by Jan Delima
Until now, when all those memories turned to one hateful scowl and he pointed to the door.
Composure be damned, Elen almost crumpled to the floor, but then she told herself it was this place, this unbalanced place that pushed at her to leave, that made her want to laugh and cry all at the same time.
Neither Cormack, nor this island, would bully her away until she had one important answer from him.
Determined, she took another step into the room. “Hello, Cormack.”
His scowl deepened and his arm remained fixed on the open door.
She walked around the sofa, pausing when she saw a small form tucked under a blanket. A child slept with her arm around a stuffed bear and her head on a throw pillow.
“The Wulfling?” she asked.
Cormack spared her a nod at least.
Sitting on the edge of the sofa, Elen placed her hand on the child’s arm and then yanked it back. Power, much like Avon’s, slammed through her.
“Extraordinary,” she said softy. “This child is healthy.” There was naught else for Elen to do if the child was well, so she smoothed the blanket around her tiny form. “She belongs with this place, I think.” The Wulfling was the balanced version of what Avon should be. Even from that brief touch Elen had felt the human and wolf strands of their kind, weaved in a secure knot where Avon’s was unraveled.
Elen looked up and Cormack avoided her gaze. A long silence stretched between them. Everything in her being resisted the urge to reach out and hug him—but she knew, could feel it like lightning over water, falling into temptation might stop her heart with its bite.
With a sigh, Elen stood. She walked over to a bookcase, keeping her back turned, afraid to watch him while she made her confession and plea. “Mae asked me to stay for Luc’s wedding feast. Afterward, I’ll go. I’m not wanted here.” She could feel it from the island as much as from him. “I’m sorry, Cormack. I’m so sorry for what I’ve done to you. I . . .”
I miss you! I miss you so much I can’t sleep at night.
She had vowed not to cry in front of him but tears clogged her throat despite her efforts. “Will you just tell me one thing before I leave? Do you hate me now?”
Gathering enough courage to turn around, she found his face contorted with an emotion difficult to define because it formed such a tortured mask. Because of her. She had done this to him. His chest rose on breaths more ragged than hers and his hands fisted by his sides.
She asked again, because she needed to know, “Do you hate me?”
He began to shake his head and her heart soared. She even took a step forward. “I can help you. I can teach you everything.” Her voice sounded desperate even to her own ears, but she didn’t care. “You are my friend, Cormack. My only friend. You being a man changes nothing about how I feel.”
An outraged growl came from his throat. Worse, so much worse, he gave a short but distinctive nod and pointed once again to the door.
Leave! The message raged in his gaze like black clouds over a tumultuous sea. I don’t want you here!
Staggered, she backed into the bookcase. But she had been rejected before, many times, and would be so again. Slowly, she straightened her posture and concentrated only on putting one foot in front of the other. She had received the answer she’d come for, if not the one she’d wanted. More important, she’d been a desperate fool enough for one day.
Koko’s Journal
—
May 18, 1941
Cormack, as he often does, sat with me this afternoon while I painted in Elen’s garden. I like when he visits, because in his presence I cannot resent my mortality. I simply look to Cormack and am consoled. We have become unlikely friends, a wolf and an old woman, both trapped in bodies we cannot change. We are two souls with opposite burdens, his to live forever and never know the touch of the woman he loves, whereas I have known love in all its glorious forms, but only for a fleeting time. Ignorance is Cormack’s blessing; awareness is my pain. If given the choice, I would choose my burden over his a thousand times.
As I look upon my drawing of Cormack once again, my pride forces me to confess that I am not altogether happy with my work. I deliberately did not capture his true image, not as I see him. There is such need in his eyes that my drawing does not convey, consuming like the hunger of bears in spring, ferocious by nature, starving to feed, yearning to mate. Cormack’s image would have been powerful had I drawn what I wanted. Instead, I relaxed his stance, softened his eyes, and even turned a wolfish smile under his pointed snout. This afternoon, after I gathered my supplies and packed them away, Cormack leaned over to view my finished work. The most peculiar sound gurgled from his throat. I am quite certain he had laughed. I am glad, for that at least.
I wish I did not know the woman who has captured his heart, but I do.
Sometimes, when I watch him look at her, my cheeks burn with embarrassment. I wonder how she cannot see it. I wonder how she cannot feel the burning in the wolf’s soul that I feel.
I only know it is not my place to show her what I see. That is why I will not fix my drawing. Instead, I will remain loyal to my friend.
I will keep his secret.
~Koko
Eighteen
Rosa eyed the packages Luc pulled from her wardrobe and placed on their bed, realizing she had started thinking of it as their bed since this morning. “Eight boxes of them?” How many condoms are in a box?
He shrugged. “It was all they had on the shelf. Do you have a hidden place I can put these where no one will find them?”
She hesitated for a moment. How many more secrets of hers would he uncover? All of them, she suspected—because she wanted to share them with him. “On the floor of the wardrobe is one,” she told him. “And the sixth panel on the far wall is another. Run your hand along the frame and you’ll feel the latch. Gareth installed it for me.”
While he hid the condoms away, her eyes were drawn to another plastic bag that promised more purchases from the human world. “What else did you bring back?”
“Those are for you,” he said absently. “It’s nothing much, only a few pairs of jeans. I brought four different sizes. One should fit. There’s also some tops and a pair of sneakers—those I had a size for from your boots. You’ll blend better wearing that,” he explained. “We’ll go out together next time and you can buy what you like.”
Nothing much? She looked away, momentarily overwhelmed. He offers me freedom in a bag and says it’s nothing much. “I was never allowed to mingle with mortals.” Only when she went for a run was she allowed off the island, and then the route had been plotted for least human population.
“You drove to Rhuddin Village and back,” he pointed out.
“That’s Gareth’s doing. He convinced Math to let me learn as our forest became ill. We damaged it more when we shifted, especially me. My routes were monitored and always traveled in the early mornings. Besides, by then Math had taught me not to stray.”
He straightened slowly and faced her. “How, Rosa?” His tone had gone dangerously low. “How did he teach you not to stray?”
“It’s not important.” She made a flippant wave of her hand. “It happened a long time ago, when horses and carriages filled the gatehouse and steam engines were too exciting to heed caution.”
“And you’re evading my question so I think it’s important.” His chin lowered in that way alphas had when deciding whether or not to pounce. “Tell me what happened.”
“I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“But you did, and now I’ll hear the full story.”
“Fine.” Having been the one to open this door, there was no recourse left but to parade the sordid details within. “I was never tortured, if that’s what you’re thinking. With me, Math was careful with his punishments.”
“And you think that makes them less abusive?”
/> His question made her pause. “Horses aren’t skittish of me as they are with some of our kind. I had one I loved very much. Her name was Eventide.” Rosa remained quiet for a moment, ashamed, though she didn’t know why—her impudence at the time perhaps, and her stupidity. “Do you remember the 1800s, when steam engines first came about, and the construction of the new railways that went all the way to the west?” The excitement of the times had even reached Avon. “And now we have spaceships that land on our moon, but back then a railway meant freedom.” Achievable freedom. “I had to see it. I had to.”
“I understand,” he said softly and waited for her to continue.
“I rode Eventide to the new construction of the railway, but the journey was longer than I thought.” She looked away for the last of her tale because it still haunted her to this day. “When I returned, Math slaughtered her. And for the rest of the week Eventide was the main course at dinner.”
A long stretch of silence consumed the air between them. When Luc finally spoke his voice was strained, as if his beast wanted to crawl up his throat. “How did you not kill him?”
“To what end, Luc? And at whose cost? I’ve had Guardians more powerful than Math offer to take his place were he to die. Is Pendaran’s fortress a better one than this?” A bitter laugh fell from her mouth. “I think not.”
“Pendaran?” Luc’s eyebrow rose over that revelation.
“He visits once a year and I’ve woken more than once with him standing over my bed. Silent as a ghost, I swear that man can walk through walls. Even Mae cowers when he’s about.”
“Did he ever touch you against your will?”
She couldn’t help but smile. “I do believe Mae is right. Such an honorable warrior you are to find offense in such things.” She shook her head. “No, Pendaran never touched me. Just a promise that my marriage to him would be much more satisfying than my marriage to Math.”
“Pendaran can choke on his bloody promises,” Luc spat, and his gaze flared.
“I thought of running that night,” she admitted. “But where was I to run to? My neighbors didn’t involve themselves in our affairs, and I couldn’t leave others to endure the consequences of my leaving. They are my family. I thought of killing him, but that would only flood our home with more Guardians. We found a way to make peace in our own way. Cadan mostly. He had it much worse than I did, though he’s flippant and pretends enjoyment; he took the heaviest burden.”
He exhaled, disturbed yet pensive. “This is the reason you were initially upset by the Wulfling’s presence.”
She frowned. “I suppose so.” Though she hadn’t thought about it, apparently he had. “Innocent creatures tend to die here, and a child is as innocent as they come.”
“You found a refuge to go to,” he said with a tone of relief, not censure, as if he needed to hear that she’d had some small outlet of freedom. “Somewhere close, I believe. Since the castle was almost empty when we arrived and now it’s crawling with people.”
“Not so close. And before you go searching for it, I would prefer you waited for an invitation from the Hen”—she paused—“from our staff. It’s their haven and their invitation to give.”
He nodded. “How did you keep this place from Math?”
“We haven’t had it long. It was part of our plan. We’ve been seeing signs of dissension, and hearing stories of rebels.”
“From Drystan,” he stated.
Rosa ignored his acerbic tone, remembering Taliesin had shared her connection to the alliance member. “Drystan was still active among the Guardians when my first wedding took place. He was the only one who offered to help me escape.” Her smile was meant to soothe but it only deepened his scowl. “I accepted his help a few hundred years later. We formed a secret friendship, nothing more, no matter what Taliesin suggests.”
“If his territory was closer, would you have gone to him first?”
“Yes, with the same original offer I intended to give Dylan. But I doubt I would have offered him marriage.” She chose her words carefully, sensing his displeasure. “I’ve always detested being touched. I wasn’t repulsed when you searched me that first time. I took it as a positive sign.” She paused, reflective. “I took it as a seed of hope.”
That was where it first began, this feeling of rightness that threatened to burst from her chest. And now her seed of hope had grown into a sapling.
And she would not let it drown like all the others on this island.
An arrogant glint darkened his eyes. “And when you screamed my name this morning, were you repulsed?”
“Not so much then, either,” she confessed.
He chuckled, appeased.
Rosa went over to the bed and ran her hands over the clothes Luc had given her. “When Sophie was taken and brought here . . . I couldn’t stand by and let Math harm her as he had Siân. And when Dylan took his revenge, I knew. I knew it was time to act and I did.” She held up her new sneakers. “And now I have a husband who brings me gifts such as these.” Her voice clogged with emotion as she sat on their bed. “Besides my swords, and Eventide, these are the most thoughtful gifts anyone has ever given me. Thank you.”
Luc had gone still.
She frowned. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, Rosa . . .” He ran his hand through his hair and a metallic square package spiraled to the ground. Had he been holding a condom? It seemed so. Bending down, he picked it up and returned it to the secret compartment. She couldn’t help but feel a tug of disappointment.
After closing the hidden panel, he turned and crossed the distance between them. Sitting on the bed, he scooped her onto his lap in a position that was more of a consoling embrace. “I confess I’m at a loss for words.”
Her eyes fell to his mouth when he loosened his arms. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips over his, wrapping her arms around his neck. It was the first time she initiated such a gesture. With a growl, his hand lifted and captured her head, deepening the kiss.
“Then let us be together without words,” Rosa said against his mouth. “Run with me. Run with me and let me see your wolf.”
“Rosa . . .” His chest rose and fell on an anguished breath. “Ask me for anything else and it’s yours.”
Taken aback, she simply stared. “You’re serious.” Baffled by his silence, she prompted for certainty, “You really don’t want to run with me.”
He grimaced then, as if impaled from within. “Believe me when I tell you want has nothing to do with it. In this moment, I want to run with you more than my honor can withstand my beast’s displeasure.” He untangled her arms from his neck, sliding out from under her in haste as he stood.
Her mouth hung open before she snapped it shut. No other unmated wolf would have rejected her offer—not even Math—and as his refusal registered the air between them soured.
Granted, her pride was stricken.
But she was also hurt, because she could think of only one reason why he would refuse. “This has something to do with her, doesn’t it?” With Koko. “I’m not asking you to remove her memory; I’m just asking you to run with me.”
He winced, and a trail of blood ran from his nose. He wiped it with the back of his hand. “I’ll find you later,” he said and strode out the door, leaving her bereft in a riot of emotions.
She shook her head in an empty room, not quite sure what had just happened.
* * *
Taliesin flew to Avon as a golden raven in the shimmering ether of twilight. Wide like a giant raptor, he soared above dense forests and white-tipped mountains shedding winter’s last snow. The wind caressed his wings with frozen kisses of a desperate lover, clawing at him in a frantic haste of triumph.
Ah, yes . . . He had denied his true self for too long.
The brother of all things beastly was meant to commune with beasts; he was meant to fly and swim an
d run alongside all earthly creatures. Because he was the son of an earth mother, a goddess of transformation who balanced darkness and light, and he had been missed.
Unlike his weakened protectors, he could assume any visceral form, and not just that of a wolf. But it had been a while, and by the time he circled the wasted island of Avon, his back and shoulders screamed for rest. He angled for the Walkers’ tombs and glided into the shadows. The shift back to man took but a thought and he stood naked in front of Aeron’s sleeping chamber and earthly vault.
Contacting the Walkers would break his abstinence, so what was one little shift to get him to their bodily domain on earth?
When he sinned, he sinned well.
And before his thoughts generated better ways to commit his depraved deeds, he slid open the door. Moonlight filtered into the tomb, a pale embrace in the black oblivion of nightmares. Anger and guilt roiled in his gut; his own toxic cocktail of hell to keep him in his place of shame. Aeron’s body remained in the position he had left her, unsullied and alone. Leaning over, he hesitated only the briefest of seconds before touching his mouth to hers.
If he had to awaken in the realm of the Ystrad Gloyw, the Glowing Vale of his mother’s imagination, he deserved to be greeted by a pissed-off Beddestyr.
His mind spun into lightness, a delusion between worlds as the dank floors of the tomb continued to suck warmth from his feet. Because his father was human, Taliesin was not allowed to walk in the true Otherworld, among the emerald thralls of the ethereal Fae.
So his mother had created this space, this vale of nothingness, a valley of dreams where he could never be touched, or held, or loved. He had come here often as a child, only to leave hollow and bereft like many of Avon’s broken trees and return to the controlled care of the Guardians.
And they judged him for finding succor in drink?
He wondered why he still cared, why it still hurt. More important, he wondered what the fuck he was doing here again.
A shriek worthy of a great horned owl resonated throughout his psyche. He opened his mind’s eye. Outraged, black hair billowing in a wind that didn’t exist, Aeron slapped him across the face.
