Pack of secrets, p.5
Pack of Secrets, page 5
The insult stung far more than it should have. I was a lot of things, but weak wasn’t one of them. “I’m weak? At least I don’t cheat with magic. Release me, and I’ll show you just how weak I can be. Coward.”
The insult hit home. His eyes flared with rage, and even his nifty little glowing ball flickered. I swallowed, afraid I may have pushed him too far.
“You are a scourge,” he spat. “A plague upon this land.”
“And you’re a self-righteous blowhard with a god complex.”
Before the last word tumbled out of my big mouth, the cold steel tip of his blade dug into the soft flesh of my throat. Face to face, he bared his teeth at me. “Enough games. You leave me no choice. SHIFT!” he roared.
It was another command. A compulsion. Power hammered into me as the stench of magic singed my nostrils. Fire shot up and down my nerves like lava flowing through my veins. My body seized and spasmed.
Anger swelled. “Coward!” I managed to wheeze. “You. Goddamn. Coward.”
Someone screamed. It had to be me, but it sounded far away. The pressure in my head was too much. Too intense. Tears leaked from my eyes as my insides expanded again.
I had to do something.
Focusing on the man before me, I willed my sight to change. The world blurred, and his physical form faded away, revealing the glowing, three-dimensional ethereal tapestry that hid beneath the skin and bones. His spirit. Luminescent threads of what I suspected to be intellect, emotion, fears, passion, and creativity continuously wove together to create the crux of his life. Like all spirits, the stranger was a fascinating kaleidoscope of shifting colors I could have happily spent hours watching weave and evolve.
But fire seared across my ribs, reminding me I didn’t have that kind of time.
I extended my consciousness further, past the shimmering colors to the center of his being, searching for the emotion I’d learned my unique touch could soothe pain. It always manifested as darkened threads that stood out in the colorful fabric of life. Some spirits incorporated the threads of pain, weaving them into the tapestry. There, they pulsed and throbbed until eventually settling down to blend in with the metaphysical canvas. But sometimes, a wound cut the spirit so profoundly it couldn’t bear to acknowledge the hurt, let alone absorb the resulting trauma. That pain went elsewhere, buried within the soul. Further wounds would join it, tangling together in a mess of repressed agonies that most people didn’t even realize they carried, despite the negative energies leaching into their system.
There.
I caught a glimpse of a black thread as the tapestry continued to weave itself. Following the thread, my subconscious slipped through a curtain of color only to pull up short at what lay beyond.
Holy crap!
It was like nothing I’d ever seen before. A knotted, festering blob of inky black threads expanded. Emotions swelled, pressing in around me. Anger, regret, sorrow… the intensity of it all was overwhelming. It built and built until I thought it would suffocate me. Then, it contracted, lessening for just a moment before expanding again. I gaped, wondering how anyone could function under all that pain. It explained why he was so mean and murderous. I couldn’t imagine I’d be all that pleasant if I had this intense hurt hidden inside my soul.
Intuitively, my spirit reached out, wanting to untangle the knots to gently release them like I sometimes did for my pack mates. Untangled threads could weave into the canvas and heal, eventually. But there was no time to ease his spiritual pain. Not when my physical body was still being hammered. Hot moisture rolled over my upper lip and down my earlobes. Blood. The coppery scent overwhelmed my senses as stars danced at the corners of my periphery.
Desperate, I grabbed onto the twisted ball of darkness. It felt grimy and repulsive beneath my touch, sending a shudder down my spine. I fought the impulse to release it and withdraw, but I was in danger of running out of heartbeats and didn’t have the luxury of being squeamish. I needed to do something. But what? My vision clouded over as my lungs grew too tight.
I tugged on the ball, straining as I dragged it out of its hiding place and to the forefront of the stranger’s spirit. That’s where I released it, dumping all his dark emotional muck right over his pretty design, putting every festering thread on display.
My consciousness slammed back into my own body. The pressure of magic evaporated as the bite of metal against my throat disappeared. Released, I sagged. A sword clangored against the ground. My hands—still gripping my daggers—smacked my thighs. I blinked slowly, my eyelids scraping against the corneas like sandpaper. My lashes tangled, and I lost myself in how good it felt to close my eyes. I just needed a minute to rest, and then I could deal with the threat.
Oh yeah. That guy.
There could be no rest. Not now. Not while a murderous magic wielder was gunning for me. I had to get away. Forcing my eyes open, I saw the world through a murky haze. Lungs that felt shrunken and depleted struggled to take in enough oxygen. I gulped like a fish stranded on the shore during low tide. The breeze felt startlingly abrasive as it brushed against my skin. My throat burned like I’d taken a shot of gasoline chased by a lit blowtorch.
“What the…” He staggered backward, his eyes wild with fear. Gone was the cocky, overconfident swagger and all-powerful aura. I’d forced his deepest darkest secrets out of hiding, and now he faced decades worth of pain and misery at once. He deserved it. He was a murderous bastard who’d been torturing me, and as soon as he pulled himself together, I was as good as dead.
“How…”
As he struggled to form a sentence, my body busily knitted itself back together. Energy drained from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet, covering my injuries in warmth. Hunger pains gnawed at my stomach as my abused muscles begged for food and sleep. I couldn’t even feel my wolf and knew I was dangerously close to slipping into a healing coma.
Shit. I gotta get outta here before that happens.
“I will…” Words gargled in the stranger’s throat, but he tried again. “I.…”
Something terrible was happening. His skin darkened. Muscles bulged, and power emanated around him. His upper lip raised in a silent promise of retribution.
Determined to vanish before he could make good on that vow, I launched myself into a spin that circled to his back. Momentum carried me through. The world tumbled over itself, and I had to throw out a hand to steady myself. Swaying, I widened my feet, barely managing to stay upright.
“Kill him! Kill him now while he’s distracted!” years of my father’s methods screamed in my mind.
I plotted my strike. Still stunned by what I had unleashed, the stranger hadn’t moved to intercept me, and now I stood at his back. From here, I could puncture his heart, slit his throat, or sever his spinal cord. No matter what he was, if I hit something vital, spilled enough of his blood, or cut off his oxygen, he’d die. No being was immortal.
My attention snagged on the extra skin sprouting out of his back. Wait. Were those… wings? Inky black around the ridges, diaphanous webbing in the center, they stretched and grew, filling me with dread as they expanded. Was he some kind of demon?
Oh, God.
I didn’t even want to know. I had a clear shot at his spinal cord. One quick flick of my wrist, and I’d be rid of him. It was my duty, my responsibility, to cut him down so he didn’t follow and put my pack at risk. Or get the jump on Rust when my partner stopped playing with the guards and made his way here.
But I didn’t aim for the stranger’s spinal cord. I couldn’t. Everything that made me who I was refused to take the opening.
“Weak. Pathetic.” Disgust dripped from my father’s voice in my head. I knew exactly what he’d think of my mercy, but it didn’t matter. The stranger was fierce and deadly, fighting past the darkness I’d released within him so he could no doubt deliver me a killing blow. Regardless, I couldn’t bring myself to snuff out his volatile, magnificent soul.
So, I did the next best thing.
Dropping low, I lurched forward and struck as quickly as my wobbly arms could manage, running my blade across the back of each of his bare ankles. They slid through the flesh and tendons like butter. Dashing out of his reach, I turned to assess his reaction, ready for anything. Most Tricari could heal, so I assumed he’d bounce back. But how fast?
Brows furrowed, he tried to step forward but must have belatedly realized what I’d done. Pain screwed up his beautiful features as agony poured out of his mouth. Slicing his Achilles tendons should slow him down long enough for me to escape.
“Don’t follow me,” I spat.
“I will kill you,” he vowed, his voice little more than a growl.
Wiping away the blood from beneath my nose, I frowned. I could still feel the pain and anger I’d exposed inside him as he battled to contain it, to shove it back down into its hiding place. I should already be running, getting the hell out of there, but unable to help myself, I opened my other sight. He was a mess inside, and I couldn’t leave him to face all that excruciating darkness alone. Imagining my hands dripping with a cooling, healing balm, I quickly untangled the largest knot of darkness, releasing it to heal.
His spirit trembled beneath my touch. Eyes wide as saucers, he gawked at me. “What the fuck are you?”
The confusion splashed across his face was so much better than the hate that had previously been there. I smiled. Maybe he wasn’t such a bastard after all. Just a little broken and a lot hurting. We had that in common, as did the rest of the world, apparently, because I dealt with that crap all the time.
“Not a plague,” I replied, throwing his accusation back in his face. “And a scourge would have gone for your jugular. I’m certain of it.”
His brow furrowed, but his wings had extended past his shoulders and were still growing. Soon, he wouldn’t need those injured ankles to follow me.
Definitely, time to go.
Turning, I hobbled toward our stashed motorcycles, each step a testament to my stubbornness and pain tolerance. I shouldn’t have soothed him. I was already running on empty, and that futile act had siphoned the last dregs of my energy. So exhausted I could barely see straight, I threw my leg over the seat and tried my earpiece.
“Rust? You in range?”
No response.
I didn’t want to leave my partner, but he’d flapped his arms like a chicken, and we had a deal. Kicking my bike to life, I fled down the gravel service road toward the highway. Time to put as much distance as possible between my would-be murderer and me. With a bit of luck, I’d never see him again.
My wolf whimpered at the thought, and I wanted to punch her in the face. I don’t know why she’d been so excited to see that psycho, but he clearly wasn’t into us.
Shoving thoughts of the mysterious homicidal stranger out of my mind, I focused on staying awake and keeping my bike upright as I got the hell out of Dodge.
Arioch
I was so determined to release the beast and finally face the foe I had spent my entire life preparing to kill that I did not realize the little wolf had gone on the offensive until it was too late. Even if I had suspected her attack, I never would have anticipated the form it took.
Long-buried memories assaulted my mind, crippling me with the sudden influx of all the emotions I had suppressed over the years.
“It’s a curse, Arioch. You can’t outrun it.”
“Hold still and let me get a good look at you, boy. See what sort of little pissant I’m dealing with here. Heh.” Crack! “Didn’t see that comin’ now, did you? Straighten up and quit your blubberin’, you little pussy. First lesson: don’t trust anyone. Especially not me.”
Anger, despair, rage, grief, shame, sorrow, and hopelessness ravaged my psyche. I tried to bottle it all back up, but there was too much. It overwhelmed me. I struggled to remember where and when I was.
“Get the fuck up, boy! Your enemies won’t care if you’re tired or bleeding. They won’t stop until you’re dead. Kill them, or they’ll kill you. That’s the reality of the situation. Accept it, or you might as well give up now and stop wastin’ my goddamn time.”
“Your mother was ambushed, child. It was a trap. She’s not coming home.”
“Can’t believe you fell for that shit. You’re lucky she didn’t carve out your fuckin’ heart. Nobody loves you, chap. You have no friends; friends are for fools. Only the weak buy into that shit. Anyone who shows an interest in you has an ulterior motive. The sooner you realize that, the better.”
“Think you got what it takes? Let’s see how long you can survive down in that hole.”
Emotions detonated like explosive arrows, blasting me apart. Physical pain registered, coming from my ankles, but it was nothing compared to the agony slicing through my heart and mind. What had she done?
“You can’t go after her killer. If you abandon the chalice, the curse will drive you mad. You know this, child. She would not want you to sacrifice your life in such a way.”
“You call that a punch? Put some power behind it, boy. There. That’s how you do it. Oh, did it hurt? You pissed? Wanna break my jaw? Good. ‘Bout damn time. Maybe you got some fire in you after all. I’ll tell you one thing, tap my cheek again, and I’ll knock your fuckin’ teeth out. Now, hit me like you mean it.”
I stood there like an invalid as the little wolf danced in and out of my clouded vision, daggers clutched in her trembling hands.
“Coward! You. Goddamn. Coward!”
Pressure built with the clamoring voices of my past.
“Everything dies eventually, child. You have to let her go.”
“Killing me won’t change anything. The beast will come for you, and you will fail. The stars have spoken.”
No. No! I would not fail. I would pull myself together, and then victory would be mine.
Something flickered in the little wolf’s eyes. Guilt? Compassion? Neither emotion made sense. She was the beast, come to steal and destroy. She had deceived me with her innocuous appearance only to destroy me with my own memories.
“Trust is a weapon you should never hand to another,” a feminine voice from my past said. “When will you learn, Arioch?”
Never, apparently, because another female had made a fool of me. Only this one wasn’t gloating. She looked… troubled.
“Don’t follow me,” the little wolf said.
She stilled, and her gaze locked on me like she was concentrating. The storm raging inside me eased, downgrading from a category five to a three. I could finally breathe. I no longer felt like I was being crushed to death. She should have taken the killing blow, but instead, she had lessened my torture.
Why?
Was she toying with me?
“What the fuck are you?” I wheezed.
She said something about plagues and scourges, but her strained voice could not compete with the screaming inside my head. How was she moving? After what I had done to her, she should lack the strength to stand. The five-foot-nothing, freckle-faced beauty had been knocking on death’s door when she had turned the tide and handed me my ass. Was she immortal? She could not be. I doubted any deities suffered from terminal afflictions, and she was limping away in obvious pain and exhaustion.
Not immortal then, just… powerful.
I could catch her if I put my mind and body to the task, but then what? Would she blast me with another dose of her crippling emotional magic? I was not sure I could stomach another drop.
“Calm yourself, child. No need to destroy your home.”
“And what do you have to offer me? A golden shackle? My own feather bed next to yours in this luxurious cell? Not interested. Get off your knee. You’re humiliating yourself.”
In the distance, a motorcycle roared to life. She was getting away. I could not allow that to happen. She had the chalice, and my sanity hinged on staying within a kilometer of that godforsaken artifact.
“Shall I coddle you? Do you wish for me to brush your hair and sing you a lullaby?”
I needed to get to her, but I was frozen in place. And no, the irony was not lost on me. All my training, preparation, and dedication… and I could not fucking move. Frustrated and angry, I wanted to roar—to never stop roaring—but I needed to retreat to safety and piece myself back together.
With a deep, calming breath, I forced myself to focus. I closed my eyes and started to rebuild the mental walls I had erected around my past. Shoving painful memories behind them, I wrestled back control of my emotions and took stock of my physical situation. My Achilles tendons were healing, but walking would be excruciating and would most likely tear the wounds open again. Thankfully, I had another option. Sword still in hand, I extinguished my summoned light.
“You gonna cry for your mama? She’s dead, boy, and you will be, too, if you don’t learn how to sidestep and block.”
Stuffing the memory back where it belonged, I focused on my body. My wings had made an appearance. Great. I had lost control of my magic. It had been at least a decade since that had last happened. Disconcerted, I focused my intention and shoved power behind my will. The air shimmered as ice danced over my skin. A flash of blinding light stole my breath, and magic swept through my body, elongating my torso, hardening my flesh into onyx scales, and extending and widening my wings. Clothes and sword winked out of existence—going to whatever plane they visited when I changed forms—as my arms and legs stretched and thickened, ending in claws tipped with deadly talons. Usually, the change was immediate, but tonight I had to fight for every inch of transformation. I had expelled entirely too much energy trying to bring out the beast. I still couldn’t believe the wolf had resisted me.
By the time my wings beat, lifting me into the air, I was spent. Spikes of pain shot up the back of my legs with every movement. Disregarding the icy hot agony, I peered through the trees, marking the motorcycle that raced over the road. I knew the moment she passed the kilometer mark because it triggered an uncomfortable buzzing sensation in the back of my head.
I was oddly overwhelmed and confused by the encounter. I considered going after her, but the relentless barrage of memories and emotions continued to assail me. She was the broken beast. She had to be. The only evidence necessary was the Chalice of Power in her possession. The artifact had drawn me to her. I had accepted her as my enemy, yet I wavered the instant our gazes met. She should have been a beast, terrifying and deadly. Not an awkward and humorous woman with a curvy body and a nose speckled with freckles.
