Lychos Read online

  I wanted to tell this story to Syd. But the family gathered is watching me, waiting for me to fill them in on everything that’s happened. I’m a little surprised Tallah hasn’t been in touch with her sister and I can see from the worry on her face, she is, too. If they are willing to risk their lives for Sage and me, the least I can do is tell them everything.

  ***

  Chapter Five

  Sage begins before I get the chance, showing and explaining what happened to him in Europe. I wince when he shares the experience of being bitten. It’s the first time he’s allowed me to know what really occurred. I’m with him on the dark road heading for the hostel, feel his sadness as he thinks of me, the way his heart rate leaps as a dark shape throws itself from the forest and lands on him—

  “A wolf!” I gasp the word, looking down at him. “You said it at the time, but no one believed you.” But it’s true. The form that bit him was lupine, not a wereshape.

  Sage nods. Does that mean something?

  I don’t know. “I’ve always been told turning full wolf means the end of my humanity.” The wolf in Sage’s image is huge, dark with red tones and has the feel of Caine. But that means he’s able to shift from human form to full wolf without losing himself. How is that possible?

  Demetrius shrugs, blue eyes thoughtful. “There is so much we don’t know about your people,” he says. “Now your race is free of the Black Souls, is it possible to shift fully without harm?”

  I shudder from the idea, but it’s not without merit when I force myself to consider it. I look at Sage, churning questions turning into growing revelation. Could the bite he sustained have been different because of the form Caine took?

  Answers later. I must inform the others of what we’ve endured first if I’m to have their aid figuring this out.

  The moment I begin, they all listen quietly as I tell them everything. I’ve been known to hold back details, to protect myself from full disclosure and what that might mean. No one needs to know all the hurt I’ve felt. But as I stand there with Demetrius’s hand in mine and Ethpeal watching me with her steady gaze, I find myself telling them intimate details about the Dumonts and their ownership of me, about my grandfather and my father’s desertion leaving me stuck as heir to the throne, and my fears for Sage. My hatred for Caine. And all the supposition Tallah and I worked out in her sunny kitchen in California.

  Ethpeal’s eyes tighten at the mention of Belaisle. “Impossible,” she says. “And yet.”

  Demetrius nods, gaze bright but not with good emotions. “There’s still a chance he’s out there,” he says. He almost sounds happy. Considering Belaisle tortured and turned Demetrius, forced him to serve, to betray those he cared about, I can understand completely his desire for Belaisle to be alive. So he can kill him personally.

  We’re very much alike, Demetrius and I. He has a wolf in him, somewhere, I’m certain.

  “Tallah’s guesswork is sound,” Ethpeal says, now pacing in a small circuit that reminds me of Syd so much I relax slightly. This was the right choice after all. “It would be just like Belaisle to want his own army. It’s quite possible he set the werewolf program in motion long before his battle with Syd.” She nods to herself, fingers plucking at her lower lip. “And there is nothing to say Rupe would have to remain loyal. If something happened to Liander, Rupe is arrogant enough to think he could fill his master’s shoes.”

  “That doesn’t answer why Sage is different.” Quaid’s shoulders go back, head tilting as he observes the quiet wolf. “What happened to make this work?”

  “That’s what Rupe wants to know,” I say. “Why we think he tried to kidnap Sage.”

  “You said the revenants in Europe felt different.” Shenka’s frown looks like her sister’s and I realize they are far more alike than either would willingly admit. “They weren’t crazy, either.”

  I shake my head. “The one I met felt like he was in pain, more than insane. But nothing like Sage.”

  “Logical,” she says. “Considering Syd freed you from sorcery.”

  “How’s that?” Ethpeal spins on her, suddenly intent.

  Shenka seems nervous, though she smiles through it as she always does. “I only meant,” she said, “now that the werewolves aren’t contained and controlled by sorcery, everything about them is different. So the infection they pass on would be changed too, wouldn’t it?”

  I nod. I’ve thought of this, though I didn’t explore the idea very far. But she’s right. It’s not just our way of being that’s different. It’s everything about us.

  “Go on.” Ethpeal waves at her. “Work the idea through.”

  Shenka dimples before returning to her thoughtful frown. “I’m wondering,” she says, “if the Black Souls did this to you on purpose.”

  Did what? Sage shifts where he stands, his black furred tail touching Sass’s white. The cat doesn’t flinch, amber eyes focused on Syd’s second.

  “The infection.” She looks around at all of us. “They wanted to control you, how you reproduce. So they made it impossible for you to make other werewolves outside of natural birth.”

  Quaid shakes his head. “Then why make their bite infectious at all?”

  Shenka clearly doesn’t have an answer and I feel a little silly for focusing on her so intently. Until Demetrius snaps his fingers with an impish grin.

  “They screwed up,” he says, letting go of my hand at last. I miss the warmth of his skin as he rubs his together. “They tried to control too many variables, didn’t they?” His chuckle makes me smile, though I have no idea what he’s talking about. He turns on Sage. “I bet,” he says, eyes twinkling, “you don’t carry that infection, my boy.”

  Why wouldn’t I? Sage’s ears perk. I’m a werewolf.

  “You’re something else entirely,” Demetrius says. “I’ve been investigating the both of you,” he winks, “with apologies.” I feel his sorcery retreat, though completely missed the intrusion. I forget just how skilled the small sorcerer is, still at times thinking of him as the mad, damaged man on whom Syd took pity. But he is that deranged creature no longer, and from the twinkle in his eyes, he’s pleased with himself. “I just had to see what makes you tick. And I have to say, I’m intrigued by your design.”

  I should be insulted, I suppose, he’s taken such a liberty. But I’m more interested in the excitement in his voice. “What do you mean?”

  He opens his hands, a small, black wolf made of wisps of darkness appearing. “From what I can sense—and what I know of the Black Souls—your species were constructed from a variety of powers,” he says. “Demon for strength and the fire of anger, witch for access to the elements on the most basic level. And sorcery.” The little figure transforms into a werewolf, a man, and back again. “The sorcery was yours, as it is for all creatures, we’ve been told.” The first magic, if the drach were to be believed, inherent in all living things. “But the Black Souls knew if they were to control you, they needed to corrupt your natural power. The addition of demon and witch magic they twisted for their use. They wanted to create you and let you breed. They didn’t expect the byproduct of the danger of your bite.”

  “The infection,” I say.

  He nods. “It’s not a real illness,” he says. “It’s a passing on of power. But if it’s passed on to one who doesn’t have their sorcery activated, it corrupts and destroys instead of building, triggering that innate power to devour everything, including the soul of the infected.”

  Ethpeal is frowning. “I think I see where you’re going,” she says.

  Demetrius beams at her. “And when they discovered the flaw, it was too late. From what I can feel of you two,” he points at us, “no matter your origins, the power they gave you, woke in you through birth or bite, is unalterable.” I feel his sorcery push against my wolf and she growls and pushes back. “Their own invention with the built-in ability to turn against them. Once they made werewolves, they couldn’t change you.”

  “They could have just des
troyed us.” I’m surprised they didn’t.

  “Who knows why the Black Souls did what they did,” Demetrius says, no longer smiling. I can tell from his stance, the way his hands quiver at his sides, he had dealings with the Czar and his people before Belaisle destroyed his mind, and possibly after. “They may have been thrilled with the discovery the bite of their creations destroyed human souls. How delightful. And as long as they kept you afraid of your infection and in control, they had nothing to worry about.” His tone is dark and sad.

  “But now that Syd has freed us?” I’m almost afraid to ask. How much more is there to uncover about my people? And are we too hidebound to accept the way things are? Our laws and the way we cling to them tell me these revelations could cause serious division in the packs.

  “I don’t know.” Demetrius shrugs, smiling, happy again. “But I can tell you, I'm right. Sage isn’t infectious.”

  Sage isn’t… I grin at his words. “He’s not?”

  He flicks his fingers at imaginary dust on his sleeve. “Told you, didn’t I? And you had doubts.”

  I lunge for him and kissed his cheek. He blushes and touches his face, blue eyes sparkling.

  “You’re sure?” How can this be possible? Is Sage really that different from me?

  “I’m sure.” He glances at Ethpeal. “Now we need to find out why and how to pass it on.”

  No longer infectious. Imagine if my people were free of the fear of infecting normals. “That means revenants would be a thing of the past.” My people would no longer have to fear, though new laws will have to be made. Laws like those that govern the creation of new vampires. But those laws can come later, when level heads are able to think things through.

  As long as it’s our level heads that are doing the thinking.

  “The kind you’re referring to already are.” Demetrius frowns. “The soulless kind. The sorcery the Black Souls used to make you no longer seems to eat everything in its path, absorbed by the buried power in normals. If your encounters with the revenant you met in Europe is any indication. But the Brotherhood—or Rupe—are still trying to make werewolves. And likely making the same mistakes the Black Souls did without knowing how to control the sorcery in the normals they are using as guinea pigs.”

  “When we were under the Black Soul’s control,” I say, working it through in my head, “the bite of a werewolf, in wereform, turned normals into revenants because their magic was woken the wrong way.”

  “Correct,” Demetrius says. “The sorcery of the werebite triggered the wakening of the normal’s sorcery, but created a cascade effect, a devouring, rather than a true wakening. Thus the soullessness and insanity.”

  And the difference. “So they don’t go crazy,” I say.

  “No,” Demetrius says. “They just don’t survive.”

  “But now we’re free,” I say, feeling my stomach loosen its tension as understanding unravels, “the bite of a werewolf does… what?”

  “Creates a werewolf,” Demetrius says, “but one unable to form fully, from your descriptions. They no longer have the emptiness of true revenants, but there is still a flaw in their design.”

  “So the fact I was bitten by a full wolf,” Sage says, “made all the difference?”

  “I believe so,” the sorcerer says, repeating what I’ve already begun to consider. “The infection of the wereform seems to have altered itself when in full wolf form. To something that can be transmitted without ill effect.”

  This is ground shaking, massive. Oleksander needs to know.

  Oleksander.

  “I have to go home.” Desperation bursts to life inside me. “I have to save my grandfather.” I finish my story, tell them of Zoe and her warning. Ethpeal and Demetrius are both intent on me as Shenka covers her mouth with one hand, distress in her dark eyes and Quaid turns sideways from me, head down.

  “I’ve heard of the Oracles,” Demetrius says, frowning for the first time. “But I thought them extinct long ago. This is troubling, Charlotte. But I can tell you now, if she warned you, you must heed her. And stay away.”

  I shake my head in denial, begging him with my eyes to change his opinion. Why I care what a tiny, cherub-faced man with curly white hair and kind blue eyes says is beyond me. Except I know he’s been through more than any of us and would never lie to me or lead me false.

  We will go back to Ukraine, Sage sends in a firm tone. Once this is sorted out. And we’ll free Oleksander and kick Caine’s ass all the way to hell.

  I look down at him, shaking, knowing he’s right and that I must listen.

  There’s only one way to do that, he goes on. I must prove myself to the Councils. That I’m not a threat. And prove Caine is.

  “You have a plan, I take it, wolf boy?” Sassafras’s sarcasm actually makes me feel better, as does the use of the nickname Piers coined for Sage.

  Sage bares his teeth in a grin. I do, cat, he sends. I have to show them I’m okay. Let them examine me. But it will go much better if there are two of us.

  I stare at him in confusion. “We’re not infecting someone else,” I say.

  Sage shakes his big head, the scent of his fur carrying to me, calming. No, silly, he says. I’m talking about you, Charlotte. You have to finish your transformation to full wolf and show them everything is changed.

  ***

  Chapter Six

  Sage has lost his mind, after all.

  “I can’t.” I take a step back from him, chest tight with fear. If I let myself become a full wolf, I’ll be lost, an animal. He’s not gone, I know that, but I’m different from him. I was born a werewolf, not created by this new means Belaisle and Rupe have concocted. I’ll be gone, my humanity given to the wolf and I will never, ever, return.

  Won’t I?

  Charlie, Sage sends, standing, shaking himself before fixing his green eyes on me. Says who?

  Says… centuries of werelore. Says the Black Souls.

  I cough, choke, try to breathe as anger and deep, echoing sadness bubble around inside me, aimed at the horrible sorcerers who enslaved my people, not just with their magic, but with the power of belief. Even now, standing here, I understand how deeply my people’s loss of freedom runs, that we are far from the liberation I thought we won the day Syd loosed us from the power of the Black Souls.

  “You have a lot of old preconceptions and teachings to work through,” Demetrius says in a soft, kind voice, as though seeing into my stunned and confused mind. “But I believe Sage is right, Charlotte.”

  “Except,” I gasp, clinging to the old ways though I wish I didn’t, “Sage is a wolf now, and can’t turn back to human. If I take the same path, risk this shift, I’ll be trapped like him.”

  The small sorcerer opens his mouth, closes it. Vindication burns with regret. Before I can quit, run and hide from all the years of teachings that beg me to never consider such madness again, Demetrius turns to Sage and offers his hand.

  “If you would allow,” he says. “I’d like to see why that is.”

  Even as I gape and struggle with the ingrained werelore controlling my fear, Sage goes to Demetrius immediately, placing his muzzle in the man’s hand.

  Please, my love says.

  I stand there, frozen and aching, as the wolf I love is engulfed in darkness, Demetrius’s sorcery licking over him like the vines of a starving plant. If I could move I would go to him, pull him free of the sorcerer, but I can’t make my muscles respond, instead staring, eyes tearing as the pair stand there in silence, linked by magic.

  Nothing happens for a long moment, except the swish of a silver tail as Sassafras begins to purr. Demetrius grins at the cat, nodding to him as a touch of demon fire whisks over the black. Shenka reaches out with the family magic moments later, blue flames dancing in time with the amber, the darkness not so much absorbing the two as welcoming them. And then I understand. We are made of demon magic and witch. And sorcery.

  And the three together might make a miracle happen.

  Sage’
s fur shudders, the white crescent glowing a moment before he whimpers. This time I can move, the instinctual lunge for him born from my need to protect him. But Demetrius is already stepping away, the power of the three dissipating, while Sage shakes himself, panting.

  Blue eyes meet mine, smiling. “Now, my dear,” Demetrius says. “See what you can see.”

  I reach for Sage immediately, hope making my heart skip a beat. Is it possible this can be reversed, that my love can take human form again? I will throw aside everything I ever thought I knew if only I can have him back again.

  What I feel when I touch Sage’s power rocks me back on my heels even as his body shifts and changes, forepaws lifting from the ground, fur shrinking back from him.

  He is powerful. So powerful I can hardly comprehend him. And he is truly perfect.

  By the time he’s done, standing before me in human form, I’m crying, weeping openly, hands covering my mouth as I try to keep from sobbing. His magic is so beautiful, his wolf the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt. I’m in awe, breaking down in front of all of them. Sage comes to me, green eyes glowing a little, strong hands grasping my upper arms as he pulls me to his naked chest and cradles me there.

  Charlie, he sends, voice strong in my head. It’s really going to be okay.

  “I believe Tallah was correct,” Demetrius’s soft voice interrupts. “Sage is, somehow, the final incarnation to what werewolves can evolve. Rupe’s experimentation succeeded where the Black Souls failed.” The sorcerer shrugged. “Possibly on purpose. After all, we’re looking at the worst fear those evil magickers could ever have conceived.”