by Alicia Fabel
No, you bloodthirsty beast, Kale snapped.
The horse’s sudden intrusion into Kale’s thoughts had startled the Guardian. Being caught off guard, even by Ferrox whose travel through the gates was as undetectable as his own, was galling. Ferrox threw Kale the horse-equivalent of a one-finger salute through their connection before severing the link. The moody horse sulked off to his barn at the center of the meadow near Kale’s cabin. Kale clenched his teeth and pretended not to notice the delighted glint in Mimi’s eyes. Mimi couldn’t hear the conversations between Kale and Ferrox, but she’d have noticed Kale’s jump when the horse arrived. Anytime Kale was not the thoroughly unshakable man the world believed he was, Mimi was annoyingly pleased.
Kale arranged the girl’s head so it sat straight on her shoulders and pressed an index finger to her forehead to keep it in place while the meadow repaired the muscles he’d just re-torn. Bone fused beneath the skin while Kale watched. The nerve fractures would take more time to heal, though. If Ferrox was home, the sun would be coming up soon, chasing away the darkness. Shadows were the only thing shielding their treason from anyone who might pop by.
“As soon as this human can survive on the other side, she’s out of here. The rest of her injuries will have to heal human-speed.”
Kale held up a hand to silence Mimi’s protests. Amusement gone, Mimi paced back and forth, throwing him dirty looks. Kale willed the meadow’s healing magic to work faster. The first human to land in the meadow was going to give him his first ulcer. He should’ve just killed her.
“You can stop looking at me like that,” Kale finally told Mimi. “I didn’t make this mess.”
Mimi’s glare heated. Stars help him if Mimi learned that—without magic— there was no way human healers could reverse all the damage done to this girl. Even after what the meadow had already accomplished. Mimi would never forgive herself. Or him, since he was knowingly sentencing the girl to her fate. Kale’s stomach churned with regret for what the girl would endure in the coming weeks and months.
The girl’s eyelids twitched—a good sign. Kale absently wondered what color her eyes were. In the moonlight, the girl’s dark hair was such a contradiction to her fair complexion that he couldn’t begin to guess. Ever so gently, he ran a thumb across one lid and decided any color would suit her. She seemed so small and fragile. But humans were not helpless. And Kale had nothing to regret. The girl would live, which was more than she was entitled to at this point. Out of time and patience, Kale rose to his feet, gathering the girl into his arms.
“All right, that’s good enough. I’ll be back. Stay here.” Kale silently called for the Earth gate. The meadow provided a narrow trail that would lead him to it.
Mimi, of course, ignored Kale. She spun around and bee-lined out of the meadow. His friend could not see the meadow’s trail, but she didn’t need it to find the Earth gate. From what Kale knew, Mimi was the only being in all the world able to see the world-gates. It’s how Mimi had first ended up in his life. Sighing, Kale cradled his burden as far from his chest as he could manage and carried her into the boundary forest. As expected, Mimi had already found the gate to the human realm before Kale got there. She walked alongside the moving gate until it settled in front of Kale. Her eyes tracing an arched outline was the only visible sign that the gate was actually there. The shifting gates ensured no one could easily skip out on their own realm and hop into another of their choosing. Although some tried. A pixie once hopped realms to escape his debts, only to end up back in the meadow a few days later with a missing wing, begging Kale to send him back home. Other realm jumpers hadn’t been as fortunate as the pixie. Most who tried didn’t make it past the Guardian to begin with. They never tried a second time.
Kale pulled at the thread bindings until the Earth gate opened. Mimi darted through. Kale didn’t bother trying to stop her. Once through the gate, Kale ignored the pull of the meadow calling him back. It was unpleasant, but centuries of practice had made it bearable. Mimi stopped immediately. Lifting her nose to sniff the chilled air, a growl vibrated in her chest. Pressing close to Kale, Mimi’s body warmed his leg all the way to his hip where she stood level. Kale frowned, and then smelled it too, lacing faintly through the moldering leaves and spicy butterscotch pine. Even after a millennium, there was no mistaking the scent—an unnatural was in the human realm.
“Is he tracking the girl?” Kale asked on a breath for only Mimi to hear.
Mimi nodded once, keen eyes scanning the forest around them. The abomination was not nearby, but he would be back. He would not stop hunting until he caught his prey. The girl stood no chance. Stars help me. Kale had no idea what to do. On the one hand, being Guardian meant keeping the realms safe from outside threats—like a human exposed to magic. If ever someone became a threat to a sibling realm, Kale was their executioner. Obviously, he wasn’t doing a very good job with that responsibility at the moment. On the other hand, Kale was also tasked with protecting the world’s innocents against perverse magic. An unnatural was the worst sort of perversion.
Damn the Infernals.
Once again, the girl was proving to be a contradiction. She was both human and an innocent. It was a scenario Kale had never considered. Now, he had to decide whether to risk the safety of the entire world to keep her safe or walk away and guarantee her death. The girl flinched in his arms, her dreams plaguing her unconsciousness. Knowing he would regret it, Kale turned back to the meadow, carrying the girl with him. He nudged open the link that tied his mind to Ferrox’s and let the scent of the unnatural flow through it.
Old friend, I'm going to need your help to wipe out the infestation before it is unstoppable.
“Keep her quiet and hidden,” Kale instructed Mimi, who bounced along beside him like she’d earned a special prize. “I mean it, Mimi. If anyone discovers the girl, I will still kill her.” In this, he would be as helpless as the girl.
Mimi sobered while Kale’s long strides ate up the distance to the cabin. Ferrox waited for them, eyes smoldering red.
“Maybe we'll get lucky and get the human back to her realm before she even knows she left,” Kale said, more to reassure himself than anyone else. Mimi stretched out her neck and licked Kale’s elbow. “You really have to get control of yourself. Or go get some help.”
Mimi hissed at the suggestion as Kale had known she would. Kale smirked.
***
Vera woke in a small whitewashed room. Blinding sunlight streamed through sheer lace curtains to warm her face. She didn't have a chance to wonder where she was because staring at her, only a swipe away, was the mountain lion. Naturally, Vera intended to scramble away. All she managed was a single violent jolt, like someone whose dream-self just toppled down a staircase. Then her body was still, unable to answer her mind’s call to run, unable to move at all. Vera squeezed her eyes closed, breathing in a lung-full of whatever floral scent clung to the white sheets tucked around her and hoping it would be over quickly.
After a minute of nothing happening, she cracked open one eye. The mountain lion sat watching her, a statue of black fur with silver-gray around its mouth and down its chest. One ring of silver looped the tip of its black tail, which twitched side to side. Vera tipped her head to make sure her arms and legs were still attached. Everything was there, but no amount of power-stare made anything below her neck move. Swallowing hard, Vera wondered how long she could hide her weakness from the predator. Honestly, Vera couldn’t understand why she wasn’t already a pile of bloody nibbles. She wasn’t complaining about her wholeness, though. She just hoped to stay in one piece until someone came to her rescue.
The room was small and clean. A rocking chair swayed near the open window, and a bundle of tiny purple flowers sat in a jar atop a plain wooden dresser. It definitely didn’t vibe with the monster from last night. Then again, if centaurs existed, this was probably the lair of a tidy cannibal who was off heating up the stew pot. After everything else, it wouldn’t surprise her. Movement drew Vera’s
attention back to the mountain lion. The animal’s fangy mouth stretched wide with a huge yawn, a pink tongue falling forward. Afterward, the lion stood and slowly approached. It lowered its boxy head until its chin rested on the bed near Vera’s face. Vera didn’t blink or even breathe, but the lion had no such reservations. The cat’s breath warmed Vera’s face. The residual moisture cooled as the cat inhaled. Warm then cool then warm again. Just as Vera’s heart slowed and her breaths evened, the danged thing did the unimaginable. It flicked out its sandy tongue and swiped it over Vera’s cheek. Vera sputtered and jerked her head back. The animal followed, intent on giving her a full saliva bath.
“Stop it!” Vera hissed.
The mountain licked her nose.
“Ewww. So gross. Stop.”
Looking rather pleased with itself, the cat sat back.
“There is something seriously wrong with you.” Vera scowled.
A spark of giddiness lit in Vera’s chest when she noticed the fingers on her right hand had closed weakly around the edge of the blanket while the cat had violated her face. Vera tried to move them again, her face scrunched with effort. At first, she thought her efforts had failed. A moment later, though, two fingers twitched. The delayed response was bizarre, but hey, it was something. A glorious smile lit Vera’s face while the cat went back to breathing on her.
“Thank you for scaring away that monster,” Vera whispered to the strange animal. “I assume that’s what happened since, you know, I’m still here and all. So, thank you.”
After counting one-hundred-and-two breaths, Vera fell asleep. Both hands were curled into loose fists.
