathifa in thanks as the queen gestured for her to sit. The chairs were hardwood, with the soft, buttery feel of workmanship that was very, very old.

  “It’s not our custom to sit down to elaborate meals,” Nathifa said. “And we thought you would appreciate haste more than you might a feast fit for guests. Besides, you are more than a guest, Emma, you’re family. Hopefully that excuses the humble fare.”

  “Nathifa, don’t be ridiculous,” Emma said as she lowered herself stiffly into a chair. “We’re the ones imposing on you. And we have more important things to worry about than the food, which I’m sure is amazing anyway.”

  Nathifa took the seat at the head of the table, and Kahotep sat to her right; Emma was at Nathifa’s left, with Fern on her other side, and Seshua next to him. Shadi took a seat across from Seshua, leaving one empty between himself and Kahotep. When Red entered, he took that spot, nodding at Kahotep, and Leah stalked in not long after, seating herself next to her king.