The Danger of Destiny

by Leigh Evans

  “He killed the mistress,” said Mouse, sounding more astonished than aggrieved.

  “Fae filth,” said the archer.

  Oh, crap. He’s got another arrow.

  * * *

  When I was young and completely unaware that my life was going to flip from happy as a Hallmark Valentine’s Day special to as dark as an HBO series finale, I knew one fact: Lexi was faster than me. At navigating the birth canal. At crawling and standing. At figuring out punch lines and exit strategies. At calling rock to my scissors.

  And, of course, at running.

  My sibling slammed into me, or rather, he slammed into Mouse, who stood between us. Before I could go ass over teakettle, Lexi’s steely arm swept around us to squash Mouse and me to his chest. “Meh, meh, his-her-blah-blah-blah!” he shouted in my ear (or something like that). As he spoke the words of conjure, he did something with his right hand, which I couldn’t see, because my face was smooshed into his shirt.

  I’ve blundered into a ward, twice. And I’ve seen one created, once. But I’ve never actually been inside one as it fell around me. I thought my ears would pop or I’d feel something equally distressing—a prickling of my thumbs, an ache in my sinuses. But there’s really no sign or sound when a ward falls around you. No sonic boom to reference the fact that you’ve just become the oxygen-dependent life-form zipped into what might be an airtight plastic Baggie.

  Also: it’s invisible. Lexi’s hand gesture must have tipped off the she-bitch with the longbow.

  “Magic!” she cried.

  I didn’t turn to say “you betcha” because on the heels of that announcement I heard three zings—the depressingly familiar sound of arrows set to flight. I curled my body over Mouse’s, and Lexi’s arm tightened painfully around both of us. But the ward held. The zings were promptly followed by a trio of muffled thumps as the three projectiles thudded harmlessly into Lexi’s shield.

  I pushed away from Mouse and my brother’s embrace, to turn to inspect the damage.

  The three arrows were buried, flange deep, into the invisible barrier.

  Relief, followed by tension. I don’t like small places. And in comparison to Lexi’s last conjure, which took in Daniel’s Rock, part of the field, a stream, and a cross section of woods, this protective shield was horribly cramped. Most wards are bell shaped. If this one followed the general shape and form, the total circumference couldn’t have been more than five feet. I tipped my chin upward, wondering if the ceiling was even lower than that estimate.

  “Faith!” whispered Mouse. “This ward’s as small as a shroud!”

  Not quite, but damn close. “Make it bigger,” I said in a low voice.

  “Can’t,” Lexi replied. “The mage has given me enough magic to support two people, no more.”

  “Why?” I hissed.

  “To prove a point.”

  Mouse cleared his throat. “But there’s three of us.”

  “The old man bade me to expel you.”

  The space was so intimate I could hear Mouse’s breathing hitch. I snagged his shirt. “You’re staying.”

  Lexi snapped at me, “I don’t take orders from the Old Mage!”

  “Since when?” I maintained my death grip on Mouse’s homespun.

  My twin’s jaw set and his eyes—usually so cool—turned so hot that the close air felt stifling.

  Very Tall Guy broke the spell of sibling anger weaving between us. “This is an unexpected prize. The Shadow and a sweet curvy Fae morsel to tempt my tooth.”

  Mouse cleared his throat again.

  “Beware of your sweet tooth, Brutus,” said the female Raha’ell. “The girl is the Shadow’s get. Look at their eyes. Both of them are as pale as a lizard’s belly. A man would rather lie in a nest of vipers than rut between her thighs.”

  “I swear, I’m standing right here,” muttered Mouse. “Do they not see me?”

  The scary auburn-haired guy scanned the clearing, his brow furrowed. He took a deep sniff; then he walked over to where Trowbridge had stood to reapply his disguise. Brow furrowed, he used the side of his foot to overturn the thatch of matted leaves. “The Alpha was here not long ago, Lily. He covered himself with this muck again.”

  “Perhaps we should do it again too,” said Lily. “We’ve hit every mud hole he’s hit. It’s kept the terror of the sky away.”

  Very Tall Guy, aka Brutus, tramped over to Scary Guy. Brutus inhaled long and lustily and then looked over his shoulder at me. “Viper’s nest or not,” he said thoughtfully. “He plowed her.”

  Oh, ew.

  “More than once,” added the nose police. “Though not today.”

  At that, Lily’s eyes bugged and the string holding her arrow quivered with tension. “The Son of Lukynae wouldn’t sniff at a Fae’s pussy unless the whore wove a spell over him. Tell him, Danen!” she demanded of the scary auburn-haired guy.

  Choosing to avoid the who-plowed-who issue, Danen moved to the Gatekeeper’s body. He pushed her head back with the tip of his bow so that he could study her face. Then he turned back to us and silently stared at me, then Lexi, and then nothing at all. He picked a spot over our heads and gazed at it blindly, and it was during that that his expression turned from speculative to bleak.

  She-bitch with the longbow missed it. “Tell Brutus that our Alpha wouldn’t touch one such as she,” she asked again.

  “Enough with the slut shaming,” I said.

  Mouse, whose vocabulary didn’t include a reference for “slut shaming,” jumped to my defense. “Hedi of Creemore is not a Fae. She’s a mutt like me.”

  Apparently, that wasn’t an upgrade. Lily went Bob Fosse, and another arrow hit the ward with a zing.

  “What did you do that for?” Mouse spluttered.

  The woman glared at Lexi. “Mutts grow up to be monsters. They should be killed at their first cry.”

  I’m so done with this.

  Brutus’s bowstring was tauter than Joan Rivers’s smile. He pointed the head of his arrow at Lexi. “What do you think the Shadow is worth? Do you think the Fae will trade all of our pack for him?”

  “Not for him,” said Danen, his voice as cold as ice. “But they’ll pay a heavy ransom for what the girl wears.”

  The female Raha’ell sucked in a shocked breath. “She wears his amulet!”

  “Look further, Lily.” Danen’s scent had turned musky and pungent. “She wears the Royal Amulet as well.”

  I should have tucked Merry and Ralph inside my shirt, but with all the bows and arrows I forgot. Too late now, particularly as Merry was already on the move. She cinched in her chain, zipping faster than an express elevator to the hollow beneath my throat. From there, she rope-walked over to my shoulder. This was normally when people’s eyes bugged out; few expect a pendant to become animated.

  “Merry, where is our Alpha?” asked Lily.

  Well, Merry had spent nine years among the Rahae’lls. It made sense that they’d know that she’s a sentient being.

  Lily prowled closer. “Have they hurt you, Merry?”

  Unbearably.

  “Shall I make them suffer before they die?” Lily asked.

  As Merry thought about that, I pointed to the arrows embedded in the invisible shield. “Knock yourself out.” I gave Lily the Elvis smile. Lip curled just so.

  She sneered right back. “You’ll run out of air soon enough.”

  My eyes rolled toward Lexi. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  With an utter change in expression, he shook his head, which in sibling-twin talk could be loosely translated to “hell, we’re totally screwed.”

  Merry sat down on my shoulder—as spiny sea urchin—then crossed her legs.

  I rubbed my face.

  “Quiet!” Danen cocked his head like a spaniel noting the rustle of the treat bag. “I heard something.”

  Damn, damn, damn. I glanced upward. The sky was hazing gray as it does before the sun fully sets, but no cloud befouled it. But if Trowbridge had been taken,
then the Fae hunters were here, in these woods, right now. And with them, came jinxes.

  Brutus lifted his chin and sifted the air for scents. “There,” he said, his gaze narrowing on a very small rise behind Danen.

  I heard no sound, even when Trowbridge crested the small hummock and paused to briefly assess the scene. Though blue comets fired in his eyes, he held his blade loosely in one hand.

  “Our Alpha,” breathed Lily.

  * * *

  Indeed, it was the Raha’ells’ Alpha who walked down the slope, straight into the line of their fire. Walked—like he was a king, born to the role of leader, assured of his reception. Walked—as if he knew himself to be arrow impervious.

  You brave fool.

  The comets spinning in my lover’s eyes burst into flare of blue light. A cone of illumination, not blinding, not searing, but gentle and loving. His flare held the warmth of cupped hands cradling your face. I am your leader, it crooned. I am your father, it said. You are loved.

  Lily moaned and instantly lowered her weapon, her face wreathed with relief.

  Brutus wavered for another two terrible seconds before his shoulders relaxed. “Alpha,” he said simply.

  It was one word: a simple title. But my stomach tightened at the undercurrent of meaning in his tone, for I knew in one stunning flash of insight what being an Alpha truly meant to the Raha’ells.

  The word was both a benediction and an abdication.

  Such a vastly bigger deal than being the Alpha of Creemore, where pack members gathered for meetings and moonlit runs but lived hidden among mankind. Sure, the Ontario pack liked to bring a deer down every four weeks, but they still had their television remotes, and paychecks, and favorite sides of their queen-sized beds. For them, “Were” was a concept modified by civilization, leaving them with a tribal sense of belonging but a certain measure of autonomy.

  “Alpha” held such a different resonance in this realm, where survival was not a given and comfort was measured by the number of people who had your back. It meant: “You lead. You decide. You bear responsibility for our deaths.”

  Goddess, can I be an equal partner to that?

  My wolf was a hot ball inside my gut. As I wondered whether or not she was going to do more than expand, Danen spun around, presenting Trowbridge his back. And once more, I found myself staring into the auburn-haired Raha’ell’s unforgiving eye.

  My inner-bitch growled.

  “Stand down, Danen,” Trowbridge barked.

  “No. I’ll not acknowledge you.”

  Do it, asshole. I’ve got a she-bitch inside me and she’s not happy.

  Brutus tossed his head. “What’s this? We’ve been following our Alpha’s trail all night, hoping to free him from the Fae, and now you turn your back on him?”

  “Free him?” Danen’s knuckles were white. “Where are your balls, Brutus? Are you too stunned by his Alpha flare to ask him questions that any simpleton would? The scent of the Shadow’s get is all over him. Look at him! Has he been beaten? Hurt in any way? Ask yourself why a Raha’ell would ever cut his hair but to—”

  “They shave us for the Spectacle,” said Lily.

  “Yes, they do.” Danen stared at me, and in his expression I saw grief, and rage, and deep fatigue. “But here he is, alive and well, weeks past the last Spectacle. And in whose company do we find him? The Shadow and his whelp.”

  “She is my mate!” Trowbridge’s flare surged, but now it was hot, fierce. “You will treat her with respect.”

  Lily—seriously, Lily?—let out a mewl.

  Danen’s coldly furious gaze swept over me. “This green-eyed wench is the one you called for in your delirium?” He shook his head. “You abandoned your pack for a half-bred Fae!”

  “You might want to ratchet back your Fae-hatred,” I told him. “I’ve had a very bad week.”

  Pulling out his sword, Trowbridge started walking toward the Raha’ell. “You are my second, and once my best friend. I do not want to do this. Put down your bow, Danen. Turn and face me.”

  “Put your blade down first, then douse the magic spilling from your eyes.” Disgust twisted Danen’s face. “What did you have to sell for your Alpha’s flare? Did you give the Black Mage your soul?”

  “The flare is my own.” Trowbridge’s face went taut. “By birthright I own it.”

  “I don’t believe you anymore. By the God’s teeth, we made it easy for you to become one of us. We welcomed you right into our midst.”

  “You tried to kill me,” said Trowbridge. “I fought you and won.”

  “Lie after lie we accepted, even though we knew that they could be naught but tall tales. Like children, we swallowed those stories, choosing to believe that you traveled through the portals when everyone knows that they’ve long been closed. What knaves we were. The Son of Lukynae came from a different world—one so filled with game that no wolf knew hunger—and he’d come to ours to lead us to our new destiny.”

  “I did come from another world,” said my lover. “As did my mate.”

  “You told us the portal closed behind you. How did she get here?”

  Trowbridge covered another three feet, moving slowly. “Let me explain.”

  “I’ve had a bellyful of lies.”

  “Don’t challenge me, old friend.” Sorrow and determination showed on Trowbridge’s face. “You know you’ll lose. And I need your help. Our pack waits to be freed from the pens.”

  “I’ll not believe your tales of fantasy any longer. There is no land of plenty—this is our destiny. The bow. The blood. The end.”

  “Danen—”

  “I know the truth!” the Raha’ell shouted, spittle flying. “I saw your capture. I watched him”—he jerked his chin at Lexi—“run you down with his horse. You didn’t look like a leader then. You were a trapped wolf, surrounded by the Black Mage’s men. But still, me and my boy followed you. We trailed you and the Shadow all the way to the castle, hoping for a chance to help you escape.” He shook his head, his dreads rasping in reproach. “But there was no chance to set you free, and when they dragged you across the Wryal’s bridge, my boy said, ‘Pa, it’s the end of all of us.’” His jaw worked; then he said, “I clapped my hand on my son’s shoulder and told him that nothing could hold our Alpha. But Joshua knew the way of it. Not long after, the terror in the sky came to hunt us. The riders swooped in and took him from me. He’s in the castle now, waiting his turn at the Spectacle. Where were you when Joshua was taken? Was it you who told the Black Mage where to send the cloud that hunts the Raha’ells?”

  “I will never betray my people.”

  “Then tell me—tell us—where were you when the terror came?”

  My mate’s gaze flicked from Danen’s back to me. I shook my head slightly—no. Telling the angry Raha’ell that the Son of Lukynae went back to the land of plenty for a small vacation when things got rough here was a myth destroyer of A-bomb proportions. We didn’t have time for the fallout.

  Use your sword, I mouthed.

  Danen, adept at lipreading, slowly turned to face Trowbridge.

  My man looked at his old second for a long beat. “I was in Creemore.”

  Danen said, “I can’t miss. Not this close.”

  “Neither one of us can,” replied Trowbridge.

  “Break the ward, Lexi,” I told my brother.

  “Trowbridge can handle it.”

  Like hell. My mate had already had ample time to attack Danen but hadn’t. Some misplaced piece of logic or sentiment was getting in the way. At that moment I didn’t give a rat’s ass why. All I knew was that he was putting himself—and, come to think of it, me—in danger.

  I tapped into my magic, and she streamed from my hand to test the strength of the ward with her blind mouth. Iridescent green sparkles shimmered with each lick.

  “Break the ward, Lexi.” I could barely hold on to my flare.

  “He won’t let me,” said Lexi tautly, referring to his hidden wizard.

  Lily raised he
r bow.

  Trowbridge must have caught the movement out of the side of his eye. “The first person to draw a bead on my mate will die,” he said.

  Colored light filled the interior of the dome, bathing the magical walls. Slightly darker and more layered than my usual neon hue.

  “Break it!” I shouted.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The ward didn’t funnel down into Lexi’s palm; it shattered in a blinding flash. The scent of magic exploded too—so strong and floral it was sweetly choking. I heard Lily’s cry, and Danen’s grunt, and Brutus’s mutter about Gods and prophecies. And I sensed movement—things flying away from us like someone had tossed an explosive device onto the ground between us. But I couldn’t see because light was everywhere. Around me and beside me—doubly bright.

  And yes, somewhat dimly, I noted the tonalities, the multi-layers of green, the forest shades softening my usual electric tone.

  But it was a footnote, okay? Because my mate’s light was stretching for mine, a wave of ocean blue surging to meld with my flare. Our lights met and began mold and marry, and then I heard Lexi’s small gasp—the sound he used to make when he’d noticed something marvelous and unexpected; the inhale of delight that would escape him when he spotted a new adventure—and that’s when I realized that some of the green illumination was indeed coming from my left.

  And more important, the source of light wasn’t an electric or neon shade. It was the green of the woods, the shade of the firs, the dappled, mottled, and varied tones of foliage. Lexi’s flare was the essence of him before the mages, before the addiction, before the kidnapping.

  It was the thing left untouched.

  And it was freakin’ beautiful.

  “The prophecy!” Lily cried, dropping like a stone.

  Yes, sink to your knees. See us for what we are.

  Lexi’s hand reached blindly for mine. I caught it and held it. It was warm and far larger than I remembered, and it gripped mine like it was a vise.

  And Trowbridge?

  He was taking it—he was accepting both of us.

  Look at us. Feel us. Understand us.

  Brutus followed Lily, a convert unable to stand in front of such beauty, but Danen held upright. Not terribly successfully; he was visibly weaving. One good huff and he’d fall over, but still, I had to give him a grudging point for staying vertical.