Page 3 of WitchCurse

Inside the wolf’s head, a storm raged. But we floated through it, me holding tight to my bond with Kiran to ride along. We stood on the shore a moment, observing what appeared to be madness. Things existing side by side that didn’t seem possible: an ocean, distant shores swirling with wind whipping in tornados, endless muddy banks, and floating stones that somehow withstood the constant assault of the waves while the surrounding sand washed away.

The water rippled with glowing bubbles, faces, or even pieces of people. In some places it bubbled like lava, while others were frozen solid, and many spun in whirlpools containing chunks of things. Memories? Was this what insanity looked like? How did anyone live with this?

A wolf paced on one shore, a human lay on the other, not moving. Both shores grew narrower as the water raged, tearing away the sand.

Kiran analyzed the distance and the swirling madness of everything. No wonder the wolf couldn’t heal, he had been sundered from part of himself.

A conundrum,Kiran muttered, examining the area with glowing gold eyes.Why rest in such gloom, little wolf?He raised a hand, power forming a glowing ball of energy, though I sensed very little pulled from the reserves in our bond. Kiran began to reshape the landscape, filled with hurricane-like wind and tidal waves, to a forest with a calm pool. Adding layers of sand and silt over the top of the many rising memories that seemed to stir up the trouble within the wolf. Even pressing one particularly large whirlpool of sand together into a hard boulder that sat in the middle of the water, rising above it. He took more of those darkest floating bits and forced them together into stones as well, forming a sort of bridge of rocks.

The water finally stilled as the worst swirling parts became stones. The water barely brushing the sides of them, and no longer the churning waves of an uncrossable ocean.

They will eventually erode, and he’ll have to face them,Kiran told me.

Face them? Memories? The wolf raced across the boulders to the human form on the other side, throwing itself down over him, as though trying to act as a blanket. It was then I realized how cold everything was, possibly from the storm, or from the wounds as deep as they had been, or even the lingering edge of the spell cast by some unseelie sidhe. We needed to get him warmed up, speed the healing, and hopefully mend the tear in his soul. I didn’t know if any of it was possible, but if asked ten minutes ago, I wouldn’t have known Kiran could heal the wolf as much as he had.

Dreamwalking…learned from the best, or the worst if you look at it that way.A memory flickered through Kiran’s mind, a face that he remembered, that brought a lot of pain and memories with it. I knew the name that went to that face, but not all the backstory. Kiran had always been good about tucking away the worst of his past. Not all that unlike the wolf, I thought, though his memories had not become a chaotic mess of broken puzzle pieces like the wolf’s had.

I blinked, pulling myself free of the shifting chaos and back into the mortal world. “Let me carry him,” I offered to the others. His wounds were healing enough that I could pick him up without breaking him further. All the guts back on the inside were a plus, but I didn’t like how cold he was to the touch.

The girl nodded and pointed toward the house. I knelt and carefully lifted the wolf, adding heat to my touch to go with anything Kiran was doing in that mental space. Kiran always found the heat comforting, and that world of whirling wind and water had been freezing. How long had he lived there? Ice slowly chiseling away at his sanity? I could only barely recall those last days before I’d found Kiran, and how cold and hungry I’d been. This felt a thousand times worse. We had to get him warm and fed.

The girl led us into the house, Kiran clinging to my arm as we made our way to a small bedroom, and I set the wolf on the bed. The girl rushed away, promising water, food, and a first aid kit. Though I suspected few of those mortal things would help the wolf if he couldn’t heal this on his own.

I wrapped the blanket around him, rising only to settle Kiran on the other side, his eyes closing in exhaustion. He shouldn’t be using his waning strength for this, but neither of us tried to break away. There was something about the wolf, and I knew little of them and their kind, as the few stories that found their way to Underhill had mentioned the beasts of this world, but as Kiran continued to reshape and focus that chaos inside the wolf with the soothing and gentle brush of a painter, I fed bits to him from our remaining reserves of power.

Kiran turned to lay his head beside the wolf’s snout, sinking into sleep. It was actually the first time I’d ever seen him truly sleep. The years in Underhill had always been a battle. In the beginning, he hadn’t needed to rest, and in the end, it was a draining event just to breathe. But I understood the constant battle to keep a sanctuary around us exhausted him, and I prayed I was strong enough to hold us both to sanity while we learned to exist in this new world. I would have to feed him. The small bite of fae magic he took from the wolf wouldn’t be enough, and none of the fae that had gone through the doorway before us seemed near enough to track.

Would there be other fae monsters? Would they be different in this world? Less like monsters and more like people? Was there another way? Even in sleep, he held close to his glamour, hiding from everyone how far he had faded. Like those walls inside, keeping the darkness at bay, it was something he never let me touch, and rarely glimpse.

I didn’t sleep, letting my consciousness twine with Kiran’s, and looping with his thoughts about the wolf.Bent, but not broken, he told me. Both of them lay together looking like the world had ravaged them, and spit them back out. Wolf beaten and soul sundered, Kiran, a fae prince who’d been bound and fed upon until nothing remained but a shadow. Was I strong enough to protect them, help them heal and live in this new world? Since strength was the only thing I had, it was all I could offer. I kept up the warm pulse of heat, wishing I could build an actual fire, but surprised when the young girl reappeared with food that smelled unlike anything I could recall experiencing in my entire life.

“Hungry?” she asked me. “Ari says it’s been a long time since you had mortal food, so you should probably eat slowly. Start with soup?”

I sucked in a breath, afraid to leave the cocoon of warmth, but she folded two small legs out of the side of the tray and set it carefully in my lap. “I’ll bring more blankets and water. The bathroom is right there.” She pointed to an open door to the left. After gazing at me a moment longer, she turned and left the room and I stared at the plate, trying to make sense of the food and a lot of long faded memories from my childhood. A sandwich? Soup? A broth that smelled spicy?

I took a careful sip from the water bottle after figuring out how to get the cap off, surprised at how clean and fresh it tasted, not green or gritty like the few trickles we had left of real water in Underhill. The first bite of the sandwich shocked me, not only with flavors, but a punch of magic. I gasped as it whirled inside for a second, leaving me floundering, but as if on instinct, Kiran reached up with metaphysical fingers and pried it away. Devouring the magic like the starving being he was.

The food sat like a weight in my stomach for a moment, and I took another careful bite, observing his spin of the magic, his need for it frantic. I ate with slow calculation, pulling out the bits of magic, studying the weight and feel of them, and handing them to him. Some swirled within him, an edge of darkness floating, though eventually he tucked it away behind the barriers he’d been holding for as long as I knew him. I gasped as some of the dark rot faded from his face. The patchiness of his glamour easing to smooth lines of skin too pale to be his usual tone. Was this real? Could we heal Kiran here?

I devoured the rest of the food, not caring if it tore me up. Kiran never completely closed his mind to me, and I used the opportunity to dig into his memory, sorting the magic we’d been given, using some to heal him, more to fuel the bond and the heat of protection I could create, and cast the rest into the dark cage he hid, not sure what else to do with that mess.

Tears filled my vision until snot ran from my nose, and I just wanted to lay over the duo and cry. Hope wasn’t something I’d had in a long time. It almost hurt to have it back, and I feared someone would rip it away again.

His face looked peaceful in sleep, and the wolf shifted to a human form, scars forming where the many wounds had been. I traced my fingers over his skin, fascinated at how different everything in this world was, but draped myself over them, to add heat and protection as sleep dragged me down too, while I clung to hope with everything I had.

CHAPTER1

Kiran

The wailing shriek rattled my teeth as I charged the beast. The ground slick with blood, but absent the remains of thousands of comrades in arms. All of them devoured by the monster before me. I expected I would meet my end the same way soon.

Black ooze trickled from the beast’s side from the handful of times I’d pierced its tough hide. I bled a gold-orange flow out of a gash in my side. Pain and blood loss had been blurring my vision for a while, and slowing my defense. It was no longer an attack, but a fight to survive. The thing before me, enormous, dragon-like, with skin like armor, teeth as sharp as swords. Why hadn’t it gulped me down in annoyance yet?

Maybe it didn’t like the taste of my magic?

I was only half fae. The byproduct of my mother’s brief liaison into the earthen realm. A rarity among all fae, as few half-breeds ever lived to see adulthood. No one ever spoke of them. Did the earthen blood make me unpalatable?

The dragon had devoured the remains of every fallen sidhe warrior, regardless of side. Could it tell I wasn’t completely fae, and not considered sidhe at all due to a lack of breeding, but still useful and powerful enough to lead an army. Pain began to darken my vision.