Page 46 of Shadow Boxed (Shadow Warriors #2)

“I never believed you lied,” Wolf protested, feeling ten again. Any moment now, her slipper would come for his head.

“You believed me old,” she countered, “with untrustworthy eyes.”

She was right. He hadn’t truly believed her. Until now.

He scrubbed his hands down his face. “It was a difficult thing to believe.”

“But now that you have seen it for yourself, you believe me?” A smirk lifted the corners of her mouth.

“Indeed.” His voice was calm, considering the pounding of his heart and the shaking of his legs.

This was not his first encounter with a spirit essence.

But the memory of his thae-hrata was blunted by age and time.

And it had happened outside, amid the wind and trees, with grass beneath his feet.

Woodland spirits did not connect with their chosen inside human dwellings. They avoided walls, windows, and doors.

Until now. Until Jillian. Her heschrmal did not exhibit normal spirit animal behavior. Nor did he remember his thae-hrata having such raw, elemental power. Were all lion spirits so powerful? Perhaps O’Neill would know.

“This is not the first time Jillian’s heschrmal has joined her in bed. But I have never heard of a woodland spirit doing such a thing. Have you?” his mother asked. The affront had left her voice, leaving curiosity behind.

“No, I have not.” He stared at the partially open door. His mind was already questioning what his eyes had shown him. “How often does it come to her?”

“I am not sure.” A thoughtful expression settled over her face. “Since her claiming, Jillian often wanders the woods of home. She is never gone long. But when she returns, she seems...more whole each time.”

Wolf considered that. “Perhaps her heschrmal was joining her.”

“Perhaps.”

For three cycles, his shadow le'ven'a had withered within his anistaa’s Brenahiilo home. She’d shown no interest in walks or nature or the warmth of the sun.

All those cycles of lingering with one foot in the waking world and the other in the Tabenetha had shrunk the spark of life inside her.

Such spirit sickness could not be broken by mortal manipulation.

He would know. He’d tried repeatedly to break the Tabenetha ’ s hold on her, until finally he’d given up.

He should never have given up.

“Is this a heschrmal spirit thing, do you think, this returning to her?”

Wolf yawned. “This I do not know.”

What he did know was who to ask.

But O’Neill should be in bed by now. Shadow knew the warrior needed sleep. As did Wolf. While the encounter between Jillian and her heschrmal was curious, it was not dangerous. If the lion intended harm, it would have acted before now. He could give O’Neill and himself time to sleep.

Five hours later, he left a message on O'Neill’s cell as he walked to his anistaa’s quarters. Sleep had not refreshed him, filled as it was with twitching tails and glowing eyes.

His mother opened the door at his knock and stepped aside to let him inside. He entered the room to find Jillian sitting at the dining table. He checked beneath the table and then scanned the room.

His mother caught his wandering gaze and shook her head. “It disappeared, as it appeared, from empty air.”

Wolf considered that. Of course it must have materialized in Jillian’s room. It was a spirit essence, not a physical creature. It did not need a mechanical ride to join Jillian on base.

“I called O’Neill. Perhaps he can tell us what is happening.” Although the warrior had not appeared to know anything when Wolf had spoken to him earlier of Jillian’s spirit claiming. But with no Taounaha to seek wisdom from, their options were limited to one source. O’Neill.

His mother frowned. “O’Neill? His heschrmal claiming was truth, then? Not a tale meant to impress?”

Wolf shrugged. “He has not spoken of his heschrmal claiming. But Benioko told me it was true.”

“If this is true, maybe O’Neill will have answers to what gift Jillian carries, and what the elder gods expect of her.” Acrimony flared in her eyes. “Goddess knows your javaanee has been no help.”

He could not fault her annoyance. She was not wrong.

Wolf walked around the table and took a seat opposite Jillian, placing his cell phone on the table before him. Her head was down, her hair falling forward, concealing her face.

“Jillian,” he called softly, surprised when her head lifted.

Her quiet gaze found his. The hollowness of her face and eye sockets were not new. But there was an intensity to the brown eyes that had not been there four days before.

“Jillian,” he said quietly. “There was a heschrmal— a mountain lion—in your bed last night. Are you aware of this?” She could have slept through the visit.

She nodded, absently reaching for the cup of coffee steaming in front of her. “The Screaming Mother.”

The Screaming Mother?

Wolf glanced at his anistaa as she pulled out a chair to his left, then turned back to his shadow le'ven'a. Although that description fit her less these days. Her mental shadows appeared to be dispersing. “Is this the same Screaming Mother who told you to come to base?”

After a nod and sip of coffee, Jillian held his gaze. “She says we are needed here. She says we must stay.”

Wolf thought about that. “The Screaming Mother, is she your heschrmal? The one who slept with you last night?”

Jillian nodded and sat there, watching him before turning to Wolf’s anistaa. “I’m hungry. Can I go to the cafeteria?”

Wolf sat still, processing what she’d said. She called her spirit guide the Screaming Mother. How strange. While the lion was known for its piercing shriek, spirit animals did not have offspring. Did they?

Vaguely he heard his mother responding to the request for food.

“I’ll call, have them send something up for you. What do you want?”

“Waffles.”

Waffles?

For some reason, the request snapped him out of his stupor. It seemed so...ordinary...for a woman who’d spent the night cuddling with a powerful animal spirit. When his phone rang, he reached for it, grateful for the distraction.

“You called?” O’Neill asked as soon as Wolf answered the call.

“I have need of your assistance.”

Silence, then. “Great.” Followed by “What the hell’s gone wrong now?”

The question was understandable.

“The assistance concerns Jillian and her heschrmal.”

More silence and then. “Can it wait? I’ve got plans.”

This would peak O’Neill’s interest. “Jillian’s heschrmal spent last night with her. In bed. Cuddling.

This time, the silence trolling the line felt different, less annoyed, more curious. “Fine. But I’ve only got an hour. I’m meeting Gracie at eleven.”

“Come to quarters fourteen, in interim lodging.

“Your mother’s place?” O'Neil asked.

Wolf’s eyebrows rose. Was there anything O’Neill didn’t know? “Yes.”

A knock hit the door minutes later. O’Neill must have called from his own quarters, which were just down the corridor.

Jillian looked up from her coffee cup and pushed back her chair, even as Wolf rose to his feet.

“It’s too soon for your waffles,” his anistaa said, and Jillian sat back down, disappointment flickering across her face. She clearly wanted those waffles.

How...odd. The sheer ordinariness of it left Wolf off balance as he headed to the door, like the world was shifting beneath his feet. He’d accustomed himself to Jillian being locked in the Tabenetha , blind to everything around her, within her, and now she wanted waffles.

He opened the door to find O’Neill waiting, curiosity and impatience vying for control of his face.

“Thanks for coming.” He beckoned for O’Neill to follow him and walked into the kitchen, filling two cups with coffee. He handed one to the green-eyed warrior and kept the other for himself.

Green-eyed warrior.

A chill dug into his scalp as he surreptitiously studied O’Neill’s glowing emerald eyes. Good goddess. His eyes were remarkably similar to the heschrmal that had shared Jillian’s bed.

“There something wrong with my face?” O’Neill asked dryly.

“Your eyes—” Wolf swallowed the rest. Anything that came out of his mouth would sound insane.

Jillian, however, jumped right in. “They are identical in color to our Screaming Mother’s eyes, and they glow like hers too.”

Wolf’s jaw dropped. As far as he knew, Jillian had never met O’Neill. And her back had been to the door as the warrior entered the room. She hadn’t turned around or looked behind her. Nor was there a mirror on the wall in front of her, so nothing to reflect O’Neill’s eyes back to her.

How had she known what O’Neill’s eyes looked like?