Page 47 of To Free a Soul (Duskwalker Beginnings #2)

Lindiwe hesitated at the boundary of a protection ward. She desperately wanted to go inside it, yet was utterly resolute about not doing so. The person inside didn’t want to see her, speak with her, or be anywhere near her.

With the side of her right hand placed between her breasts, as if she could still her heart, she considered... leaving. Why force this bond when it was obvious he didn’t want it? Why try, when it always seemed to do more harm than good?

But this is the first time he’s been alone in almost ninety years. It was the first time she could truly speak with him privately, without the influence of another, without having someone cruel to feed off. I may never get another opportunity like this again.

His solitude might be fleeting.

This could be her only chance.

She’d flown straight here from across the oceans, from the other side of the world, all by herself, just for him.

To stand here and then turn back would make all that effort pointless. The week she’d taken to get here, resting for fleeting hours before taking off again, would have all been for naught. She’d even flown through a storm and injured her left arm, but prevailed through strength and will.

The entire time, she’d prayed Weldir would awaken and save her the strain. Would aid her and bring her here within the blink of an eye.

His prolonged silence continued, even eleven years later.

Thankfully little had happened in that time.

Her children had grown and evolved. Their humanity and intelligence had deepened, and their battles with Demons remained unending against the horde.

Lydia had died before she and Orpheus could even make it to the Veil.

Demons had come, attracted by her human scent, and his enraged mind eventually turned on her as she’d fled the carnage.

Lindiwe really wished she hadn’t watched from afar.

She’d already protected one of his companions from death, and that hadn’t gone very well.

The human that forever stayed by his side needed to survive on their own terms, and Orpheus needed to learn how to control this side of himself.

How to push back the bloodlust, keep it in check, if he wanted one to survive in his world.

Not all would be as heartless and fearless as Katerina.

Leonidas was doing well, but wandered often. It was hard to follow someone who constantly journeyed and didn’t particularly listen.

Fennec... well, he was still just starting out. Lindiwe had gifted him his skull and horns years ago, and had also made sure to do so near a group of travelling humans. He gained his gender quickly in comparison to her other children.

I haven’t been back to Austrális since I helped Orpheus.

For the better part of five years, she’d watched her children in Austrális through a viewing disc. She could only conjure one at a time, as she just hadn’t mastered the ability like Weldir, but at least she could see them whenever she wanted.

She hadn’t expected that when she’d finally given in to the pointlessness of trying to check on Merikh by scrying for him, she’d... see him. She had thought it would just be indistinguishable murkiness.

When his bear skull and bull horns came into view, she’d stared at him with shaking hands. It’d taken her less than five minutes to make her decision to cross the harsh oceans to come here, when she’d realised he was alone.

In his old home.

Her gaze flicked up to the red dome he’d placed over what used to be Nathair’s waterfall and lake, and the entrance to Merikh’s cave. Dawn brightened the world in a golden glow, allowing her to notice the dark silhouette of a large person moving within the shadows of his cave.

He was right there, and a lead ball of worry had rolled around in her stomach for the past half an hour until nausea twisted it.

But that wasn’t enough to keep her at bay indefinitely, and she eventually shoved her way through the red dome and entered his territory. Grass crunched under her feet as she approached the entrance to his cave, where the thud of heavy pawsteps echoed.

All sounds ceased before a short growl was followed by a deep huff. Then he resumed whatever he was doing inside, and rock against heavy rock scraped together.

She placed her hand on the Veil’s cliff wall and intended to slowly, and coyly, poke her head inside.

“You have some hide coming here,” Merikh said in an unnervingly quiet tone. “Then again, I should have expected it.”

Lindiwe peeked inside, and his back was to her. He looked over his meaty shoulder to regard her with one red orb, and it flared bright in anger when their gazes met. His back, forearm, and calf spines flared, a warning of lethal danger should she approach any further.

He snorted out a puff again and then finished placing a slab of cut stone atop a rectangular base of rock. He readjusted it until it was centre, then seemed to stare down at it.

Without drawing his sight from the bench he’d made, he snapped out, “What do you want?”

“To see how you are.”

“To find out why I am alone, no doubt.”

Her shoulders rotated inwards at the truth of his assumption. She brought her hands together to pick at the ridges of skin around her nails, unsure of what to say now that she was here and he hadn’t immediately forced her away. She fidgeted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

Merikh placed a meaty hand upon the bench, and his sharp claws clicked against the stone. “How right you were.” He tapped his middle claw repeatedly. “But you were wrong about one thing. It’s me she drives up the fucking wall.”

“Katerina?” Lindiwe asked, perhaps a little too hopefully.

“We thought her hatred of Mavka would be limited to Orpheus, but no. She hates us all, hates the Demons too. She only seems to tolerate Jabez, but even then...” His bear skull shifted to the side a little and faced her just that tiny bit.

“She’s... frustrating. How Orpheus did not kill her is a miracle.

I would have torn her head from her body the moment she tried to speak to me the way she does. ”

“She was good at hiding it, I think.”

He let out a soft growl and shoved away from the bench with a swipe of his claws. Then he crouched next to one of the many bags lying around, and his bull tail tapped the ground silently, the furry tuft on the end making little stones roll away.

“We see it.” He stood with two items in his hands. “He sees it. He just does not care. Finds it funny – only because she is smart enough not to do it to him.”

Her lids lowered into a glare. “He doesn’t care how she treats you?”

The snarl that burst from him shook her bones, and the chomp of his fangs that followed it had her gulping.

“Of course he does! There is just no way to appease her, and I have tired of it. She lies, and then cries when no one believes her, especially when her accusations about me are ridiculous.” Then, as he placed a board and a handful of fleshing and skinning knives upon the bench, he grumbled, “She’s more at risk of me clawing her than anything.

Those threats are true. He knows it. He does not care about that either. Finds that funny too.”

It sounded like Jabez was staying out of the middle of it, probably hoping they’d resolve it themselves.

But if our relationship is anything to go by, when Merikh hates, he hates forever. He held onto his grudges just as passionately as his mother.

He turned from the bench. “Have you come to gloat? That will piss me off.”

You’re already pissed off. His movements were jerky and strained, proving he was a dangerous spark just waiting to ignite.

“No. I only came to talk to you, since I’ve never been able to before.”

When he dropped to crouch again, this time he hung his arms over his knees, and stayed there. “I do not want to talk to you.”

“Merikh, what happened back then–” Lindiwe bit her lips shut when he let out a snarl so foul, it thickened the air. The tiny hairs on her arms lifted, warning her of the imminent danger.

He swiped the half-emptied bag up, stood, and spun to the bench. He carelessly tossed it onto the hard surface, followed by the crack of something ceramic breaking inside. A sweet-smelling liquid perfumed the air as it saturated the bag.

His echidna spines raised, and even seemed to tremble, as a continuous growl reverberated within his cave. His orbs darkened to crimson, and he placed his big hands upon the bench as his bull tail flicked to the side.

Once more, he tapped his right middle claw against the stone.

“How... did I do it?” Merikh asked in a low voice. “You said it was not you, but me who killed the serpent one. How? We played many times, both dying and returning.”

“I... can’t tell you that,” Lindiwe answered.

“Why the fuck not?!” he roared, turning to her. “You must know! All I remember is you collecting his skull. Everything else is... murky.”

She took in a steeling breath. “Because if you share that information with Jabez, he could use it for the wrong reasons.”

“He would never hurt me.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.”

His orbs shifted to orange as realisation dawned. “Orpheus.”

“And the others.” She braved taking a step forward.

“Can you, with absolute certainty, tell me Jabez wouldn’t then use that information to potentially give Katerina what she wants?

It goes beyond your friendship and could have a disastrous impact.

Do you really want to be responsible for the deaths of more of your siblings? ”

“Siblings?” Merikh reared his head back. “Do not tell me that Orpheus is...”

“Yes, he’s your brother.”

He tilted his head at her, and his orbs flickered with dark yellow. “How do you know that? How do you know... anything? I doubt even Jabez knows this, and he knows all that happens within the Veil.”

That was doubtful, but Lindiwe wouldn’t correct him.

“I just do.”

“How?! No more of your secrets!”

She winced and stepped back. “I can’t tell you.”