Gunmetal Magic (39 page)

Shortly after that, Barabas dragged Raphael off to talk about some sort of important thing that couldn’t wait. Kate led me to a room that had a bed, and I collapsed into it, fur and all. The Pack bed was so soft. Like floating on a cloud.

Fatigue weighed me down. I closed my eyes, feeling the ache humming through my legs. Shouldn’t have sat down…yawn…straight after running…yawn. Should’ve walked it off…first…

I stood in the water. It splashed past my ankles, dark blue-green and warm. Soft mud squished beneath my feet. I made fists with my toes and watched a bright green cloud of powdery silt rise from the river’s bottom, swirling around my legs.
Patches of reeds grew, stretching into the river, bending lightly in the wind, as though they were whispering gossip to each other. In the distance, across the vast expanse of water, the sun was setting or rising, a small ball of yellow hovering at the edge of low dark hills, the silver-nacre sky around it painted with pink and yellow.

I looked over my shoulder. A yellow shore greeted me, touched with patches of bright green grass, and beyond it palms stretched upward.

We were definitely not in Kansas anymore.

A slender bird walked past me on long legs. It had a curved neck and a long beak and I realized it was a heron.

A presence brushed against me, saturated with magic. I turned. A jackal the size of a rhino waded into the river downstream from me and lapped the water, watching me with golden eyes.

Right. I was standing in the Nile, watching Anapa, and this was not an ordinary dream. There were rules to this dream. No promises, no striking of bargains, in fact, no talking. Nobody yet had managed to get into a shitty bargain with a god by keeping their mouth shut.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” The Jackal-Anapa raised his head and looked into the distance, at the sun. “Do you like the way it smells?”

It smelled verdant. It smelled like the moisture of the river mixing with the fragrance of dry grasses from the shore, and flowers, and fish, and rich mud. It smelled like the sort of place where life would flourish and hunting would be plentiful.

“It’s your father’s blood. It calls to you,” the Jackal said.

Bullshit. My father was an animal.

“Animals miss their home, too.”

Right. He was in my head. No thinking, then.

“Do you know why others fear you? They call you beastkin, they try to kill you? It is because of this. Of beastly memories you carry in your blood. The Firsts, the pack leaders of your kind, were made in much the same way as you. When primitive man prayed, he prayed for strength. His life was ruled by forces beyond his control: lightning, rain, wind, sun, and things with teeth that sought to eat him in the night. So the primitive man resorted to begging. He prayed to the predators,
to those stronger than he, and sometimes, very, very rarely, his prayers were answered and a boon was granted. The Firsts, they are a perfect mix of human and animal. You are not, and thus you do not have the Firsts’ strength or control, but you share in their memories. You see the world through your mother’s eyes and through your father’s.”

“I see it through my own eyes.” Drat. Shouldn’t have said anything. I clamped my mouth shut.

The Jackal chuckled.

The sun had set behind the hills. Dusk claimed the river. Gloom wove its way through the palms. Faint tendrils of steam escaped the river, still warmer than bathwater.

“I want your body,” Anapa said.

“That’s flattering, but no.” I couldn’t help it, it just burst out.

“Not in a sexual way, you foolish child. The body I wear in the world is a part of my bloodline. But he is weak. Its magic reserves are meager. Make no mistake, if Apep is resurrected, the assistance I can offer you will be limited at best. Your body is strong. Your blood is rooted in the same place as mine. We’re both a mix of beast and man. You’re a more suitable host than any of the other shapeshifters I have encountered.”

“I’m a hyena. You’re a jackal.”

“I will make do,” Anapa said.

“And what happens to me?”

“You will merge with me.”

“You’re lying.” I knew it. I felt it in my gut.

The Jackal lapped the river. “Perhaps.”

“Why would I throw my life away?”

“Because I am a god and I asked for it.”

“You are not my god.”

The Jackal sighed. “That is the trouble with this age. There was a time when thousands would slit their own throats for my sake.”

“No. There was never that time.”

The Jackal bared his teeth. “What do you know, whelp?”

“I know human nature. We might sacrifice a few, because we are stupid and hardwired for group survival. But we would never die in the thousands because a god wished it. Those kinds of numbers require material gains, like power, wealth, territory.”

The Jackal stared at me. “Give me your body.”

“No.”

“There may come a time when you will say yes.”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

The Jackal laughed softly. “Look over there.”

I glanced up and saw a man. He stood in the river, nude, with the waters lapping at his thighs. The last rays of the setting sun colored his side, throwing orange highlights on his skin, tracing every contour of the etched muscle. He looked so…perfect. Except his face was a blur.

“Who is it?”

The man’s body arched up, his back bending back at an unnatural angle, the ridges of the stomach muscles stretching and his face came into focus. Raphael.

A figure rose above him, an eight-foot-tall man with the head of a jackal. He raised his hand, a golden staff in it, and passed it over the body. The skin over the Raphael’s chest and abdomen split.

I gasped.
No!

Blood fountained, coloring the waters of the Nile. Raphael’s muscles opened like bloody petals. Anubis held his hand with outstretched fingers and a human heart, steaming hot and drenched in blood, tore itself out of my mate’s chest and landed in the god’s clawed fingers.

My own heart skipped a beat.

Anubis waded through the water toward me, the heart still beating. I tried to back away, but my feet sank into soft mud.

The god bent over me and offered me the heart. It was terrible. Dread pulsed from it in waves. Dread, sorrow, and guilt. It was choking me.

“Take it.”

“You bastard! I’ll tear you apart!”

Anubis raised the heart, holding the bloody organ just inches from my face and let it go. It hung in the air, terrible, bleeding drop by drop into the Nile.

The river faded. When I awoke, the faint rays of the sunrise, weak and transparent, sifted into the room through my window. I had slept for barely an hour.

I smelled a familiar scent and turned my head. At the other end of the room, near the wall, wrapped in a blanket, with his
pillow resting on the floor, lay Raphael. He was back in his human form, and his dark hair fanned across the pillow, his profile perfect against the pale fabric.

He must’ve let me have the bed, because in our beast forms both of us wouldn’t have fit on it.

I looked down and saw myself on the sheets. I had turned human during the night. Olive mud streaks marked my ankles in two smudged rings.

Fear curled in the pit of my stomach, scratching at my insides with icy claws. I wanted to crawl out of my bed, tiptoe across the room, and slide under the blanket with him. He would put his arm around me, and I would lay safe, wrapped in him, breathing in his scent. It would be only an illusion of safety, but I wanted it so, so badly.

I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to give my body to any gods. For the first time in my twenty-eight years I was truly living. I wanted to love and to be loved in return. I wanted happiness, and family, and children. I wanted a long life and I wanted Raphael to live it with me. I was terrified that I would fail and little Brandy would pay for my mistakes. Fear gripped me, making it hard to breathe.

I couldn’t tell Raphael. He would throw his life away to save me.

I was so scared, and I lay there paralyzed, unable to think of anything but Raphael’s heart dripping blood into the Nile.

I crawled out of bed, wrapped my sheet around me, walked across the floor, and crouched by him. “Raphael. Raphael…Wake up.”

His eyes opened, so blue. He reached out and pulled me down next to him, curving his body around mine.

“Raphael…”

He pulled me closer.

The heat radiating from his chest burned my back. “Raphael…”

“Just lay with me,” he said.

I shut up, stretched against him, trying to banish the gaping hole inside my chest. We didn’t have much time. We didn’t have any time at all. I cradled that knot of pain and he pulled me close.

If Anapa could invade my dreams and steal children out of
the Keep, there was no telling what else he could do. I had to be careful, because Raphael could die. He could die tonight, tomorrow, the next day, all because a god wanted my body. I had to keep him alive. I would do anything. I would give anything to keep him breathing.

He kissed my neck. It sent an electric shiver down my spine.

“Mmm,” he said.

I curled into a tiny ball.

He pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around me. “What is it?”

“You wanted to know why I didn’t call you while I was in the Order,” I said.

“It isn’t important.”

“It is. When I woke up after Erra burned, my advocate was there. He took me to my apartment and there were two knights with him. They waited outside. Inside he told me that anyone I contacted while in the Order’s custody would come under scrutiny. They would listen in on my calls. Kate has a secret. She trusted me with it and I had an obligation to keep it hidden. I realized then that I had to stay away from her. If she said the wrong thing or, worse, decided to track me down and rescue me, the Order would dig up her past. I couldn’t speak to her.”

“I understand Kate.” He kissed me again. “But why didn’t you call me?”

“Because I was scared,” I whispered. “My only friend was out of the picture, my mother couldn’t help me, and I was all alone. You were all I had left. I was afraid that I would call you and you’d tell me we were done. They put a phone in my room so the temptation to call would be always there. So now you know my dirty secret. I’m a coward.”

Raphael turned me over and looked at me, his face close to mine. “You and I will never be done. You’re my mate.”

He kissed the corner of my mouth. I almost cried.

“I stopped sleeping since you left,” he said. “I’ll sleep for a couple of hours, wake up, you’re not there.”

I closed my eyes.

“I need an answer, Andrea,” he said.

“An answer?”

“Mate. Yes or no.”

“Do you need to ask?” I whispered. “You’re my mate.”

“If you choose to leave, I will go with you,” he said.

I opened my eyes.

“Unless you’re just itching to take Curran on,” he said. “I suppose we could fight him. We’d lose, but it would be fun while it lasted.”

Silly bouda. I hugged him, sliding under him, the weight of his muscular body a reassuring pressure on me. His eyes were so blue. I kissed him, letting his taste wash over my tongue. Every muscle in me shivered in anticipation. “A smelly, stupid bouda once told me that if you make your mate choose between you and his family, you’re not worthy of his loyalty. I wouldn’t do it to you, Raphael. I love you.”

He licked me, nipping on my lower lip. He caressed me. His hand slipped down, stroking, pushing my thighs open. His scent washed over me, and for once, instead of making me hurt in regret, it sang through me.
“Mate…”

I wrapped my legs around him and whispered, “Make love to me.”

When I awoke, three hours later, Raphael was gone. The mud from my ankles proved remarkably difficult to remove. It took multiple soapings and scrubbings with a washcloth and even a pumice stone, until finally it was all gone and the skin on my legs was bright red. The Lyc-V would fix it in no time at all, but it aggravated me to no end.

I stalked out into the hallway and smelled English muffins. Crisp, just-out-of-the-toaster, generously buttered English muffins. The aroma grabbed my nose and dragged me down the hall, to a side room, where Kate sat at a long table, drinking coffee. Plates covered the table: heaps of scrambled eggs; hot, crispy hash browns; soft crepes, folded into quarters and drenched with melted butter; bacon, sausage, ham, English muffins.

“Food!”

“Yes!” Kate thrust a plate in my direction.

I loaded my plate, and bit into the ham. Yum, yum, yum. Meat. Meat good. Andrea hungry. Andrea had spent too many
calories in the past forty-eight hours. I could do without sleep or food, but not both.

“Have you seen my mate?” I asked.

“He’s with his mother.”

I rolled my eyes.

“He was in here about half an hour ago, eating up a storm. Aunt B has graced us with her presence and she wanted him to explain things to her.”

I ate the English muffin and got another. I could almost feel the energy flooding my body. As a shapeshifter, I could technically go without sleep completely, if I had to, but food was a requirement. I was going to stuff myself until I resembled one of those pigs they served at banquets in old movies.

“Your favorite volhv showed up half an hour ago, complaining about his lack of sleep and stupid gods. He says he brought his Batman belt.”

I stopped chewing for a second and caught my reflection in the shiny kettle. I looked like a chipmunk with my cheeks full of food. “So can he bind this draugr?”

“He says so.”

“That means we’re still on?”

Kate nodded.

Well. My day was finally looking up. About time.