Back when I was looking into the possible futures, I saw a vision in a waterdrop, a vision of an aged Eli killing me for taking the dark path that skinwalkers often finally trod, when they are old and insane. In that vision, my chosen brother’s face had been full of sorrow and anger and fear.Fear. Like Aggie’s.
Elder is full of fear, like prey in chase,Beast thought, sadness in her mental tone.Elder fears the I/we of Beast.
My breath caught. My heart fluttered in my chest like the wings of a dying bird.
Aggie wasn’t just afraid of the werewolf. Aggie was afraid ofme. Brute appearing had just been a catalyst that set off the fear. I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to breathe through the pain. A woman I looked up to and admired was afraid of me, of what I might do,might become. From the look in her eyes, Aggie had been afraid of me for a long time. And because she was an elder and I was still in need, she had continued to be afraid of me because I needed her. Which sucked.
Savannah Walkingstick was the only other elder I might trust to lead me into sweat. But she wasn’t here. And clearly she wasn’t my friend.
My eyes ached, my head pounded as the truth of our relationship settled inside me. I had thought Aggie was my friend.
We were not friends. Aggie One Feather was afraid of me. The tremor and pain in my chest slowly died as I watched her, the coals hissing as she wet them down again.
I had learned a lot about ceremony and formality and the proper words to say in difficult situations during my time working for vamps and being led into the healing paths by Cherokee elders, but I had no idea what to say. How to handle this. Except that it was gonna hurt. A lot. I clasped my hands in front of me and bowed deeply from my waist, held the position, and then stood upright.
“Elder of the People.Egini Agayvlge i, of theani waya, the Wolf Clan, of the Eastern band of theTsalagi. When I came to you the first time—” My throat closed in a sudden wave of grief. I stopped and took a shaking breath before continuing my sentence. “—you asked, ‘How may I help you?’ the traditional words of the shaman. With your guidance, your patience, and your wisdom, I have found a path through the darkness, one that has led me into long-lost memories, into the past and into the present, into a family of the heart, and into a family of tribe and clan. In return, without knowing it, I have caused you to experience fear. I have caused you to bring a weapon into the place of ceremony.”
I blinked, my eyes too dry to cry out the pain in my soul. “You did this for me. Continued to bring me to sweat and to circle. Despite knowing who and what I am, right now, in this moment, you fear what I might someday become. You fear me, spirit deep, soul deep. I understand your fear and I will not burden you with it any longer.
“I thank you for your past kindness. I thank you for all the knowledge, the tribal lore, and the gift of myself. Inever would have found so much of myself without you. You are myuni lisi.And you are the beloved woman.” I bowed again, more deeply this time, and when I stood tall, I stepped away from the open doorway.
“I honor you,” I said, my eyes taking her in, her body bent and tight, her arms wrapping around her as I spoke. “If you ever need my help, know that I will come. I will stand between you and any enemy. I will guard you. I will fight any battle for you. I am your servant and your war woman, for as long I live. And know this, that should I step from the path of healing and wholeness, my people will kill me.”
Her eyes swept up to mine and away, hers wide and red-rimmed, as if she were crying, though she wasn’t. She tightened her self-hug. Aggie One Feather said nothing in reply to my formal words.
“You will never be in danger from me.”
When she didn’t respond, or even look as though she might be searching for words, I stepped from the sweathouse and closed the door. Without bothering to wash away the stink of an all-night sweat, I pulled the filthy shift off me and yanked on my jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers. Undies, weapons, and a cell phone were in a gobag, which I grabbed, and sprinted up the white-shell-paved road, faster than human. Skinwalker fast. Needing to be away.
When I reached the street, I turned and ducked into the brush, under the long-leafed pines, and let the sobs escape. Deep. Racking. Painful as they ripped up my throat. I dropped butt-first onto the ground, leaned against an old pine tree, and cried. Not with tears, because I was too dry for them, but with the rough, hoarse, ripping howls of anguish and loss.
I cried until my chest ached. I cried until the sun was high. Until I was empty and I could see and feel the shattered, jagged edges where Aggie used to reside, within me. A ruined, bleeding, abandoned place in my soul. Leaning against the tree, sap on my cheek, the grief finally spent itself, leaving me hollow and broken.
Time passed. The sun was over the horizon. I couldn’t stay here, like a stray animal haunting Aggie’s home.
Beast has den. Beast has family, like puma and sisters and kits. Jane is not alone.
And how long beforetheyfear me too?I questioned.
Beast will not eat family. The I/we of Beast will not eat the soul of another.
I wrapped my arms around the tree, pulled myself to my feet, and called Bruiser, asking him to come get me. I didn’t answer when he asked what was wrong. I simply said, “I’m walking away from Aggie’s house, toward NOLA. You’ll see me.” I ended the call, relieved myself on the pine tree’s roots, then patted it in apology. And I walked down the road, away from Aggie One Feather’s home, away from a place of refuge as the day lightened around me.
CHAPTER 2
I May Be a Glorified Guard Dog, But a Guy’s Gotta Get His Beauty Sleep
I heard the SUVs before I saw them. Bruiser hadn’t come alone. The lead vehicle passed me and executed a three-point turn before pulling up to me, Bruiser behind the wheel. I got into the passenger seat as the other two other SUVs also made three-point turns and jockeyed for position, one in front, one behind us. My protection detail, drivers and passengers armed to the teeth. My Consort, armed, a shoulder rig and a thigh rig. Nine-mils, with interchangeable magazines and ammo. Being the Dark Queen—the queen of the vamps, whether they, or I, liked it or not—came with perks, like money, political power, and excellent weapons. The job also came with enemies, and keeping my people safe wasn’t one of the perks. Keeping friends wasn’t one of them either.
I felt Bruiser’s eyes on me as I belted in. He held out a bottle of room-temp water, which I guzzled, but he didn’t ask any questions. I looked down at my arm. It was crusted with salt and dirt and my skin hung on me like an old woman’s. He could tell I hadn’t showered as was custom after time in a sweathouse. I hadn’t fully rehydrated. Iprobably needed a couple gallons of water and a lot of minerals. And some time with a stiff brush and some strong soap.
Absently, I rubbed at the tree sap on my cheek, and I felt more than saw Bruiser hold his hand out to me. I curled my chilled hand in his warm one, leaned my head against the window, and closed my eyes. It would be easier saying this when I couldn’t see his face.
“Aggie was afraid of me. Of me goingu’tlun’taand trying to eat her.” Bruiser said nothing, but he squeezed my hand gently. The tires sang as we turned off the secondary road and onto a state road. “I thanked her for her help. She didn’t send me away, she didn’t tell me to go exactly, but I won’t be going back.”
Bruiser still said nothing, but his hand was warm, and he interlaced our fingers, as if giving me a signal that he wouldn’t be leaving me. Not ever.
I said, “I don’t think I ever told you, but, in one of the visions of the future, I saw me asu’tlun’ta, and Eli, an old man Eli, killing me.” I opened my eyes and swiveled my head to see his face. His lips were soft though not smiling and his brown eyes were intent on the road. His Romanesque nose gave his otherwise pretty face a sense of strength and determination and purpose. “That doesn’t bother you?” I asked. “Me being a feral people-eater?”
