‘What?’ I gaped. A caladrius bond was rare and incredibly special. It was why Jingo had caged Loki for as long as he had, hoping to force the bond by sheer proximity. And Loki was trying to bond with me but failing? Why the hell was it failing? And why did that make him so damned sick?
‘Can’t he stop trying to bond with me?’ I asked. ‘Would that save him?’
Amber frowned. ‘I’m not sure. All I can see is that his magic is constantly reaching for you, and when it’s not connecting as it should, it drains away. Has he been overly tired?’
‘Yes! He’s been exhausted.’
‘He’s a magical creature. He’s pouring his magic away. As it stands,’ she said bluntly, ‘he’s dying. To save him, all we need to do is get you to accept the bond. Once the bond takes, it’ll become reciprocal. He’ll take strength from you and you from him. He should be fine once the bond is cemented, but I have no idea why the bond isn’t taking.’ Her forehead creased. ‘Another bond in the way, perhaps?’ she said more to herself than anyone else.
My thoughts turned to Robbie. ‘I … I might have a mate bond forming with Krieg.’
‘Yes, you do,’ Amber said absently, ‘but that is not yet complete either, so it’s not that.’ She looked critically at me. ‘You do move at a glacial pace, Inspector.’
I folded my arms and glared.
Amber looked amused at my affront. ‘It’s not the mate bond that’s interfering. It’s something else. I don’t know what.’
‘I have an idea,’ Robbie rumbled from behind me. ‘Leave the room, Crone. We need some privacy.’
‘Evidently you do not,’ she sassed, ‘or your mate bond would have formed properly by now.’
Robbie gave Amber a flat unfriendly look, which she blithely ignored. She sauntered out, a small smile playing on her lips. He shut the bedroom door behind her and moved closer to me.
‘You need to bond with Loki or he’ll die,’ Robbie said grimly.
‘That’s what Amber said. I’m not tryingnotto bond with Loki!’ I wrung my hands. ‘If the damned bird had said something sooner …’
‘Later,’ he said firmly. ‘You need to lower your shields.’ He dropped his voice to a mere whisper. ‘Your mental ones, Stacy. Your sub-wizard ones. Your mind is sealed tighter than a daemon’s contract. You need to let your walls down, and then you need to use your sub powers on Loki to speak to him mind to mind. That’s why the bond isn’t working. Your mind is sealed so tightly that there’s nothing for him to latch onto. It’s like trying to cling to glass; he keeps sliding off.’
I licked my lips, anxiety curling in my gut. Thoughts of my father were fresh in my mind from the visit to his grave, and I knew what he’d advise.Let the bird die, Ace. It’s just a bird. Don’t risk yourself. Risk exposure. Risk us.
But his advice would have been shortsighted and wrong. Loki wasn’tjusta bird. He wasn’tjustanything. He was funny andkind, fierce and loyal, and I’d come to love his snarky presence in my life. I’d be damned if I let him slip away when I could help him by using my illegally unregistered magic.
I picked up the small white bird, cradling him in my hands, and lowered my mental shields. I prepared myself for a beat, and then I pushed my mind into his.
Warmth. A soft nest. The scent of damp moss and feathers brushed with sunlight. The weight of his mother’s wing around him, her heartbeat steady and vast, a rhythm that promised safety. Her voice a whisper against the wind:Don’t look down, little one. Always look to the light.
Then … emptiness. The shells beside him, silent and cold. He waited for them to move, to crack, to answer. None did.
The world narrowed to two heartbeats – his and hers – until one day, there was only one. Loneliness was his constant companion, and what a terrible one it made.
A rush of air on trembling wings. The first flight – joy fierce enough to frighten him. Sky and light tangled together, and for a moment, he believed the wind loved him.
But the sky darkened. Larger wings. The sound of pursuit. A cry tore from his throat as he dived through branches, feathers ripped by claws that never caught him, but oh how they tried.
Cold metal. A cage. The air stale and thick with fear. Magic pulsing beneath the floor. A laugh – human, cruel. The space too small to stretch, too tight to dream. He learnt about silence then. Don’t sing, he told himself.They like it when you sing.Darkness reigned, the days bleeding into each other without end. The despair that he would never again see the light, never stretch his wings.
Hunger. Such a vast hunger. Rude Jingo didn’t feed him for days, sometimes weeks, to force him to bond, but he refused. Stubborn until the end, until death if necessary. He wouldn’t ever save this monster.
Red splashing blood, fear, and then … a brunette with hard eyes who took him home. She fed him, his Pigdog. She fed him as much as he could eat, and she gave him light and a window cracked so he might always fly. More than that, she gave him trust and purpose, and he knew she would be his.
The memories flickered, fragile as feathers, brushing against my mind and weaving their way into my soul. My eyes burned hot. How little it had taken for this small soul to love.
And it was love. It whispered through the whole of my being, his adoration, his gratitude.
His judgement that I was worthy of saving should the need arise.
Tears slipped unchecked down my cheeks as I held him to me. I wasn’t sure I was worthy of the bond, the gift. Me with hard eyes that had seen too much and hands always stained with blood.
