Page 26

CHAPTER 26

BAELEN

T he portal collapsed behind us, leaving us at the top of a cliff, the wind tossing Zaide’s braid to smack me in the stomach. Turbulent waves crashed violently against jagged rocks below, sending salt and spray thirty feet into the air before falling back into the churning waters.

“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Zaide asked as he turned in a slow circle, surveying the area.

The scenery was beautiful. The sun was high in the sky, the cliff surrounded by meadows and trees, but there was no sign of a witch safe house.

A crack echoed around the landscape, scaring creatures high in the treetops that flew away at the sound. Zaide and I jumped to attention, turning toward the sound, ready to defend ourselves, but just beyond a group of large rocks, a head appeared … then rose.

“Where—” Zaide began as we stepped closer.

The figure rose to full height, emerging from the rocks as though she’d crawled out from a hole in the ground. An elderly female, as shown from her gray hair and curved posture, brushed off her clothes and then waved at us.

“Hi there,” she said. “Arabella said you’d be bringing the artifacts and might help with…” She paused, glancing at Zaide. “…healing.”

“We have the artifacts. I’m assuming she’s already told you what you’ll need to do with them?” I asked.

“She walked us through the steps, but you might need to show us first,” she explained as we approached. “I’m Laura. I run this safe house.”

“And where exactly is that?” Zaide asked, looking around.

“Down here.” She chuckled and pointed at the ground, which suddenly revealed a hidden door in the rock-face.

She bent and pulled open the door to reveal a stone circular stairwell.

“Please.” She waved for us to go ahead but eyed Zaide again and added, “It might be a squeeze, but I think you’ll fit.”

It was tight, even for me. My arms brushed the frigid rock, and I looked back to see Zaide wriggling his way down the stairs. I had to look away to smother my chuckle.

The door above us slammed shut, and I blinked, adjusting to the change in light easily and with great relief as we emerged from the stairs into a dim corridor. We walked through large ornate doors into what could only be described as an underground palace.

Large windows filled the entire back wall of the safe house, giving the view of the sea outside, the waves crashing up the rocks and spraying the bottom of the glass. We were inside the cliff. Hidden. It was … brilliant.

“Impressive,” Zaide murmured beside me, his voice hushed with genuine appreciation.

“It offers additional security. If anyone approaches by sea, we’ll see them long before they reach us.” Our witch guide stepped around us and smiled with pride. “This sanctuary has been continuously improved for centuries. Each generation adds something while preserving what came before.”

It didn’t look old. The main living area featured comfortable seating arranged in conversation clusters. Small personal touches—handmade blankets, children’s drawings pinned to walls, potted plants transformed what could have been an austere refuge into something approaching a home.

“How many people are currently sheltering here?” I asked, noting several doorways leading to what appeared to be private quarters.

“Twenty-three,” the witch replied. “Mostly individuals, but we have some families who had to be taken in after hunters attacked them.”

She guided us into a room much like Winnie’s witch room, where jars, herbs, and books lined the shelves drilled into the stone walls. In the center was a dark wooden table, which did look very old. The murmur of female voices abruptly stopped when we entered the room.

“Everyone,” Laura announced, “these gentlemen are going to show us how we can support the efforts to protect our people from otherworld invaders.”

Despite the wariness—in some cases, clear hatred—in the expressions of the witches, I pulled the artifacts from the bag I carried and placed them onto the table. I identified each—firebird feathers, Omphalos stone, and Eldhrimnir, the cauldron—and explained their history and abilities.

I told them how Elizabeth, Arabella, and the other team leaders planned to use the artifacts along with an app which was being created as a warning of portals being created in the area.

All they needed to do to help was devise a plan of where to place the stones and feathers so people were protected. They would also need to assist the app creator if they had any questions. If they needed more, they could use the cauldron to replicate the artifacts, and I demonstrated, placing the feather inside, closing the lid, and pulling out two feathers once I pulled the lid back.

The distrust gave way to awe as the firebird feather glowed, showing its range of colors as though to show off for the audience.

“Thank you for demonstrating.” Laura smiled widely and clapped. “We are eager to get started on this project.” I nodded and stepped back, glancing at Zaide, who leaned against the wall, watching and waiting.

As the witches converged toward the table to touch the artifacts, I frowned, feeling aggrieved that I had to leave my artifacts in these peoples’ possession. I wanted to help the humans and supernaturals of this realm protect themselves from slavers, but I didn’t trust the witches any more than they trusted me. It felt wrong to leave such important artifacts in their hands.

“I’d like for you to visit our injured now, if that’s all right with you,” Laura said, smiling up at Zaide.

“Of course.”

Laura guided us through the passageways until we entered a large room with what I could only assume was human medical equipment. Screens showed lines I didn’t understand and made a continuous beeping noise, which was like a stab to my sensitive ears.

“This is Bridgette.” She gestured to the elderly woman in bed with tubes and wires attached to her. “And this is her daughter, Janice.”

Zaide and I nodded at the female who stood, arms crossed, over her convalescing mother, her expression wary. “Laura, I’m not sure?—”

Laura interrupted the witch by addressing us. “Our medical assistant, also a skilled potions witch, is away on a family emergency. While many here have basic first aid knowledge, Bridgette has worsened so much, and we don’t know how to help her without taking her to hospital. Hunters attacked her and her family, and since they escaped, hunters will search hospitals for people with her injuries. You are our last hope of saving her.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Zaide replied solemnly, then turned to Janice. “May I?”

She hesitated only briefly before moving aside. Although she remained close enough to intervene if she saw Zaide do anything she didn’t like.

Zaide kneeled beside the cot, bringing himself level with the patient. Her eyes fluttered open momentarily—clouded with fever and confusion—before sliding closed again. He studied her for several moments, his purple eyes taking on the focused intensity as he looked into her injury.

“She was shot at. In her shoulder.” His hand hovered over the injury. “There is still something in the wound, and it’s infected.” His eyes widened. “Her blood is also infected.”

“Sepsis?” Janice asked, wringing her hands. “That’s serious, right? She could die from that.”

A small sound drew my attention away from Zaide’s reassurances to Janice. In the corner of the room, partially hidden behind another privacy screen, sat a little boy—perhaps five or six years old. His knees were drawn up to his chest, and he clutched a well-loved plush toy. The boy’s eyes were wide and frightened as he stared, his small body trembling slightly.

I crouched down to his eye level, making myself smaller and less intimidating.

“Hello there,” I said softly. “That’s a fine companion you have.”

The boy clutched his plush toy tighter but didn’t retreat further into the corner, which I considered to be a good sign. His blue eyes assessed me with the wariness of a child who had recently learned the world contained dangers he hadn’t previously imagined.

“Does your friend have a name?” I asked when he didn’t immediately respond.

After a moment’s consideration, the boy whispered, “Howler.”

I smiled, keeping my expression gentle. “Howler. That’s an excellent name. Very brave sounding.”

A tiny nod.

“Is Howler helping you keep watch?” I asked.

Another nod, slightly more certain. “He protects me from the bad people.”

The bad people. Hunters. I didn’t have to wonder what this child had witnessed to put that haunted look in his eyes. I saw the same thing in the titan slaves I rescued.

“Howler’s doing a good job,” I told him. “You picked the right friend.”

The boy’s grip on the toy loosened fractionally. “Gamma made him for me. She put special things inside to keep me safe.”

“Your Gamma is very wise,” I said. “And my friend over there—his name is Zaide—he’s helping her feel better right now. Would you like to come sit with me where you can see your Gamma better?”

He nodded, and I settled into a chair against the wall, surprised when the boy leaned cautiously against my side. His trust was a fragile, precious thing, and I found myself instinctively placing a protective arm around his small shoulders and pulling him into my lap.

The boy’s head grew heavy as exhaustion finally overcame vigilance, and he drifted to sleep, Howler still clutched protectively in his small hands. I adjusted my position to make him more comfortable, continuing my rhythmic patting of his back to keep him settled as Zaide completed his healing work.

“Your control has improved,” I noted quietly so as not to wake the child. “The magic doesn’t overflow, and you’ve learned to pinpoint in particular threads in the body in need of healing. It’s remarkable how far you’ve come with your power in such a short time.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve been practicing.”

“It shows.” I watched through the same power as the threads gradually turned green, the elderly witch’s face filling with color again, the monitors beeping more regularly. Zaide sagged as he sat on the floor, and I could feel his relief through our bond.

“Where did the witches go?” I asked.

“Laura took Janice to get a cold drink. Apparently, that might help her calm herself.”

He turned toward me, his purple eyes studying my face with unexpected intensity. “You know,” he said, his voice lowered for privacy, “I can’t explain why, but you look even more attractive with a child in your arms.”

The comment surprised me. “Is that so?”

His hand found mine, our fingers intertwining. “He needed someone to lean on, and you knew how to comfort him. He will remember this. How you provided feelings of safety when he needed it most…” He squeezed my hand. “You gave him a gift today, Baelen.”

“I’ve never spent much time around children,” I admitted, heat creeping into my cheeks at the sincerity of his compliment. “But he seems like a good one.”

“I agree.” Zaide’s thumb traced circles on the back of my hand. “Brave to watch out for his family while still so scared.”

I glanced down to where the boy slept against my chest, Howler still clutched protectively against his chest, and I eased him over to rest next to his grandmother.

A fear I hadn’t fully realized shifted during those quiet moments of providing comfort to the boy. The fear of being the indifferent father my fathers had been, the fear that my child would hate me as I hate them.

But why would that be true?

Perhaps it was duty that made me care for titans and rescue them. Maybe it was my soul mate bond with titans of a healing nature that influenced me, but regardless of the origin, I was not an indifferent monster. I cared. I couldn’t always articulate that feeling, but I was protective of creatures that were powerless and weak. I saw something in them, something like the parts of me I hid, the desperate child inside, and so I helped them.

My own flesh and blood, even the ones that were not my biological children, would be no exception to my protectiveness and care. The fear loosened and I smiled, excited for the future we would all build together.

I leaned forward, rested my forehead against Zaide’s, and closed my eyes. He felt all the turbulent emotions through the bond as I processed my feelings, and I felt his desire to question them. He didn’t. Instead, he cupped my face and kissed me.

“I love you,” I whispered against his lips, the words simple but carrying the weight of everything unsaid—my gratitude for his healing nature, my appreciation for his strength and wisdom, my joy at discovering new possibilities for our future together.

“And I love you,” he replied, the words as serious as any vow. “More each day, as I discover how awe-inspiring you are.”

As I took his lips again in a passionate kiss, I bit and sucked on his lip; the blood hitting my tongue like a treat. His moan was its own reward, and his hands gripped my hair tighter. With my soul mates, I was learning to appreciate all the ways they wanted to touch, caress, and grip me.

Fortunately, Janice and Laura returned just as we left the room. They thanked us, Janice with tears in her eyes and a trembling grip on our hands as we said our goodbyes. Laura followed us out, guiding us back up the stairs and pointed us toward where the ward barrier ended so we could make a portal.

We stepped through the portal in unison, the familiar disorientation of transit lasting only moments before we emerged on the other side. I’d targeted the back garden of Charlie’s house—a safe, private location where our sudden appearance wouldn’t attract unwanted attention.

Charlie’s house stood before us, its familiar facade intact but completely encircled by a pulsating, unyielding ring of fire that rose at least fifteen feet high. The flames weren’t natural—they burned with a stillness, neither spreading nor consuming what they touched, their color a deep crimson threaded with veins of black.

The heat radiating from the fire circle was intense enough to feel from where we stood, yet the house itself appeared untouched, as if the flames were a boundary rather than a weapon.

Most disturbing was the absolute silence. No crackling of fire, no sounds from within the house, not even the normal neighborhood noises of distant vehicles or animals. Just eerie, complete silence, as if the fire ring had created a pocket of isolation from the rest of the world.

“Clawdia!” Zaide screamed.