Page 3 of Incubus (The Incubus Saga #1)

“Jesus, Walter,” Nathan spoke quietly so as not to wake his brother, “I told you not to do that anymore."

Walter remained stern from his seat on the bathtub.

He had not been able to follow Nathan to Wales.

Spirit Guides couldn’t enter the Veil or appear before sidhe.

Most humans never even knew they had a Spirit Guide, and if they did, and were knowledgeable about the Veil and the supernatural world, few had the ability to communicate with them.

Nathan hadn’t been able to see or speak with Walter until the day his mother died.

“What were you thinking, Nathan?” Walter said, his voice low like a disapproving parent. “There is nothing in your path that says you are meant to die this way, on some foolish crusade to save your brother.”

“And here I thought you might be here to comfort me after a nightmare,” Nathan grumbled.

“Jim is what he is, Nathan. Putting yourself in harm's way won’t change that.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Nathan countered.

“All I wanted was to bring him back. They don’t get to claim him just because of what he is.

So he ended up a changeling and I'm not. So what? The fae blood in our family could have triggered in either one of us. I’m supposed to forget that just because he got the short straw?

He’s my brother, Walter. I had to do something. ”

The grim expression on Walter’s face softened, but not by much.

He appeared to Nathan as a young man, though he had been older than Nathan when he died.

His blonde hair was short and always mussed, but it was his eyes that gave him away as something not quite human.

They were a warm brown but unnaturally vibrant.

It was difficult to argue with someone who always looked so intense and unwaveringly certain about their position.

So Nathan hadn’t argued. He hadn’t told Walter anything about his plans to summon the Messenger, despite the prodding looks Walter had given him during the two weeks Jim was gone.

Walter could see probable futures ahead of Nathan, but he couldn’t read his mind or predict everything that might happen.

“I don’t have any regrets, so you can save the guilt trip,” Nathan said. He turned to lean forward against the sink, twitching with the need to punch something. All he would do if he punched Walter was scatter the man’s image, which was hardly satisfying.

"Really? No regrets at all?” Walter said patronizingly. “I wish I had been that confident about my decisions in life, but I suppose we can't all be so untouchable."

Nathan curled his fingers around the edges of the sink. Jim was lucky. As far as anyone knew, changelings didn't have Spirit Guides.

Glancing up into the bathroom mirror, Nathan grimaced at his reflection.

He looked older somehow, more worn and world-weary.

He was handsome enough and fit. An active lifestyle was necessary when he had always needed to be stronger and faster than Gabriel, and whatever creatures might come after him and his brother. But something was different.

“Are you listening to me, Nathan?”

Maybe it was his eyes. They had always been unique—green instead of Jim’s deep blue like their mother, or their father's simple brown.

Nathan and Jim's faces weren't all that similar either since they weren’t identical twins.

With his thumb, Nathan traced the subtle groove down the center of his chin, the one distinctive trait he and Jim shared other than their black hair.

Nathan’s eyes fell to his chest and he lifted his rumpled T-shirt to look at the scar left by the Messenger.

It was jagged, three connecting lines about the size of a key right over his heart.

He couldn’t help looking at his other constant reminder, the reminder that Jim was all he had left in the world, gleaming at him vividly from beside the scar—his father's wedding ring, hung neatly on a silver chain he never took off.

“ Nathan .”

“I’m listening, Walter.” Nathan let his shirt fall back into place, covering up the ring and his new scar.

He turned away from the mirror to face Walter, scratching absently at his collection of dark stubble.

“I don’t want to argue right now, okay? You kept scarce last night, but I know you heard me and Jim fighting.

Jim thinks I should have let the dark fae keep him.

He thinks I threw my life away for nothing.

Like he’s nothing .” Nathan’s words choked in his throat, and his gaze got lost somewhere in last night and the way Jim’s face had been twisted with anger.

“Nathan,” Walter said, still low but tender now, “Jim understands what you won’t. Those two weeks might have been years for him. Time works differently in the Veil, you know that.”

“But he looks the same," Nathan insisted. "He’s exactly the same.”

Walter tried to reach for Nathan, but he couldn’t complete the act.

Walter looked solid, but he wasn’t. He could only watch.

And, because Nathan could see him, he could speak.

“Jim looks and acts the same because he doesn’t remember what happened,” Walter said, letting his outstretched arm drop back to his side.

“You made sure of that. But he will remember eventually. When that happens, you may have to make a much more difficult decision.”

“Don’t act like my brother’s some ticking time bomb ready to turn on me, Walter. Jim pulls that shit enough on his own.” Nathan didn't want to look at Walter anymore, but he couldn't face the mirror again either. He turned for the door.

“Nathan, I know this is difficult for you,” Walter said, close behind him, and yet just as scentless as any fae. “I understand why you took the risk you did. I do. But think about it honestly for a moment. How selfless an act do you really think that was?”

Before Nathan could think of a reply, his not-quite guardian angel faded away. Walter was always with Nathan, but he could fade from sight to allow Nathan privacy or time to think.

It was surreal, knowing that Jim was asleep on the other side of the door as if the past two weeks never happened.

Nathan wasn't deluding himself though. Changelings were rare, occurring only when both parents carried fae blood from thousands of years ago when humans and fae lived together.

Even then a changeling was born only a handful of times in a generation.

They were human, but had a natural in-born magic that allowed them to survive in the Veil as well as any fae.

That same power inevitably corrupted and changed them into something else.

They couldn't be light or dark, like normal fae—only dark.

At least, there had never been any changelings in history that hadn't eventually turned against everyone and everything they once cared about.

The change happened faster if they were taken to the dark fae court, as Jim had been, and when they finally reached True Awakening there was little to no humanity left in them.

Nathan and Jim were forced to stand around in Wade’s waiting room for a good half hour before she agreed to see them. Her shop was located just across the 7 th Street Bridge in Pittsburgh. A Veil doorway opened right into her lobby.

When Wade finally called them into the back, it was at least refreshing to be reminded that she had not succumbed to what most psychics resorted to—the dreamy music, dim lighting, and random sheer scarves thrown onto every solid surface in some lame attempt to create a sense of mysticism.

Wade worked out of an old house, not her house, but one that worked well for the business.

She had set up several comfortable chairs and sofas around a tall table where she did her readings.

The curtains were thrown open, letting in streams of bright autumn sun as Wade sat shuffling through her tarot deck. She was wearing knee-high heeled leather boots and had a bright yellow scarf tied loosely around her neck. A streak of purple ran through the bangs of her dark brown hair.

"So," she said without looking at them, lifting one of three cards she had laid flat on the table, “what have you gotten yourselves into now?”

Nathan dropped his bag to the floor and flopped down on the sofa across from her. Jim joined him, though with a little more restraint and ceremony than Nathan thought Wade deserved.

She was a year younger than them, but carried herself so maturely that most people assumed she was at least over thirty. She was beautiful, with dark, exotic features and a short but curvy figure.

Shuffling the previous three cards back into her deck, Wade glanced up at Nathan assuredly. “You reek like a harpy,” she said. “Slumming in less desirable locales these days, Nathan?”

Nathan returned the smug expression. “Not since you ,” he said.

“Umm...can we not do this just once, please?” Jim jumped in. He turned imploringly to Wade. “We really need your help.”

"Hmph. I should kick you both out right now," she said, shuffling and cutting the deck with practiced ease.

"That reading was just for me and already I have a bad feeling about this.

You look different," she said to Jim, scanning his form from the tips of his shaggy black hair to his shoes.

Then her eyes flicked to Nathan. "So do you.

And if it does have to do with a harpy, I'm guessing it's from more than just some drunken night out.

There's something powerful marked on both of you. You going to tell me what or do I have to let the cards do all the talking?”

Nathan gripped the arm of the sofa tightly. "Listen, you—”

"The dark fae court had me for two weeks," Jim interrupted. "Nathan killed a dark sidhe Messenger and backed out of a contract to bring me back. She marked him, so there's a bounty on his head and not much time. We need your help to get the mark removed."