The Divine Weaver glared at him. “The wolfstone possesses the power to strip the immortality and magic from Carman, the despicable witch who killed my son, and the one aiding Bansys with her evil. She will lose her magic permanently and become mortal, as will her sons.” Mairwen glared at him, defiance and the rage of a mother wronged flashing in her eyes. “I will have my revenge, and the realities and the Veil will be the better for it.”
“How will it do that?” Calia asked.
“It will focus yer untapped powers. Afore we knew ye to be a shifter, it would have enabled ye to hear other shifters speak whilst they are in their animal form. But ye’ll not need that help now. Especially not with the pale alpha.” Mairwen’s image turned mistier, her features becoming slightly out of focus. “I must go. Come to Seven Cairns, and I shall see that ye receive what ye have requested. Ye have my word.”
As much as he didn’t wish to expose Calia to such a risk, Mathison had no choice. He couldn’t deny her the cherished token from her daughter’s life. “We will be there in three days’ time. More if the weather delays us.”
Mairwen nodded at them both. “So let it be done. The Weavers await ye.”
Calia had mixed feelings about taking Otto along on a trek across the Highlands, but she didn’t feel right about leaving him at Wraith Tower either.
“He will stay at our side,” said her inner voice, the self-proclaimed Intuition. “He senses the importance of doing so.”
“Finally decided to talk to me again, did you?” Calia adjusted the belt on her jeans and shrugged on her twenty-first century khaki utility jacket, already feeling more relaxed since she was back in the clothing she knew. Mathison hadn’t liked it when she’d told him she wanted to wear her familiar clothing and had only relented when she’d convinced him she’d be more effective defensively in her old, reliable boots, jacket, and jeans rather than her new pants-skirts she was still acclimating to. Even though they were split like slacks, they still had a lot of yardage and multiple layers. When her inner voice didn’t answer, Calia snorted. “And now she’s silent again.”
“Why are you angry with me? Dubh is my fated mate, just as Mathison is yours. Would you deny me the same pleasure and sense of completeness?”
Apparently, Intuition wasn’t above fighting dirty. “Do not guilt-trip me. You know I don’t like that when people do that to me.” Her ex had been a master manipulator when it came to passive aggression.
“I know you dislike it; that is why I did it. Even though you and I make a complete whole, we must also respect each other as individual entities with individual needs. At times, we will disagree, but we must always be respectful and compassionate.”
Never in her life did Calia ever think she’d be on the wrong end of a lecture from the presence she’d always thought was an offshoot of her own personality. Guilt and embarrassment stuck in her craw. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t as easy for me as it is for you. You know this place and all the ways of the shifters. I don’t.”
“Mathison and Dubh will protect us, and they—and I—will teach you the Ninth Realm’s ways. This is where we belong. Not only must you learn to trust the mate bond, but also the sacred bond between spirit animal and shifter. Together, we are more powerful than you realize.”
Calia tightened the laces on her boots, hoping what Intuition said was correct. “If that’s the case, why didn’t you speak so openly with me before? You didn’t talk to me like this in my time. I could’ve used your support during Gillian’s horrible journey and through the divorce. Instead, you made yourself sound vague, like I was carrying on a conversation with an extra personality or something—as in, I’d gone batshit crazy.”
“It would have disturbed you even more if we’d had a conversation as we are having now, and I knew your strength and capacity for surviving. You believed me to be your intuition, and that served you best at the time. Until you went to Scotland and believed in all that could be, no matter if you could see or touch it, it was best that I not confuse you even more than I sometimes did.”
While Calia didn’t necessarily agree, she couldn’t really argue with that logic. She’d never believed in magic or anything she couldn’t see, touch, or prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was real. If Intuition had told her half the things she’d discovered over the past couple of days, she probably would’ve requested to be admitted to a psych ward and not released until the voice in her head went away. “Well, we’re talking now. That’s what matters.” With one last glance around the room, she started for the door, then stopped midway. “When will we shift?” She couldn’t believe she hadn’t asked that yet.
“Soon. The first shifting is often difficult, even for shifters raised within the culture. We should wait until we reach Seven Cairns and recover the amulet. The wolfstone will help you focus your magic.”
Calia had no problem trusting Intuition on that point. “Fair enough.” She looked around the room again with the distinct feeling that she had forgotten something. Rolling her shoulders to shrug it off, she headed for the spiral staircase that had given her heart palpitations the first time she’d used it. The thing was a death trap with stone steps that narrowed on the side attached to the center support column. She didn’t have to be told twice to hug the outside wall. A tumble down those stairs would be lethal.
“Mistress!” Sasa shouted. “Wait!”
Calia turned to find her golden, wispy maid was actually fluttering toward her down the hallway like a delicate flower caught in a strong breeze. Something silvery flashed in both her hands that were stretched out in front of her.
“Ye mustn’t forget yer hair sticks and combs.”
“Hair sticks and combs?” The last thing worrying Calia at the moment was the state of her hair. She’d pulled it up into a messy bun with the last ponytail holder she’d saved from Mairwen’s magic. “Remember, I told you I’d just wear it like this until we returned, and then you could make it presentable again?”
Sasa’s golden eyes flashed with determination even though she’d shown herself to be the shyest of the three maids. “These are special, mistress. Ye will want them.” She held out her hands, opening them to reveal her treasures. In one, she held a pair of hair sticks fashioned with double-edged axe heads on one end. The axes were works of art, bearing the swirls and etchings of Celtic knotwork. In her other hand, she held a pair of combs decorated with the same wolf symbolism as the amulet Mairwen had given her. She pressed the muzzle of the wolf’s head on one of the combs, and with a whirring click, it snapped open into a lethal, multi-bladed disk that could either be thrown or used for defense in close quarters. The axe heads on the hair sticks were sharp enough to slice stone and could also be pulled apart to unsheathe the daggers concealed in their handles. Sasa nodded proudly. “See?”
“Very nice.” Calia allowed the maid to tuck the weapons into her hair. “Thank you for watching out for me, Sasa. I appreciate you and your patience with me.”
The sweet maid stared at her, her eyes rounding big and wide and taking on a sheen of tears. Of the three, Sasa had always reminded Calia of the pictures she’d seen of adorable baby seals—all wide-eyed and innocent. The young woman bowed her head and curtsied. “’Tis my honor to serve ye, mistress. My greatest honor indeed.”
“I’ll see you in a few days.” Such adoration made Calia uncomfortable, but she supposed it was the way of the Ninth Realm, and instinct told her loud and clear that Sasa meant every word.
“May the goddesses keep ye safe, mistress,” the maid said, “and the mighty Wraith as well.”
Calia nodded, then entered the stairwell and started down the treacherous steps, thinking over the maid’s farewell blessing. The mighty Wraith. Mathison. She slowed and pressed a hand to her heart, which pounded harder at the mere thought of him. And as much as it terrified her to admit it, it wasn’t lust. No, it was more. So very much more, but she couldn’t even bear to think of the L-word, much less say it.
The only person she’d ever really loved was her precious daughter, and she wasn’t sure if she had the guts to open a floodgate of dangerous feelings for Mathison. Of course, they were man and wife now, so there was that. With a humorless laugh, she continued down the steps. She’d married one man she hadn’t loved because she carried his child, and look how that had ended.
But Mathison was different. She swallowed hard, almost choking on the rush of longing and contentment that swept over her whenever she thought about him. Yes. Mathison was indeed different.
