Shadow Rites

In the real world, assuming it really was real and not some dream that Beast and I lived, I was shivering. The electric blanket was turned up high and the warmth burned my naked flesh, skin that prickled and ached with dryness and age. I was alone beneath the blanket but not alone in the room. I smelled Leo and Edmund and Eli, all close, the peculiar mixed odors of vampire blood, herbal and coppery and floral. And I smelled my blood.

The pain was a dull ache, like a bruise at its worst, a feeling that was hot and cold, raw and dampened all at once. I recognized the sensation. It was the healing of vamp blood. My side and waist were heavy, as if weighted, as if I pushed against something heavy with each breath.

Vaguely I remembered the cool, wet sensation on my side where I had been stabbed. A vamp tongue, laving and healing. All without the slightest hint of sexual desire or heat.

“She is awake,” Edmund said. His voice was close and I realized his arm was around me, outside the blanket, holding me close. It was a protective embrace, the kind a parent offered a sick child. A safe haven in a storm of pain.

“Jane?” Leo asked.

I licked my lips. When I spoke, my voice was a parched murmur, like leaves rubbing together in a dry wind. “Eli?”

“Yes, babe?”

“No fair,” I whispered. “I always wanted to shoot Big Bird.”

Eli chuckled, and I heard the relief in his tone. “He’s not dead. Lead doesn’t kill his type.” His voice hardened. “But it’ll be a while before he gives another lesson. The day he does, you can shoot him. Again.”

“Why?” I asked, and my breath failed me. I wasn’t sure he would understand my question, but he did. Eli always understood.

His voice had that precise but toneless note of a military debrief. “Still under investigation. Gee screwed up or went nuts or . . .” He paused as if there was another possibility, but he didn’t address it. “We don’t know yet. He’d been working with students dressed in Dyneema testicle stretchers, so maybe he thought you were dressed out, until after he stabbed you and you bled all over the floor. Remote possibility is that it could have been an accident.” But I could tell he didn’t believe that one.

That was a lot of chatter from my taciturn partner, a sure sign he was upset. “Dyneema testicle stretchers” was Eli’s term for the proper sword fighting attire, the cloth reinforced with plasticized Dyneema to repel sword cuts and punctures. We wore them during sword fighting lessons, and the thong that went through the legs, holding the chest protector in place, was amazingly uncomfortable for males. So. Accident? Was that even possible? Then I remembered the blue eye in my palm, the eye that seemed to look right at me as it turned green. A memory burned in the back of my mind, struggling to get free.

“Leo? Edmund?” I asked, waiting for the memory to rise.

“Yes, my Jane,” Leo said.

“Yes, my master,” Edmund said.

That “my master” stuff had to be addressed soon. Very soon. There was no way I was taking the vampire to be my primo. Vamps had primos and they were human. Skinwalkers had no primos and certainly not vamp primos. No way. I said, “Your opinion on the accident?”

“I concur with your second’s estimate,” Edmund said, “but the Master of the City is also correct. It was hubris on the part of the misericord. He . . .” Edmund hesitated a bare moment, and made a sound as if he was strangling. Or laughing. “He has issues.”

I smiled in the darkness at the modern term coming from Edmund’s lips. No wonder the words had strangled him.

“Why did you not change into one of your Beast forms, my Jane?” Leo asked.

“I really don’t know . . . I was holding . . .” An eye. It had started out blue, which had felt familiar. The memory came back to me in a rush. When I first met Gee DiMercy, he had used his magic both for and against me. At one point, he had employed his all-seeing blue eye to watch me, in real life and in my soul home. I had seen blue eyes in both palms. Watching me. But this time, they had started blue and faded to the witch’s green.

Gee had been spelled? With a spell like the one on me? Or the one on me had triggered some remnant of Gee’s first spell and found its way back to him? Yes . . . That made a sort of sense. My breathing sped, which caused a thrill of pain to rush through my chest. I thought it through again and it all made sense.

I breathed more slowly, letting the pain ease, trying to figure out what it meant. And whether the eye in my palm was also the reason I hadn’t changed shape. Nothing came to me, and Leo didn’t know about my Beast, the other soul I had pulled inside with me in an accidental act of black magic when I was five years old. He didn’t know about my soul home. I was pretty sure I had never told him about Gee spying on me with magic. But the Master of the City was waiting. “I was holding . . . myself too tightly. I just . . . missed it.” No. It was something else. Something worse. Maybe the result of many things that were worse, all coming together in a perfect storm. That was why Eli had hesitated. He knew there was something else going on too, but if he knew what it was, he wasn’t going to share it here in group therapy. I tried to put it together.

Gee’s magic. Eyes in my palms.

Beast’s magic growing.

The soul of Beast and my soul merging.

Attacks in my/our soul home, signs of magic in a place where nothing outside me/us should ever have been able to get in.

The stink of burning hair, iron, and salt in the scan.