The Jackal Prince (Caller of the Blood - Book 2)

by McIlwraith, Anna

  Having Ricky nearby made it easier to lie, easier to make things sound like nothing was wrong. They’d snapped a picture together and sent it off; Aunt Chase replied with an adorable pic of her and Tanya, on the couch and covered in dogs. Emma had gone into the bathroom, turned the shower on so no-one could hear her, and ugly-cried until she could barely breathe.

  Then, like now, Fern’s mind was a warm, comforting weight in hers, but she didn’t know what to do with his sympathy, his wordless compassion. Didn’t know what to do with the bond that had tied his life-force to hers. Didn’t know what to do with this life she didn’t recognize.

  She met his eyes, and his were haunted. By her lost dreams, by the lies she’d told her Aunt. And by more literal dreams — dreams about the king.

  Emma shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about it. Not about her Aunt, or her life, or the king, and not about the other dreams, the worse ones — definitely not those.

  But there was always something else to worry about.

  “Anybody know when Telly’s supposed to be back?” Emma tried to keep her tone light and failed. He’d been gone four days now. Surely it hadn’t taken him more than a day to pack up the rest of her things from the old apartment in L.A.

  Of course, that’s not all he’d gone back to the old place to do. Which was why she was worried.

  Ricky shot her a suspicious look. “You know Telly well enough by now. Nobody’s heard from him, and nobody will.” He shrugged. “He’ll just turn up.”

  “I guess,” said Emma. It was stupid to worry. Telly could take care of himself. But this was the third time he’d taken off and given them no idea of when he’d be back, and it bothered her.

  It shouldn’t. He wasn’t her babysitter, and as far as she knew, the only other person he had any real connection to was Anton.

  When pressed, Anton had told her Telly had known Beata Salcedo, Ricky and Anton’s mom, that he’d promised to watch out for the brothers after she was gone. But more importantly, Telly promised Beata he’d help Anton continue her life’s work — which happened to be to find and protect the Caller of the Blood, a human woman prophesied to command the magic of all shapechanging races. Which, as the human woman in question, Emma knew was a teensy bit more complicated than it sounded. For one thing, Telly seemed just as determined to protect her from ever coming into her powers as he was to protect her from danger. Then again, since “coming into her powers” kind of involved ritual sex and binding her life-force to whoever participated, Emma was okay with being protected from that.

  It still didn’t explain Telly’s agenda, though.

  She felt Fern’s mind prodding at her, and was infinitely grateful a second later for the sound of people coming down the hall.

  The kitchen was suddenly full, and it was a big kitchen. First in were three of the five guards on loan from the jaguar king — Emma recognized Guillermo, but couldn’t remember the other guards’ names.

  Andres and Raul, Fern supplied for her, knowing she hated not remembering their names. All three of them were huge and olive-skinned; since most of the jaguars came from Central America, it was a novelty to see one without a tan. All had darkly native features and hair as black as a raven’s wing, but Raul’s was the only short crop of the bunch. Guillermo’s was loose and wet; obviously he’d gotten to the shower first when their shift ended for the night. The two guards not present had just clocked onto day duty, so she wouldn’t be seeing them this morning.

  She smiled tightly at the imposing men, but let Ricky do the talking — the guards were never very friendly with her. Something about having to play babysitter to the jaguar king’s human pet just didn’t sit well with them.

  Funny, that.

  “How did night shift go?” Ricky’s playful tone was gone. It wasn’t just that he wanted the guards to take him seriously — hard for the guy who was always goofing the most — but that he was asking the question.

  Guillermo grunted. “Nothing.” He picked up a mug and filled it with coffee from the percolator, drank it black and unsweetened. Gross. “Nothing at all.”

  Something in Ricky’s shoulders eased. Fern’s mind flooded Emma’s with relief. It didn’t matter that if anything big had happened during the night, they all would have been roused. Because even if it was something small, anything at all, it meant somebody knew where they were. And that was bad.

  Andres and Raul came into the kitchen proper, looking tired and badly in need of the shower that Guillermo got to have. On their heels was Felani, the chieftain of the ocelot maidens, and she didn’t look badly in need of anything at all.

  She was the only one of the beautiful, petite creatures who Emma could consistently recognize, though she was slowly learning their names. Felani was typical of their kind, all dark bronze skin and huge molten eyes, and a coppery fall of hair that swung in a gleaming sheet as she walked. Like all of the maidens, she was stunning, and probably the only woman on earth whom Emma envied to the point of pain.

  Even if she was only four and a half feet tall.

  At least she and the other maidens had recently adopted real clothing —Felani’s scarlet, strategically-wrapped sari was better by far than leather thong bikinis and dresses made of bone beads. Still, as she brushed past Raul, the guard’s gaze lingered. For thousands of years the ocelot maidens had been property of the jaguar king alone, but that was before the curse had broken.

  Felani gave Emma a radiant smile. “Emma, you look terrible!” Oblivious to the notice of the guards, she came to stand by Emma’s chair, putting them at eye-level. Bruce licked the maiden’s ankle, and she absently rubbed his head with her foot, mobile toes scratching him behind the ear. Emma had discovered most shapechangers had an eerie level of motor control.

  “Thanks Felani. I have been up since half past four, y’know.”

  Felani reached up and brushed a tangle of hair away from Emma’s face, tutting as she did so. “Such beautiful dark hair, all bound up, it’s a shame.” Emma winced. Maybe one day Felani would stop fussing over her. One day. “And how did training go?”

  Fern leaned forward. “I kicked her ass.”

  Felani frowned. “She does not train with you.”

  Emma mentally swatted Fern, who just laughed. “No,” she said, “Anton kicked my ass. It’s more humiliating.”

  Felani sniffed dismissively. “You should not be expected to learn these things.”

  Ricky dropped another plateful of pancakes on the table. “Hey Felani, your age is showing.”

  The maiden frowned at him. “Why can you not serve meat for breakfast?” She wandered around to the other side of the table and plucked a piece of fruit from the bowl. “My kind cannot eat this, eugh, whatever it is.”

  The maidens had problems with any food that wasn’t fresh meat or fruit. Emma had no idea why.

  Ricky muttered some comment in reply, but Felani had moved on. “I am serious,” she said to Emma. “It is a waste of time training you to fight. If your power was not dormant you would have no need for -”

  “Felani,” Fern said in warning.

  “What? It’s true.”

  “Be that as it may,” Emma said loudly. “I’d rather train than sit around doing nothing. Makes me feel slightly more normal.” Up until the jaguar kingdom found her, she’d been taking regular muay Thai classes at the local Y — she’d almost been ready to move into the intermediate class. Anton’s style was more mixed, but there were familiar elements. She had no illusions about her skill level when it came to the martial art — she was a familiar beginner, so she knew how to throw a punch and land an open-hand strike and kick a heavy bag a lot and that was pretty much it. But practice was grounding, and she’d be damned before she let anyone take it away from her.

  “It’s not up for debate,” Emma added, trying not to look Felani in the eye. “Somebody pass the coffee?”

  Guillermo leaned over the back of Emma’s chair, startling her. “Thanks,” Emma glanced up at him, caught his gaze for
a second and looked away. Staring a jaguar in the eye was too much like, well, staring a jaguar in the eye.

  Guillermo’s eyes were that indiscernible, marbled amber-green of so many cats. Some of the jags had normal eye color in human form — blues and browns and grays — but not many.

  Emma glanced up again, because Guillermo hadn’t moved. And his eyes were still on hers. His face gave her nothing, but his body was a hot, solid invasion of her personal space.

  “Thank you, Guillermo.” She forced herself to hold his stare; it was a game that had nothing to do with him being a cat, and everything to do with him being an asshole.

  He leaned in just a fraction, and Emma felt panic flutter its wings in her chest. He wouldn’t do anything, he wouldn’t dare. Right? He was just being a jerk.

  A growl trickled out of Felani. The maiden’s eyes were turning black. Ricky was frozen, amber eyes very round and trained on Guillermo. The dog put one paw on Emma’s foot and echoed Felani’s growl.

  “G?” Raul’s voice only wound the tension tighter.

  Emma tensed, forcing her right hand not to tighten on her fork. He’d see it.“Guillermo,” she said. “Stop fucking around.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “What’s the matter?” His voice was a deeply accented bass growl. “A little fucking around too much for you?”

  Emma felt a familiar prickle of energy hum through her; it started from the center of her right palm and traveled upwards, and she swallowed against it. Please no. She did not want to cause a scene over this — the embarrassment just might kill her.

  Emma? Fern stood up, chair scraping against the floor. Guillermo ignored him.

  “G,” Andres stepped forward.

  “Guillermo,” murmured Ricky. “Come on, man.”

  Guillermo leaned in further, parting his lips, nostrils flaring. Taking her scent. His wet hair swung free, and Emma smelled soap for a moment — and then all she could smell was dry grass and engine oil.

  Telly.

  Guillermo’s eyes widened; he’d sensed him, too late.

  “Touch her,” said a voice from the open doorway, “and you die.”

  Guillermo straightened, turning, and Emma’s breath caught as Telly came into view. He looked the same as always: blond hair wind-blown and falling into his eyes, framing an elfin, fox-like face with gray-blue eyes like desert skies. Both ears were pierced and full of glinting silver rings, and the tips of those ears were pointed.

  He crossed his arms over his bare, tawny chest and leaned against the door jamb. His eyes found Emma and the lines around them deepened into a smile.

  “Trouble?”

  Emma forced her face to stay straight. “Not at all.”

  Telly laughed. “I guess I jumped the gun then.” He looked at Guillermo, and his face never changed, but his eyes turned hard as slate. “Looks like you can keep your hide for now, jaguar.”

  Guillermo’s face darkened; he was too brown to blush. “You protect her because she’s human. Weak. It’s pathetic.”

  Telly’s eyebrows went up, but Felani spoke before he could. Her voice had deepened, shaking with indignation.

  “She is caller of the blood, and tied to your king. We protect her because she is precious.”

  Emma groaned inwardly, wishing she could crawl away.

  Guillermo gave her a look like he wished she would too. “She is meant to make our king strong, and instead she hides from him. She hides from power.” Guillermo’s eyes narrowed on Emma, and her mouth went dry. He was so angry. Why had she not noticed before that he was this angry? “It is only a matter of time before the knowledge spreads that you did not bind with our king, that your powers have not been awakened. Then all the king’s people will be in danger, and so will you.”

  What planet’s this guy on? You’re already in danger. Fern stood motionless, nothing to betray the words he spoke in Emma’s mind. She said nothing.

  Telly stepped forward, eyes glittering dangerously at Guillermo. “What then, do you think to awaken her power yourself?” His voice was quiet and terrible. Under the table, Bruce whined.

  Guillermo paled. “Not me. But someone will. Don’t tell me it hasn’t already crossed your mind.”

  Telly’s gaze flicked to Emma, and she saw something there that frightened her; uncertainty. For only a moment. He turned back to Guillermo, threat in the set of his shoulders. “Get out.”

  The taller man flinched. Telly took another step forward, magic clouding off him like a dry wind, eyes going pale.

  “G.” Andres whispered it from behind him. “Go hit the sack, man. Just go.”

  Shoulders tight, Guillermo stalked past Ricky and Raul, nearly slamming into Anton as he came out of the hall.

  “What the fuck was that?” Anton’s hair clung to his neck and forehead, dribbling water down his chest. His green eyes looked stark without the hair to hide behind. He took in the sight of Telly all wound up and whistled. “You’re back five minutes and the place is going to hell. Nice.”

  “That’s less than five minutes, my friend.” Telly rolled his shoulders, earrings clinking faintly, and suddenly the air was breathable again.

  Emma wanted to tell him he shouldn’t have made a big deal out of it, but couldn’t make the words come. She pushed her plate away. She needed a shower.

  “The rest of your stuff is in Anton’s truck.” Emma jumped and turned; Telly was right behind her. “All of it,” he added. “Everything but the furniture. Except that lamp you mentioned.”

  “Everything?” Emma stared at him.

  Telly arched an eyebrow. “Go have a look.”

  “After I shower.” She sighed. “Check that: after weight training.” She frowned. “I didn’t hear the truck pull up.” Telly had borrowed Anton’s truck for the trip; the thing was reliable, but the engine sounded a little like a concrete mixer when the tray was all loaded up.

  Telly just shrugged. “I felt the mark flare up, thought a little discretion was in order.” His tone darkened. “I thought something had happened. Turns out we don’t need enemies. The help are terrorizing you instead.”

  “Hey,” said Raul around a mouthful of pancake.

  Telly glanced over his shoulder. “Sorry Raul.”

  Emma sighed. “Guillermo was just being an asshole.”

  Felani made a strangled sound. “Just being an asshole?” The maiden fisted her hands on her hips, incandescent with rage. “As if you don’t have enough assholes to deal with on a daily basis!” She shot a searing glare at Telly, then raked it over the others. Anton and Ricky looked hurt, Telly just looked bemused. The guards seemed more interested in the way Felani’s breasts pushed at the red fabric of her sari.

  “Listen guys, I’m gonna go.” Emma stood up, self-consciously plucking at her sweaty tank top as she headed for the hallway door. Bruce followed her, claws clicking against the floor — he’d lie down outside the bathroom door when she went in, then follow her to her room and try to lick the coconut-scented lotion from her legs before it could dry.

  “Thanks for breakfast, Ricky.” She bumped his arm with her shoulder as she went past. “Anton, I’ll meet you in the gym when I’m done.” She reached the hall and turned back.

  “Telly.” His eyes were already on her. “Thanks for getting my stuff.”

  He smiled at her, and she fled.

  3

  When she finally emerged from the bedroom, hair dried and Chuck Taylors in hand and Bruce trailing her, Emma was almost ready to work out. Almost. She’d managed to avoid crawling out the window to escape the torture; now it was just a matter of Anton dragging her kicking and screaming to the barn where the training room was. No problem.

  The guards, as far as she knew, had gone in for a few hours sleep and Ricky was nowhere to be seen — nor was Fern, but Emma knew he was in the laundry. Felani, Telly, and Anton were still in the kitchen. Their voices died as she entered and Anton stood, a dark look on his face. Emma dropped her shoes. “What the hell’s wrong now?”

 
; Telly stood too, looking way more pleased than Anton to see her. “You’re not training this morning.”

  “Yes I am,” she said too quickly. “I want to. Who said I didn’t want to?”

  Telly shook his head. “You’re coming with us. Into town. Felani and I think it’s time you got out.”

  Emma just stared. Out? She looked at Anton and resisted the urge to ask what he thought of the idea. It was pretty clear what he thought of it. If she got him talking, he’d just talk her out of going.

  Emma planted her butt in a chair and started putting her shoes on while Telly and Felani finalized a list of supplies. Anton shifted nearer to her.

  “Emma, this isn’t —”

  “I don’t wanna hear it.” Emma kept her head down, focused on her laces; she knew she couldn’t argue with Anton and meet his eyes. “I’ll train twice as hard tonight and make up the lost time, I promise.”

  “It’s not the workout that’s the problem.”

  Emma straightened, putting her face about level with Anton’s bare abdomen. Christ. “I know,” she said to his perfect navel. “And I don’t wanna hear it.” She stood and made a getaway for the door to the back porch.

  “The truck’s at the front,” Telly called after her. “We’ll be there in a minute.”

  Emma waved a hand absently, jogging around the side of the big house, Bruce veering off to follow a scent trail through the lush grass. Emma sent a wordless thought to Fern to call the dog back in soon. It was bright and crisp outside; it would be warm later, but the morning breeze was cool. Would she still be here in the fall? She couldn’t think about that, couldn’t contemplate it.

  If we’re still here, we’ll go horse-riding in the mountains, Fern sent. It’ll be awesome.

  We don’t have any horses. And you’re eavesdropping again.

  Fern sent her a mental shrug. Pretty sure Telly could arrange horses. And you needed cheering up. You were projecting. Again. He didn’t tell her she needed to shield better. They both knew it.

  Curious, Emma did something she didn’t often do — she pushed at Fern’s mind, searching for information. It was sort of like sinking your hand into thick mud and willing the thing you wanted to rise up to your touch. It weirded her out, but she was better at it than shielding. What did that say about her, that she could dig in someone else’s mind better than she could protect her own?