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

by McIlwraith, Anna

  Seshua was silent a long time. She tentatively moved closer to him.

  “You asked me what you stand to gain by giving in to me,” she said quietly. “This goes both ways. I’m offering to take up a place at your side. Not full time,” she added quickly as he made an interested sound. “But I’d be at your palace, or kingdom, or whatever, on a regular basis. I’m bound to you and the jaguars whether I like it or not, Felani made me realize that.”

  Seshua grunted. “Felani is very wise. There’s a reason she leads the maidens.”

  “Yeah, well, now I lead the maidens, so you’d better start listening to me too.”

  He laughed, a rich, touchable sound that made Emma think of drums. “Really?” His laughter died down to a throaty chuckle. “At my side, yes?”

  “Don’t even think about it. That’s not what I meant.” She paused, thinking. “I can call the change without my full powers. The bond with Fern, Telly’s mark — it’s like I can borrow their power. Kahotep and I made the pledge without sex, and everyone was pretty convinced that for it to work, we had to have sex. Of course, if I’d known before going into all this that you guys don’t even have any actual records of the prophecies you all seem so obsessed with -”

  “It is a curiously human thing,” Seshua interrupted darkly. “The need to have everything written down. The prophecies existed for hundreds of thousands of years before ever being committed to record. Besides, the jaguar kingdom had access to a much more accurate source where the prophecies were concerned. Our beliefs concerning the Sacrifice and the Pledge are not idle.”

  “Yeah?” When Seshua just gazed at her, she tapped her foot. “Why should I believe you?”

  His sigh was long, deep and satisfied. “No need to believe me. Ask your walking god.”

  Ooooookay.

  After her and Telly’s little convo back in Egypt, she was so not bringing up the prophecy with him again.

  “Irrespective of the prophecy,” she said, determined to move on. “Kahotep and I didn’t bang, and it worked.”

  Seshua coughed like he’d swallowed the wrong way, but then recovered himself. The cough turned into a growl. It was more a considering sound than a threat.

  Emma peered at his silhouette, trying and failing to discern his mood. “It might be that the ritual to awaken my powers would work, too — without it.”

  Silence. Then, like an unseasonable breeze, heat spilled onto the wind and wrapped Emma in the scent of wet leafy things and loamy earth, with a sparking undercurrent of storm that was pure desire. She took an involuntary breath and sucked in the taste of it, and suddenly her heartbeat was thunder in her ears.

  She took a very slow step back toward the door to the kitchen, into the muted rectangle of light filtering through the curtained window. The warm, cheery voices coming from the house sounded very far away in that moment.

  Seshua followed her close enough that the light made twin lamps of his iridescent eyes but left the rest of him in shadow, as though he were carved of it.

  “Care to try, pequeña?” He grinned, and his teeth were curved and white, a Cheshire-cat smile.

  Emma shook her head. “Not on your life.”

  “Afraid?” His voice was thick with a barely-suppressed hypnotic command.

  “Not anymore, no. But I’m not stupid either. You come to me on my terms, Seshua, or not at all.”

  Before he could answer her, she fled to the safety of the kitchen, where Ricky was making burgers and Felani was bickering at Zach and Fern was waiting for her.

  Away from the warm glow of the house, Telly stood with Red Sun and watched Emma move away from Seshua. They heard the slam of the back door as clearly as they had heard the conversation preceding it.

  Red Sun turned his big face up to the sky, but the soft white glow of Telly’s anger was still visible out of the corner of his eye. “Not good to be so angry about this girl, Telly. Not when you’re a god.”

  Telly moved away, arms crossed over his bare chest. White light bled from his eyes, leaving trails in the evening darkness.

  “She is not just a girl.” His voice held the whisper of dry thunder on the horizon. “You know that.”

  “And you’re not just the red fox,” Red snapped. “Not just a man, not just a god. You know this is bad.”

  Telly turned around. His face was stretched tight, eyes lengthening to witch-light slits, beast barely held beneath the surface. His bones were creaking, but it was more than the beast; it was something else that was older, angrier, something without a name. Something that had stirred in its sleep of eons and turned its timeless eye on Emma.

  “Telheshtevanne.” Red Sun’s voice was deep with his beast, a rumble that shook through Telly’s roaring bones and reminded him that he had decisions to make that concerned something bigger than himself.

  “I know,” he answered, voice echoing through the caverns of his spirit. The white light bleeding off his body dimmed. Telly looked up at Red with eyes that had grown dark, and tired. “Not tonight.”

  Red Sun looked down at him. “But soon.”

  Emma made her slow way down the path to the barn with Bruce at her heels, dreading her first session since returning home four days ago. Anton had promised it would be all rehab, and she needed it — in spite of being healed magically in Egypt, she had extensive scarring on her side from where Tarik’s sword had run her through, and it needed to be worked or she’d lose elasticity in those tissues. Her left shoulder was also stiff and tight from being dislocated. There were other aches and tender places she didn’t remember hurting, but that hurt all the same.

  She felt a million years old, and judging by Anton’s face as he came out to meet her, she looked it too.

  Bruce wagged his tail when he saw Anton and loped over to him. Anton scratched between the big mutt’s ears, lifting a hand to shade his eyes against the morning sun. That was when Emma saw he wasn’t looking at her, but beyond her.

  She turned, couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, turned back. “Anton? What is it? What do you see?”

  He shook his head, smiling. “Not what I see. What I hear. Just wait.”

  A flicker of unease went through Emma, but Anton was smiling. She turned again and faced the house. She heard Anton’s truck before it rounded the pines that obscured the rest of the long driveway from view, tires kicking up dust, and she got a minor case of the stomach butterflies: it had to be Telly behind the wheel, no-one else at the ranch had that crazy mop of blond hair. He’d been gone when she got up that morning. For some crazy reason, part of her had wondered if he was coming back. At all. Seemed silly now.

  Instead of parking by the side of the house like usual, he kept going around the long circle drive, disappearing beyond the front of the house.

  Emma shot Anton a look over her shoulder. “Well?”

  He smiled even wider and nodded. “There.”

  Emma heard another truck coming up the drive, and turned back as a giant white removals truck sailed sedately into view. Except it wasn’t a removals truck. It was way, way too big. And sleek. And removal trucks didn’t have small tinted windows all along the trailer.

  The truck came to a stop, and Telly rounded the side of the house, a massive grin on his face, but before Emma could ask him what the hell he was smiling about, the cab door opened and a petite middle-eastern woman jumped down, rust-colored robes swishing as she shut the door behind her.

  When she turned and met Emma’s eyes, Emma’s bond to Kahotep whispered in her blood: jackal. Bruce barked, once, but Anton stilled him.

  Telly came to stand near Emma, arms crossed, eyes dancing. “Kahotep said he’d send warriors to join your retinue.”

  Emma raised both eyebrows, looking at Telly sidelong. “Did he mention he’d be sending a truckload of them?”

  Telly shook his head. “Only two. And a gift, as well.” He lifted his hand in a signal to the jackal. “Mara, you ready?”

  The small woman smiled a little, nodded, and strode t
o the back of the truck. She started unbolting the gates. There was a flurry of strange noises from inside the truck.

  Emma was just starting to get nervous again, but then Mara let the ramp down, and a stallion’s scream of greeting pierced the quiet morning.

  Emma’s heart leapt to a gallop.

  “Sefu?”

  Thanks so much for reading.

  You’ve finished book 2, but don't worry, there’s more.

  To find out where Emma's next misadventure takes her, check out Anna’s Amazon page at: amazon.com/author/annamcilwraith or visit her website at: annamcilwraith.com

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  And if you enjoyed being dragged along to Egypt with Emma and Fern and all the others, please consider leaving a review at: annamc.com/tjp or on Good Reads — Reviews help books find their feet and take off.

  Copyright © 2015 Anna McIlwraith.

  All rights reserved.

  www.annamcilwraith.com

  Novel cover image credits:

  All book covers in the Caller of the Blood series feature Smoke Plume by William Warby, heavily adjusted under the terms of the (CC BY 2.0) license.

  The Jackal Prince features Coyote by Neal Herbert, courtesy of the National Park Service, heavily adjusted and manipulated under the terms of the (CC BY 2.0) license.

  www.flickr.com/photos/wwarby/

  www.flickr.com/photos/yellowstonenps/