The Rainmaker

by Petra Landon

Tasia took a deep breath to lay her forehead on his chest. He waited patiently. For a moment, she said nothing, just savoring the normal. The din in her head was gone. She could feel his heart under her ear while the open edges of the jacket he wore as a nod to the winter chill tangled with her hair. He smelt of vitality, of fresh clean air and man. Tenacious, fierce, solid and reassuring — the only familiar link in a precarious world whose very ground seemed to be shifting under her feet.

  A part of her, in a discombobulated way, wondered idly why this had broken the proverbial camel’s back. She’d survived being bitten by a Blutsauger, being kidnapped by a Guardian who suspected her secret, Bianchi’s attempt to kill her and even the terror of being imprisoned with a Shifter poisoned by silver. She had faced some of her worst fears, without breaking down. Had she been thinking clearly, Tasia might have guessed that the months of strain had finally taken its toll.

  “I’m afraid I’m losing my mind” she mumbled into his tee. The very act of saying the words aloud made it seem more real to Tasia. She stood unmoving, not ready to see his response to her words reflected on his face.

  Her words froze Raoul. Incongruously, life seemed to come full circle for him. This had been a night of many firsts for the Alpha too. He possessed the power to pull her back from the edge. In fact, he was one of the few people uniquely situated to do so. But he was also a man grappling with the past, with secrets he was not ready to share with her yet. At the same time, he’d never sensed such despair in her. Before, no matter how desperate the situation, her inner steel had always come to the fore. For the first time since he’d known her, she was very close to the end of her tether.

  “You know a little about my past.” His voice was carefully devoid of any inflexion, as if he was narrating a story that had happened to someone else.

  Tasia nodded into his tee, a subtle inflexion that he felt, rather than saw. He gazed across the water, letting the memories wash over him. Curiously, he felt none of the pain, the bitterness, the rancor or the anger, from before. The past was now truly the past. It held no power over him anymore.

  “What was done to me brought me to the edge of reason. I know what it feels like to question your sanity. Take my word for it. You’re as sane as everyone else.”

  Whatever she had expected him to say, this wasn’t it. Tasia let go off her deathly grip on him to move back, her eyes wide as she met his gaze. The gold eyes watched her, opaque and blank, as if he had not just confessed to once doubting his own sanity. Yet somehow, Tasia felt unaccountably better.

  Taking note of her receding panic, Raoul glanced around the dimly-lit walkway. The few stragglers on it paid them no heed, probably dismissing them as a couple in a passionate clinch.

  “We’re not alone.” He shot her a warning look.

  Brought to her senses by the timely reminder, Tasia blinked, to glance around her.

  “Let’s find someplace more private.” He tugged her towards the brightly lit streets.

  Tasia didn’t protest, following him blindly back to cross the intersection towards his parked car. Though his intervention had freed her from most of the darkness, the entire interlude felt like a bad nightmare to Tasia. A different nightmare from her nightly ones, yet somehow the same.

  The image of the Alpha’s Room rose in her mind’s eye. It had been a challenge to give Sienna and Hawk the slip tonight to meet him at the parking lot by nine. She’d pleaded tiredness to her friends, excusing herself for an early night. The Lair was getting more crowded. While happy at the prospect of more convivial company, Tasia also knew that she’d have to be more circumspect about the nightly walks by the bay. She wasn’t ready yet to face the speculation and gossip, if word got out about the sojourns.

  “I’m not taking you back to the Lair” he said briefly, ushering her into the car, before sliding into the driver’s seat.

  Too weary to ask questions, Tasia closed her eyes to slump back in the seat. Exhausted and dazed, she asked no questions, content to follow his lead. The car slid onto the thoroughfare, smoothly joining the flow of traffic.

  “When I want to clear my head, I walk by the Embarcadero” the Alpha said abruptly, interrupting her dark thoughts. “What do you do?” he asked.

  Tasia pondered the question. “I watch episodes of Pride and Prejudice.” They were the only set of DVDs she owned and she had them in her room at the Lair.

  He shot her a glance. “The movie?”

  She shook her head, opening her eyes to watch him. “The BBC TV series with Colin Firth as Darcy.”

  From his expression, it was clear that he had no clue what she talked about. He was silent for a moment, seemingly musing on her answer. With him thus preoccupied, Tasia shoved away her dire thoughts to let her eyes wander over him — the strong handsome profile in repose, the formidable brain employed in solving the puzzle that currently occupied him, the controlled grace with which he maneuvered the car, the sure hands on the gear shift as the sporty car zipped in and out of the crowded San Francisco streets.

  “I read that food can sometimes comfort after a traumatizing event” he remarked.

  A flashback of her at the Lair celebration with miniature chocolate cups on her plate had him turning to her. “Chocolate perhaps?”

  “Ice cream” Tasia said promptly.

  “What kind?”

  “Vanilla ice cream with chocolate chips.”

  “Good” he said, making a sharp right turn to zip onto a side street.

  The cryptic response had Tasia shoot him an inquiring glance.

  “The TV series is a challenge, but there are twenty-four hour stores that carry ice cream” he explained.

  “You’re going to get me ice cream?” she said slowly, trying to make sense of it.

  “You said it makes you feel better.”

  “Yes.” She nodded, lapsing into silence again, to watch the streets go by.

  Soon, they were pulling into a parking lot.

  “I’ll be back in five.” He handed her the car keys to stride away.

  Tasia glanced curiously at the sturdy structure they had parked by. A familiar sight greeted her. As the improbability and bizarreness of the Alpha sauntering into a Safeway to buy her ice cream sank in, it cleared Tasia’s mind of the fog and weariness.

  The brief experience of sensory overload had shocked Tasia raw, the dire possibilities her mind conjured up pushing her to the edge of hysteria. Tasia had learnt to live with constant threat, a life of always looking over her shoulder. It had driven her into the shadows her whole life. These months since meeting Hawk had changed that to some extent, throwing her into challenging situations she’d never thought to encounter before. And yet, despite the encounters with Blutsaugers, and the kidnapping at the Registry, this was the first time she had succumbed to her fears, breaking down at the terrifying prospect that faced her. The prospect of transforming into a Blutsauger was utterly horrifying to her. But perhaps, the other great shock she’d experienced this evening had played a part too in her breakdown, reminded her inner voice. The realization that her heart was more involved than she had admitted to herself, with its strings pulled in a direction that spelt danger for her had added to her terror. She realized that the Alpha’s timely intervention had pulled her back from the brink. In his own demanding and relentless way, he had persevered, walking her back from the edge with determination, reason and logic.

  She watched him approach the car now, with his loping stride, a brown paper bag in his hand. He had surprised her tonight, like so many times before. His unwillingness to turn his back on the attraction should not have confounded her, reminded the voice in her head. He was a Wyr — singularly focused and determined in the pursuit of his wants, forthright and blunt about his desires. He had told her so himself, in the early days when she had not been able to read him as well.

  What was she going to do, she wondered wearily, less frantic now that her previous overwroughtness and dread had been put into perspective by the prospect of losing h
er wits.

  His hoarse voice reverberated in her mind.

  “We don’t agree on much, but we both want you.”

  Followed by matter-of-fact tones confessing to living with memories of walking the no-mans-land between reason and insanity.

  “I know what it feels like to question your sanity. Take my word for it. You’re as sane as everyone else.”

  A strong-willed, driven and implacable man, showing her a glimpse of the world he was willing to lay at her feet, in his inimitable way with demand, reassurance, persuasion and plea all mixed in together.

  “Whatever you want, witchling. Just say the word. There’s only one caveat. Walking away is not an option. That’s non-negotiable.”

  If she’d been tempted before, tonight had made things that much harder.

  “What are you afraid of? I won’t let anything happen to you. Tell me, witchling.”

  Before the memories could drown her, the man in them slid into the driver’s seat beside her.

  Tasia took a deep breath. At the very least, she owed him an apology.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He studied her, back to his usual impassiveness. “For what?”

  “For freaking out on you before.” She hesitated. “The … the Blutsauger thing.”

  “You had reason.”

  He started the car. “Don’t overthink this. It’s connected to your nightmares. There’s a logical explanation, and we’ll find it.”

  Wanting desperately to believe him, Tasia tried to relax. They zipped through the streets, the soft hum of the powerful engine lulling her. The route was unfamiliar to her. The car came to a stop beside a tall glass and steel building. She’d been here before, to recuperate after another traumatic experience.

  He came around to hold the door open for her. “We can talk freely here” he said. “Use my guest room for the night. I’ll take you back to the Lair in the morning.”

  Extracting the brown bag from the boot of the car, he ushered her into a modern minimalistic lobby, done in stark gray tones.

  The last time she’d been here, Tasia had been too shell-shocked to register the details of the building that housed his condo, but she did remember the starkly minimal apartment and the fantastic view of the city afforded by the large bay windows in the living room.

  Ushered into the apartment, Tasia walked to the bay windows to take in the view of the skyline and the lights twinkling in the distance.

  “This is a fantastic view” she remarked.

  “It’s why I bought this place” he said.

  The one from the master bedroom was even more spectacular. He’d spent many a night staring out the window, while nightmarish scenes receded slowly back into the past where they belonged. But Raoul refrained from telling her of the other spectacular view. The witchling was skittish enough, as it was.

  She met his eyes. He waited, giving her the time to gather her thoughts.

  “Why do you think what happened has to do with the nightmares?” she asked.

  “What you said about the thrum of my heart and the smell of my blood is how a Wyr would describe it, if called on to do so. It can’t be a coincidence that both in your nightmares and this last incident, you experience what a Shifter does.”

  Tasia stared at him. “You mean … you can hear hearts beat like that all the time?”

  He nodded. “Everyone around me. I even hear every breath they take.”

  “How do you deal with it?” Just one short experience had almost brought her to her knees.

  “Years of experience.” He shrugged. “I can’t remember a time when my senses weren’t jacked-up.”

  “Even before you shifted for the first time?” Tasia asked curiously.

  She’d been told that Shifters, like most Chosen, only came into their full powers at adolescence, almost like a rite of passage into adulthood. That is also when a Shifter was taught to control and deal with his other form.

  “Yes, but it became more acute when I first started shifting” he answered readily. “You learn to deal with it, to dismiss it into the background.”

  He met Tasia’s thunderstruck eyes. “A good Were-Alpha handles this when he trains a young Shifter. There’s more to being a Wyr than learning to control your beast.”

  “Who was your … who taught you?” she asked.

  “My father.”

  “How old were you when you …?”

  He arched his eyebrow. “Started shifting?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fourteen.” Raoul remembered it well, for it was the year before his life went to pieces.

  “Any nightmares recently?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “Not since the cage.” Tasia shook her head. “Well, I had one, but …” She hesitated. It had been rather strange. Before the shed could begin to play its cruel tricks on her, she’d ended up in the cage kissing herself.

  “But?” he prompted.

  “It seemed to fizzle out, unlike before.”

  He looked thoughtful.

  “It is definitely unusual, but maybe your use of strong magic is triggering some unexpected side-effects” he suggested.

  Tasia looked unconvinced.

  “Think about it, witchling” he persisted. “How many Magicks do you know who could even attempt what you did in the woods? And, the night before, you sealed the nook from a horde of leeches.”

  “Yesss” she admitted, unable to counter his logic.

  “Could the explanation not be as simple as coming to terms with your powers?”

  This, she could not dismiss as easily. “It might” she agreed, somewhat reluctantly.

  “This is going to be difficult to deal with.” The gold eyes held her gaze. “But don’t let it rattle you. You can do it. I’ll help you.”

  At his words, some of the vise grip on her heart seemed to ease a little.

  She took a deep breath. “There’s something I’d like to tell you.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “About my blood and the Blutsaugers — it’s from my mother.”

  “I gathered that” he said dryly. “We’d be in a world of trouble if Wizards, even powerful ones like your father, started dropping leeches with their blood. The Chosen would have a civil war on our hands.”

  Tasia sighed. “From what my father told me, there was a war. It was a long time ago, and has been long forgotten, except by the Blutsaugers.”

  She waited but he said nothing, merely watching her with inscrutable eyes.

  “I thought you should know” she said awkwardly. “I don’t want you blindsided by the Clan.”

  You put your faith in my judgement.

  “Noted.” He watched her carefully. “Will you promise me something?”

  Tasia looked startled. “What?”

  “That you won’t be blindsided by the Clan again.”

  Tasia nodded slowly. “I promise.”

  “Good” he said.

  She hesitated. “Is there anything else you’d like to know?” she offered.

  His query came pat. “This ability — is it why the leeches imprisoned your mother?”

  She nodded. “One of the reasons. The Blutsaugers fear this power.”

  This, he understood. If Franciszka was to be believed, they had exterminated the Chosen with the ability. Except, the witchling was still standing.

  “Are there more like her — like you?” he asked.

  “She was the most powerful by far, for generations” Tasia said slowly. “The others had some powers, but nothing like her.” This was all hearsay, based on what she’d been told.

  This might explain why the leeches had imprisoned her mother, Raoul mused. And yet, it didn’t quite add up. The leeches were more likely to kill her mother to ensure that her ability could never be used against them. Instead, they had imprisoned her. And curiously, Monseigneur had wanted her as his bride. Had the powerful Vampire Master not feared his bride’s blood? And why had her family acquiesced to this? Given her up to the l
eeches to be slaughtered? Then, something she’d said struck him.

  “Her ability to kill leeches was only one of the reasons the leeches went after her?” he repeated sharply.

  This time, Tasia’s hesitation was palpable. He didn’t push, letting her tell him what she was comfortable with.

  “She had other powers the Blutsaugers coveted” Tasia explained, picking her words with care.

  His eyes narrowed. Had the leeches intended to use her mother’s powers for their own benefit, he wondered. And what magic would the leeches place over their desire to snuff out the woman with the ability to kill them with a single drop of her blood? But he said nothing, conscious of the pledge he’d made to her. It would go against the spirit of it to ask her more.

  But Tasia was not done yet. Conflicted, she found herself hampered by the inability to lie to him anymore.

  “I don’t know if I’ve inherited her other powers” she said starkly. “That which the Blutsaugers coveted.”

  He said nothing.

  “Until the night at the nest … when we met, I’d steered clear of the Blutsaugers, because I knew the power of my blood. This other magic, I’m not sure.”

  And, there’s no way to confirm it. Not without activating it, causing murder and mayhem.

  “Is it dangerous?” he asked, already knowing the answer. If there was anything he knew about the witchling, it was that she didn’t come with harmless abilities, only the deadly ones.

  “Very.”

  For a moment, he was silent. “What was she? What kind of Chosen?”

  Tasia didn’t hesitate. “Eru” she said succinctly.

  He looked thoughtful. She couldn’t tell whether her answer had surprised him.

  “Now, about before.” He changed the subject adroitly, his manner matter-of-fact. “Something has you spooked. I can’t tell what it is and you’re reluctant to confide in me.”

  Tasia said nothing, her eyes huge as she stared up at him. There was nothing to say. She could not give him an explanation.

  They studied each other across the width of the room, the weight of everything said and so much unsaid like a living ghost between them. The air seemed to quiver between them, a palpable sense of awareness that had always bound them together, since the first meeting between a terrified Chosen with too many deadly secrets to hide and a hardened man who had left his softness and youth behind in a rickety shed, his soul ravaged by a mad Magick.