Healer's Need

by Rhenna Morgan

  In deference to his somber appearance and the quiet beauty around her, Elise stole as quietly as she could toward him. “Where are we?”

  He stood stock-still, not acknowledging her presence in any way. In fact, his focus on the fire’s remnants was so absolute, she wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard her. For all she knew, he couldn’t.

  “Our last full presect was here,” he finally said.

  A cold breeze slipped through the valley, cleansing in its touch even as it seemed to mourn with whatever held Priest so still.

  He met her gaze, his mystic gray eyes brighter than she’d ever seen them. “This is where your grandmother died. Where all the primos died when my brother stole their magic.”

  Death. In such a beautiful place. It didn’t seem possible. The narrow, winding basin seemed too pure to have ever been touched by the slaughter Priest had told her about the day they’d first met. But here they were—nestled in the heart of where the clan’s current struggles had all begun.

  “New life comes from death.”

  Elise spun to find the Keeper behind her, still dressed in the same professional outfit as before. Only rather than aiming her potent gaze on Elise, her attention was locked on Priest behind her as she meandered their way. “You could learn a thing or two from Elise, Eerikki.”

  Eerikki.

  No matter how many times Elise heard Priest’s true given name, it still rang incongruent with the larger than life man she’d come to know.

  “You did the best you could with what you had to work with,” the Keeper said. “Only wisdom learned through time allows us to change our responses. The pain of the past is what makes us who we are.” She stopped just out of reach and shifted her focus to Elise. “I’m proud of you, Elise. Proud of all you’ve learned. Delighted with your courage.”

  She was, too. Maybe it was wrong to feel that way, but of all the competitions and physical challenges she’d tackled growing up, none felt so liberating as those she’d faced today.

  The Keeper smiled, one of those knowing ones that said she’d not only heard Elise’s thoughts, but approved. “Will you accept the gifts I’m willing to give you?”

  Her magic.

  She’d made it.

  And while a part of her hoped—even prayed—that Priest and Tate were right and healing would be her place inside the clan, in this moment, she was happy just to be a part of the whole. No matter what magic she was given.

  Elise bobbed her head, her heart skipping with an elation that left her body singing. “Yes.”

  The Keeper smiled and stepped closer. “I’m glad.”

  Priest moved in tight behind her and braced his hands on her shoulders.

  “Remember what you’ve learned today,” the Keeper said. “The freedom that comes in facing your fears. The compassion shown. The inherent strength that comes from loving and appreciating who you are.”

  She leaned in, her lips aimed straight for Elise’s.

  Priest’s fingers tightened and held her steady.

  And then she was floating. Present only in spirit and free from the physical weight of the world. Surrounded in an evergreen light and buoyed by pure love and strength. A second later, her breath caught, and her eyes opened.

  Still in the valley. Surrounded by beauty.

  Beside her, Priest stood patiently, the odd attire he’d worn before replaced with his standard black tee, faded jeans and boots. The Keeper was nowhere in sight, but a thick black leather cord circled Elise’s neck, the medallion that hung from it resting warm and heavy just below the hollow of her throat. “What’s this?”

  “What do you think it is?”

  She tried to dip her head for a better look at the design, but where it lay on her chest, seeing the full image was impossible. Loads of Voláns wore charms around their necks or on bracelets. Others, like Jade, wore them woven into braids in their hair. Every symbol was different, each representing some aspect of protection or strength.

  But none looked like this one. None except the ones Alek and Priest wore.

  She held Priest’s gaze and her fingers trembled against the metal. “She made me healer prima?”

  Priest barked out a laugh that seemed to echo off the mountains. “You’re the only person who ever doubted that would be the case.”

  A healer.

  A leader.

  And while the latter half of that equation struck a healthy spark of trepidation, both distinctions humbled her clear to her soul. “I didn’t think... I mean, I thought because I hadn’t grown up with everyone else, she’d pick someone else.”

  “Sometimes fresh perspectives are what we need. I certainly wasn’t what everyone expected when the Keeper picked me as high priest.” He cupped the back of her head and pulled her in for a hug. “You’re going to be a fine healer, Elise. I promise.”

  An eagle’s cry rang out against the bright, clear day, as if to punctuate Priest’s statement.

  Priest chuckled and released her, pointing to the sky behind her as he stepped away. “You’ve got a visitor.”

  Elise turned in time to watch the magnificent bird bank a sharp corner and fly toward them, its wings stretched wide to each side and at least eight feet long. It landed on a big boulder not ten feet away, lifted its wings wide and ruffled them before settling them close to its body. “He’s beautiful.”

  “He’s a she,” Priest corrected.

  Well, she’d have to take him on faith on that score. Wildlife hadn’t ever been her strong suit, but something about the creature in front of her held her spellbound.

  “They’re fascinating birds,” Priest said, still standing behind her. “Their vision reaches up to three miles away and, once they lock on to their prey, they never take their eyes off it until they capture it.”

  “Wow, really?” She cocked her head and studied the bird who seemed to be doing the same thing to Elise.

  “Really.” Priest moved in beside her. “They also fly into storms instead of away from them like other birds. They use the storm’s winds to lift them higher up.”

  Despite the information and the hidden message it seemed Priest was trying to share with her, she couldn’t look away from the eagle. “Why is she watching me?”

  “Because, she’s waiting on you.”

  Waiting. On her. “For what?”

  Priest lowered his voice, the sheer reverence in his words moving across her like a solemn prayer. “She’s yours, Elise. And she’s waiting for you to accept her.” He splayed his hand at her back and nudged her forward. “Go. Meet your new companion.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tate was going to kill his primo. It might take a surprise attack when Alek was otherwise engaged in a head-to-head session with Priest, or when he was unconscious to do it, but one of these days Tate was going to kill him. Or at least land a punch to his jaw hard enough to knock him out for a few days. Granted, he was just trying to help Elise level out with some light sparring so she could try her hand at magic and shift for the first time, but the fucker deserved something nasty for putting his hands on Tate’s mate.

  Waiting with Priest and Katy in the gorge behind Priest’s house, Tate leaned one shoulder against a huge oak, crossed his arms and fought the push from his coyote to shift.

  “Relax,” Priest drawled from beside him. “He’s not doing anything inappropriate.”

  Pushed too far, Tate snapped back in a tone he’d never dared used with Priest, “I don’t see Katy sparring with another man.”

  Priest shrugged, so disaffected by Tate’s reaction he didn’t even bother to look away from Elise struggling to break free of a chokehold. “My mate’s not a prima. Yours is. She needs a bond with Alek.”

  “She needs to bond with her mate.”

  This time Priest met Tate’s glare head-on and his voice was pure steel. “Your mate’s going to
have her hands on a lot of people if she’s going to do her job. Men included. Time for you to get used to it.”

  Fuck.

  He hadn’t thought about that aspect of their life. But now that he stopped long enough to consider it, he clearly remembered the frequent bouts of fury his dad had had to fight for the same reason. And his mom hadn’t been a prima.

  “I see that sunk in.” Priest smirked and went back to watching Alek and Elise. “Don’t worry, though. In another ten minutes or so, Elise’s buzz is gonna level out and you’ll have your work cut out for you.”

  The vague undercurrent behind Priest’s words yanked Tate upright, his arms uncurling and body bracing for a fight. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Priest eyeballed Tate as though gauging whether he could handle the answer. “It means my gut tells me we’ll need Elise’s skills sooner rather than later, so I’m going to push her. You’re my best leverage to get her there fast and I’m going to use it.”

  Katy stopped her silent spectating long enough to volley a considering look between Priest and Tate. “Why do I get the feeling we should have called a few more healers in for backup?”

  “We won’t need them,” Priest answered without breaking Tate’s stare. “Tate will take whatever it takes to get her there. Won’t you, Tate?”

  The realization of where Priest was headed materialized in Tate’s head with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball. Watching her spar with Alek was one thing, but participating in something that would cause her full-scale panic was something else. “You can’t.”

  “Give me one good reason why not.”

  “Because it’ll hurt her.”

  “Whoa. Hold up.” Katy braced herself between them, clearly prepared to intervene. “Can’t do what?”

  “Reflex training,” Priest answered.

  Just hearing the approach voiced out loud iced Tate’s bones to the marrow. He’d seen the technique work a million times, particularly with warriors. Had even had Priest use the tactic on him a time or two. He’d just never considered Priest would try it with a healer. “You throw the person into a situation where they don’t have any choice but to respond and the magic answers on instinct.” He focused on Priest. “You didn’t feel her panic when she found me on the road. I did. I’d have still been out cold when you got there if it hadn’t been for her pain waking me up.”

  “You’re wrong,” Priest said. “We may not have a bond with her, but every one of us who came into contact with her last night felt what she felt. And you’re not giving her enough credit. There’s a reason you’re fully healed instead of partially so.”

  Tate looked to Katy. When all she did was shrug in lieu of an answer, he shifted his attention back to Priest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means your mate’s will was so damned strong in refusing to meet the Keeper in the Otherworld—fighting slipping into her own soul quest—that the Keeper intervened and did the bulk of the work for me so Elise would let go.”

  The silver light.

  He’d thought it’d been a dream or a by-product of Priest knocking him out. God knew he’d never seen Priest generate that kind of light when he’d healed Tate before, and Tate had come home for Priest to patch up with some doozies.

  Priest’s voice dropped to a low murmur. “Look at her, Tate. Not who she’s working with, but her and how fast she’s learning.”

  She was beautiful to watch. A mix of grace and feminine power. It emanated in every movement, her focus as she trained absolute.

  “She was meant for this,” Priest said, “and my gut tells me we’re going to need her skills.” He paused a beat and let the weight behind his words sink in. “What I need to know is if you’re willing to help her get where she’s going as fast as we need her to be there.”

  Tate’s throat clenched so tight his answer was more guttural growl than words. “I’d do anything for her. Anything but hurt her.”

  “Oh, trust me,” Priest said. “She’s not going to be the one that hurts. You will.” Not waiting for Tate’s reaction, he ambled forward and let out a sharp whistle. “Alek, take a break.”

  The break in action was almost instantaneous, Alek unwinding the hold Elise had likely only been seconds from breaking free of and stepping back, even as he kept a steadying hand on her shoulder.

  Priest stopped just five feet from the two of them and waved Tate forward. “Tate, you’re up.”

  Flushed from her bouts with Alek and the newfound magic streaming through her body, Elise smiled huge. Had it not been for the cold reality of what was about to happen slicing through him, Tate would’ve strutted the distance between them. As it was, he took the smile for everything it was and prayed it wouldn’t be the last one she gave him.

  “Shirt off,” Priest said to Tate as he prowled closer.

  Something in Priest’s ominous tone must have tipped Elise off because her smile slipped, and her gaze darted back and forth between them. “What’s going on?”

  Tate tossed his shirt to the ground and squared himself to Priest. Whatever injury Priest intended Tate couldn’t fathom, but there was no doubt it was going to hurt like hell.

  “How’s your energy?” Priest said, avoiding her question entirely.

  “Good.” She looked to Tate and raised an eyebrow.

  Tate didn’t dare speak. Hell, just standing there knowing what was about to happen and not sharing took everything in him.

  Priest stopped right in front of her. “Can you feel your magic?”

  Elise lowered her head, her attention loosely aimed at the ground in front of her and her gaze distant. “I think so.” She lifted her head. “It’s like a buzz, right? A hum beneath your skin?”

  “That’s the one.” He craned his head from side to side as though warming up for a fight. “Focus on it. Center yourself in it.”

  Elise closed her eyes and the clearing around them stilled in an instant. Midmorning sunshine filtered through the full treetops overhead and the steady drone of a boat on the lake hummed in the distance, but within their immediate reach a preternatural softness permeated everything.

  The healer’s concord.

  Tate had experienced it hundreds of times growing up with his mother. A natural connectedness that sprung from every healer when their magic melded between the Otherworld and Earth. The ground practically sang with it, and the breeze took on an almost singsong quality.

  Pure power.

  That of a prima finding her way.

  Priest felt it, too, the hard edge he’d approached them with now coated in pure certainty. “Open your eyes, Elise.”

  She did as he asked, her normally light green eyes darkened by the depth of her magic.

  “What you feel right now—the energy flowing through you—is what you need.”

  She cocked her head just a fraction. “What I need for what?”

  Too focused inwardly on honing her gifts, she seemed to miss Priest fisting one hand at his side. Silver shimmered down his right arm. “To heal your mate.”

  One second.

  One blindingly fast swipe of Priest’s arm and a flash of his panther’s claws and Tate was on his knees, the searing burn across his chest too great for his body to process and stay standing at the same time.

  “Oh my God!” Elise was there in an instant, kneeling before him. His blood seeped over her fingers as she tried to stem the flow with her palms.

  She didn’t stand a prayer of stopping it. The cuts were too deep. Too jagged for anything but magic or a well-trained trauma team to repair. She glared at Priest over her shoulder, undiluted fury and terror whipping the once peaceful forest into a maelstrom of dangerous energy. “Are you out of your mind? Fix him!”

  Priest held his ground, his voice utterly dispassionate. “No.”

  Her rage shot higher, lashing through their still growing
bond with all the mercy of a barbed whip and ripping a low guttural moan he had no hope of containing up the back of his throat. He gripped her wrists. Tried to focus through the pain and steady his breathing. To slow his ragged pulse. “Elise.”

  Her focus on him was instant and the energy around him softened, though nowhere near as still as what she’d need to heal him.

  “You.” His arms shook and, despite what his mind insisted he say, his mouth struggled to cooperate. “Not Priest. You.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” She twisted back to Priest. “I don’t know what I’m doing! Help me!”

  “He won’t.” The muscles in Tate’s thighs and torso trembled to the point he swayed and nearly pulled her off balance with him. “You have to.”

  The horror and helplessness etched on her face cut him deeper than the jagged claw marks across his torso. “I don’t know how!”

  “You don’t. Your magic does.” Blackness crowded the edges of his vision and the forest spun. The next thing he knew, the brilliant blue sky was above him. Priest towered to one side of him, his arms crossed resolutely across his chest.

  Elise knelt at the other, the press of her palms against his bleeding chest and tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Tate tried to wipe them. Needed to ease the pain crashing through their bond. “Hurts.”

  “Tell me what to do,” she said between choked sobs. “Please.”

  It doesn’t matter if it’s a simple scratch or a terrible wound. His mother’s voice, paired with a memory that crowded out the present and dragged him back to one of the first times he’d watched her heal a little girl who’d stepped on a piece of broken glass. With a featherlight touch, she stroked the three-inch wound. Healing is a connection. Two souls brought together by pain. The magic knows where to go. How to heal what’s been torn apart. So long as my heart is open, it flows as easy as a river.