by Wagner, Raye
“That is the last time I tell you anything.”
Her eyes widened and lips formed an O in a look of mock horror. “Please, not that. How would I live without knowing if you’re going insane?”
Wait. “Do you really think I’m going insane?”
She snorted. “No. I think you need to give the cat the foot and have a real male in your bed, make you forget all about Hallucination-magî.”
“Har-har.” I wasn’t going to get involved with anyone in Pûleêr; I had no intention of staying, not long term. Even if it wasn’t the rainy season, I just wanted a little bit of calm to catch my bearings and, hopefully, get my memory back.
“You think I’m kidding, but you spend more time with that creature than anyone else.”
I looked at her and pointed. “Pretty certain I spend more time with you.”
“True—besides me then. And it’s odd how well he understands you. Is that your magîk? Are you using magîk?” Esi’s eyes widened, and she grabbed my arm in earnest. “You can’t do that. Rull will . . .” She gulped. “It would be really bad.”
“I’m not using magîk, at least I don’t think so. I don’t really communicate—or it’s not two-way. But I do feel a bond with him; when he’s near, my soul feels calmer, if that makes sense.”
Esi snorted and released my arm. “If I believed in soul mates, I’d say it sounded like that, but”—she held out her hand to stop my interruption—“I don’t believe in soul mates, and there’s no way your soul mate is an animal.”
While I didn’t agree with her on the former point—I did believe in soul mates—there was no debate on the second. Magî and animals couldn’t bond, and a magî spirit couldn’t inhabit an animal. Reincarnation didn’t work that way. The soul was both species and gender specific.
“Have you ever heard of a magî that could shift? As in take on another person’s or animal’s skin or appearance?”
Esi nodded. “I’ve heard of magî who can look exactly like another person, but they just looked like another person. I’ve even heard of magî who can change the appearance of another magî, weave their magîk into their soul, so the change of appearance is permanent in this life. But you can’t be an animal because your soul is magî. What you’re suggesting . . . Wouldn’t that mean two bodies, both a magî and animal, would have to blend?” She shook her head. “That’s impossible.”
Her deduction was all I’d come up with too. And if there were two bodies, there would need to be two souls, impossible on top of impossible. I sighed, disappointed that she’d reached the same conclusion.
“You know what you need?” she asked as we took the clean tunics and bedding inside.
I pulled one of my hand-me-down tunics out of the pile and put the rest in a crate. “Tell me, O Wise One, what do I need?”
She laughed, but the sound was tinged with sadness. “You really do need to spend some intimate time with a male magî, if you know what I mean. I wasn’t kidding. If you have a real male in your bed, you’ll be less likely to lose yourself in dreams of impossibility.”
I nodded, and part of me wondered if her words were just as much for her. What dreams had she been chasing?
* * *
Ruin settled next to me, his weight tugging the bedclothes to his side of the pallet, and I rolled with them. I threw my arm over him, his soft fur like silk on my skin. My mind must’ve been processing the previous conversation with Esi because one minute the body next to me was all fur and lithe muscle, and then suddenly a magî. His toned, bare chest was before me. I blinked and ran my hand up his warm skin, breathing in the intoxicating smell of sandalwood and ylang-ylang. He tugged me closer, his touch searing, and I gasped. The dream felt real, and I told myself that here, in the darkness of the night, a dream wouldn’t matter.
I pressed my body to his, murmuring his name, as I skimmed my fingers across the rise and dip of his muscles. He tilted his head, and his exhale caressed my scalp before he pressed his lips to my head.
“I’ve missed you,” he murmured, running his thumb down the small of my back.
Desire ripped through me, and I grabbed his arms to steady myself.
“You were right,” he added. “But my soul needs you, it always will.” He traced his fingers down my arm and then dropped his hand to my hip. His grip was firm, and the warmth of his touch soaked into my skin as he tugged me closer.
Sliding on the fabric, my body collided with his. He wore fitted trousers, supple and soft, but from the waist up, he was naked—smooth skin over taut muscle—and his intoxicating scent surrounded me. My breaths grew shallow with want as I stroked the planes of his abdomen and chest, my touch growing bold when he didn’t protest. Was it wrong that I wanted a male who would protect me, who would be loyal and not only follow, but walk by my side—no matter where life took me?
Pressing my feet against his legs, I slid upward, savoring the feel of his body—his very male magî body—as I drew even with his face. Our skin melded at the waist, and I caressed his neck, jaw, and then brushed my finger over his lush mouth. His eyes were closed, as if he were dreaming, too, but his lips parted, and he trapped my finger between his teeth and then gently sucked the tip into his mouth. The gesture was oddly arousing, and I couldn’t stop the soft moan escaping.
He released my finger and shifted, running his tongue up the side of my neck, and then sucked on my earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. My breaths grew shallow, mere panting, hot with desire. He varied the pressure with his teeth, his tongue, and the pads of his fingers, making me gasp. The tension between us grew, the ache of wanting, and he trailed kisses over my jaw, drawing out the sweet agony. His lips hovered over mine, and our breaths mingled.
I ached for him, yearned for him to close the distance, and the longing—like a magnet—drew our bodies together until no space remained. A whisper of warning buzzed in the back of my brain, but as he slowly, softly swept his lips over mine, the caution was swallowed by a roar of need. He repeated the move, tantalizing and tormenting, heightening my desire for him, and I whimpered. Lust swirled between us.
He slid his hand over my waist and caressed his thumb over the small of my back. A bead of sweat trickled over my skin, and he brushed the drop away. He groaned and slid his hands to my sides, gripping my hips. As he wet his lips, his tongue brushed against my mouth, and I gasped. This desire was so strong; it clouded my mind. And all that existed was right here, right now, with him. As though he felt the same, he pressed his lips to mine, tenderly at first and then more firmly. Our kisses deepened, and I met him stroke for stroke and touch for touch. His soul was mine and mine was his. He growled and nipped at my lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. His teeth scraped over the sensitive skin, and I arched into him with a moan.
Our tongues tangled, the heat of passion burning between us, desire and want spreading low in my abdomen, and I thrust closer, needing more. I clung to him, to this dream, willing it—him—to be real. Was it wrong that I wanted him? This dream, so vivid and tangible. I’d never felt so alive and alert.
He gripped my hips and then, suddenly, stilled.
I tried to draw back, to pull away enough to look at him, but he held me firm, one long shuddering moment, and then gathered me in his arms.
“Shh,” he whispered, his voice rumbling through me. He kissed the top of my head and tucked me close, whispering a promise to steal me away to safety, describing a sanctuary with a waterfall and clear pool hidden away from the touch of poison in the land. His voice lulled me, painting the scene so clearly I saw it in my mind, and my heart yearned to be there with him—again.
The fevered dream faded, and I was suddenly aware of Ruin’s low purr, his heavy presence and furry body lying next to me. My lips felt swollen, and I brought my hand up to touch them. The ache of lust still tinged my consciousness, and I stared at the great cat nervously, the dream fresh in my mind.
Maybe Esi was right. Not that I needed to bring a male to my bed, but . . . What? Kic
k Ruin out? The thought squeezed my chest and turned my stomach. I sat up, my attention riveted on the apex as I tried to reconcile the dream in a way that didn’t make me feel weird.
Not even a minute later, Ruin arose, going through his morning stretches as he always did. When he finished, he fixed me with his gaze, and, for a split-second, his eyes appeared bright blue and then went green. He leaned forward slowly and touched his nose to my cheek.
I sat there, once again trying to puzzle out the meaning. Did he have a weird cat dream? Did cat’s even dream? Did he know I was feeling unsettled?
“That is exactly what I’m talking about,” Esi said, standing in the open doorway.
Ruin slipped past her, out into the morning mist, his tail twitching.
“You’re plenty attractive to have a real magî in your bed,” she added.
I snorted and rolled off the pallet, grabbing a clean tunic to pull over my thin undergarments—it was too hot to sleep in anything else. “Don’t worry about me,” I replied. “Maybe you should be looking for someone.”
Her grin faltered, and I winced.
“Sorry,” I said. “It’s just . . .” I thought of the weird hallucination and decided to improvise. “I think our loved ones want us to be happy.”
Esi offered me a small smile. “Thanks.” She jerked her head toward the open doorway. “Let’s go get breakfast before all the cheese is gone.”
I crossed the room, pointing at the pail in her hand. “Isn’t that the cheese?”
“What the rot?” She feigned shock, hefting the bucket. Laughing, she tugged back the cloth and scooped out a large portion. “Here you go.”
Whoa. I narrowed my eyes. “Why are you breaking the rules?”
Esi sighed and handed me the lead with Bizi attached. We took the goat with us everywhere now, the edict from the council easier to follow than debating it. “You might be right about some of what you’re seeing. Rull has a lot of regulations and statutes. And new eyes tend to be free of fettered bias.”
I accepted the cheese, my mouth watering as I eyed the basil dotting the soft mixture. I took a bite and let the creamy texture coat my tongue, chasing away the taste of passion. With a nod, I reluctantly admitted, “You might be a little right, too.”
Esi raised her eyebrows.
“About Ruin,” I said, explaining. “Last night, I dreamed he was a magî . . . again.”
Her lips parted then she closed them, repeating the process a moment later.
“Just spit it out,” I said, rolling my eyes toward the canopy. “Unless it’s I-told-you-so; you can keep that to yourself.”
We stepped onto the perimeter road, and Esi leaned over and bumped me with her shoulder. Her dark, golden hair swayed, tickling my bare shoulder, and she laughed.
“I’m not going to say ‘told you so.’ No one ever needs that. I just wanted to make sure you knew Ruin isn’t really a magî. Just because you dreamed it doesn’t mean it might happen.”
“Yes,” I said, trying to convince myself the disappointment filling me wasn’t related to the truth. “Which is why I said you might be a little right, too. I should make some memories with other magî.”
Unfortunately, Esi thought my admission meant she needed to tell me about every eligible male in Pûleêr over breakfast. Every. Fetid. One.
12
I leaned forward, planted my feet in the mud, and yanked on the lush, green stalk. The soft, moist ground of Qralî released the roots, and I stumbled backward with the four-foot tree in my hands, the muck splattering my tunic, neck, and face. I marched to the edge of the road, the exposed line of orange bromeliads finally exposed—our daily assignment. We’d spent almost nine hours today working in this area, longer than any other day.
We were just north of where the bûyî had appeared after my arrival. There was talk of abandoning that portion of the perimeter road to the jungle, but after one of the children ran over the area—without incident—an inspection revealed the ground had solidified once again. Even so, Rull reminded us daily that we couldn’t slack or we’d risk the rotten bog. I threw the plant into the dense growth, glaring after it. The only mangoes I would eat now were the green ones, still firm and tart with no possibility of being overripe.
“What about Velt?” Esi asked, standing next to me. She tossed a small mango plant, maybe a foot tall, past the bromeliads, and then tugged on a palm frond.
“The lazy guy who likes to play in the mud?” I asked, incredulous. “Please tell me you aren’t trying to get me to take your cast-offs.”
“Sorry,” she replied with a big frown. “You’re right; he’s an ass.”
Nine hours later and she was still trying to sell me on the idea that sex would solve my problem. I might have had amnesia, but that didn’t mean I was stupid. History had plenty of lessons about how physical intimacy could tie people together—even if both hadn’t intended it. I didn’t need anything that might mess with my already muddied mind.
“What happened to the advice ‘find some answers before you get tangled in more questions?’” I asked, throwing her words back at her. “You think if I—”
“Wha—?” a male bellowed from the other side of our group, and a collective gasp pulled our attention to the unit we were working with.
Esi and I both spun, but the group seemed bound where they stood, a line of magî blocking us from whatever held them transfixed.
“Get back,” someone yelled.
“Help him,” a female screamed.
Had they been magîked so they couldn’t move? My mind raced, skipping from thought to thought as to what would hold them riveted until I knew. Dread swirled around me, coating my skin in slick sweat.
“Please,” the magî sobbed. “Drav!”
Esi was already pushing through the line, so I scurried after her.
“No you don’t,” a male magî said, grabbing my arm and jerking me to a stop.
He wrapped his arm around my waist, but I didn’t even look at him. I couldn’t. Because there in front of me was a magî waist deep in the ground. Oh, Rot. This was the bûyî. I squinted, and an oily, black sheen surrounded the mud where Drav was caught, his mouth gaping. He was being consumed, the soggy land making wet sucking sounds like smacking lips. Drav’s eyes were wide with horror, and—with our movement—he found his voice and bellowed again. Flailing in panic, his activity only increased the rapidity of the swallowing maw, the darkness greedily ingesting him. Within seconds, no more than a breath or two, he was gone.
Several people gasped, a collective inhale bouncing through the group. Someone bumped my shoulder and then darted past. The female magî who’d been screaming. She’d broken free from whomever held her and raced forward. She stumbled—as the ground dissolved beneath her—pitching forward. The sound of her body hitting the bûyî was a gluttonous gulping, and in the blink of an eye, she’d followed Drav into the belly of death.
After another blink, the dark, greasy luster evaporated.
Stunned silence fell over our group. I blinked, waiting for my mind to make sense of what I’d seen. My gaze slid to Esi, but her eyes were as wide as mine. The bell clanged, and the crowd’s stupor fractured. All at once, the group broke, running back to the post-center, several women screaming. Esi and I remained, my heart thundering against my ribs.
“That’s the bûyî,” she whispered.
I nodded, putting my arm out to stop her from advancing. “Did you see the darkness of it?”
She frowned, still staring at the muddy ground before facing me with the look of confusion. “Darkness? I don’t see anything. Can you see something different?”
“Not now, but there was a dark gleam around the edge.”
Esi studied me, her eyes filled with doubt. “I didn’t see an edge. Are you sure?”
Had I really seen that sheen or imagined it? Uncertainty crept in as I considered my recent hallucination about Ruin, and I shook my head, knowing she would assume it was agreement. But even as I acquiesced, my i
nstinct was insistent. I’d seen that sheen twice. What is the bûyî? “Is it coming back to this area because it had already appeared once close by?”
Esi cocked her head to the side, and her attention shifted to the ground where the bûyî had been. The wind rustled through the trees, and the seconds stretched as she regarded the mud and then she said, “I’d never considered that.” She looked at me again, but her gaze remained unfocused as she continued. “I don’t know if anyone’s thought of that.”
What were they discussing at their council meetings? I pursed my lips to keep from insulting her and instead said, “Maybe you should have a map.”
This wasn’t like trying to sort out if two magî who wanted to bond had incompatible magîk. If they tracked where the bûyî appeared, they could see if there was a pattern.
“Did you go to the other one?” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. “After that group died, you disappeared. Is that where you went?”
“Yes,” I said. There was no reason to hide what I’d done. “I wanted to see if it sparked anything.” I sighed, my shoulders sagging with the memory of her grief, of everyone in Pûleêr. And now they’d be mourning again.
My gaze drifted back to churned terrain; the glossy glint in the mud I’d seen was gone. I wondered if the ground had solidified yet, not that I was going to try. “You know, if the bûyî has appeared here every time, you might want to just close this area off. Let the undercanopy take this space back; move the road inward a couple dozen feet. It might be safer.”
Esi stared at me as though I’d grown another head.
“Or not,” I hedged. “Just thinking out loud, since you’re on the council and all.”
“It’s a good idea,” she said. “I’ll tell Rull.” Turning her back to where the bûyî had been, she jerked her head toward the communal area. “We better hurry, or there will only be rice and beans left.”
I squished the mud between my toes. There was no sense in saying what we both already knew: beans were all there was going to be anyway. I stared at the ground again, wishing for better understanding. At least she hadn’t pressed about my memory—again. Instead of getting answers, I seemed to be collecting more questions.
