“Not sure.” Isaac flanked my side. “The RV was untraceable unless…” His brow puckered. “That first lightning strike. A male voice cried out.”
“Harpies are female.” I picked up on his reasoning. “Rilla must have sent at least one siren or alkonost with their group.” I worried the stone in my pocket, and it whined a complaint. “My money is on an alkonost. Rilla knows what you are, what you’re capable of doing. She’s smart enough to have dispatched a spy with complementary skills.”
Any illusion used to shield us, including Enzo’s spells, would shatter beneath an alkonost’s gaze.
“That would explain her willingness to observe a mourning period. She must have already had her man in place. He could have slipped through any night with the refugees, using the alarm for cover the way the harpies did. Thanks to the rock feeding him intel, all he had to do was wait and watch.”
The odds were good she had sneaked in her spy on the heels of my fall. My convalescence would have given her a perfect excuse to observe rather than engage, but the unexpected arrival of the conclave’s envoy meant she had to get the harpies in place. Fast. That explained Rilla’s visit and her condolences. Both had been distractions meant to keep us from noticing more fae exiting the rift.
“Our timetable got elevated when the conclave brass arrived, that’s why Rilla made an appearance.” I shared the chaos of my thoughts with Isaac. “She wanted to make sure the harpies were in position and maybe check in with her spymaster.” That felt right. The conclave’s plans had knocked us off our games too. “We fled, and her spies followed.”
“It was done well.” A flicker of irritation skated over Isaac’s features. “I didn’t spot our tails. Not once.”
“None of us caught on.” Gritting my teeth, I spat out a curse at how well we had been played. “And we left Tiberius alone almost a hundred miles from here.”
The wolf twisted in my middle, snapping her teeth, primed to defend what she considered her territory.
“Recruiting Branwen and the Bloodless is our priority.” Isaac gripped my shoulders. “Rilla won’t hurt Tiberius. Even if her stooges manage to pry him out of the RV, they’ll do it wearing kid gloves.”
“You’re right.” The warmth of his touch soothed the wolf’s irritation. “I know you’re right.” The poor kid was everyone’s favorite leverage these days. “He’s too valuable to harm, and unless they’ve got a powerful magical practitioner on hand, he’s too well protected for them to extract.”
The glamour might crack under the gaze of Rilla’s alkonost spy, but there were still layers of Enzo’s complex spells protecting the prince that required more than inborn skill.
“You realize what this means.” The worry lines creasing Isaac’s face aged him. “We’ll have company waiting on us when we go back.”
“We’ll handle it. We always do.” There was no other choice. Reaching into my pocket, I withdrew the offended stone. “Do you have anything to share with the class?”
“Why should I?” Its moss twitched with agitation. “Not one good thing has happened since I met you. Not one. Rabbit teeth. Buried alive. Bird claws. Forget adventure. I want to go home.”
“Help us now, and I promise to have you escorted to your stream.” Though I had no idea how to make that happen, I was sure Thierry could help with the logistics. Or perhaps Tiberius, when he returned to his holdings. He did owe me a favor, after all. “Think of the tales you’ll have to tell your friends. Friends who haven’t left the stream—let alone Faerie.”
“All right, all right.” Its flat eyes glistened with possibilities. “I’ll help.” It cleared its throat. “But only because it’s the right thing to do.”
“Of course.” I throttled my sarcasm.
“The bird-thing questioned me, and seeing as how I was quite miffed with you at the time for leaving me in that dungeon, I told him all I overheard.”
“Including my chat with the king.” That much I had already surmised.
What I didn’t get was why the king would unravel his own scheme. He must have selected his token from the stream then passed it off to Leon. But he had chosen the location for its seclusion. Or so he’d claimed. The odds of him making a mistake of this magnitude… Zip. Had the king planted the rock? Had he wanted Branwen exposed? Leon was the ideal patsy, cute as a button and easy to underestimate, which it seemed I had yet again.
Bottom line? Rook had so many irons on the fire, I was amazed the man hadn’t gotten burned shuffling them on and off the coals.
“This proves Rilla knows Rook is working against her.” Isaac puzzled over those implications. “As soon as she gets her hands on Tiberius, I get the feeling the king is going to suffer a tragic accident.”
“We must get word to my brother.” Branwen wet her lips. “He must be warned.”
As much as I appreciated his help in Faerie, I wasn’t about to volunteer for a return trip. “Rilla won’t move against him until she secures Tiberius. She won’t risk losing power in the midst of a war. Your brother is safe for now. Wait until he comes through the rift. You can make your move then.”
Branwen appeared to consider that and then nodded her agreement. Another thud, louder than the first, left us vibrating from the impact. She rose to greet the tide of Bloodless who swelled around her, waiting for their orders. “Rally the Oceanids and the Nereids. We draw the harpies out to sea.”
The Oceanids and Nereids were both types of sea nymphs. We were too far from the shore for them to provide any type of real defense for this house. But if they could lure the aerial fae down to the water…
“Mythologically speaking, aren’t harpies the daughters of Thaumas and Electra? Electra, who was an Oceanid. Meaning they’re related?”
“The bitterest rivalries are often fueled by blood and favoritism,” Branwen confirmed. “The Oceanids are immune to the harpies’ songs. We are not.”
Unless I missed my mark, Oceanids and Nereids were also related to dryads. Meaning the likeliest reason why the harpies had found us so quickly was due to one of the trees blabbing our location. Arno had warned us they liked to chatter and that few people engaged them. How much would a short conversation be worth? Would the tree have given us up for a few kind words? And, like Arno, who understood their maps and traversed their portals with ease, had the sirens traded on their familial bonds and used the trees for travel too?
“You must protect the prince. He is all that stands between my brother and death.” Forgetting us, she barked orders at her waiting legion, and the Bloodless leapt to obey her every command. “Hurry. You must leave while you still can.”
“Will you stand with us at the rift?” I had to bring some scrap of hope back with me.
“We will.” Branwen unsheathed a dagger from her belt and sliced open her palm. She offered me the blade, and I did the same. She slapped our hands together. “My word and blood are binding. I will stand with you and yours to protect this place we now call home.”
Even without the vow, I had no doubt she would come. Her brother’s life was in danger. If he led the charge, he would be on the front line in Butler. That meant her best chance at saving him was to be there waiting.
“She’s right.” Isaac pulled me aside. “We can’t leave the RV unattended. We have no way of knowing how long Bea can keep the prince safe on her own.”
“How do we get back?” The tree was out. It had decided to keep me once, and the wolf might not be able to talk him out of it a second time.
“Our best bet is speed and avoiding confrontation.” He appeared to struggle with his choice. “We’re a couple days ahead of Abram’s recommended date but…”
A thrill shot through me. “You want me to shift.”
“I don’t see any other way. You’re at a disadvantage in this form. Branwen has an army tucked away here. We have no idea how many harpies are out there, but the Bloodless can take them.”
The truth was, we had no idea of their numbers. But more than a handful would have b
een impossible to hide from Isaac for any length of time. Of the spies Rilla had dispatched, I was betting most had followed us, leaving the alkonost and a few stragglers to guard Tiberius.
“Okay. Let’s do this.” I dug deep and roused the wolf. She came to me willingly, eagerly, and we conferred. “The wolf is ready to stretch her legs.” I offered him my hand. “Do you need more blood?”
“It wouldn’t hurt. This is going to be a long run.” He hesitated but couldn’t resist asking. “You’re sure you’re up for this?”
I pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I got this.”
His quick nod told me he wasn’t convinced, but he wasn’t going to fight me for it either. His fingernail wiggled lose, and his spur emerged. He pierced my hand, drawing blood near the spot where Branwen and I had cemented our vow.
“You go first. I want to make sure you don’t have any trouble.”
I didn’t bother reminding him if I got stuck, there was no unsticking me. It was rare for wargs to get so broken they died mid-shift, a meld of human and wolf parts. But it wasn’t so unheard of that it wasn’t talked about, that it wasn’t feared, and my injuries marked me as a prime candidate.
We found a quiet corner, and I stripped and sat on the floor in lotus position. The change swept over me gradually, the pain a wave of heat and discomfort that left tingling anticipation in its wake. Shifting healed a multitude of sins. I had a feeling if I came out on the other side of this, I would be in as close to mint condition as this body got.
A good hour after the first impact had rocked the house, I wobbled upright on four legs and panted through the exhaustion. Isaac knelt, drawing me close and stroking my fur. The wolf nuzzled him, snuggling and allowing him to see us weak because he was ours and would never hurt us.
That realization staggered me, and I tensed so hard in her mind her muscles tightened.
I trust him.
I trust Isaac.
It was no longer a hypothetical. It was so instinctual the wolf merely scoffed at the human half of her brain for taking so long to come to the same conclusion she had reached months ago.
“Dell?”
I licked his face in answer.
“I’m going to have to ask Cam about the pack bond. Since it works for her, maybe it will work for me too. For us.” He scratched behind my ears and then dissolved into a handsome silver-blond wolf with red points.
We trotted up to Branwen, who was engaged in conversation with one of her lieutenants. I pressed my cold nose against her hand, and she glanced down. “Norma, take these two out through the bathroom window, the new one.”
Norma drifted into view, her eye sockets voids of malevolence. “Follow me,” she said, her voice deep and rolling. Bloodlust had her in its grip and wasn’t letting go. “The bathroom connects to another house a half mile away.”
I cocked my head at her to make sure I understood.
“The magic of our hideaways work by stealing tiny bits of unused space from other places. Right now, one of the nearby rentals is empty, so we have twenty-four bathrooms instead of the usual twenty-three. You must enter from here, but you can exit from there.”
If I’d had fingers, I would have scratched my head. Fae magic was so confusing.
She led us into a spacious bathroom situated cattycorner to the labyrinthine maze that was Branwen’s beachside refuge. A picture window inset into the wall over the garden tub overlooked a view similar to the one we had admired after exiting the tree portal. Similar, but not exact.
Stepping across the threshold into this room had transported us a good distance away from the heart of the battle. From the window, I noted the cluster of neighbors pressing in on our flanks whereas Branwen’s house stood alone. From this angle, I couldn’t see hers anymore. It seemed her distant neighbors, the houses surrounding the one we found ourselves in, would be spared a front-row seat for today’s skirmish. Not that such small mercies would matter soon if war came.
Norma raised the window, and we jumped through to land on the wraparound deck outside. “Guess I’ll see you in Tennessee.”
We barked an affirmation, zoomed off around the corner, taking the stairs at a clip then leaping onto the powdery sand. Our journey, a two-hour jaunt in the RV, took us three times as long, and it was night before we reached our destination. Most of that time was spent sneaking across bridges or squinting up at signs while both halves of my brain competed for dominance. All the while my thoughts flung out worst-case scenarios, and what ifs pounded through my head with each footfall.
Tiberius was no innocent. Back in Butler, he had kidnapped townsfolk, stolen their goods, and he almost killed Isaac in his escape attempt. But he was a decent kid, considering his entitled upbringing. He had potential, and he deserved better than playing the role of spud in our game of Hot Potato, the political edition.
Even the pads of my paws ached by the time we trotted down the final stretch of blacktop heading toward the abandoned grocery store where we had left the RV parked. Isaac kept his head up, eyes trained on the skies. The slight breeze carried the burger-and-fries scent of nearby fast food joints, and my stomach rumbled with interest. Isaac bumped shoulders with me in commiseration.
Unable to resist the temptation, I nipped his ear. Dancing aside before his teeth closed over my ruff, I almost tripped when the pavement in front of me erupted in a stinging spray of asphalt chips that pelted my face.
Concern a whine in his throat, Isaac licked my muzzle clean and checked me for wounds. I admit it. I swooned a little. Hazards of sharing your soul with a wolf, I suppose, when a man licking your face and eyelids comes off as sexy.
The smoking char in front of me yanked my thoughts back to more pressing matters in time for Bea to hurtle herself at me, shrieking bloody murder. I rolled aside, my back protesting, and ran several yards after her, snapping my teeth and craving rotisserie. She whirled, belted out a warning, pinned her wings to her sides and dove. I flattened my belly to the ground, but she sailed over me and swooped into the trees behind the store.
Bea’s aim struck true, and an undignified squawk tore from a masculine throat several yards from our position. I stood, shaking grit out of my fur, and we zipped after her.
The parking lot, which had seen better days, smoked. Lightning strikes had pitted and cracked the pavement. Only a rectangular patch, about the length and width of an RV, remained unblemished. That was good news. It meant the prince was right where we’d left him.
Isaac brushed along my side, getting my attention, then pointed up in the trees with his nose. I chuffed and leaned against him to get a better look. Three charred birdmen sat on limbs, their legs dangling, their glamour in tatters. The least crispy appeared to be an alkonost. His plumage resembled Prince Tiberius most. The other two called to mind Tanet, so those must be sirens. All in all, the wolf decided they would make good snacks, and she salivated in anticipation. It had, after all, been a hard run from Dauphin Island.
The problem with being a warg in wolf form mated to a fae in wolf form was we had no pack bond to draw on in order to plan our attack, but as fate—and Bea—would have it, that point became moot when she knocked the fourth of Rilla’s spies spinning out of the sky to crunch on the pavement then sailed in for a landing on my hips. I flicked my tail, but the thunderbird stuck, and suddenly all eyes were on us.
The lounging guards jerked to attention, hopping off their limbs to land crouched and ready. Nothing for it. Isaac and I charged them, slamming our bodies into the two outliers. The siren beneath me shouted a musical cry, and this time the sound was a magical fist to the gut. Woozy, I wobbled sideways as the birdman kept singing, my head cracking on impact with the curb. Seconds later, the hot penny smell of blood hit my nose.
My attacker pushed upright as the middle one, the alkonost, landed a taloned kick to my side that burned. A weight landed on my shoulder, and a blast of pure energy rattled my teeth. My fur smoked, and my skin crackled when she was done, but Bea had cauterized the oozing head woun
d. While I coughed smoke, Isaac finished with his siren and leapt onto the alkonost. Bea, perched on my heaving side, snapped at the siren, and he lost his wingtips shoving away her beak. The magical spell of his song broke as his voice went hoarse with pain and shock.
Rolling to my paws, I launched myself at the frantic siren, savaging his throat. I hated to do it, but the wolf had made the call before my human brain got involved. We didn’t kill him, but we did make sure he couldn’t use his pipes on us again. It should take days for him to regenerate enough to be a threat.
Catching on, Isaac did the same to the alkonost while I trotted to the remaining siren, who still juddered from Bea’s last bolt striking him, and made sure he couldn’t sing us into submission either. All that remained was the siren facedown on the asphalt, and he hadn’t so much as twitched since his fall. Isaac hacked, spitting up blood and shredded skin, too fae in his mental process to enjoy the taste of raw meat.
As I watched, Bea hurled one last bolt into the comatose siren I had been studying. His limbs twitched, and fresh smoke rose from his curling feathers. Good enough for me.
Panting from the workout, Isaac barked once, and I got the hint. We needed his eyes and hands to get back in the RV, so I followed him a short distance away from the writhing bodies and watched over him while he shifted from wolf to man. He used his reset in the middle, which caused him to resemble Theo for several heartbeats. Strange how the two could be physically identical, and yet their expressions, the way they carried themselves, conveyed their polar personalities.
The temptation to return to the RV in wolf form guttered when my knees buckled. I had pushed too hard, too fast, and despite Bea’s intervention, I suspected her nursing had caused more harm than good. I had to shift now, before exhaustion overrode my control, and I ended up unconscious while my body duked it out over how to put me back together again.
“Shift,” Isaac ordered, his strong hands in my fur. “I’ll protect you.”
Wolf at the Door (Lorimar Pack) (Gemini Book 5) Page 26
