Night Season wotl-4

by Eileen Wilks

  Night Season

  ( World of the Lupi - 4 )

  Eileen Wilks

  Pregnancy has turned FBI Agent Cynna Weaver's whole life upside down. Lupus sorcerer Cullen Seabourne is thrilled to be a father, but what does Cynna know about kids? Her mother was a drunk and her father abandoned his family. Or so she's always believed...

  As Cynna is trying to wrap her head around this problem, a new one pops up in the form of a delegation from another realm. They want to take Cynna and Cullen back with them- to meet her long-lost father and find a mysterious medallion. But when these two born cynics land in a world where magic is common-place and night never ends, their only way home lies in tracking down the missing medallion- one also sought by powerful beings who will do anything to claim it.

  Night Season

  World of the Lupi – 4

  By

  Eileen Wilks

  PROLOGUE

  IN the east, dawn smeared a promise across the inky sky, but air and earth were dark yet. At an abandoned house just outside Midland, Texas, a pair of headlights shut off. A man and a woman climbed out of a 2005 Toyota Corolla.

  "I keep thinking we've forgotten something," the woman said as she popped the trunk. She was tall and angular, with a runner's build and with strong shoulders—not pretty, but striking. She wore jeans, hiking boots, and a dark sweater; no makeup. Her hair was long and straight, a medium brown; her skin, an indeterminate tan that looked more Anglo than not; but she had the broad, high cheeks and strong nose of her mother's people, the Dine. Navajo, as outsiders named them. "I always forget something."

  The man gave her a singularly sweet smile. He, too, was tall, angular, and athletic, his only remarkable facial feature, his eyes. The gray of a winter sky, they were heavily lashed and set off by the dark slashes of his brows. Some might guess him to have Native American blood as well, based on his coppery skin and black hair. They would be wrong.

  "We have everything on our list," he said as they pulled camping equipment from the trunk. "If we failed to plan for some need, we'll make do." He paused. "You're frightened."

  She nodded, though she looked and sounded almost placid. "Not all the way to real panic yet. About a six on the ohmygod scale."

  "Well, then." He put down the duffel bag he'd been holding and folded her in his arms. "Let's see if we can get it down to a four, at least."

  "Mmm," she said after a moment, the sound muffled by his neck. "Yes, but we won't get much done like this. My anxieties say inaction would be fine, the lying rats. That we can just can stand around and nuzzle each other. But your queen is going to except some promptness, I think."

  "Among other things. She's a great one for expectations." He let a few inches come between them without releasing her. "You're all right, Kai?"

  "I guess I can be scared and okay at the same time. Excited, too. It's a whole new world, after all. I'm all boggled about it." Kai drew air in through her nose, sighed it out, and nodded once. "Let's get moving."

  She shrugged into her backpack and tucked the sleeping bags beneath her arms. They'd not be afoot long, so the weight wasn't a major issue. Still, he carried more of it, which was sensible. Nathan was probably five times as strong as she normally was, and she wasn't normal now. Hunger gnawed at her, a hunger food couldn't satisfy since it wasn't her hunger. She tired quickly, too.

  Not for much longer, though.

  Kai's backpack held a change of clothes, thermal underthings, plenty of clean socks and underwear, their medical kit, and a few more odds and ends. Nathan's carried the heavier items—their cleverly compact tent, camping tools, and trade goods: several packets of cinnamon; a roll of zippable plastic bags; a pair of small, sharp axes; four very fine knives; two boxes of nails; a hammer and a small spade; and a pound each of gold and silver made up into chains.

  Nathan lifted the oversize duffel and they walked slowly away from the car. Kai's friend Ginger would retrieve it later today. Ginger knew Kai was leaving with Nathan, but had no inkling just how far they meant to travel. The story Kai had given her for abandoning the vehicle out here was pretty lame, as Ginger had pointed out several times, but Kai was used to Ginger's inquisitiveness. And Ginger was used to not getting all of her questions answered.

  Kai hoped hard that she would see her friend again. "You're looking forward to this."

  "Parts of it, yes. Your home is lovely, but I've been here a long time. And even with the recent influx of magic, it's still a bit thin here for me." Without breaking stride or changing tone he added, "You'll do, Kai. I know you've doubts, and that's as it should be, for this quest is a testing. But you'll do."

  And that, of course, was where the ohmygod scale came from. Not a fear of running out of tampons. Though she sincerely hoped she'd packed enough, if she hadn't, she'd make do. The fear that she couldn't learn enough, understand enough, to do what she was supposed to—oh, yes, that was huge.

  One step at a time, she reminded herself, following him through the darkness around the side of the old house. He could see here, she thought. She couldn't, not yet—certainly not in the shadow of the derelict building. She couldn't beat his footsteps, either. Just her own.

  They reached what she would have called the backyard had it possessed anything other than dirt, trash, and dead weeds. Kai could see those weeds now, their rustly skeletons smudging air on its way from black to gray. The sky had lightened from ink to charcoal overhead, with a band of steel along the horizon. She moved up beside Nathan.

  Like Grandfather said, swallowing tomorrow's troubles will give you gas today. And yet… "I don't see why we're doing it this way. You could find it. That's what you do."

  "I could, once I got the scent. But that isn't what my queen wishes. And no," he said with a sideways smile for her, "while her wishes are sufficient for me, I don't expect you to accept them without a question or two. I imagine she saw something that led her to send us this way about things, rather than another."

  "By 'saw' do you mean foreseeing? Or farseeing?"

  "Likely both. Odds are, she has her hand on a pattern developing there, and this is the best way for it to proceed."

  "Or she may just want to make this as hard as possible on me."

  "That's also possible. Eh." He rubbed his nose with his free hand. "You're all puckered with worry, and a bit angry, too, and I'm still giddy with relief, which is a bad match in our moods. But it will work out, Kai. You'll see."

  Nathan was giddy because his queen hadn't killed her six days ago. Kai had been pretty relieved herself at the time. The queen and her brother had thought she was a binder, a rare and dangerous type of telepath who could bind others to her will. Nathan had stood for her, placing himself between them and her, though he couldn't have stopped them. They'd all known that.

  But he'd bought a pause, one in which the queen had listened, because she loved him enough to give him that much. In the end, Kai was allowed to live—for now. But not here. Not where people couldn't protect themselves from her.

  She felt the bitterness coating that thought. She also saw it, strings of greasy gray wrapping the thought as if to mummify it. Oh, she'd seen what happened if you held on to such thoughts, seen people trapped by bitter thoughts too long hoarded, how the grayness strangled all the color out of them. She took a breath and did her best to let the thought and the bitterness go, and was rewarded as they faded away.

  Kai wasn't exactly a telepath. She wasn't a non-telepath, either, just as she wasn't exactly a binder, yet could do some of what binders did. Her Gift baffled everyone, including herself. Maybe herself most of all. She didn't read minds, but she saw thoughts and the emotions connected to those thoughts. And sometimes, when conditions were just right—or wrong—she changed minds. L
iterally.

  After a lifetime of suppressing that particular talent, now she had to learn how to master it. Quickly. Before it mastered her.

  She felt the purr before she heard it, a low rumbling in her mind. A moment later a lumpy spot ten feet ahead of them shifted and stretched, becoming eight feet of dappled gray cat. Kai smiled. "Dell's purely glad about this, anyway."

  "She understands we're leaving now?"

  "Oh, yes." The bond they'd formed was very new, the intimacy of it sometimes unsettling, and some concepts didn't travel well between minds so different. But Kai knew Dell understood that her long hunger was nearly over.

  When Dell's hunger ended, so would Kai's.

  They'd reached the rendezvous. Kai set one of the sleeping bags down so she could rub behind one tall, tufted ear as the big cat stropped herself against Kai's legs. Dell had learned that her human was easily unbalanced, so her affection was tempered by care. "She's eager."

  Dell would be much better off where they were going, and that gave Kai a happiness to hang on to. If the magic here was somewhat thin for Nathan, it was starvingly low for the chameleon-cat—which was why Kai had begun to tire. The familiar bond ran both ways, and the power the queen had generously offered Dell to sustain her while Kai and Nathan readied themselves for the trip was gone now.

  "Best pick up the sleeping bag. It's time, Kai."

  "What?" But she stooped to retrieve it. "I don't see… is she here?"

  "She doesn't have to be here. It isn't a true gate. I explained that."

  He had, but that wasn't to say she understood. Somehow Nathan's queen was reaching him though she wasn't even in this world, broadening his innate ability to cross between realms so he could take with him things that were his—clothes, gear, and Kai. Who would bring Dell with her.

  "Focus on your bond with Dell." His voice was low. He stared ahead at something she couldn't see.

  She took a breath and did her best to slip into the state she'd avoided all her life, the condition she called fugue. At first it wouldn't come. She allowed the frustration to wash through her, focusing only on Dell, the clear, simple colors of her familiar's thoughts.

  Gradually her breathing eased and her mind slid into that other place, where the colors and shapes of thoughts drew her, their shifting endlessly fascinating… a place where she could lose herself. Had lost herself as a child. A place where her own thoughts could reach out and touch the minds of others, change them. Where the compulsion to do just that could be overwhelming.

  But Dell's thoughts were clear and true, triggering no urge to meddle. Kai's heartbeat steadied and she found the bond between them, a smooth, pale tube just tinged with yellow, and she smiled it stronger. Brighter.

  She felt Nathan's hand on her shoulder. "Now," he said, his voice the only thing in the world besides the colors, "we walk forward."

  So she did, trusting him, smiling at how beautiful his colors were, and how intricate, the shapes flowing into a new pattern, then another, each elegant and enticing, fascinating…

  A sharp pain in her cheek made her gasp—and brought her back, dizzy, into the world of the senses. A world different from the one she'd been in only moments ago. Snow whirled through the night air, damp and cold on her skin. She looked around, but could see neither buildings nor road, only the endless, muted white of the storm.

  But Dell was warm beside her, gloriously excited and urgent. Nathan stood before her, worry tilting his brows down. "I'm back," she said, "though we really need to find something other than pain to get my attention." The hot sting in her cheek suggested he'd had to slap her out of fugue this time.

  "We need jackets. Gloves for you." He unzipped the duffel.

  She hugged the sleeping bags close. "I was expecting something more inhabited."

  "There's a village or holding east of here."

  Relief swept through her. "You know where we are, then."

  He found a smile, this one apologetic. "No. I smell wood smoke. Here."

  They shuffled burdens between them so both could don their jackets. Hers was quilted, hooded, good to subzero temps if she added the lining. She didn't. It was cold, but not much below freezing. She'd warm quickly once they started moving. "Dell's hungry. Can I—?"

  "Yes. Don't worry." The last was addressed to the cat, not Kai. "I'll watch out for her."

  In spite of her eagerness to hunt, Dell studied Nathan a moment. Kai could feel the big cat considering whatever communication she'd received from him—not the spoken words Kai had heard, but something. Then she vanished into the snow-blurred night.

  Kai tugged on her gloves. Dell considered her too weak to survive on her own. In this place, she was likely right. "Can you tell if the others have come through yet? The ones we're to follow?"

  Nathan tilted his head as if listening, though she had no idea what sense he was actually consulting. "We have two or three weeks, I think. I stepped somewhat backward as we came through."

  "Backward?"

  "Time isn't entirely congruent between Earth and Edge. There's enough flex to allow me some choice. Forward would be tricky, but it wasn't so hard to slide it back a bit."

  She stared. "You can adjust time?"

  "No." He was patient. "But when two realms aren't time-congruent, time becomes one of the choices I make when crossing."

  He thought that made sense. Ah, well. She had a great deal to learn about him still. They'd been friends for two years, but lovers for only six days.

  And now they were supposed to rescue this world—or play a part in its rescue, anyway. If she could make her Gift work. "We'd better get moving."

  CHAPTER ONE

  It looked like a digital thermometer. There were two little windows in the plastic casing, one showing a deep purple the other, a pale teal. She tilted it, squinting. Maybe the light was fooling her.

  Still purple. Not the pretty teal she'd been praying for. No matter how hard she stared or squinted, or what angle she used, it stayed purple.

  The knock at her door made Cynna jump. She dropped the tester, scowled at it, and left it lying on the floor. She slammed the bathroom door as she hurried to the other door—which was only steps away. Hotel rooms always put the bathroom right off the entry door.

  "Coming, dammit. I'm coming."

  No, she wasn't. Not now, but she had last month. Three times. Which was why the color of doom had showed up on the godforsaken tester.

  Cynna checked the spy hole, unlocked the door, and swung it open. "Hey," she said with frantic cheer. "I'm ready. Let's go."

  The woman at the door was a full head shorter than Cynna. Her hands were tucked into the pockets of a long sweep of coat as black and perfect as the shorter sweep of her hair, and a small frown was tucked between the arch of her brows. Her eyes were dark and steady. "You need a coat," Lily Yu said, not moving. "It's February, so you need a heavy coat. And maybe your wallet? If we're going to shop—"

  "Oh, yeah. Right. I'll get them." Cynna started to shut the door in her friend's face, but stopped herself in time. "Come in, but don't go in the bathroom."

  That sent the eyebrows up. Cynna ignored that, grabbed her denim tote and her jacket from the pile of clothes on the bed. "I sure do need to wash clothes," she said brightly. "Let's go. Oh, one more thing. No one is to say the p-word this afternoon, or allude to it in any way."

  Lily nodded thoughtfully. "Okay. No allusions to the p-word."

  Wow. That was easy. Should have tried that a month ago and spared herself any number of gentle, tactful, or blunt interventions. Lily had been so sure Cynna wasn't facing reality.

  Turned out Lily was right. The bitch. "So where are we going?" Cynna asked as they headed down the hotel hallway to the side exit.

  "I thought we'd give the Fashion Center a try."

  "Sure. Uh… do they have those snooty clerks who look at you like you're about to boost a pair of pantyhose?"

  Lily gave her a look. "How long have you lived in D.C.?"

  "Seven ye
ars. Why?"

  "The Fashion Center is a mall. They've got all kinds of clothing stores—Macy's, Talbot's, The Gap, Kenneth Cole—"

  "So I don't shop much. So sue me."

  Lily patted her arm. "You will today."

  That's what she was afraid of. Whatever had possessed her to ask Lily to help her pick out some new things?

  She glanced down at the woman beside her and sighed.

  Envy, that's what. Lily always looked right. But she was tiny and… well, not cute. You wouldn't call a bullet cute, no matter how small and shapely it was. Bullets were also notoriously hard to stop, and that was like Lily, too.

  And now, because Cynna had opened her big mouth, all that deadly determination was focused on her wardrobe. She'd actually used that word when she talked to Lily about helping her shop. A new wardrobe, she'd said. For work.

  Clearly she'd been insane. She didn't have a damned wardrobe. She had clothes.

  They left through the side door. Cold sucked at Cynna's face and made inroads along her front, so she zipped her jacket. It was an unusually cold whiter for D.C., but she wasn't about to say so. It was too much fun needling Lily, who'd lived in San Diego all her life.

  Lily grumbled under her breath and headed for her car—a plain white Ford exactly like Cynna's, only cleaner. The FBI must buy the things in droves.

  The day was as sunny and still as it was cold, the sun a bright ball in a sky so blue and clear you'd think smog had never been invented. So when the shadow passed overhead, Cynna looked up.

  The sinuous shape was growing familiar, though she still felt a chill of awe at the sight. Against the brightness of the sky it looked dark, but she'd seen the photographs. Who hadn't? Up close the scales would be red and shiny, the color of rubies or fresh blood.

  "Is vanity a dragon thing?" she asked, one hand on the car door, her head tipped back to watch legend crawl lazily across the sky.

  Lily opened her door. "What do you mean?"