Free Spirit: Book Two of The Bound Spirit Series

by H. A. Wills

  She convulses with violent shivers but seems coherent enough to realize what’s happening, because she shifts sideways to better curl into my arms. With her head against my shoulder, hugging my arm to her chest, she starts muttering again. Now, I can understand her.

  She’s repeating, “I’m a monster,” in a constant loop, the words bleeding into each other into nonsense.

  “No, columba mea,” I insist, pushing away the hair that sticks to the side of her face. “The last thing you are is a monster.”

  “I killed him,” she declares, tears thick in her voice, while her fingers dig into my upper arm. “He’s gone.”

  “You had no choice,” I whisper.

  Memories of stabbing the dagger into the demon’s throat flash vividly across my mind. He looked so human, his steel blue eyes wide, and the knowledge of what it feels like to pierce flesh with sharp metal will live with me forever. I had no choice.

  “There’s a choice. Always a choice,” she whimpers, pressing her face into my neck. “He’s gone. I killed him.”

  My eyes burn as Callie falls to wracking sobs, gasping and choking as pain and guilt consume her. Her sorrow pierces my chest like a clawed hand around my heart. Tears collect with the water spray dripping down my cheeks. Everything feels raw inside me, and what little portion of self I’ve managed to hide is cracked wide for anyone to see. Open and bleeding with her. For her.

  With one hand, I cup the back of her head, her hair sticking and tangling around my fingers, while the other holds her tight against me, and as best I can in the confined space, rock her gently side to side. I don’t hate easily, but I hated the Alpha with every fiber of my being. He deserved death, but in this singular moment, I wish he was still alive, if only to remove this burden from her shoulders. Something should’ve been done years ago. This shouldn’t have ever fallen to her.

  As awful as it is to listen to her cry and be helpless to do anything to soothe her, it’s quantifiably worse when she stops. Her body goes limp, hands dropping to her lap, and it’s like she’s completely gone. Only an empty husk remains in my arms.

  “Callie?” I shout, shaking her. “Talk to me.”

  Fear runs like ice through my veins, when I pull back to look into her eyes and emptiness looks back. Her face is pale, lips slightly parted and a stare that sees nothing. Terrified she’s slipping into a catatonic state, I try to think of something that’ll jar her back.

  Forgive me.

  Looking directly into her eyes, I ask, “What do you mean by gone? How did he die?”

  There’s a twisted relief that feels like a gaping wound in my chest, when her face crumples, lips press tight, and tears drip from her red rimmed eyes.

  “There’s nothing left,” she whimpers. “No body. No soul. I destroyed it all.”

  She reaches underneath the towel that’s molded to her body and pulls out her necklace. Micro fractures spider across the stone… and now it’s a vibrant blue that nearly glows.

  My mind goes blank, unsure how to process her words. I understand the death of the body, even to the point to appear there’s nothing left, but the power to extinguish a soul? Mildred’s words from that first night we learned about spirit witches echo in my ears.

  It’s a line of witches that not only has control of all the elements, but the essence of magic itself-- of life itself. It’s only now that I fully understand what that means. It’s not just the power to manipulate life, but whether it even exists at all.

  “I felt everything,” Callie whispers, her breathing coming in short choppy gasps. “What he was. What he could be. All the light and darkness that made him. Gone. All gone.”

  I don’t know how to feel about this, but I do know that outside her immense power, she’s still just a girl. A girl that’s suffered greatly, alone and fractured, and needs people that will love her unconditionally. And I will. No matter her power or abilities, I will always be there to support her. Not as a deity, but as a person.

  Pressing my lips to her forehead, I murmur, “I’m so sorry.”

  She nods and wraps her arms around my neck, holding me as tight as I’m holding her.

  “What can I do?” I ask, desperate to take away some of her pain.

  In a voice that speaks to the tortured soul inside, she begs quietly in my ear, “Please don’t leave me.”

  I’ve read hundreds, maybe thousands of books in my lifetime, and yet I have no words for how shattered I am by her request. Outside looking in, this may not be the right thing to do but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if this isn’t what friends should do or how it might look. All that matters is what will make her feel better. Make her feel safe.

  I promise with everything that’s in me, “I’m right here. For as long as you want me, I’ll always be here for you.”

  She twists further at the waist, one of her knees sandwiched between my hip and the tub while the other digs into my thigh, and starts to cry. This time it’s quieter, as if she’s too weak for the violent sobs but the sorrow won’t let her go.

  Dirt and blood still cling to her body, appearing that she only stripped down and collapsed into the tub. Wanting to do something to take care of her, I reach one handed for the maroon loofah hanging from the tub spout, pump some of her shower gel on it, and begin gently washing her feet. The hot steam takes on the smell of pomegranate, and a soft smile spreads across my lips over the scent that has become ubiquitous to Callie.

  “What are you doing?” Callie sniffs, peering over her shoulder to investigate my movements. She doesn’t sound angry or offended, just curious.

  “Getting you cleaned up,” I answer, like this a completely normal thing to do, when this whole situation is beyond surreal. “Thought you might want to wash the night off you.”

  Pearls of water stick to her honey colored lashes, and she blinks a few times while chewing on her bottom lip. She’s so heart achingly beautiful that it feels like a heavy weight slamming me in the stomach and makes me want to confess all that I hold inside. Only by pressing my lips together am I able to hold back telling her how magnificent I think she is and how I want her to know all of me-- to never have a secret between us.

  When Callie leans back into my left arm, her pale grey eyes taking in our bodies entwined together, I deftly pull up the towel across her chest, dropping the loofah in her lap-- making sure nothing is revealed she’ll regret later. We may be in this bubble that feels like an alternate reality, but life always has a way of eventually making its way back in.

  Without a word, she picks up the loofah, and taking my free hand into hers, starts washing the blood and dirt from my skin. When she finishes my arm, she hands it back to me. Questions float from my eyes to hers. Shyly, she holds out her arm to me, and I realize it’s a request to do the same. I give her a soft smile and start washing her hand and arm, gently cleaning away the blood in case there might be more injuries underneath. Back and forth we trade, cleaning arms, legs, shoulders, her back, my chest, in this silent dance. She wipes the dirt from my face. I wash and condition her hair, carefully cradling her with one arm while I rinse her hair with the other.

  This is the most intimate moment of my life, this mutual caring for each other, and my body comes alive under her touch. I can’t help my physical reaction, but I know this is all this moment will be. All I can allow it to be. What was true before is only truer now. She needs to be cared for and know no matter what her state of vulnerability, she’ll always be safe with me.

  “Ready to get out?” I ask quietly, once we’re both rinsed clean.

  She nods in acknowledgement, reaching over to shut the water off. Tentatively we untangle ourselves, again making sure she stays covered. I open the sliding glass door, then bracing my hands on the edges of the tub, lift myself to standing. My boxer briefs are gathered high up on my thigh showcasing the phrase Fatum Imperium vestrum suis I have tattooed in a cursive script. It’s the only place I was pretty sure my parents wouldn’t find it.

  When I get
out, water dripping onto the riverstone floor, I grab the second towel hanging from the rack and wrap it around my waist… and realize this is the only other towel in the bathroom.

  Faex.

  Callie stands shivering in the center of the tub, her hair hanging in damp waves over her shoulders and back, with the wet towel wrapped tight around her.

  “I’ll be right back,” I announce, motioning to the empty towel rack, hoping Mildred decided to keep the spare towels in the same place the Jacobs used to-- also hoping I don’t run into Mildred dressed in a towel. Though innocent it would definitely be difficult to explain.

  “Don’t leave me!” she cries, her arm whipping out to grab my wrist.

  Suddenly, she’s breathing so hard I’m afraid she’ll pass out, eyes dilated to black saucers, and tears drip down her face. I’m stunned by how fast her mood changes and immediately step one foot back in the tub so I can hold her.

  “You need a dry towel,” I reason, keeping my voice low and soothing. “I’ll only be gone a second.”

  “Please. Please don’t leave me,” she begs, like I’m about to abandon her in the darkest dungeon. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please. Don’t leave me.”

  “Okay, I won’t go,” I promise, running my hand down her wet hair, her cries feeling like sharp splinters dug deep into my heart. “I’ll stay here with you.”

  “I’m sorry,” she hiccup sobs, wrapping her arms around my waist. Her towel staying on by the sheer fact that it’s painted on her from the water. “I can’t… I need… Please…”

  “Shhh,” I murmur, pressing my lips to the top of her head. “Nothing to apologize for. You need me, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

  For several minutes, I hold her, reassuring her she’s safe and not alone, and when she’s calmed to soft sniffling, I call out, “Felix.”

  He appears instantly in the middle of the bathroom, looking surprised and confused. “You can summon me? When the hell did that start?”

  “I’ve always been able to. I’m the light nephilim responsible for your crossing,” I answer simply. “I’ve just never needed to until now.”

  “Well in that case, what can I do for you my liege?” he asks with a sweeping bow, then his gaze takes in the clothes on the floor, me halfway in the tub with a towel around my waist, and Callie in my arms wrapped in a soaking wet towel. “Uhh…”

  I sigh, “Whatever it is you’re thinking, it’s not that.”

  Felix stands up straight and rubs at the back of his neck. “Yeah, sure, so…”

  “Go get Nolan. Tell him we need a few big towels, a pair of sweats for me, and some pajamas for Callie. Something warm,” I instruct, because the steam is quickly clearing and the wet towel is growing cold.

  “Yeah, okay,” he mutters then disappears.

  I chafe her arms and back to keep her warm, and she winces, hissing with pain. The scratches on her back.

  “Why aren’t you healing?” I question, more gently running my hands over her. So much of her life has been shaped by her ability to heal that I fear what will happen to her if she no longer can. And what it means that she can’t.

  She shrugs, drooping into me. “I’m tired,” she mumbles.

  “We’ll get you dried off and warm in bed soon,” I reply, deciding to step the rest of the way into the tub. I close the glass door behind me, hoping to trap what remaining steam is left.

  The best way to get her warm would be to give her my towel, but right now my underwear is leaving nothing to the imagination and...

  “I’m coming in,” Mildred announces, the words clipped harshly as she opens the door. “And what the bloody hell is going on?”

  “Sorry,” Nolan and Felix apologize in unison, followed by Nolan adding, “She caught me going through Callie’s drawers. Turns out me trying to explain how I’m not a pervert didn’t really help.”

  “Please tell me you got everything,” I groan, unsure how Mildred will react if she slides open the glass door.

  “It’s all here on the counter,” Nolan assures.

  I close my eyes and sigh, “Any chance you could give us some privacy?”

  “Not a bloody chance in hell until I see my… until I know Callie is okay,” Mildred insists, a hard sole tapping on the riverstone floor.

  Callie has been surprisingly quiet, and when I look down at her face, she looks half asleep. I jostle her a little and her eyes blink open.

  “I’m so tired,” she mumbles, coming out as a sort of twisted plea.

  “Soon you can sleep,” I promise, sliding the door open and braving whatever is on the other side.

  Nolan looks amused. Felix looks uncomfortable. And Mildred doesn’t even seem to notice me at all past the body holding Callie up. Turns out being potentially naked wasn’t what she was worried about.

  “Darling, I need you to look at me,” Mildred directs the way a mother does to a young child, hunching over so she’s eye level with Callie.

  She whimpers, but sleepily focuses her gaze on Mildred’s.

  “Good, darling. Very good. Any headache, nausea, dizziness?” she asks, gently lifting Callie’s head toward the light.

  Callie listlessly shakes her head, then starts shivering.

  “Can we get her dry and into some warm clothes now?” I ask, realizing what Mildred is doing is important, but Callie is also freezing standing here nearly naked and wet.

  As if only now realizing the body holding Callie up can speak, Mildred straightens and clears her throat. “Yes, of course. You can get dressed in the spare room while I help Callie.”

  Callie’s fingers claw into my flesh, in case I might have forgotten what I promised. I rub her upper back, careful of the scratches, in a soothing circle.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t leave. I promised her I wouldn’t,” I announce, hoping that Mildred won’t make me explain.

  It’s hard enough to ask for such a thing, let alone have her vulnerability explained to others. Even to those she cares for, but I’m not budging. If Callie wants me to stay, then I’m staying.

  “I see,” Mildred replies, her gaze taking in Callie’s clawed fingers.

  “Careful. The last time she said that, D and Con went flying across the front yard,” Felix jokes, though his voice sounds strained.

  Looking to the open doorway, I find both Nolan and Felix have unreadable expressions, but Nolan pulls out a tight smile and says, “We’ll leave you to it. Let us know if you need anything.”

  “Wait. How’s Donovan doing?” I ask before he can close the door.

  “Being his normal pain in the ass self,” Nolan laughs, with one hand resting on the doorknob. “He’s annoyed he has to lie on his stomach for several hours with his wing in a splint. Mildred threatened to make everything he eats for the next week taste like broiled tomatoes if he didn’t behave.”

  “Do you think she can really do that?” Felix wonders out loud, and Nolan helpfully repeats the question.

  “Hope he never finds out,” Mildred replies deadpan, and I can’t tell if she’s serious or not. Stepping back so that Callie and I can get out of the tub, she then mutters, “He’s just lucky that I didn’t have to break it again to set it properly. I understand why he did it, but dematerializing his wings only accelerated their healing.”

  “I’ll be sure to remind him every time he complains,” Nolan declares with a smirk.

  “I should do it,” Felix comments with a grin. “He can’t hit me or throw things.”

  “And it’ll be hilarious when he tries,” Nolan snickers, closing the door behind them.

  “Yes, well, let’s get everyone properly dressed, shall we?” Mildred suggests, her lips pinched while she holds out a towel.

  This won’t be awkward at all.

  I jostle Callie again, and she tilts her head back to look up at me in a tired daze. “I’m going to need you to stand on your own and let your aunt help you get dried off and dressed,” as her brows begin to furrow, I add, “I’ll be right here. You�
��ll be able to see me the whole time, okay?”

  She bites her lip and nods, standing up but with drooping shoulders like she’s about to fall asleep on her feet. I take the towel from Mildred and hold it open for Callie, closing my eyes and leaning my head back toward the ceiling so there’s no doubt.

  There’s a loud slap of wet towel meeting the tub, and Mildred gasps as Callie takes the towel from my hands.

  “She’s not healing,” I announce, assuming that’s what the gasp is about. “We don’t know why.”

  “It’s for the same reason she’s so exhausted,” Mildred answers with a strange range of emotions in her voice: sadness, joy, hope, fear and worry. “The binding spell broke. For good or ill, she’s now the one in control of her magic.”

  Callie makes a kind of squeaky hum in her throat and touches my arm. Through my lashes, I look down enough to check if she’s covered, which she is, before I step out of the tub. Wobbly following suit, she looks so small… almost frail, and the urge to take care of her every need swells inside me.

  “I’m… I’m so tired,” she whimpers, leaning hard against the counter.

  “I know, darling,” Mildred whispers, picking up another towel and drying her hair, arms and legs. “You’ll be able to rest soon.”

  I take what looks like her sleep shirt, a deep maroon, long sleeved thermal, from the counter and help her put it on over the towel. She sighs into the warm, soft fabric and a small smile grazes her lips.

  “The rest you’ll have to do,” I tease, hoping that more of the girl I know will swim her way to the surface.

  This smile reaches her tired eyes and she nods, with a slight swirl of her finger.

  While turning to face the back wall, I ask, “Why does the binding spell breaking make her exhausted?”

  “Imagine shaking a champagne bottle to the point the carbonation alone is about to push the cork out,” Mildred explains distractedly. “Then pull the cork out. Not a whole lot of champagne still in the bottle when it’s done.”

  “Callie is empty of magic?” I question, sure I’m not understanding it right.