by Tenaya Jayne
After only a short time, she began to tire. He slowed down, concerned. She stopped and looked him in the eyes. Depth and wonder beyond words flowed between them. Her very presence humbled him. Then the guilt rushed in again. He was the lowest blackguard. She was a luxury…a comfort…a heaven he had no right to even consider, let alone touch.
She wanted to know who he was. He could tell her. That would get rid of her faster than anything else. She shouldn’t spend her time with him, or even think about him. He should release her and let the fantasy fade away. That would be the right thing to do.
She moved in and rubbed against him. Then she lay down on the ground and rested her head on her paws. He felt just how tired she really was. She was totally vulnerable next to him, and that fact pushed his emotions even deeper. Why did she trust him? Did she see or feel good things inside him with this odd, animal connection?
She sighed, her body relaxing against his. He sank down by her side. He knew the exact moment she fell asleep, because that was also the moment his heart ran away without looking back.
He watched over her, not that there was anyone or anything to guard against. He guarded her anyway. She slept just one hour. When she woke, her tiredness seemed even worse than before. He walked next to her, back to where she’d left her clothes.
She shifted back into a woman and dressed quickly, her back to him this time. She yawned as she faced him again.
“I’m sorry. I’m exhausted. I need to go home.” She smiled saucily. “I don’t suppose you’d care to shift into a man and come home with me?”
A low growl rumbled in his throat without his consent. She seemed to understand the nuance and threw her head back and laughed.
“There’s no point in being cagy, not since we’ve run together. I’ve already felt it all. Everything you’d be inclined to hide from me.” She leaned down, bracing her hands on her knees, and looking him in the eyes. She raised her eyebrows in question. “Not gonna do it, huh? Not gonna show me who you are?”
He’d never felt such strong temptation. He turned and ran from her into the shadows.
“Until tomorrow night then,” she called after him.
He ran in wolf form all the way back to the Wolf’s Wood. Once inside the protection of Maxcarion’s home, he shifted back into a man. His back pressed against the wall for support, his head in his hands, his heart racing. What was happening to him? What was she doing?
It felt like he couldn’t breathe, but when he clutched at his throat, found he was breathing easily.
“She’s not for you,” he said aloud to himself. “It’s nothing. Chemistry. Unthinking, unreasoning, heartless chemistry. She’s not for you. She hates you. She hates who you really are. What do you care anyway? Damnit! You’re dying!”
He sat down on the chair, his head still in his hands. He couldn’t see her again. It was wrong. Right and wrong assailed him. He tried to think about it logically. The chemistry wasn’t one-sided. She felt it, too. She came out into the night looking for him. But she wouldn’t have if she had any notion she was consorting with her enemy. Spending time with her was like lying, because if he continued, he’d have to continue hiding who he was.
Wrong. It was most definitely wrong. And if she began to really care about him, he’d hurt her. He’d already done that enough by not saving her sister. No. No more heartache would come to Sabra because of him. So that was that.
He lay down on the mat on the floor and closed his eyes. Nothing prevented him from dreaming about her, however. In his mind, she was right there with him.
She looked into him with the depth of her beautiful, purple eyes as he ran his finger over her bottom lip. He kissed her mouth until she was breathless, her eyelids half-closed.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Shreve groaned. Pleasure and agony mixed together inside him. Maybe he shouldn’t fantasize about her, after all. She was a fatal fever. He could close himself away from everything in this place and daydream about her until his heart expired. If he went down that road, he’d die before he could redeem himself.
Chapter Seven
Forest took Tesla outside to play in the garden in the warm morning sunlight. She toddled around for a few minutes. Forest sat down next to the flower bed and watched her. She hoped Rahaxeris would come back soon, so he could examine Tesla. Perhaps he would know what had happened when she aged two years in one day. Forest hoped he could do something to make sure that never happened again. Tesla came over and sat down next to her, so her little body was touching Forest’s side. She stroked her hair and kissed the top of her daughter’s head.
“Do you want to play in the dirt, sweetheart?”
She didn’t seem too interested. Instead, she pointed to a white flower.
Forest picked it and handed it to her. “Pretty, isn’t it?”
She took it in her red-lined hand and screamed. Her scream was filled with outrage, which she directed at her mother. Startled and taken aback, Forest tried to figure out what was wrong.
Red snaps shot into the flower from her hands, instantly turning the petals brown and withered. As she looked down at it, huge tears began to roll down her cheeks.
“Are you upset because I picked it?”
Tesla nodded, wails of heartbreak coming from her throat.
“Oh, honey. I’m sorry. It’s okay. There’s still more flowers growing. I promise I won’t pick any more of them.”
Tesla held the flower gently in both hands. Her power continued to shock and scorch the flower. Her cries were so grief-stricken, tears began forming in Forest’s eyes as well. She stood and picked Tesla up, rocking her slowly back and forth, trying to soothe her.
She slumped against Forest and rested her head on her shoulder, but her body still trembled with tears.
“Here, sweetheart. Let Mommy have the flower. We can put it back in the dirt, and it can feed the other flowers. Okay?”
Tesla stopped crying and looked questioningly into Forest’s eyes. Forest set her down on her feet.
“Look here, we’ll dig a little around the base of these flowers and put this one under the dirt.” Forest tried to coax her to help. “Can I have the flower?”
Tesla hesitated, and then held it out to her mother. Her hands shocked Forest as she took the withered flower. Tesla watched her lay it in the little hole and then cover it over.
“There. Now its life will give back to the others. Okay?”
Tesla looked at her like she’d just done something outrageous. She gave a little cry and moved forward, uncovered the flower and held it again. Forest watched, intrigued, as Tesla walked over to the fountain and laid the flower on the stones next to it. She put her cupped hand into the water and dripped it over the flower.
Forest’s eyebrows shot up, impressed that she could know plants need water. How did she know that? Of course, putting water on a picked, electrically fried flower wouldn’t do anything except make it soggy. But still…
Everything seemed to freeze around Forest in the next moment as she witnessed the impossible. Tesla extended her index finger, and a straight line of red energy pushed out, like a long, sharp fingernail and held still. The electricity didn’t dance or snap, it looked like it solidified. With her fingernail, Tesla cut the stem open from the bloom down to the base. She leaned over it, squinting, her face two inches from touching it.
She touched the electric tip to the top of the water, bringing one drop away, clinging. She set the water drop on the open stem and shot a spark into it. The tiny drop spun into a sphere, red light illuminating the inside of it. She closed the stem back up, the electricity surging onto the seam, stitching it closed.
Tesla toddled back over to Forest, holding the flower out to her, a huge smile on her face. Winded, Forest took the flower. Tesla turned around and walked away, as something else caught her attention across the garden.
Forest looked down at the flower. It shivered, the brown turning back to white. The flower moved slowly but constantly
, into full bloom, then the petals withered and fell off. The stem curled up in death, but then it stretched out again, budding, then blooming. Forest watched the flower die and be reborn three times in a row before her pulse slowed down slightly.
She glanced over at Tesla, now playing happily in the dirt, and then looked up into the sky. It would be a few hours till Syrus came home. Could she wait that long?
Forest continued to watch the flower throughout the day. It never stopped. By the evening, she could say it was the best day she’d had with Tesla since she’d been born, albeit shocking. When Syrus came home, she greeted him with a smile and huge kiss.
“You’re much happier,” he said, pleased. “How is she?”
“She’s playing in her room. It’s been interesting today.”
“Oh?” He turned to go see Tesla, but Forest grabbed his arm.
“Wait. Just a second. I need to show you something.”
Syrus examined the flower as it went through its lifecycle. Forest paced as he watched.
“Our daughter is Doctor Frankenstein.”
Syrus frowned, concentrating. “Doctor who? Oh, right, I remember that silly movie you showed me.”
“She brought the flower back to life!”
Syrus lifted a finger at her. “Hold up there. She didn’t bring it back to life. She turned it into a…machine.”
“What?!”
“Well, it’s sort of alive, but it’s an organic machine.”
“Holy shit! Can you do that, you think?”
“Maybe. I’ve never thought to try such a thing. I don’t know that I could.” He looked closely at the flower again, his frown creasing deeper. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin. And she just knew? Just like that? It was fast?”
“Yeah.”
He handed the flower back to Forest.
“I’ll look at it again later. Let’s just try and forget about it for a few hours now and just be a family.”
****
Asher arrived at the shifter colony two hours before dawn. Sabra should be there soon. He took the time alone to look around the space and think about how he could use what was left to create an obstacle course. He wanted to see how lithe and fast she could move.
The remains of the house he used to hide the weapons had a decent amount of stone blocks in its foundation. He could dismantle it and move them around. He walked over to it, but as he did, he noticed something that gave him pause. Footprints. He measured his own foot next to them. They weren’t his prints. And they certainly weren’t Sabra’s. Had they been there before, and he just hadn’t noticed?
He looked closer and followed the path the stranger had taken, right to his weapon hiding place. Asher did a quick inventory. None of the weapons were missing. He did a double take as his eyes passed over the whip.
“Good morning,” Sabra called brightly as she came up behind him.
He turned and looked at her. “Someone’s been here.”
“Huh?”
“Look.” He picked up the whip and handed it to her.
She gripped the handle and let the thong fall down loosely to the ground. The sunlight glinted off the sharp pieces of metal and glass now woven into the leather. A vicious metal burr clung to the very end of the whip. Spines jutted out in every direction from the burr like a sea urchin.
“Wow! This is awesome! Not just a weapon for show now, huh? Thank you. I’m a little nervous about practicing with it. I’m going to have to be more careful. Screw ups will cost me more now.”
“Sabra, I didn’t do this.”
“You didn’t?”
“No. Like I said, someone’s been here.”
She looked down at the whip, thinking. Then a smile pulled up one side of her mouth.
“This is a serious problem.”
“Why is this a serious problem?”
“Because our spot has been discovered.” He was agitated.
“Stop worrying. My enemies wouldn’t come in here and make my weapons better, would they?”
“No, I guess not. But still, why would… Why are you smirking?”
“I know who did this.”
“Who?”
She blushed through her smile. “My guardian wolf.”
“Your what? Are you talking about Gahu?”
She laughed. “Gahu? No way!”
Asher shrugged. “Yeah. I guess he would just break all the weapons if he found this place… So, who are you talking about?”
She mulled over what she should tell him. Then a thought occurred to her that spurred her on. “I don’t know his identity. Perhaps you know him. I’ve only seen him in wolf form. He has jet black fur with no markings and green eyes.”
He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “No. I don’t know anyone who’s all black. My brother is almost all black. But he has a brown patch on his back, and his eyes are brown. I’ve never seen green eyes on a wolf.”
She was disappointed he couldn’t solve her mystery. “Oh well.”
“You need to be careful,” Asher admonished. “Certainly strange. An unknown wolf. Everyone I know, I’ve known my whole life.”
She chewed the inside of her cheek. “I know. That’s what I thought. I mean, we all live together.”
“Well, there have been some who’ve gone off on their own in the past. Rogues are crazy, or they go crazy quickly once they leave the pack. We’re not designed to live alone. We need each other. Sometimes, I wish that wasn’t the truth, but it is… Are you sure he’s actually a wolf? Could he be a shifter?”
“Hmm…maybe, but…no. I’ve run with him. We connected. A shifter can mimic but they can’t communicate on that level. At least that’s what I thought. Right?”
Asher shook his head. “No, that’s right. They can’t connect with us like that.” He frowned at her then. “You’ve run with a stranger…that’s really…”
“Slutty?” she offered defiantly. “I went running on my own. He crashed my private party.”
His disapproving look vanished. “Oh. Sorry for implying.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m ready to get going. How am I training today?”
“Did you work on your strength yesterday?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Keep that up. I can tell from the death grip you’ve got on that whip that you’d like to start with it. I’m going to back off. Let’s see what you can do with the improvements your secret admirer made. Then, if you don’t mutilate yourself, we should move on to the sword.”
“Sounds good.”
****
Shreve watched Sabra again with her trainer. The adjustments he’d made to the whip pleased her. He could see it in her body language and facial expressions as she wielded it around the space. She was a natural with the whip, impressively so. And she moved so beautifully with it, more of a dance than fighting. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He tried. Really tried.
He shouldn’t be here. He’d determined to help her and nothing more. His intellect and desire went to war again. Helping was all he was doing. He was watching her fight to see where, exactly, her weaknesses were and to continue to think of ways to help her from afar. If nothing else, he was confirming the changes he made to the whip weren’t too much for her to handle. Well, they weren’t, so he should leave.
Not so fast. She would begin to practice with the sword next. He needed to witness her prowess there, or lack thereof.
As soon as she moved on to the sword, Shreve was glad he stayed. He couldn’t help wincing. She had a long way to go before she would be effective against an enemy. Her trainer coached her on technique. Shreve didn’t disagree with what the trainer said, but it seemed to have completely escaped his notice that she was using the wrong sword. She was too short for the broadsword she was trying to wield.
She was too elegant for the clunky blade. He thought of the next thing he would do to help her. But it would have to wait till they were long gone. And, he thought, not too late at night so he could avoid her if she came o
ut to run with him again. If she caught him on his way, he knew, without a doubt, he didn’t have the willpower to resist her. And he must.
When the morning lightened the sky, they packed it in, and she left. He watched her go, regretting his voyeuristic time was over for today. The trainer lingered. He moved slowly. Seemingly doing nothing at all for a while. He placed the weapons in a different house this time. Then he pulled a pipe from his pocket and banged it against his palm, resting his hip against the remains of the house’s foundation.
Shreve didn’t move. He watched the man closely. Something was off in his behavior. His body language clearly gave him away. He knew, or suspected he was being watched.
“I don’t know your angle in this, stranger,” he said in a low volume. “I’m guessing you’re close enough to hear me. I appreciate you doing something to help Sabra gain an edge. She can use every advantage she can get. So, from what she’s told me, I think I’m right in assuming you’re trying to pursue her…I understand. I’m old, but I’m not dead. She’s very desirable, not to mention unique. I’m trying to help her survive, and so are you, it seems. Why don’t you introduce yourself?”
Surprised and moved by the invitation, and seeing no harm in it, Shreve pushed his elf blood back, dropping his invisibility. He did something he hadn’t in years, and mixed two of his racial identities together. When he stepped out in the open, Asher confronted a part wolf, part shifter. Shreve created a new face for himself as a shifter, and the rest of him was werewolf. He didn’t know what he looked like, but he didn’t care, because he made sure he didn’t look like Copernicus. He wondered why he hadn’t thought of this before. He could pass as a Halfling, like Forest. And that would answer the question of why none of the wolves knew him. Because he’d never been to the Lair, having been raised by the shifters instead.
A pang hit him in the gut as he approached and thought of his cover story. Lies. What was this feeling? It was like the heavy guilt, only not quite so severe. Was it his conscience?
