Page 9 of Brave Spirit (Bound Spirit #6)

Callie

A fter talking on the phone with Mei for a couple hours and getting the full story about the Rand situation, I decided to spend my last night of summer having a quiet evening in with my nan.

Curled up on the far right side of our L-shaped couch, I take a sip of my herbal tea while reading a book.

It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve read for fun, all of my free time dedicated to learning more about magic or the last of the spirit witches.

Flipping the page, I read the description about a handsome, aloof man who is also a dragon.

“Are there dragon shifters?” I ask, placing a finger on the page so I don’t lose my place.

Mildred, sitting in her preferred armchair while notating some documents, looks over at me.

“Yes, though most have secluded themselves to remote regions of the far east.” She taps her pen on the stack of papers on her lap.

“Their numbers were greatly reduced due to the shifter wars, and it’s difficult for them to hide in plain sight in this modern age.

The only dragon shifters I’ve met are the ones who are bodyguards for the Tatsu family, one of the seven main bloodlines.

” She makes a sad tsk sound. “No one knows why, but they’ve been having trouble producing daughters, so they’ve enlisted the dragon shifters to protect the ones they have. ”

Knowing that covens are matriarchal, I can understand the caution with protecting the line of succession for their matriarch.

It seems odd, though, that they’d trust shifters for such a task, considering the bad rep they gained after the war.

“I thought witches were distrustful of shifters, and that’s why the packs require a witch to oversee them.

Why would the Tatsu Coven use them as bodyguards? ”

Her expression shifts to pinched distaste, an obvious sign that I’m not going to like what I’ll hear next. “Natural born shifters are highly sought after for security—after they’ve been magically leashed.”

Boiling rage fills my stomach, and my hands tighten around the book—thoughts of romantic interludes with dragons forgotten. “What do you mean magically leashed?”

She sets her pen and documents down on the small side table beside her.

Folding her hands in her lap, she looks at me with a mixture of compassion and shared fury.

“A geas is placed on them—a very powerful, mind-altering spell—that forces unquestionable loyalty to those they protect. Once in place, their life’s mission is to keep their charge safe. ”

My rage twists to horror and an uneasy queasiness as the explanation progresses.

They create an artificial version of the call.

I remember the way the last alpha fought his instinct, going so far to attempt to murder me to keep his freedom.

He was an awful man, but viewing the call in this new light makes me sick.

I didn’t ask for it, but I’m certainly benefitting from it.

I’m saved from my swirling thoughts when Mr. Mischief comes strolling through his newly installed cat door.

Now knowing he isn’t really a cat, it seemed wrong that he didn’t have a way to freely come and go as he pleased.

As he pads toward us, a mystical smoke engulfs him.

I’m instantly on alert, since the last time he did this, he turned into a giant panther, ready to fight what he perceived as a threat to me.

Instead, my monstrous cat is replaced by a handsome man in fine, all black attire only a few shades darker than his cool, dark skin.

His long hair is the color of smoke and splits around his pointed ears.

He moves with an unsurprising grace, his lithe form smoothly continuing his trajectory toward us.

The nature of the creatures he can shift into coil around him, the man a thinly controlled veneer for the strength and power inside.

His inky black eyes focus on Mildred, and his voice is a deep rumble when he announces, “You had a spy observing the property. Don’t worry. I chased her away.” There’s a hint of malice as he flashes a smile of sharp, white teeth.

My nan and I stare at him in stunned silence, trying to process that our house cat is now this sharp featured being who is clearly not of this realm. While my jaw is still in a full dropped position, Mildred recovers enough to reply, “Thank you for your diligence. It’s appreciated.”

Mr. Mischief bows his head slightly, clearly pleased by her praise. “As much as a debt owed by such a magnificent creature such as yourself is tempting, no gratitude is needed. It’s my duty to protect the high priestess and her beautiful grandmother.”

“Yes, well…” She reaches up to touch her hair, my normally well-collected grandmother surprisingly flustered by the compliment.

Realizing she’s fidgeting, she drops her hand into her lap and straightens her spine.

“It’s appreciated, but in this particular case, unnecessary as long as we’re inside.

All the windows are spelled to show an empty house from the outside. ”

“That’s why we don’t have curtains?” I blurt, my brain so short-circuited that it’s grabbing onto any topic that isn’t the fae in my living room.

I wanted him to shift into his humanoid form so we could speak with him, but part of me never believed it would really happen.

In my mind, he would always be a cat that could turn into bigger cats.

“Observers quickly grow bored when they have unobstructed views of nothing that bears note,” my nan explains, seemingly gaining control of herself once more.

Mr. Mischief considers her reasoning and nods his agreement. “Sound strategy to be able to observe those outside your home without them knowing. I approve.”

“I’m so pleased,” she replies, her words laced with dry sarcasm. “Do you have a description of our spy?”

“Better,” he answers, taking a seat on the couch as if we’re having a casual evening chat.

“I have a name. It’s that Neva female you displaced as coven leader.

She was mumbling to herself. She seemed greatly displeased by the high priestess ‘stealing her magic.’” A feral smile takes over his features.

“I showed her that it is unwise to speak ill of the high priestess.”

My nan squeezes the bridge of her nose as if a headache is fast approaching. “You said you chased her away, so I can assume she’s still alive?”

He leans back, resting one of his arms along the back of the couch as he crosses his legs. His shoes are soft-soled boots that look like hand-crafted items from a renaissance fair. “She is. I gave her a warning scratch to discourage her return.”

Mildred raises one fine blonde brow. “How big a scratch?”

Mr. Mischief’s eyes light up, amused by my nan’s attention to what isn’t being said. “Bigger than what a house cat can provide.”

She briefly closes her eyes, a familiar dilemma playing out on her features.

Neva is deeply unlikable and partially to blame for the monster her daughter, Gina, has become.

Through her negligence and general nastiness, I almost blew up the town via my straining binding spell, and Nolan nearly died, which could still lead to massive consequences with the vampire queen, depending on how the monarch takes the news.

Finding out she was maimed by Mr. Mischief provides a sick sense of satisfaction of just deserts.

However, we probably should not encourage his inclination to attack any curious individuals who find themselves near our home.

Pack members also tend to sniff around the property, and I don’t want to deal with the aftermath of an overprotective wolf shifter going at it with an overprotective fae panther.

It's oddly ironic that I have so many protectors, considering how powerful I am. I remember something Donovan said once about how he’d rather face Connor’s wolf than me.

With Connor, there’d at least be a chance for survival.

Perhaps it’s better that anyone who could mean harm runs into them first instead of me.

They are a deterrent from coming face-to-face with something far more deadly and less forgiving.

Letting the matter lie for now, I finally gain enough functioning brain cells to join the conversation. “Not that I’m complaining, but why choose now to shift into a human form?”

“I am not human. I am fae,” he corrects stiffly and motions down his body. “This is my high-fae form.”

“Okay,” I reply slowly, trying to hide my annoyance over the semantics of my ignorance. “Then why shift into your ‘high- fae’ form now and not before when you first revealed that you weren’t a simple house cat?”

“It seemed pertinent for you to know about the spy, and Matriarch Lyncas is gone,” he replies simply, as if the answer is obvious.

A hint of a smile ghosts across Mildred’s lips as she asks, “Why do you dislike Carlotta so much? I know she can be extremely irritating, but you seem to despise her.”

A burning anger builds in his eyes, and there’s a hint of a low growl in his voice, like the way a cat gives its only warning before he strikes.

“She raised the man who hurt the high priestess, and she threatened to take her back to the witching world.” His features twist to one of deep loss as distant memories come to the forefront of his thoughts.

“I was there when the witches massacred the last high priestess.” He clears his throat and schools his expression to one of cool stoicism.

“Our high queen, who speaks as the voice of Faerie, sent me here with the vow that I would protect the one who finally broke the magical seal between our realms.”

“I did what now?” I blurt, flabbergasted that I managed to break a seal I didn’t know existed to a place that I also didn’t know existed. Until recently, I didn’t even know fae were more than fairy tales.