Kalina ~ Book Four

It wasn’t until three days after Elias’ concerning news that Kian felt comfortable leaving Sylvie to go to his apothecary in Sagehill. She had already chastised him numerous times for worrying about her and soothing her emotions on the rare occasion he couldn't resist his influence.

Rowan and Elias stuck into the prep and build of the new packhouse structure and gave Sylvie odd jobs to keep her busy. The most recent one was coaxing all the trees, roots, trunks, and all from the path they had carved.

She didn't let them fell a single tree. Instead, she dragged them across the forest one at a time until she made a big enough space.

It was mesmerising— watching her work. Watching just how far she had come with her abilities. Others watched her, too, despite her scowl. Fraser's pack was particularly fascinated by the Fae, who could split the earth and move nature at her whim.

It was hardly a whim, though. He could see it on her face, in the quiver in her toned muscles. She was tiring herself out within an inch of her life so she could drag herself to their bed and fall into a dreamless sleep between them.

And it worked until last night. She woke so enraged and frenzied that they had to buy a new bed set. The tattered sheets were bagged and stored until they could find a use for them.

Kian had to soothe her then, as Elias and Rowan pinned her until she fully roused from her night terror.

He sighed and returned to the mindless sorting in front of him. He always had orders, and after being away for a few weeks, the backlog was as long as he was tall.

The door chimed, and he looked up, a smile forming on his lips, when it froze— died. “You can’t be here.”

“Oh, can’t I?” The black demon's eyes faded to light blue, and a pair of elongated fangs flashed at him from the woman's grin- the grin of a vampire he couldn’t quite place.

“I’ve warded this town,” he said lowly, curling his hands and lowering them to his sides, closer to the weapons he had stored beneath his front counter.

The Vampire's grin widened, her eyes flashing under the warmth of the overhead lights. Kian sensed her excitement and threaded fear through her. It didn’t take hold. Instead, the Vampire absorbed the fear and shuddered in pleasure, feeding from it.

Something clicked deep in Kian's memory, paired with the new knowledge from the Sun court. Knowledge he still had yet to share with anyone. “Unless-”

The Vampire twitched as if unable to contain their excitement. “Unless.”

But before he could speak the words he knew to be true, she darted her hand out, threading a thin chain over his neck. A marble-shaped amulet hung from it and thudded against his chest three times.

“Unless,” the Vampire prompted it again, but he could not say it. He could hardly even think it until his memories of the Sun court healers were no more than a haze.

“Good, can’t have you spoiling the surprise, now can we?”

Kian snatched a wooden staff under the counter and levelled it at the Vampire. “Get out.” He didn't bother trying to take off the amulet. He couldn't anyway, its thrumming power only wiping his mind more the more he thought about ridding himself of it.

The Vampire stayed out of reach, hands at her sides placating, but her smirk split her face. “Now remember, pretty Fae. If anyone tries to take that fetching trinket off, you are to stop them by any means necessary.”

With one last grin, the Vampire spun and sauntered from the store, the chiming of the door the only sound as she disappeared down the street.

“Fuck.” He locked up soon after, jumped on his Harley and raced home, trying to keep his new necklace from his mind. A fae artefact. He remembered the drawings in his mother's tomes, but the name escaped him.

He roared as he revved his bike along the winding roads. He shouldn’t have let the Vampire get to him, but it was impossible. Impossible for it to get past his wards. Until it wasn’t. Until it-

“Idiot,” he growled, swerving for an oncoming car and almost wiping out from the speed wobbles. There was nothing he could do now. All he could hope was that his mate figured out the fae artefact's power and saved him before it was too late.

Sylvie glistened under the late afternoon sun. Breathe, loose. Breathe, loose. Her mantra continued as she loaded the straw dummies and flat targets with holes. She had almost used the entire stock of arrows, and her fingers ached around her recurve bow.

Breathe, loose. Breathe, loose.

The monotony was all she needed to quell the darkness, the hollow in her heart, the heaviness in her body, and clear her mind of her losses. There was only the bow and her. Before she had used the prep work for the shifter accommodations, moving trees across the earth, roots and all, like a forest god, but she’d been sent away.

Her reluctance to let any of the pack fell trees for the build put a damper on their plans, and Rowan suggested a compromise of felled trees for the framing and the rest as recycled plywood they could scrounge in the local towns. She agreed but removed herself from the area lest she fall deeper into despair from the death toll.

With training, she could focus on the tasks ahead. There was so much to be done, and there was no room for the dark pit her soul was trying to drown her in. She cut her mates off from it to protect them, her ability to build a wall down the mate bonds stronger than ever despite how weak she felt— how spent— and used any physically laborious training to hone herself.

Yalboax.

The Fates.

Beihllua.

Fraser.

Her list only grew as her brain cleared post-demon raid, but one thing stuck out above all else and gripped her heart like a metal vice.

Claudine.

Elias didn't know how painful his news about the demon's message for her was, but the clock was ticking, and she needed a plan.

Breathe.

Loose.

Breathe.

Loose.

The liminal realm was a mystery to her beyond its mind-warping qualities; she had no idea how time worked but assumed it was equal or slower based on her travel back to Fraser's pack lands. For all she knew, Claudine was already dead, but she couldn't think like that.

She couldn't-

“Alpha?” a small voice said from behind her. She tensed, lowered her bow, and turned to peer down at Delilah.

With a forearm across her lower face, she cleared the sweat and asked thickly, “What are you doing out here?”

“Ditching class.”

The raw honesty almost made Sylvie’s mouth twitch.

Delilah scratched her head, and her shoulders curved a little. The action was so unlike her that Sylvie stepped towards her, hand lifting to touch her cheek but falling short and dropping to her side. Fingers limp.

Delilah only shivered." I’m sorry for sneaking up on you, Alpha. I didn't mean to scare you.”

With her heart squeezing impossibly tight, Sylvie dropped to her knees in front of the girl and shook her head. “What I did- there is no excuse, Delilah. I am so sorry for hurting you.”

“It didn't really hurt,” she said softly, her eyes shining and meeting Sylvie’s gaze. “I just got a fright.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you then.”

“It’s okay-”

“No, De, it isn’t okay, but thank you for accepting my apology.”

She blushed and pointed at the bow Sylvie had dropped. “Is that yours?”

“Yes.”

Delilah lifted her small hand to the targets that looked less like humans and more like porcupines and said, “Did you do that?”

“Mhmm.”

“Woah. Can I have a turn?”

A smile danced across Sylvie’s lips. She stood, dusting the dirt from her knees, and bent to retrieve the bow. It would be way too heavy, but Delilah stared with such excitement she couldn't say no. “Didn’t you win our competition about staying quiet the longest before your first shift?”

She swayed, looking at the sky as if it had the answer and eventually shook her head sharply. “Nope. I definitely talked first.”

A laugh shot from Sylvie’s lips, the sound so foreign she had to cough. “Most people would lie about that, you know.”

Delilah grinned and took the bow, standing in a sturdy stance. She must have been watching for some time.

“Never Alpha. I could never lie to you.”

After a few hours and many broken arrows, Delilah headed home, and Sylvie found herself rubbing her cheeks. They hurt. She didn’t understand why they hurt until Rosie appeared on the edge of the forest, and Sylvie's face fell to match her friend's expression.

She had been smiling. That small child she had taught from birth had sliced a hole through the darkness that swamped her mind, even just for a moment.

But grief demanded company.

“Rosie?”

“You look happy.”

Sylvie's face fell further. “I was helping Delilah.”

“I saw.”

Without responding, Sylvie padded away, ripping the arrows free of their marks and stacked them in a loose pile, back to the fox shifter. She should've paid more attention and not advertised her joy, no matter how small when others could see. When it could cause them pain. She swallowed and filled a quiver with the retrieved arrows. Shit. She left the other quivers at the forest edge.

The crunching of Rosie's approaching footfalls struck again and again like a physical blow. She deserved it, but losing Rosie’s friendship was another darkness that dragged her to places she didn't want to be. It scared her.

It scared her more than she ever wanted anyone to see or know.

“Alpha.”

She stacked and stacked and stacked, the light scritch of aluminium settling her nerves until the steps behind her came to a tense stop.

“Alpha.”

From Rosie’s tone, she could already imagine what the conversation would be about. But if she went down that path, hearing all the failures to add to her already long list, guilt would consume her.

“Can we talk later,” she said softly, still not turning to face the woman at her back.

“This can’t wait.”

“I can’t hear it right now, Rosie. Another time.”

"You need to.” She pushed and pushed, and Sylvie’s distress slowly burned into frustration.

“No, Rosie. I can’t.”

“You promised me.”

“Rosie.” Her voice rasped, a crack threatening to tear her words in two. Rage.

“Now Claudine-”

“Stop!” Sylvie spun and stood, nostrils flaring. “Stop, Rosie.”

Rosie shrank away, the unintended Alpha command forcing her to bare her neck.

Sylvie backed up a step, trampling a few arrows. The rage ebbed so quickly that she almost staggered. “I’m sorry.”

But Rosie, her eyes lined with tears, backed down, shook her head, and receded without turning back.

“Rosie!”

As Sylvie reached out to her, she flinched away and shifted, her fox shuddering as if sobbing. Then she darted away into the thick brush of the fighting squares.

Her fists clenched at her sides, the realisation she had majorly screwed up settling in her bones. She should have just taken it. Taken whatever Rosie had to say. She was the Alpha, and she couldn’t handle a few words? What kind of Alpha was she?

Turning to the piles of arrows, she scooped them up and trudged, arms full, to the bunker beside Amira’s cabin. On the way, she made a call.

Rosie might never forgive her, and she had to accept that, no matter how painful, but she wouldn't sit by and watch the friendship burn. She would try to make it right. So many things loaded her mental list- something that had to be done lest her whole world crumble. But she would fulfil her promises if it were the last thing she’d do.