Page 18 of To Free a Soul (Duskwalker Beginnings #2)

Kicking to no avail, Katerina twisted and tried to pull away as Orpheus grabbed the toe next to her big toe and wiggled it. He played with all of them curiously, and even when she laughed because he tickled her with a stray claw, she looked nothing but panicked.

His touch was inquisitive, even when he pulled her skirt in the air to look underneath it, finding a pair of white shorts, and nothing of interest. He moved onto her hands, playing with her fingers like her toes. Each time she pulled against his hold and whined about it, telling him to let go.

Yet when he grabbed her hair to sniff it, she let out a cry, and he immediately backed off with his orbs flashing orange.

He lowered submissively, realising he’d hurt her when that hadn’t been his intention.

Shaking, the female backed against the wall again and shoved her skirt down until it hid her feet.

She brought her three bags closer to shield herself, and he tilted his head at her.

Then he tentatively inched forward. When she didn’t openly reject his approach, although Weldir knew by her expression that she was wary, he curled up at her feet with his back almost on top of them.

She pulled her feet out from underneath him swiftly and wrapped her arms around her knees.

He was blocking an easy path to the exit, and Weldir was unsure if he did it on purpose or not.

Perhaps he just wanted to show her he was safe – although that absolutely wasn’t true.

“I want to help them,” Lindiwe whispered, her eyes unmoving from the pair. “There must be something we can do. Something to keep her safe. I... understand why she’s so nervous, but hopefully he gains her trust.”

“What do you suggest?”

Uncertain, she absentmindedly picked at the side of her thumb again. “I’m not sure. I could give them some blessed salt to stop the Demons from entering his home, but I don’t know if that will suffice. If it rains, it’ll wash away the protection.”

Weldir considered potential options until his sight landed on her cloak. It sat around her shoulders comfortably, and she seemed to prefer the weight of it after so many years. She hadn’t even shed it when she arrived here.

But what his gaze really fell on was where the mana stone would be underneath it. The stone was attached near the ties of her cape, dangling its weight against her breastbone.

“I could possibly make a protection enchantment that she could wear on her person, like how I made your cloak.”

Lindiwe reached up to curl her fingers around the mana stone and turned to him. “I don’t want to give up my cloak. I need it.”

He called an array of items to him. Above his left hand floated the other mana stone fragments she’d mined, showing he had many he could use.

Above his right hand hovered three pieces of jewellery she’d left here: a silver ring with a diamond on it, a thick golden bangle, and a silver circlet diadem that had diamonds glittering along its twining arms.

“I can fuse a stone to any one of these, if you don’t mind giving one of them up.”

As she regarded each one carefully, her expression grew pensive. Then she flicked her gaze to him. “The ring could be the wrong size, as could the bracelet. I think the diadem would be best.”

Weldir made the ring and bangle disappear as he grasped the circlet. “Then I will make the enchantment.”

“While you’re doing that, I can bless one of the sacks of normal salt I left here with the pouch from the Anzúli. I’ll also double-check if the spell needs an incantation or not. I know which journals to check, so I should be done by the time you’re finished.”

Decision made, they both drifted off to complete their respective tasks.

Weldir watched his mate approach the entrance to Orpheus’ cave at midday, which allowed bright sunlight to shine over her. A subtle gust of wind pushed her cloak around her legs, while her curls bounced to the side within the confines of the ponytail she’d thrown them up in.

The dress underneath her cloak was an altered Anzúli robe, as Lindiwe had learned that the colour of her clothing impacted the hue of her feathers’ stems. This hadn’t been an issue when her cloak had been one of raven feathers, as the darkness hid any colour.

She cradled a burlap sack on her hip, while her satchel was crossed over her torso. Inside it was food, the diadem, and an array of other useful tools Lindiwe had spares of and thought might be of assistance. Fire-starting tools, a thin blanket, a water sack, and a few smaller items.

A growl started quiet and low – a warning for the one approaching to back away.

Lindiwe didn’t heed that demand, and it turned into a snarl before Orpheus skulked out of the cave on all fours.

He blocked the entrance protectively, his fish fins and fur raised on their ends to show his growing aggression.

“W-what’s there?” Katerina’s voice echoed from within the shallow cave. “Is it another Demon?”

“Leave,” Orpheus growled, his voice gruff, distorted, and beastly as he puffed himself further. “Go away. My human.”

Lindiwe’s lips tightened and her eyes crinkled. “That’s unlike you. You’re usually calmer upon seeing me.”

“Wait...” Katerina’s gasp echoed. “Is that another person?” The sound of clanking items and shuffling feet came from within before the female’s wide blue eyes peeked over his shoulder. “Please save me! This beast is keeping me trapped here!”

Something glinted in Lindiwe’s eyes, even when she steeled her expression and voided it of emotion. Whether it be guilt or uncertainty, she shook her head.

“I... shouldn’t interfere. It’s not my place to,” she answered. “I came to help him.”

“No help.” Orpheus bashed his chest with a deep thump. “Is strong. I protect.”

“Why would you help a Demon?! I’m the one who needs help!” Katerina pushed at Orpheus’ shoulder to get him to move, but he didn’t budge an inch.

“He isn’t a Demon,” Lindiwe stated with a sigh. “He’s a Duskwalker.”

The black-haired female’s eyes grew impossibly wider. “What the hell is a Duskwalker?”

“It’s what he is,” Lindiwe answered, gesturing to him. “He is born from...” She sucked her lips into her mouth warily. “All you need to know is that he isn’t a Demon. They call themselves Mavka.”

Katerina regarded him. “Is that why he has a skull head?”

“Yes. When he was first born, he was fed fish, a wolf skull, and part of an impala antelope. He gains humanity and intelligence from every human he eats. Although Demons have a similar trait, they are vastly different. He isn’t... evil like them. At least, not at his core.”

The female narrowed her eyes at Lindiwe. “You seem to know a lot about him.”

“I raised him,” Lindiwe admitted. “I know everything there is to know about Duskwalkers.”

Katerina’s expression paled, making the dark impressions under her tired eyes more sunken. “You raised him?!” She stepped back. “What kind of human raises a monster?”

Weldir chuckled when Lindiwe cut the female a rather lethal glare. “He isn’t a monster.”

“No human,” Orpheus cut in, pointing at his mother. “Is Phantom bird thing.”

Perhaps their past encounters allowed Orpheus to accept Lindiwe at a distance, but he was remarkably calm about her presence now that they were talking. Weldir wondered if this meant he would eventually welcome a proper relationship with her in the future.

Much in the same way Weldir and Nathair had grown a bond due to constant exposure to each other. He’d whittled down Nathair’s aversion to his strangeness.

Lindiwe didn’t have as much endless time, nor was it in her best interest to annoy their offspring too deeply or they’d attack. Weldir, on the other hand, was impervious to harm, and was much more forceful because he had the freedom to be that way.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Katerina muttered lowly. “What’s a Phantom bird?”

“I’m able to change forms into a snowy owl.

” Lindiwe cleared her throat, and it was something she only ever did when she was out of her depth with someone or something.

“I was once a human, but I have bonded with a demi-god, and he has turned me into a Phantom. It allows me to turn incorporeal, like a spirit. He doesn’t quite understand that I can be many things. ”

“That’s witchcraft,” the female whispered, horrified.

“Witchcraft and witches are outdated terms. I’m no different to the temple acolytes that protect towns.”

“Except you’re not one.” Katerina levelled an untrusting glower at her. “And they’re no better. Anyone who follows the temple will be condemned and will greet the gates of damnation. My family refused to live under their evil curses and spells.”

She believes in the faith that Lindiwe once had. Weldir never understood this mindset about faith. There were other gods, other religions, other customs that brought goodness to the world, and yet they were so vehemently renounced.

Weldir had never met this god, who didn’t even have the care nor decency to share his name, only his teachings. And his followers condemned the Anzúli when they were here to save them, leaving themselves open to Demon attacks because of it.

Apparently going to heaven by being eaten was preferable to them than the idea of allowing others of a different faith to help them.

But, like many religions across Earth, most were giving up their faiths. They prayed to the temples, not to their god, because they offered food, water, medicine, shelter, and spells that helped them. They placed their worship in tangible assistance, rather than in fears of the unknown.

This female and her family were apparently too strong-willed to falter like the rest of humankind.

“And yet here you are, in the Veil, because you chose not to be protected. Where is your god now?” Lindiwe answered, surprising Weldir.