by SJ Himes
*If there is trouble, reach out to me,* Burke said at last. *I will hear you no matter what happens.*
*I will. Find Ghost. Tell him I…tell him I miss him.*
Burke suspected Kane was going to say something else, but those words were best said for the first time in person. He gave Kane a short nod and a grim smile. Burke moved quietly through the shadows, leaving behind his alpha and the oblivious guards. Dawn was coming quickly, and he had a wayward shaman to find.
Ghost lifted his chin and squared off with Michael. “Test the soulbond. All of you. Whatever is done in proving such things, do it now.”
Michael blinked at him, before turning to Shaman River in appeal. River sighed loudly, shaking his blond head, and spoke to Ghost. “Youngling, the test of a mate bond by a shaman is a deeply intimate process and can be…intrusive.”
“Intimate? What does that mean?” Ghost frowned, sending a suspicious glare at Michael and the watching shamans, the other male wolfkin all looking uncomfortable.
“The shaman testing the bond will enter into a trance, allowing him to See into the soul of the mated wolfkin. During this time, the shaman will be privy to memories, feelings, and will be able to feel the bond of the mated wolfkin as he were a part of the pairing.”
River was decidedly uncomfortable, and Ghost glowered. How was this a hindrance? It made sense to him—all stronger wolfkin could apparently sense a bonded pair, but sensing the bond and proving it was entered without coercion were a matter of degrees. Ghost shrugged, and turned back to Michael. “This is the reason you came, isn’t it? One of you would be doing this regardless. Do it now. I am not afraid. Witness what our Mother has wrought. I have a mate to free.”
“If he was compelled by the Voice, surely the cub wouldn’t be so eager,” a nameless shaman said from his seat on a nearby chair. “The process is uncomfortable, but he is right—one of us would be doing this anyway.”
“Youngling, wouldn’t you rather Shaman River perform the procedure? He is familiar to you. Having a relative stranger perform such a spell may be too much.” This from another shaman, one yet to speak. Ghost shrugged, impatient.
“Would Shaman River’s word count amongst the Tribunal?” Ghost asked, and the scent of guilt was acrid in the room. “I thought not. Michael can do it. He counts as a stranger, since I have not seen him since the day Gray Shadow died.”
Michael flinched, Ghost almost regretted the words, but he did not apologize. Michael had erred, one choice after another, since appearing back in his life. Let Michael see the truth. Prejudiced the other shamans may be against the validity of his mating, Ghost had no doubt they would believe Michael. And if they didn’t? Then Ghost would tolerate all of them performing the mysterious spells themselves.
He had nothing to hide.
A Verdict
The first touch of Michael’s mind on his was startling. Ghost gripped his knees tighter, and fought to open his mind to the other shaman. The touch of another’s mind on his was still new, a mind he’d yet to communicate with made it even worse.
They were both sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, cross-legged with hands on knees. Michael was still clothed, Ghost had abstained when offered a pair of sweatpants that smelled of one of the shamans. The thought of another male’s scent on him made his skin crawl.
*Relax as best you can,* Michael whispered, and Ghost glared back at him. Michael’s lips twitched, but he made no reply. *Don’t think of anything.*
Ghost closed his eyes, and waited. His breathing slowed, his heart calmed, while Ghost did his best to remember that this was what needed to happen. He wasn’t afraid.
The cabin and the wolfkin watching fell away. How could he not think? He’d just learned how to become a man again, his mind was somehow freer and yet burdened by the new reality he found himself living. Ghost waited, and in his impatience, he spun his awareness out.
Life glowed to his Spiritsight, colored stars in infinite hues across an endless field. The edges were blurred, beyond his range, but the weight of this reality echoed back to him where he stood in the center.
He sensed someone watching, and figured it was Michael. He had nothing to hide, so he sought out the star that shone in tandem with his own. The other presence followed, Ghost leading the way past spectral trees that slumbered, dormant earth covered in otherworldly ice and snow. Tiny bursts of light for the hidden creatures in the woods lit his way. He had no body, no limitations. Bright stars for wolfkin foreign to him surrounded his goal, and he cast their light aside as irrelevant to his purpose. His will became action, and soon Ghost hovered above the brightest star of them all.
The bars were inconsequential, the cage nothing compared to the red, fiery star of Kane. Vibrant, pure in strength and purpose, the lines of energy between them coalesced into a seamless river. Ghost’s own energy, silver and white light merged with Kane’s, a depthless crimson and unfathomable black. Where they joined was a maelstrom of rose and silver, the energies twirling in an endless knot before cycling into the other and being absorbed by the primary colors of the soulstars.
Kane must have sensed him through their bond, as a rush of relief and a sweet, nearly painful yearning echoed over their bond. Wordless, which was only right, for there were no words or thoughts that could encompass the boundaries and whole of their union. Their souls, the brilliant stars that glimmered in this formless place, were closer than they had been just the day before.
Ghost welcomed the rush of emotions from Kane, echoing them back. He missed Kane’s strong arms, the weight of his body, the charming lift of his lush lips when he smiled. Kane was a beacon of power, resolve, and safety. The healing warmth of a den in winter, the sweet tang of fresh blood from a kill. Kane was home.
*This is not what I expected.* Michael’s voice intruded upon Ghost’s quiet longing, and he struggled to withhold his impulse to expel the shaman from his mind. Michael needed to see. See the truth, in its most basic form. Forget looking for proof of coercion or abuse—the soulbond was evidence enough.
Their souls were joined. In mating bonds that were chosen by the wolfkin involved, the bond joined their minds and emotions, and employed some limited power exchange. Those ties were chosen, put in place by willpower and intent. With concentrated power and focus, any one of the pair or a shaman could break those bonds. Here though—in this place of souls and stars and the wellspring of life, there existed a bond made not by mortals. Their souls were joining, beyond the first brush of connection and surface contact. As the days became months and then into years that morphed into lifetimes, Kane and Ghost would become one soul, their star an endless fusion of energy and power. A soulbond was forever, even past the reach of death and mortality.
*How?* Michael asked, and Ghost finally snapped. He sent Kane a wave of yearning, and pulled away, heart aching at leaving Kane’s presence. Regardless of his lack of hands or form, Ghost ‘grabbed’ Michael’s star with his own, and pulled the shaman behind him. *What are you doing?* The other shaman’s alarm was sharp and disbelieving. Ghost ignored him in favor of finding the starlit path back to their bodies.
With a sharp gasp and a hand over his heart, Michael came back to himself. Ghost blinked, settling back into his body, stretching his spirit to fit his within his physical self again. “Tell them what you saw.”
River and Orsen knelt beside Michael as he coughed, his face leached of color, eyes wild. “How? I have never…”
Ghost leaned forward, gritting out between sharpened fangs, “Tell them!”
Everyone in the room waited, inching closer. Michael struggled to stand, and plenty of hands helped. Ghost followed, standing smoothly without a hitch. Michael had yet to tear his eyes away from Ghost, hand still pressed over his heart.
“It’s true,” Michael gasped out, sucking in a deep breath before speaking again, control returning to his voice. “I didn’t need to examine his
memories at all—somehow we went beneath that, into the Spirit realms. The souls of the Black Pine Heir and Ghost are joined in a soulbond.”
Orsen spun to stare at Ghost, the stares of the other shamans followed. River nodded to Ghost, tension dropping away from the older shaman. “How?” Orsen demanded.
“How else?” Ghost all but shouted back through his dropped fangs. He growled, fingers grown to claws, and he pointed at the shamans squared off against him. “You all heard Her before when She spoke to you yesterday at the clan leader’s cabin. Michael has seen the bond in person, with his own abilities. This is no lie or illusion. All of you are shamans through Her grace and will, bloodlines be damned. Do you dishonor your purpose and our Great Mother by denying what you can all sense? Or will you embrace your duty and admit the truth?”
“Michael?” One of the unknown shamans sent a quiet query to the still shaken Michael, who nodded before answering. “Luca…Ghost is right. The bond is true, Goddess-forged. No wolfkin, even the most powerful alpha, could fabricate a soulbond. It’s all true. A shaman and an alpha have been joined by the Wolf of the Northern Star.”
Ghost watched as one by one the shamans turned from Michael and looked to him. Even the dour Orsen wore an expression of wary belief, and confusion was prominent across all their expressions.
He turned for the door, opening it to the cold evening air. With naught but a thought, Ghost took his wolf form, and looked back at the shamans. *Are you coming?*
Burke stumbled to a halt on the icy road when Ghost came running around the bend in his wolf form. Burke stepped in front of the young shaman, hands up. “Hey, cub. Where have you been?”
Ghost stopped, tongue lolling out of his mouth, tilting his head. *Convincing the shamans that my bond with Kane is true and real.*
“Did you do it?” Burke asked, but he guessed he got an answer when an SUV rumbled around the corner from which Ghost came. It was the shamans’ vehicle, and Burke moved to the snowbank to let it pass, Ghost following him out of the way. “I guess you did!”
*We go to the alphas now, for the shamans to testify Kane is innocent of blasphemy. Will you come?*
*I wouldn’t miss this for the world.* Burke replied to the small shaman at his feet, and Ghost wagged his bushy tail before taking off up the hill at a gallop. Burke ran after Ghost, his boots crunching loudly in the otherwise quiet morning. Ghost was gone in seconds, disappearing after the SUV. Burke grumbled before throwing himself into the chase. Watching after Ghost was harder than it sounded.
By the time he made it back to the cabin on the mountaintop, the shamans and Ghost were gathered in the living room. Burke pushed through a crowd of blonde wolves and excused himself past the shamans, coming up behind a naked Ghost, the smaller male scowling with his arms crossed. Burke shrugged out his coat and dropped it over Ghost’s shoulders. Ghost spared him a quizzical glance, the large garment all but swallowing him whole. Ghost took a sniff of the collar and went to take it off, but Burke moved his hands away and buttoned it up instead.
Loud voices came pouring down the hall from Andromeda’s study, and Burke took the distraction to whisper to Ghost, “You’ll appear less feral and more believable with clothing on. Trust me.”
Ghost glared at him, but the little shaman finally bit his lip and gave a short nod in understanding. He might look like a toddler playing dress up, bare legs visible beneath the coat’s bottom hem, but at least he wasn’t naked and oblivious to the impression he frequently made of being less than civilized.
“What is going on?” Caius demanded as he entered, the other Clan Leaders following him. Andromeda cut her eyes to Ghost and Burke before looking to the shamans and her brother River. Royrick, Julian, Mercuriel and Heromindes arranged themselves behind Caius, their backs to the cool hearth. Andromeda looked miniscule beside the hulking greater alphas, the powerful wolfkin males towering over the smaller female beta.
Black Pine wolves appeared next, standing in the foyer, the wolves of Kane’s tactical team bigger than the smaller Red Fern wolves. Burke saw Sophia and Gerald with Kane’s tactical team, the lesser alpha looking everywhere but at his own father. Sophia hopped up a few steps on the stairs, getting a clear view. She caught Burke’s eyes and winked at him, a hopeful smile on her face.
“Brother? Speak, for I can see that you have all come to say something.” Andromeda stood beside Caius, everyone’s attention turning to River.
Shaman River took single step forward, and spoke to the assembled Tribunal. “Alphas, we have examined the mate bond between the youngling Ghost and Black Pine’s Heir, Alpha Kane. It is indeed a soulbond. Goddess-forged and real.”
“Is this true, Michael?” Clan Leader Royrick asked, speaking past Caius to address his clan’s shaman. Andromeda frowned at the doubt cast in her brother’s direction, but held her peace, her steely regard landing on the younger shaman.
“Yes, Alpha. I was the one to determine the bond’s validity. The soulbond is real.” Michael replied, his answer ringing clearly over the gathered witnesses. “I can swear this upon my gifts and duties as a shaman—the bond cannot be broken, and to try would be an insult to our Great Mother.”
“This has to be a mistake,” Heromindes blurted out, outrage and doubt warring across his face. He turned to Ghost, and pointed. “This feral creature cannot be a shaman then. The joining of a shaman and alpha is anathema! Something is not what it seems here, this will not stand.”
“Enough, Hero,” Andromeda said, cutting him off. “The youngling is as much as shaman as you are an alpha. The bond has been tested. Your own shamans are here for the very purpose for which you brought them, Alphas. Nothing forged by our Great Mother can be anathema— nothing She does is blasphemous. Do now as you are charged, and decide. Is Kane, Heir of Black Pine, guilty of blasphemy?”
Her challenge rang out in the suddenly silent room, not even a stray breath to break the tension. All eyes fell to the clan leaders, and the five alphas who held Kane’s fate in their hands.
“We should really do this in an official manner…” Julian said, brushing at his sleeve, a sneer on his lips.
“Shut it, whelp,” Mercuriel snarled. Julian lifted his lip but held his tongue. The clan leader for Dread Claw was an imposing figure, even if he was shorter than the other alphas. “I’ll not waste my time away from my clan with foolish officious bullshit. I say Nay to blasphemy. I don’t understand, but then I’m not meant to. Caius?”
“Not guilty to the charge of blasphemy,” Caius replied without hesitation. The few Black Pine wolves at the rear of the crowd smiled in relief, and a few Red Fern wolves gave some quiet cheers. “Royrick?”
“I trust Michael,” Royrick said slowly, green eyes on his shaman. “It was why we brought them, after all. It is their duty to dissolve forced and coerced mate bonds, regardless of the ranks of those involved, and if they have not done so in this case, it must be true that the bond is Goddess-forged. I say not guilty to the charge of blasphemy.”
“A simple Nay would have worked, laddie.” Mercuriel grumbled and Royrick sent the glowering alpha a wink. “Julian, what say you?”
“I think the Nays have a majority at three, so I’ll abstain.” Julian sniffed, and walked out of the room, heading for the kitchen. Burke inwardly snarled at the rude alpha’s back, but the male had the count right—Not Guilty held the majority at three votes.
“Runt’s a coward,” Mercuriel growled, then slapped Heromindes on the shoulder. The taller alpha staggered a step then regained his balance, glaring at Mercuriel, who shrugged it off like it was nothing. “Cast your vote, Hero, or abstain as the designer-dressed gutter rat did.”
Heromindes’ glare was hot, and it landed on Ghost. Burke stiffened, and put a hand on Ghost’s shoulder, making his protection clear. Hero’s gaze fell to Burke, and he held the stare almost too long before dropping his eyes. He offered no challenge to the Ashland clan lead
er, but he would make his stance clear. Ghost was off limits.
Heromindes growled. It was Orsen, an older shaman, who sighed loudly and broke the tension. “Hero, enough.”
“Fine! Not guilty of blasphemy. But my charges against him for illegal use of the Voice shall stand!” Heromindes said loudly, and then left the room, scattering wolves before him as he went for the front door. It slammed behind him as he left.
Ghost’s shoulder sagged beneath his hand, the young shaman turned and looked up at him, silver eyes glimmering. “Burke? Is he free? Is Kane free now?”
“Not yet, but the worst is off the table. A guilty verdict for blasphemy is an automatic death sentence,” Burke replied, he sighed in relief himself, letting go of the bitter tang of worry and fear he’d carried for the last day. “Alpha Caius? Can Kane be freed until the Tribunal decides the last charges?”
Alpha Caius broke off his conversation with Mercuriel and Andromeda, his clan leader’s jaw tightening before looking to Mercuriel. The clan leader of Dread Claw thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Best not push it. Heromindes is ready to snap. Last thing we need is a blood feud. All of our clans are too close together for casualties not to spill over borders.”
“Kane can survive another night in the darkness. He wouldn’t be my Heir if a little cold could hurt him,” Caius answered, sending Ghost a knowing look. “You’ll not go bust him out, either. Understood? Leave your…mate where he is until the tribunal says otherwise.”
“Yes, Grandpa,” Ghost obeyed quietly, but Burke could already see devious little plans being birthed behind his guileless silver eyes.
Caius humphed, obviously doubting as well, but made no mention of Ghost’s intent to circumvent his orders. Caius might be an ass, but he wasn’t stupid.
