Kalina ~ Book Four

The blade sliced cleanly across Sylvie’s throat before her consciousness returned, and the terrible prophecies from the Fates fled to the back of her brain.

Now, there was nothing but agony and survival.

Moving with animal instinct, Sylvie twisted, wrapping her hand around the blade and wrenched it from her assailant’s grip before throwing it with a hard thunk into the shadow that still loomed above her.

Her chest glistened with warm wetness as she clawed at her neck, pulling skin to skin to stop the torrent that stole the sharpness of her vision. She kicked at the shadow swaying in the darkness and scrambled back as the body collapsed onto the bed, a blanket of long hair writhing through her blood.

Sylvie rasped, trying to call for help, but the damage from the knife must have touched her vocal cords. She rose on her knees and shoved the head off her bed, shuddering when the body hit the floor with a heavy thud.

She tried to control her ragged breaths, coughing up blood that flooded her lungs. It was agony. The healing took far longer; every millimetre of skin stitching together felt like fire licking across her skin.

Slowly, as the last remnants of blood pushed itself from her lungs and out her mouth, she dared to peek over the edge of the bed.

Her vision cleared and then swam, a scream finally bursting from her lips.

No.

No.

It wasn’t possible. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t have. But even as she scanned the body, the throwing knife she left stored on her bedside table glistened in the moonlight, hilt deep in a child’s chest.

Bea.

She jumped off the bed and shook Bea, her body still woozy from blood loss. “Wake up. No, no, no, no. Bea? Bea! Why?”

The slam of her front door opening hardly registered above her wailing cries. She felt its force, though, rattling the walls and sending vibrations through the floor.

Bea’s eyes were closed, lashes coated with tears against her high cheekbones. If Sylvie ignored the blood pooling under her, she could almost pretend the girl had fallen asleep beside her bed.

“Sylvie?”

“Here,” she croaked, gasping as Elias’ vice grip lifted her from the body and into his arms. She couldn’t help but reach for Bea as he darted from the house, searching her up and down for wounds.

He thumbed her throat, the spot still tender as if the skin hadn’t fully healed, and dropped his forehead to hers.

“I thought I lost you.”

“Sylvie!” Kian and Rowan’s voices merged as they sprinted across the lawn to her side. Kian wavered and vomited before joining them.

“Kian,” her voice came out in a faint whine. “Take some.” She lifted a clammy hand to him so he could heal from whatever burnout he was experiencing, but his appalled expression made it falter.

“Take mine,” Elias offered instead.

She shivered, and Elias handed her to Rowan, his warmth enough to stave the chill as she tried to slow her breathing. Rowan seemed to notice, slowing his inhales. She tried to match him, but she couldn’t get enough air, not enough air, not enough air.

“I can’t - I can’t-”

His mate was going into shock, and there was nothing Rowan could do about it. Kian was far too weak after portaling them when he was already near death, and Elias disappeared into the house, probably to clean up whatever mess was in there. He had told awake pack members to stay away and held Sylvie tighter.

“We’re here, sweetheart.”

She paled further, swaying in his arms, mumbling incoherent thoughts.

“Not right. She was, she was human. Why? Why? Why?” Her weight faltered against him, and he scooped her up, carrying her to Amira.

Kian followed, one of her hands clasped in his, but Rowan snapped at the Fae when a glow appeared between them.

“No. I won’t have both of you going into a coma.” The light dimmed, and Kian grumbled his response. He wasn’t used to not being able to fix things.

“I’ve got her, Kian.”

“I know,” he replied glumly.

“I don’t understand,” Sylvie kept saying, her eyes wide but unseeing.

Amira’s door was already open, a candle burning on the counter, and the stretcher bed made. Rowan shuddered. It was the same one Elias had died on. He wanted to throw it away, but Amira always refused. She hated wastefulness.

“Here, Rowan.”

Amira shuffled over in slippers and a robe, a mug of hot tea in hand. Instead of putting Sylvie on the stretcher, he sat on it, keeping her in his lap. She trembled violently, but in the places where their skin touched, a heat licked between them. She needed him.

“I’ve got you, baby.”

Amira placed the mug in Sylvie’s hands, but she made no move to drink it. Her eyes glossed over, and the shivering stopped. “Fate. The Fates. I see… I see.”

“What do ye see?” Amira rubbed one of Sylvie’s knees.

“They’re mad. No. No, they are afraid. Afraid of the grey. They’ll punish me. I need to see. Open my eyes. Open my eye.”

Rowan’s stomach sank. Sylvie’s ravings were so far out of character that her voice even deepened as if the Fates were speaking through her.

“Here.” Elias appeared in a gust of wind, an open blood bag in hand. “Drink, Sylvie. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

Her eyelids drooped, and she didn’t protest as Elias lifted the bag to her lips and squeezed slowly. Amira made a disgusted noise low in her throat, but Sylvie swallowed steadily. Soon, she had finished the whole bag, and colour had returned to her cheeks.

“Do you need another?” Elias stooped low enough to catch her eyes, and she shook her head tiredly. Her body was so limp in Rowan’s arms he had to keep his grip tight in case she slipped right off him onto the floor. It almost felt like she wanted to do just that.

“No more.” She turned, lower lip wobbling as her mind defogged. He could almost see her brain coming back online, her eyes returning to their sharp- all-seeing gaze and her body tensing up like a coiled spring.

“What happened, Sylv?”

“I don’t know.” She bit her lip. Her pain hit him hard, and he winced as she spoke again.

“I gave her dinner and said goodnight. She’d just started talking to me. I don’t know why she would do this. And I- I killed her. I killed her.” Her voice broke as her tears slid down her pink cheeks.

Kian brushed a hair from her head and asked, “Could she have been compelled somehow?”

“I don’t know.”

Elias grunted. “I’m gonna make a call.”

Sylvie twitched. She knew what that meant. “Who?”

“Magnus.”

He disappeared for a few minutes, and Sylvie dozed off, still hiccoughing, the potency of her mate’s warm arms and the calming energy that Kian couldn’t help but release easing her turmoil. She didn’t stir when Elias returned, so he told them instead.

“He’ll keep his ear to the ground. His integrated vamps with kindreds are loyal enough, so if he hears anything, he’ll let us know.”

“That’s a lot of waiting,” Rowan said, a frown forming. How long were they going to wait on others? His mate— their mate, had already suffered enough at the hands of others. His wolf itched to end them.

Amira sighed from the corner, and Rowan glanced her way. He’d almost forgotten where they were.

“War is comin’, lad. Don’t run towards it. Find another way.”

He clenched his jaw but nodded. Sometimes the mind link was fucking annoying if he didn’t guard his thoughts well enough. Anyone listening could hear.

Amira smiled and headed for the small bedroom. “Talk in the mornin’. Keep her warm.” Her gaze lingered on Sylvie’s sleeping form, and a swelling of pride filled Rowan’s chest. He never doubted Sylvie as Alpha, and seeing how much they loved her—sometimes more than they respected him, was the greatest gift he could have received—shifter or not.

“Thank you, Amira.”

“Goodnight, Rowan.”

“Night.”

Sylvie couldn’t sleep. Wouldn’t sleep. The children had already shown their first signs of shifting, the rings of animal colour in their Iris’ shining in the dying light and the mind link slowly forming between them and their families.

“It’s time.” Rowan waved the children to the path in front of Amira’s house, handing each an empty tote closed by a jute drawstring. “Open your bags, everyone.”

Sylvie smiled encouragingly to Delilah, who tentatively smiled back, a luminescent blue ring lighting her eyes. The parents of each child filled the totes with clothes for after the shift, a snack and a lucky charm before kissing their children goodbye and running headlong into the forest to hide under the watchful eye of the full moon.

The doorway of Amira’s hut held Sylvie up far more than she would’ve liked, the stress from the last few days draining her until all she could do was sleep in her mate’s arms. But she couldn’t do that tonight. No. Her children needed Rowan more than she did. This was important, and she wouldn’t do anything to ruin it.

Rowan raised a hand to her, and she stepped forward, the basket on her forearm swinging lightly. Finally, her herb mixes could be used, though she still didn’t know how.

Rowan pulled a small bottle from the basket and smiled at Sylviele before casting his no-nonsense gaze across the children.

“This poultice is blessed by the longest-living shifter alive today and by your Alpha, the Fates Champion.” Sylvie’s heart skipped a beat, and she gave her mate a long look. Fate’s Champion, that was a new one. Did he make that up on the spot?

His smirk made her think he did.

“You will each drop a thimble amount under your tongues, forcing your shift. If your beast is ready, they will come forth. Before that, you will pour the rest of your poultice, and your animal will eat it.”

“Off the floor?” Sage asked, appalled. The other children had similar faces of disgust. Who knew what had shat on the ground.

Rowan chuckled. “Yes, off the floor. Your beasts won’t mind.”

Delilah stuck out her tongue but leaned forward eagerly as Rowan spoke again. “Once you have shifted, my wolf will call to you. You will follow him. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Alpha!” they shouted.

Sylvie grinned, the action making her puffy eyes itch. None of her children mentioned it, but she could tell they were curious why she looked like a train wreck.

Would they look at her the same if they knew? If they knew what she was capable of?

She swallowed and watched, appreciating the closeness of her other mates standing fairly still behind her inside Amira’s cabin. Amira herself had disappeared somewhere into the woods to act as a guide to any wayward cubs or pups.

“Once we are deep enough inside the woods, you will have to split up and find your parents using only your shifter senses. They will tell you what to do once you find them. Understand?”

“Yes, Alpha.”

“Good. Begin.”

Sylvie sucked in a big breath and palmed her thrumming heart. It was finally time. They tasted the herb mix one by one and dropped the rest at their feet. Sylvie didn’t know what she expected, but her students screaming and writhing as if in pain nearly had her exploding.

Kian touched her bicep, but she shook him off, watching them intently. Rowan, too, was staring hard as the children dropped to their hands and knees, the familiar ripple of skin turning to fur, bringing a satisfied smile to his face.

He gave a final look to Sylvie and nodded. “I’ll see you soon.”

She smiled back and exhaled her tense breath as her students made their first-ever shift, the cacophony of growls and hissing music to her ears. Panthers, hyenas, bobcats and wolf pups darted around, tails swishing happily as Rowan shifted into his sleek raven wolf. His golden eyes shone in the dim light, and he ran behind the cabin and out of sight.

“Do you want us to come with you?” Elias asked from her back, his breath tickling the hairs on her nape.

She turned and shook her head. “No. I need to do this on my own.”

“Princess-”

“I said no, Kian. I will be there for them.”

Like she wasn’t for Bea.

She left that part unsaid, but Kian knew. So did Elias. With one last shaky breath, she turned and made chase.