Page 17 of Shadow Boxed (Shadow Warriors #2)

Chapter fourteen

O’Neill’s gaze didn’t budge from Gracie’s pale face. Discovering he had a daughter, one gifted with a warrior spirit, was the last outcome he’d expected when he arrived for this conversation with Muriel.

Gracie’s throat quivered and her eyes dropped. “Mom’s right. A Ho'cee is not a gift from the Great Mother. It is a warrior’s gift, which I am not. This claiming must be a mistake.”

“No.” O’Neill found certainty in his voice.

There were many things about the Tabenetha he found frustrating.

..even irritating...like Aiden’s second gifting.

But he never doubted that there was purpose behind the elder gods’ choices.

“Our great mother does not make mistakes.” He paused before adding quietly.

“She will reveal the purpose behind your claiming when she chooses. Until then, we will honor her choice.”

Too bad there was no working Taounaha or Taouahanna among the Hee'woo'nee to seek answers and counsel wisdom. Never had he felt the lack of a mouthpiece more.

“Each claiming comes with a spiritual gift, does it not?” Muriel asked.

The shock had left face, leaving her eyes dark and her skin pale.

She returned to her chair and sank down—heavily, as if her legs had lost their strength.

“When does this gift manifest? Perhaps her spirit talent will indicate the purpose behind this warrior claiming.

A good point. She had always been quick and clever.

“I haven’t noticed any...special abilities.” Gracie voice shrank and echoed with disappointment. “It’s been three days. Wouldn’t I have noticed something different in me by now?”

“Not necessarily.” O’Neill said. “I am only familiar with my own spirit talent.” Understandable, since the Hee'woo'nee had shunned him for as long as he could remember. “But Benioko once said the gifts manifest differently for each chosen. For some the talent manifests hours before the claiming—” as his had “—for others it arrives after the woodland spirit’s arrival...sometimes far after.”

He frowned and eyed Gracie’s slender, still figure.

She was still standing beside him. He sensed she found security in his closeness.

Why didn’t she look to Muriel for safety?

She had known her mother for her entire life; why look to a stranger for shelter?

His gaze shifted between mother and daughter.

He could feel the tension between them..

.saw the way they avoided each other’s eyes and touch.

All was not well in what remained of this family.

Had Daniel’s death caused this splintering?

“When were you claimed?” he asked after a too long a silence.

“The day after Daniel’s haemitnes. We returned to The Neighborhood to attend to my Anisbecco.

Mom and Olivia flew up to base. I went for a walk in the woods behind the house.

The snow was deep, difficult to walk through, but the forest felt so.

..peaceful...” Her eyes softened and her face folded into an almost reverent luminosity.

The expression only lasted a few seconds before her chin lifted, and her shoulders straightened.

The awe vanished. “The Ho'cee appeared out of nowhere. Huge and silver. Majestic. With glowing green eyes.”

She took a trembling breath, her eyes vague, as though she were lost in memory.

“I knew what it was the instant it appeared. Even though it wasn’t possible.

I’m long past claiming age—a year older than even you—and the Ho'cee is not a female spirit animal. Yet, I knew it had come for me. Then it leaped and knocked me down.” Her hand absently rose to her bandaged shoulder.

“That’s when it bit me. There was blood. And agony. And then it was gone.”

Her hand fell from her sweater and her eyes snapped back into focus.

“I don’t understand.” Her voice thinned.

“How can there be blood and pain from a shadow bite? Is not the spirit gift supposed to be effortless? Daniel’s spirit animal didn’t hurt him.

What if the Ho'cee’s claiming was a punishment, not a gift? ”

“Daniel was chosen by a woodland bird,” O’Neill reminded her, fighting for a soothing tone, even though soothing was not in his repertoire.

“The bird clans rake with their talons. Those claimings can still be painful, but not like a cat or a canine. Predators always claim through blood and agony,” O’Neill assured her.

“You saw the scars of my own gifting. Your spirit animal is not punishing you.”

She didn’t look convinced. But then words, especially his, would not give her peace. She needed the Taounaha’s voice...the mouthpiece’s wisdom .

Too fucking bad they no longer had one.

“What totem did your Ho'cee leave with you?” He asked, hoping to distract her. Among the Hee'woo'nee, most carried their claiming totems in a pouch which dangled from their necks. But there was no tell-tale lump beneath her sweater.

She hesitated, then slowly sank her hand into the pocket of her sweatpants, and pulled out two tokens. Both curved. One white. One black.

“A tooth and a claw.” She cradled both in her palm.

“I didn’t know what to do with them. I know they’re supposed to be carried in a pouch.

But the ceremonial pouch should be given by the oldest female on the matriarchal blood line, which would be anistaa’aa Sofia.

” She shot a quick glance at her mother, a hint of bitterness twisting her lips. “Only anistaa’aa won’t believe me.”

O’Neill grimaced, sympathy stirring. He remembered Sofia.

Remembered her righteous devotion to the old ways.

She’d been one of the most outspoken against him in his youth.

Certain of his worthlessness and trickery.

Her voice had also been loudest against his lion claiming. The one most often demanding proof.

Gracie was right, her anistaa’aa would not believe this unusual claiming, or create the totem pouch to honor it.

Rocking onto his left hip, he dug into the right pocket of his tactical pants and eased out an untidy pouch.

The rabbit fur was brittle now. The leather as well.

It had not withstood the test of the past two decades.

But then, he’d had no fucking clue what he was doing back then. He’d do better for his daughter.

“Then we will make you one. As I made my own.”

Gracie’s eyes were locked on the leather pouch with complete fascination. “You made your own?”

O’Neill’s gaze dropped to the misshapen bundle of fur. His lips twitched, a thread of humor rising. “I did. As you can see, I wasn’t much of a tailor back then.”

“And you are now?” Gracie asked, but she didn’t sound like she cared.

“I know my way around needle and thread.” But only when it came to stitching his own flesh. Not that his daughter needed to know that.

“What did your heschrmal leave you.” Gracie’s asked, her gaze still locked on his palm.

“A claw and a tooth.” O’Neill said quietly. “As yours left you.” His gaze drifted from her face to her shoulder. “Go change into something that will leave your shoulder bare. We should treat the wound. Claiming bites can become infected.”

Although such a thing was rare. Claiming bites didn’t carry the bacteria or viruses of earthly teeth. The infection was more spiritual than earthly and came from the inductee’s resistance to the spirit claim. Gracie did not seem resistant. Just cautious.

Few among the Hee'woo'nee refused their service to the elder gods. In fact, he only knew of one. Wolf’s javaanee .

But Aiden, as eagle chosen, would have been raked, not bitten.

Same for Kait. Had either known what was happening to them?

They had not been raised as Hee'woo'nee . Indeed, their anestoo had shunned his people and their heritage. Had he prepared his children at all? Had he done anything to inoculate them against spirit sickness following a claiming rejection? From the little O’Neill knew about the man, it didn’t sound like it.

What a dangerous disservice Winchester Senior had served to his kids.

He pushed the questions aside and concentrated on his daughter. She hadn’t left. Was she afraid her mother would kick him out without her protection?

“Go on.” He pointed to the hallway with his chin. “I want to see that bite. Make sure it’s not infected.”

After a brief hesitation, she offered a single nod and turned, padding out of the kitchen.

"She’s right.” Muriel said, her voice soft, almost apologetic. “Sofia won’t believe her. Won’t believe us. We’ll have to make her totem ourselves.” Tension flashed across her face, flickered in her eyes. “Why do you think she’s been gifted a Ho'cee ? Do you have any idea?”

His thoughts flashed from the five dead, yet undead, SEALs to a tank of vibrating nanobots, to the bot bomb they’d found in Kuznetsov’s compound, and the second bot bomb lurking out there somewhere.

“There is a war brewing across Hokalita, ” he finally admitted, his voice tight.

He ran a hand over his hair and shifted to face Muriel.

“An unfamiliar war. One with no rules and no clear strategy. One where we play catch up, always one step behind. Maybe Gracie is a gift from the Tabenetha. Maybe an unconventional war requires an unconventional weapon.”

Muriel sucked her breath in—one long wheeze that echoed through the kitchen. The terror that bloomed on her face indicated she understood the implications. Her hoarse words made that even clearer. “But...” another sucking breath. “But...I...I...don’t want her to be a weapon. I want her to be safe.”

He understood that need. But he also understood that such things were out of their control. Still, she had just lost one child, she shouldn’t have to worry about losing another. “We don’t know what her spirit gift is yet. Perhaps I’m overanalyzing the situation.”

She choked and cupped her eyes, then took a deep shaky breath and straightened, squaring her shoulders. He recognized the gesture. He’d just watched their daughter do the same thing.

“If only we had a Taounaha to counsel us.” Her voice was quiet...exhausted.

O’Neill scowled. If only.

He almost mentioned Aiden but swallowed the name at the last moment. It was still uncertain if, or when, Winchester would take up his role among the Hee'woo'nee. No sense in giving her false hope.

“How are we going to help her?” Muriel asked.

The anxiety burning across her face and into her eyes thrust a knife in his heart. She did not need this worry, on top of her grief over Daniel’s death and fear for her brother. But then his ears recognized her words. She’d said we, as in him and her—together.

A unit.

He’d never been a we before.

“We can start with the old tales. Perhaps within the Kali library, there are records of a Wolf choosing a woman.”

The Kalikoia legends and myths had been digitally archived. Going through the files would give Muriel the sense of helping Gracie, as well as keeping her busy while she sat beside her twin’s bed.

Muriel turned at the sound of footsteps, but waited until Gracie entered the kitchen before rising to her feet. She took the bandages and antibiotic ointment from her daughter’s hands, set them on the table, and gestured for her to sit.

Gracie had exchanged her sweater for a tube top which left her shoulder bare, but the bandaging remained in place.

Muriel carefully peeled the gauze and tape away exposing two deep puncture wounds, with shallower, chisel type teeth marks between.

The raw redness of inflammation surrounded the wounds.

“I don’t see any signs of infection.” Muriel leaned down for a closer look. She held her palm to Gracie’s forehead. “No temperature, either.” She glanced over her shoulder at O’Neill. “Do antibiotics even work on spirit animal wounds.”

O’Neill watched Gracie jerk her head way from Muriel’s touch. “They won’t hurt.”

“I guess.” With a sidelong glance at the youngling, she ran a gentle hand down Gracie’s braid. O’Neill frowned as their daughter knocked her mother’s hand away and then shot a guilty look across the table as though hoping he hadn’t noticed.

There was obviously conflict between the pair. Why? What had happened between them? Shared grief often pulled people apart. Was that behind this tension?

What a complete clusterfuck. He’d arrived on her doorway, determined to find out if he had a son…a dead son. Only to find he had a daughter—a living one. One chosen by a warrior’s spirit. One estranged from her mother and grieving for her brother.

How strange. He’d arrived on Muriel’s doorstep as a single unit. No family. No friends. No connections.

But he’d be leaving as part of a we. A unit. One of three.