by Laura Taylor
CHAPTER EIGHT
Dee shivered in the cold night air as she stood on the manor’s back lawn. Holding Luke close to her chest to keep him warm, she reached out with a lighted taper and touched the flame to the bowl of oil that sat on a low pillar in the centre of the lawn. The flames took instantly, the crushed herbs mixed into the oil giving the smoke a pungent scent. She recited a prayer in the Old Language, as she had been instructed, then handed the taper to Mark, who was standing beside her holding Taya. As the pups’ new parents, they had been asked to also be their sires, Faeydir to convert Luke, and Mark, in wolf form, to convert Taya. It was important that they both be in wolf form for the conversion; that way, their respective bloodlines would be passed on. If a shifter in human form converted a wolf, it would create a new bloodline, which could sometimes have unforeseen consequences.
Mark stepped forward and lit a second bowl of oil, repeating the prayer before he handed the taper back to Heron.
This ceremony was a sacred one, asking for Sirius’ blessing before creating a new shifter, and though Dee had been told about it before, she’d never actually participated in one. Baron had already told the story of Faeydir-Ul and the origin of the wolf-shifters, and now, as she and Mark re-joined the shifters standing around the pillar, Kwan walked slowly around the circle with a tray of cups containing spiced mead. Each person took a small cup, the last two given to Mark and Dee each containing a small dose of opium, designed to dull the pain caused by the knife wound they would each have to endure. While Dee certainly wasn’t a fan of that part of the ritual, Heron had wryly pointed out that it hurt a lot less than giving birth, so all things considered, Dee supposed it was a small price to pay.
Baron and Caroline each held their cups high, reciting another prayer in the Old Language in unison, before they downed the mead in a single swallow. Everyone else followed suit, a marked sense of anticipation rising in the pack as they reached the culmination of the ceremony.
Silas and Heron came forward, carrying the machine that would be used to convert the pups. It consisted of six pillars, each roughly two feet tall, connected by a series of wires. Each Den had one, and while the equipment might look crude, it was both highly effective and as gentle as was practicable. Creating a new shifter required an electric shock about twice as powerful as a strong static shock, and the machine was carefully calibrated to deliver just enough electricity to get the job done, but not so much as to cause any harm.
Dee stepped forward first, and she handed Luke to Silas. Her hands trembled slightly as she did so, and she tried to hide the fact.
“We’re right here beside you,” Heron murmured to her, putting a hand on Dee’s shoulder while also stroking Luke’s head. While the conversion process had a very high success rate, both the size and the age of the pups created various complications, and a part of Dee was glad that Heron wasn’t trying to dismiss the reality of what they were up against. Rather, it was a simple statement that they were all in it together, everyone here deeply invested in the two new lives who had only just joined them, but who were already a treasured part of their pack.
Deciding there was nothing to be gained from waiting any longer, Dee shifted, letting Faeydir take over for the next part of the ritual.
Heron was tasked with the hardest part, and she picked up a small syringe of local anaesthetic, injecting a few drops into Luke’s foreleg. His vein was tiny, and it would take a very precise hand to position the cut at just the right spot.
While the anaesthetic took effect, Faeydir cooperatively lifted her paw and placed it on the low stool they’d set up in the centre of the machine. Heron made a quick, deep cut into her vein, Faeydir not so much as flinching, then secured a thin, elasticated cuff around her leg. Usually, they had a much wider cuff, used to secure two people’s wrists together, but various modifications had been necessary to accommodate the pups’ tiny legs.
Not wasting any time, Heron turned to Silas. He held Luke as still as possible while Heron used a scalpel blade to make the cut in his leg. He tried to wriggle, but more out of curiosity than pain.
There was a brief delay while Silas and Heron tried to get Luke’s paw lined up with Faeydir’s, then Heron darted over to one of the pillars, activating the switch to send an electric shock sparking through the cuff, transferring the mystical energy of the shape shifters from Faeydir to her new son.
A moment later it was all over and Heron was back. She removed the cuff and handed a cotton swab to Silas so he could tend to Luke’s cut, then bent down to apply a quick dressing to Faeydir’s -
An ear-piercing scream suddenly split the quiet, and Faeydir spun around, inadvertently yanking her paw out of Heron’s hand. Luke had shifted, right there in Silas’s arms, and predictably, both the realisation that he was suddenly a human and the blast of cold night air against his naked skin had been quite a shock. The scream trailed off, but he was equally enthusiastic about a second one, his face rapidly turning red, hands clenched into tiny fists.
Dee immediately tried to shift, only to be shoved back by Faeydir, who considered herself the better qualified to see to their adoptive child. She tried to go to Luke, at the same time as Heron tried to grab her paw again to finish treating the wound – “Just a moment! It’s nearly done!” – but then, just as suddenly as they’d started, the cries stopped, fading out to an unhappy whimper.
With Heron finished, Dee took advantage of Faeydir’s momentary distraction to shift, and she spun around, astonished by the sight in front of her. Silas had grabbed a blanket off a nearby chair and wrapped it around Luke, and now he was crooning softly to him while he rocked him gently.
“Shhhh, it’s all right, little man,” he murmured, stroking Luke’s hair. “It’s a cold, ugly world, but we’re all in it together. It’s okay.” Not quite having made up his mind about the whole thing, Luke let out another cry, not as loud as the first, but enough to command some attention. “You’re right,” Silas told him obligingly. “Sometimes a good scream is the best way to deal with things.” He glanced up, seeing Dee watching him, and Dee didn’t know whether she was more shocked by Luke’s sudden shift, or by the fact that Silas seemed perfectly comfortable soothing a screaming baby. “Do you want him?” he offered, holding Luke out, and Dee nodded.
“Thank you,” she said as she took him. For a split second, she thought about asking Silas where he’d learned to look after babies… but dismissed the idea a moment later. The question would only embarrass him, and it seemed like a poor way to thank him for his help.
She gave Luke a quick check over – he seemed fine, his human body perfectly formed – and then a moment later he was back in wolf form. Dee couldn’t help grinning, and took him over to Mark. “We have a shifter son,” she told him proudly, the grin mirrored on his face as he stroked Luke’s head.
“Congratulations,” Baron said, coming over to make sure everything was okay. “Are you ready for Taya’s turn, or do you want a take a minute?”
“I’m ready if you are,” Mark replied. “Luke seems happy enough, all things considered, and he’s proven he can shift. So, yes, I think we’re good to go.”
Heron gave the equipment a swift clean, then the process was repeated with Taya. Mark shifted and stood stoically while Heron cut his leg, but when it came time to cut Taya, she proved herself to be far less cooperative than her brother had been. She wriggled constantly, getting more and more distressed as Silas tried to hold her still.
Watching on, Dee felt herself becoming agitated as well; it wasn’t an easy thing to see one of her children being hurt, even for the very best of reasons, and after a few minutes, Faeydir gave her a nudge.
Turning to Skip, she softly asked her to hold Luke, who had fallen asleep in her arms, and shifted, Faeydir leaping cleanly over the wires and going to stand beside Silas. Not certain what she was planning, but willing to cooperate, Silas bent down and held Taya out. Faeydir picked her up by the scruff, and in that position, Taya immediately seemed to relax.
With just a few seconds’ work, Heron got a firm hold of her leg and sliced a tiny cut in her vein, and then quickly secured her leg to Mark’s. She activated the switch a moment later, then the cuff was removed and the process was over.
Job done, Faeydir set Taya gently down on the ground, and Silas came over to treat her leg. Heron did the same for Mark, while Faeydir licked Taya and waited for her to shift. While Luke’s first attempt at changing forms had been quicker than anyone had expected, it was not only normal, but actively encouraged for a new convert to shift within the first ten minutes or so. Of course, Taya was far too young for anyone to explain what was expected of her, but they were willing to be patient while she figured it out for herself.
Anticipating the shock that cold, damp grass would be against a baby’s skin, Mark hastily set out a blanket and put Taya on top of it, stroking her head and murmuring a few encouraging words to her. Faeydir licked his hand, then Taya’s face again, while Heron and Silas packed up the machine around them. The rest of the Den stood in a circle, waiting quietly.
Ten minutes passed, then fifteen. Faeydir lay down beside Taya, occasionally nudging her or giving her a cursory lick. Mark perched himself on the stool, watching anxiously, until they reached the point where twenty minutes had elapsed since the conversion. He looked over at Baron, hoping he had some useful advice.
Baron glanced at Caroline, then both of them came forward, Dee resuming her human form as they did so. “I don’t know what to suggest,” Baron said tentatively. “Heron? Any ideas?”
“Sometimes it takes longer,” Heron said succinctly. “You took more than an hour to manage your first shift, if you remember,” she pointed out to Baron. That was a surprise to Dee, but also a relief. If someone as strong as Baron had had trouble with the conversion, maybe all wasn’t lost for Taya…
“Do we have to just wait?” Mark asked hesitantly. “I mean, it’s not like we can ask her how she’s feeling, or teach her how to visualise the process. I don’t know if this is a good idea, but Caroline is able to force someone to shift…”
“No,” Caroline replied immediately. “My abilities are far too powerful to be used on someone so small.”
“I agree,” Dee added, having experienced Caroline’s gift firsthand. “It’s like being kicked by a horse. I don’t like the idea of just waiting, but I don’t think we have much other option at the moment.”
“Maybe we should take them back inside?” Baron suggested finally. “They’re probably getting cold out here.” Dee glanced over at Skip, relieved to see that Luke was curled up asleep inside her coat, then back at Taya, who was fidgeting restlessly on the blanket.
“Maybe that’s a good idea,” she said, feeling tired, excited and scared all at once. One of her children had got through the conversion fine, she told herself, so there was hope that the other would make it as well. Maybe she just needed time…
But before either Mark or Dee could move, a slow, rhythmic chant began around them, soft at first, then gaining volume as more people joined in. Dee recognised the words immediately, and she felt sudden tears gather in her eyes. “Hama yuku laethi-ka. Hama laethi-kaanah.” It was the Chant of Forests, a solemn promise of loyalty and protection to the new shifters, but with the uncertainty surrounding Taya’s failure to shift, Dee had forgotten all about this last part of the ceremony. She looked around at the familiar faces of the Den, each one solemn and serious as they recited the chant in the Old Language. The challenges of motherhood were only just beginning, Dee knew, as Mark picked up Taya and reached out to take her hand. But there was no one else she would rather be facing them with.
CHAPTER NINE
Dawn was well past, the sun climbing into the sky as John wandered around the gardens looking for something useful to do. The vegetable garden wasn’t really doing much yet, but there were some seedlings in the greenhouse that might need thinning, and he could check the garden beds to see if they needed weeding.
But just as he was heading off towards the shed, movement caught his attention, a form over on the lawn that was familiar enough that he still sat up and took notice whenever he saw him. He kept walking, trying to act nonchalant, but out of the corner of his eye, he watched Baron dart forward, then jump back again, then step sideways. He was sparring with someone, but with a hedge in the way, John couldn’t quite see who.
He kept going, stopped to examine a birdbath for the simple excuse of turning around and glanced over at the lawn again…
Suddenly he was gripping the sides of the birdbath, overwhelmed by the surge of rage that vaulted through him, then engulfed in a confusion equally as powerful, as he wondered what the hell he was so angry about.
Baron stood on the lawn, a singlet shirt doing little to hide his rippling muscles, while Kwan faced off against him in loose tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt, his form poised, his balance superb.
John’s first thought was that Baron had found a new pet, and he felt an instant hatred towards Kwan for being the one he’d chosen. On the heels of that thought was firstly the reminder that John didn’t give a fuck who or what Baron was doing anymore, regardless of the fact that he still felt sick to his stomach whenever he thought about Kajus. Then there was the even more pertinent point that Kwan wasn’t gay, so whatever he and Baron were doing was nothing but training, and so what the hell was John getting so worked up for?
As much as he tried to pretend it wasn’t the case, he knew Baron wasn’t out of his system yet. Independence and self-determination were noble goals, but he still dreamed about his alpha at night, still woke up cold and alone, and this morning, he’d stroked himself to completion, a vivid image in his mind of Baron’s face, those powerful hands a phantom touch against his skin...
Fuck, he disgusted himself sometimes.
Forcing himself to turn away from the sight of his former boyfriend getting hot and sweaty with another man, John stalked off, trying to get his head around his own emotions. It wasn’t just his anger that sometimes shocked him. All his emotions were as unreliable; fear, jealousy and even joy all sneaking up to throw his fragile world into chaos. Other people never seemed to have that problem. He’d seen Caroline get angry, but she’d yell a bit, swear a couple of times, then go and get on with whatever task needed doing next. Aaron got jealous, but he’d make a joke, and smile, and pretend it wasn’t a problem. Mark had been over the moon when he’d presented his new son to Baron, but he hadn’t made a fool of himself, or got so lost in the moment that he wasn’t able to keep an eye on the pup and make sure he didn’t wander off too far.
So what was wrong with John?
Without realising it, he’d wandered right through the vegetable garden, past the orchard and was now heading towards the rose beds; once again, he’d got so lost in thought that he hadn’t paid attention to where he was going.
Andre was there, going through some stretches, and as John watched, he neatly folded himself over, head approaching his feet as he pulled himself down, his forearms hugging his calves. Then his hands unfurled themselves and he set them firmly on the ground, lifting his legs in a graceful arc so he was standing on his hands, back arched, body perfectly still as he rested upside down like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Andre never had a problem with his emotions. John had seen him kill people, seen him threatened with death, seen him disagree with Baron, and even Caroline at times, and he’d never once lost his temper, or cried at an inopportune time, or showed the slightest fear when faced with a daunting challenge. There was something Andre knew, that John had never learned.
Andre heard the light scuffing of feet against gravel, feeling a trace of annoyance that he couldn’t even finish his simple stretching routine without being interrupted. Since Tank had left, people seemed to have assumed Andre was taking his place, despite the fact that Silas officially ranked above him. But ‘approachable’ had never been an apt description of Silas, so everyone had chosen the next-best target for their mundane worries and menial requests, a
nd Andre was rapidly understanding why Silas was so adamant about refusing to be alpha.
He waited a moment longer, feeling the muscles in his arms and shoulders warming nicely with the effort he was expending... then he swung his legs down, rising gracefully to a -
“John?” he said, startled to see the young man standing there watching him. Of everyone on the estate, this was one of the few people he had absolutely no objection to being disturbed by. His promise to Baron that he’d find a way to talk sense into John about the ranking order was no small task, and he suspected that it was going to take a few solid weeks of building a rapport with the young man before he had anything like a decent chance of success. “Something I can do for you?”
John looked him up and down, a slow, intimate perusal that Andre had come to understand meant John was pondering what he perceived to be a complex situation, weighing up the best way to deal with it. And while the intense once-over was a little unnerving, Andre far preferred it to the other possible reaction John tended to have to unsettling situations, which was to start breaking things.
“You do meditation and shit, right?” John asked.
Andre knew better than to start second-guessing the lad before he’d made his point clear. “Yes, I do. It’s a standard part of an assassin’s training.”
“Why do you do it? I mean, why is it part of the training?”
“It helps us focus, to centre ourselves and improve our concentration. We learn to pay attention to small details, like faint noises or subtle changes in temperature. It also grounds us mentally; we learn to calm our emotions, to understand our own motivations, and to see beyond the small details in a situation that we might not like. Sometimes keeping an eye on the bigger picture is necessary to keep motivated to complete a task.”
“Hm.” John looked away across the lawn. Andre could see a couple of rabbits playing near the edge of the forest, where overgrown bushes gave them a convenient bolt-hole, and there were a handful of birds flitting about in the branches of the trees. Though whether John noticed any of these details was anyone’s guess. “Could you teach me?” he asked finally, his tone almost challenging. But Andre had learned by now that that was simply John’s way. As a child, he had never been asked to perform a task, he had been ordered, and though he’d come a long way in terms of diplomacy, something of that confrontational style remained.
