TEN

MY FANGS CLOSED ON his throat,
crushing his windpipe. Hot, coppery blood poured into my mouth,
down my throat. His heart slowed. Long, horrible pauses punctuated
its beats. His eyes met mine, his lips curved into a smile, and I
heard his voice in my mind.
Welcome,
Calla.
I scrambled back and shifted into human form, suddenly
cold, sickened. Dead Stuart kept smiling despite the gaping hole in
his neck. A light touch brushed my shoulder. I whirled and faced a
woman. She wore a smile like the dead man’s, beneficent, welcoming.
Her dark auburn hair tumbled in waves down her back and her
charcoal irises were shot through with silver. They sparkled with
delight as she gazed at me. Her full lips
parted.
“Calla.” She murmured my name as if intoning a prayer,
fervent and hopeful. Her dark eyes flickered down, and I followed
her gaze. A child, barely more than an infant, lay slumbering in
her arms. The child’s peaceful face drew me forward a step. As I
peered down, the child’s eyes fluttered open. Night sky full of
twinkling stars. Eyes like his mother’s.
Ren.
He gazed at me. An exuberant cascading laugh escaped from
his lips and he clapped in recognition and celebration. A warmth
like home flared to life within my chest. I looked at Corrine
Laroche and the smile died. The shadow loomed behind her, a
gathering storm cloud of destruction. My mouth opened, ready to cry
out a warning, but my breath wouldn’t come. Translucent ink bands
poured over her neck and shoulders. The snaking black vines wrapped
around her arms. She began to scream and Ren tumbled from her
grasp. He cried out in fear. I lunged forward to catch him, but
another pair of sinewy arms snatched the child from the air.
Corrine shrieked as the wraith took her, her body bound in
undulating black ropes that pulsed and twisted along with the
throes of her agony.
I dropped to my knees in horror. A snicker pulled my gaze
from the tortured woman. Emile Laroche glowered at his mate, his
watercolor blue eyes full of scorn. He glanced at the bawling child
in his arms. His shoulders twitched and he shook his head; his
dirty blond hair fell forward, brushing against his chin, shadowing
his features, transforming his pointed face into a mask of devilish
cruelty. Ren screamed and Emile’s mouth slashed thin, a knife point
of revulsion. He gripped the child more tightly. With a final
disdainful glance at Corrine’s convulsing form, he turned his back
on her and strode away. Ren’s shrieks of fear rang in my ears; the
baby’s cry united with his mother’s screams in a ghastly
chorus.
I couldn’t move. My eyes were locked on Corrine’s torment.
A figure loomed beside me; my face turned. Ren stared at the
wraith-bound woman. He was no longer a child but a young man, my
intended mate. The boy’s charcoal eyes that had sparkled like a
galaxy were now flat and hollow. His dark hair was plastered by
sweat to his forehead and neck. A mosaic of purple, yellow, green,
and black bruises covered his torso. Crimson welts and burn scars
created a grotesque pattern on his arms and back. His eyes moved
slowly over his mother. He frowned as though the scene of horror
that played out before him made no sense. He shook his head and
sighed.
“Oh God, Ren.” I reached for him, but my hand passed
through his body.
He continued to stare at the screaming woman. His gaze
didn’t turn to me, but his lips moved slightly.
“Where are you, Lily?” His wrist jerked. Something caught
the light, flashed blue: my ring, looped over the tip of his
finger, swinging like a pendulum marking time he didn’t
have.
Slashes appeared on his shoulders, skin opened, blood
poured down, washing his body in a crimson flood. Red liquid
ribbons slid around his arms, wrists, fingers. He dropped to his
knees, head bowed. Corrine and I screamed
together.
I gasped for breath
as my eyelids snapped open. The nightmare swirled at the edges of
my mind. The screams had become howls echoing in my ears. I
struggled not to thrash on the bed, trying to slow my heartbeat. A
hollow sadness slowly overtook the fear that dragged me from
sleep.
My heart slowed. The
world returned. I was still weary and guessed I’d slept little more
than an hour. Only half awake, my fingers clutched at the ring Ren
had given me the night of our union. Even in the darkness of my
room it gleamed, catching the faintest starlight that trickled
through the glass ceiling. I rolled onto my side, closing my eyes,
but the moment I did, I could see Ren bleeding again. Sleep wasn’t
an option—at least not for a while.
I slipped from my
room, not having a sense of where I’d go. The only thought driving
me from my bed was that wandering the halls of the Academy would
distract me from the horror of that dream. I glanced at the next
door down the hall. Part of me wanted to go to Shay, to apologize
and seek comfort in his arms. But I was still too unsettled by this
place, by the fight with Emile. Too many things about that battle
shook me to the core, filling me with doubt. Not only Lydia’s death
but my own choices. I hadn’t killed Sasha. I hadn’t wanted to.
Would I be worth anything to the Searchers in battle?
As I walked, I
twisted the ring on my finger, remembering the way it had gleamed
in my dream. What did it mean that I’d accepted this sign of Ren’s
devotion but still left him at the altar? Did that make me a
traitor or just a coward?
My somber thoughts
were interrupted when my nose twitched. A familiar, alluring scent
led me to a staircase and down. I took another deep breath, letting
the rich, heavy aroma pull me forward. Two flights down I walked
into a long, broad room filled with tables. A few lamps glowed,
gently illuminating the space.
I quickly found the
source of that delicious scent. Several glass French coffee presses
rested atop one of the tables. Steam curled from coffee cups the
Searchers sipped while sitting and talking quietly with one
another. Monroe poured coffee into Tess’s cup. She wasn’t crying
now, but her face was tight with grief. Adne was with them, a
guitar in her lap. Connor was there too, looking a bit haggard. I
was surprised to see Silas sitting next to Monroe.
The mood of the room
made it clear the Searchers had gathered to mourn their dead. As
much as the coffee’s scent enticed me, I didn’t want to interrupt
them. I had started to turn when I heard my name.
I looked over my
shoulder. Monroe was beckoning. I approached the table
hesitantly.
“Do you need
something?” the Guide asked.
“No,” I said,
uncomfortable now that all their eyes were on me. “I wasn’t
sleeping well and I smelled the coffee.”
“From upstairs?”
Connor asked.
I nodded, shifting
on my feet.
“Neat trick.” He
smiled, taking a flask from his belt and adding its contents to his
coffee. Whiskey, I guessed, from the sharp, peatlike scent of the
amber liquid.
“I didn’t mean to
disturb you,” I said.
“You aren’t.” Tess
gestured for me to sit, pouring a fresh cup of coffee and pushing
it in front of the empty chair beside her. “Please join
us.”
“We’re just sharing
stories,” Adne said. She idly strummed the guitar strings. “About
Lydia and Grant.”
“You could offer a
story if you’d like,” Monroe said. “It’s how we honor the dead and
keep them with us.”
“Me?” I frowned,
though I took the seat and wrapped my hands around the warm coffee
cup.
“You saw Grant more
than we did.” Silas had a notebook open in front of him, but he
looked up from his writing. “You must have a story you could
share.”
I thought about Mr.
Selby. What could I say? He’d been a good teacher. But somehow
“Big Ideas was my favorite class” only
sounded lame.
“I’m sorry,” I said
quietly. “I really don’t think I can.”
“No worries,” Connor
said, taking a swig of his spiked coffee. “I don’t think I can take
any more tales of woe tonight.”
“Don’t be a boor.”
Silas had put pen back to page. “Show some respect.”
“Lydia was a
fighter,” Connor said. “She’d think we were fools to mope over
her.”
“Connor,” Monroe
chided, looking at Tess. But she shook her head.
“He’s right.” Tess
smiled. “We’re all terribly disappointing to her right now, I’d
guess.”
“You could never
disappoint her.” Adne reached out and touched Tess’s
cheek.
Tess’s eyes
glistened, but she kept smiling.
Adne smiled too, but
she wasn’t looking at Tess. “Hey, sleepyhead, ever hear of a
comb?”
I turned to see Shay
hastily running his fingers through his hair, though it didn’t do
much to fix the mess of soft curls. He’d pulled on jeans and a
T-shirt, but other than that, it was clear he’d just rolled out of
bed.
“Sorry,” he said. “I
had some bad dreams and couldn’t get back to sleep. Then I smelled
coffee. . . .”
“Like peas in a
pod,” Connor said.
I glanced at Shay,
wondering if he was still angry. He dropped into the chair between
me and Adne. When he offered a sheepish smile, I knew he was sorry
we’d fought. So was I. I leaned in and kissed him on the
cheek.
“I couldn’t sleep
either.”
He put his arm
around my shoulders.
Silas was eyeing
us.
“What?” I asked, not
caring for his scrutiny.
“I’ve been weighing
competing theories about the Scion,” he said. “I can’t decide if
it’s more likely that your turning him enhanced his skills or
sapped them.”
“What skills?” Shay
asked.
“You have innate
power,” Silas continued. “Because of your heritage.”
“My heritage?” Shay
was frowning. “You mean all that knights and demons stuff you were
talking about before?”
“I mean your father,
of course.” Silas tilted his head, squinting at Shay’s face before
he turned back to his notebook, scribbling furiously.
I sat up. “Are you
taking notes on him?”
“Of course.” Silas
didn’t raise his head.
“Knock it off!” I
slapped the pen out of his hand.
Silas gaped at
me.
“You know.” Connor
grinned at me. “I think I kind of love you.”
“I was merely
recording my observations.” Silas went after his pen. “This is a
once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
“I’m not an
opportunity,” Shay sputtered. “I’m a person.”
“You’re the Scion,”
Silas countered. “It’s imperative that we have a full grasp of your
potential before we make our next move. Anika has put me in charge
of gauging your ability to carry out the necessary
tasks.”
Monroe sighed. “I
don’t think she meant for you to notate all your interactions with
Shay, Silas.”
“Yeah.” Connor
slugged back more coffee and refilled his cup. “Why are you always
such a freak?”
“You’re a knuckle
dragger.” Silas sat down, glaring at Connor. “I like me
more.”
“I still don’t
understand what you mean about my heritage,” Shay said, pouring his
own cup of coffee. “I don’t even remember my father. He died when I
was three.”
Silas looked at him,
brow furrowed.
“I’ve been toted
around the world by Bosque Mar for the past sixteen years,” Shay
said. “You called him the Harbinger earlier today. He’s obviously
not my uncle. What’s the big deal about my father?”
The room abruptly
seemed colder, and even Silas blanched as Shay spoke the Keeper’s
name.
“Yes, that’s true.
Bosque Mar is not your uncle,” Monroe said. “But your father was
one of the Keepers.”
Shay’s face grew
pale. “Thanks for reminding me.”
“That’s not what
matters, Shay,” Monroe said. “What matters is you’re the
Scion.”
“Does that mean I’m
not human?” The cup in Shay’s hand began to shake as he looked at
me, eyes pleading.
“You are human . . .
or at least you were until I turned you.” I rushed to reassure him,
and then I glared at Monroe. “I can tell the difference between
mortals and our kind. Shay isn’t a Keeper.”
“You’re suddenly an
expert on Scion lore?” Silas spat.
“Gently, Silas,”
Monroe said quietly. “The Keepers would have needed Shay to remain
ignorant of his heritage.” He focused on me. “And they would have
kept such knowledge from the Guardians as well. And, Calla, it’s
important that you understand that the Keepers themselves are
human. Just as we are.”
The breath caught in
my lungs and a sickening twist coiled through me.
“So they were
lying,” Shay said. “They aren’t some mystical Old
Ones.”
“Lying is what they
do best,” Tess said.
I managed to choke
out a question. “But how can they be human? They don’t smell human,
and neither do you, for that matter. And what about all their
powers?”
“It’s the use of
magic you can sense, Calla, the lingering scent of that power.
Searchers and Keepers are tapped into something outside themselves,
but we are all still human. There was a time when humans were
closer to the earth and its inherent powers,” Monroe said. “Those
with the strongest connection to elemental magics and the ability
to wield them were set apart from their communities. They were
healers, wise men and women.”
“But they can’t be
human,” I protested. “They’re immortal.”
“No, they aren’t,”
Monroe said. “They wanted you to believe they are because of the
way they will use their powers and we won’t, as Tess just
said.”
“What do you mean?”
Shay asked.
“Reverence for the
earth, the natural power inherent in creation, and its cycles,”
Connor replied with a mocking smile.
“Searchers believe
that mortality is a good thing rather than something to avoid.”
Silas ignored Connor, diving into a lecture. “We grow old and die.
Death is a part of the natural cycle. Keepers use their power to
extend their lives to preternatural lengths. Mixing with the Nether
changes the essence of who they are, but they still started out as
human and remain human at the core. They extend the life span of
their Guardians as well. That’s why there are rarely new packs.
Only when it’s deemed necessary are they asked to bear offspring.
Our records show that there hadn’t been new wolf pups affiliated
with Haldis until about two generations ago. Then the Keepers
seemed to take a new interest in establishing stronger family ties
between their packs again.”
Shay glanced at me;
a fresh look of horror had overtaken his face, and I nodded to
confirm Silas’s words.
“But the Keepers
have children,” he protested. “I mean, there were Keeper children
at our school. And Logan inherited your pack.”
Silas smirked. “The
Keepers are incredibly vain, and they guard their powers jealously.
Too many Keepers would inevitably lead to struggles within their
own ranks, which they won’t risk. Only the most powerful among them
are allowed to have children to continue their legacy in this
world. Some of them reside in Vail, as you’ve seen. The rest are
scattered across the globe, concentrated near the sites of power.
And we have Searcher outposts to track their activities in those
same locations. But their numbers, though greater than ours, still
don’t rival the human population. So the Keepers have taken to
using humans as pawns in their own game of life. Politics, global
markets, all of it.”
“But how did they
get the advantage?” My mind was reeling from the deluge of new
information. Lies, all lies.
“Yeah,” Shay said.
“I get that they use their power to be quasiimmortal now, but
didn’t you have even numbers at the beginning?”
“More or less.”
Silas scowled, looking put out that his speech hadn’t rendered us
silent and awestruck at his erudition.
“This would be the
part where they gained their advantage over us.” Connor leaned back
in his chair, shoulders slumping.
“I don’t
understand,” Shay said.
“Maybe it would be
better to start with who Shay is and let the history fall into
place,” Monroe said.
“But—” Silas
began.
“Keep it simple,”
Monroe said. “Start with Shay’s lineage.”
“Fine.” Silas
sighed. “The Scion is the descendant of the first Keeper, Eira, and
the son of the traitor. That’s how the Searchers identified him.
That and the mark.”
“The traitor?” Shay
looked even more confused. I was completely bewildered by the
conversation. None of the Searchers appeared surprised; apparently
this was old news to them.
“Yes, yes.” Silas
drummed his fingers on the table. “The portent of the Scion was
that a Keeper, a powerful descendant of Eira herself, would abandon
his kind, turn against them, and his heir would cause their
downfall. The child of that Keeper is the Scion.”
When Shay continued
to frown at him, Silas flipped through the pages of his notebook,
turning it to face Shay. “It’s right here.”
“That’s in Latin,”
Shay said.
“Don’t you read
Latin?” Silas asked, incredulous.
“Not without a
dictionary,” Shay snapped.
“Silas, most of us
don’t read Latin as ably as you can,” Monroe chided.
“Can we move along?”
Connor had put his head in his hands.
“Wait,” I said,
throwing him an apologetic smile. “I’m telling you, even if the
Keepers are magic-laced humans or whatever, there wasn’t any of
that on Shay. He didn’t have their scent. I know Keepers, but I
never identified Shay as one of them.”
“Yes,” Monroe said.
“I know that. But that’s because Shay’s mother was
human.”
“His father betrayed
the Keepers for love,” Adne said.
“Why?” Shay still
looked dumbfounded. “Why did he leave the Keepers?”
“Oh, come on, Adne,
that’s so cliché,” Silas said. Adne glared at him, and he just
stared back at her.
“It’s cliché because
love matters, Silas,” Tess snapped, eyes misting over. “It’s one of
the few things on earth that actually makes people take
risks.”
I met Shay’s eyes,
feeling heat rise in my cheeks.
“Right.” Silas
sounded bored. “Anyway. He left because Keepers, loving their power
as they do, have forbidden permanent unions between their kind and
humans. Tristan eloped with Sarah and attempted to hide out with
her. Birds and bees . . . baby.” He pointed at Shay.
“So how did you find
him?” I asked. “If he was hiding, then how did the Searchers even
know that the traitor from the prophecy existed?”
“We didn’t have to
find him,” Monroe said. “He sought us out.”
“He did?” Shay’s
eyes widened.
“Yes,” Monroe said.
“He wanted protection for his wife and child. He knew who he was;
he knew we would give it. Unfortunately it wasn’t
enough.”
“The Keepers found
them?” I asked.
He nodded. “On the
Aran Islands. We thought we’d isolated them, kept the location in
absolute secrecy, but we failed. They took the family, killed
Tristan and Sarah, and Bosque Mar kept Shay under his guard. Until
now.”
Shay stared blankly
ahead; his hands were still trembling.
“I don’t understand
why he’s not a Keeper,” I said. “Doesn’t it matter who his father
was?”
“It matters for the
prophecy,” Silas replied. “But in terms of his essence, his being,
it’s the mother that matters. It’s always the mother that
matters.”
“Huh?” I
frowned.
Tess smiled.
“Because the power of creation rests in women.”
“Gloat all you want,
Tess. At least I get to keep my figure.” Connor patted his flat
stomach.
“Battle of the sexes
aside,” Silas said, “Tess is right. The mother’s essence always
seems to dominate, determines the nature of the child. That’s why
you only perceived him as human—in all respects he was. His
father’s use of the Nether’s power didn’t pass on to him. The only
sign of his mixed ancestry is the mark.”
“What do you mean,
the mother’s essence always dominates?” I asked. “Has this happened
before?”
“With the Keepers,
no,” Silas replied. “None but Tristan ever dared repudiate the
Keepers’ taboo on reproduction outside their own ranks. The reason
we know about the pattern is because of the era of the
Harrowing.”
“But that was just a
war,” I countered. What could it have to do with
children?
“Alliances form for
many reasons,” Monroe said quietly. He turned his face away from
the rest of us, his eyes suddenly distant.
Silas nodded. “In
the years leading up to the Guardians’ revolt, the ties between
Searchers and the wolf soldiers grew very strong—in many respects.
The records tell us that children from resulting partnerships
always reflected the mother’s line. If the father was a Guardian,
the child was a Searcher, if the father was a Searcher, the child
remained a wolf.”
My eyes widened.
“Searchers and Guardians had children?”
“A very long time
ago,” Monroe replied; his jaw tightened and he continued to look
away. “The Keepers did their best to wipe out all those offspring,
to sever the ties forever.”
My hands were
trembling. “But Guardian females can’t just have
children—”
I stopped, feeling
heat rushing up my neck into my cheeks. I hadn’t meant to say that.
The words had just blurted out. So many secrets about my life had
been spilled, but this was one I’d wanted to keep stashed
away.
When I spoke, it
brought Shay out of his own far-off thoughts. “What?” He looked at
me sharply.
I stared at the
table.
No. No. I don’t want to talk about this. It was too
private. And too horrible.
Monroe cleared his
throat. “Part of the Keepers’ attempts to exert more control over
the Guardian packs was through the regulation of partnerships and
births among their soldiers. Something they started doing after the
Harrowing. They use their power to stop and start the reproductive
cycles in Guardian females, so they only become pregnant when the
designated mate and the right time are established by their
masters.”
“Oh my God,” Shay
murmured.
I was finding it
hard to breathe. What will he think of me
now?
“It’s not your
fault, honey.” Tess slid her arm around me. Her scent was all
comfort—apple blossoms and honey. I let myself lean into her,
grateful for her constant kindness. “They’re real
bastards.”
Silas spoke. “But
the Harrowing was the advent of that practice; the Keepers hadn’t
been so careful about such things before the revolt.”
“Your mother was
human, Shay,” Monroe said with a brief, sympathetic glance in my
direction. “Your human essence was that with which you were born
and the one that Calla perceived.”
“So my father’s
betrayal of the Keepers signaled that I was the Scion,” Shay
said.
I was relieved we
seemed to be moving on in the conversation and decided to continue
to push it forward.
“And the mark. But
he can’t see it.” I gestured to Shay. “When I told him about the
cross tattoo, he had no idea it was there.”
“There’s a ward on
the symbol to keep it hidden,” Silas explained. “It’s not just a
birthmark, not a tattoo. It’s a mystical emblem.”
“So humans are blind
to the tattoo?” I asked.
Silas rolled his
eyes, his hand flipping briefly before his face as though brushing
away an irritating gnat. “It’s a subtler enchantment than that.
They’re good at that, the Keepers: manipulation, subtlety. It’s
their art, really. The tattoo only suggests to those who might take
note of it that it should be ignored. We use a similar tactic to
keep people from stumbling across the Academy. Humans will always
look away, dismiss it. Just enough so that no one would walk up to
Shay and ask who his tat artist was.”
He glanced at Shay,
eyes misty with a rather wry sort of reverence. “They’d think you
didn’t scrub your neck well enough after a nasty rugby match or the
like. You know: muddied up, that sort of thing.”
“But I could see
it,” I said.
“You’re not human,”
Silas said. “You’re—”
I cut him off. “An
abomination. Right. How could I forget.”
He pushed his chair
back as I bared my fangs.
Shay grimaced and
gingerly fingered the back of his neck. “Great. So I’m the Chosen
One, but I have no skill at personal hygiene.”
Silas’s face
illuminated with a startling grin. “Exactly.”
Adne chortled and
laid a devastating gaze on Shay. “Help me, Obi-Wan, you’re my only
hope . . . but could you manage a bath first?” She fluttered her
eyelashes at him. “I’d wash your back for you
anytime.”
Shay’s pale face
went crimson and I threw Adne a reproving glance. But she was
looking at Connor, who simply added more whiskey to his
coffee.
Silas’s grin didn’t
fade. He leaned back in his seat, studying Shay. “But now that your
wolf girlfriend here turned you and all, you should be able to see
it. Guardians wouldn’t be affected by the spell.”
“I’m not his
girlfriend,” I snapped, and then winced as Shay flushed even more
deeply. The Searchers all stared at me, surprise written on their
faces.
“Well, I’m not,” I
finished lamely, feeling cold and slippery as marble. I couldn’t
look at Shay again. It was harsh, but I’d spoken the truth. I loved
him, but I didn’t know what I was to Shay. Everything in our lives
was constantly changing. I couldn’t find stable ground to stand
on.
Shay put his head in
his hands. “I thought knowing the truth would make this easier. But
it hasn’t. I can’t believe the only family I’ve known is some sort
of Nether creature.”
“Not just any Nether
creature. He’s more powerful than any other enemy we’ve faced, and
you’re the key to securing his reign,” Monroe said. “The Harbinger
couldn’t trust your protection to his minions alone. As you can
see, they failed in their duty. I’m sure some have suffered
terribly because of your escape.”
At the word
“suffered,” I began shivering and found I couldn’t stop.
What is happening to my pack? Shay put
his hand on mine, glancing at Monroe.
“It’s happened
before, hasn’t it?” Shay asked. “We read about the last time
Guardians tried to rebel.”
“You mean the
Harrowing?” Silas asked. “That was a momentous period in our
history. The closest we came to victory. Though it ended rather
badly.”
“No.” I
straightened, looking directly at Monroe because I knew he had the
answers to the questions that were burning through me. “That wasn’t
the most recent revolt.”
Monroe drew back.
“No.”
“Drop it, Lily.”
Adne had locked an accusing gaze on me. “That isn’t your
business.”
I flashed my fangs
at her. “Could you not call me that?”
“Not when it always
gets that reaction from you. It’s nice to know you are somewhat
human. That austere wolf thing creeps me out, you
know.”
I stared at her.
I’ve known this girl for less than a day and
she can read me like a book. How is that
possible?
“Adne’s right.”
Connor leaned toward me. I could smell the whiskey on his breath.
“Leave this alone.”
“I will not,” I
said. “What happened to the Banes? How did Corrine Laroche
die?”
“I said leave it.”
Connor slammed his fist down on the table.
“Back off,” Shay
snarled at him.
“Monroe?” Tess
murmured, glancing anxiously at Connor.
“It’s fine,” Monroe
said quietly. “They should know.”
Connor shook his
head, emptying the rest of his flask into his coffee cup. “So much
for no more sad stories.”