Hour of the Lion

“No. Not to humans.” Alec scowled. “I keep forgetting you’re not Daonain. You have the Sight.”

“Do I look blind?” He was acting really bizarre. “What did you put in your coffee? Whiskey? I want some.”

He rose and filled her cup again. She sniffed it. No alcohol in hers. Didn’t that just figure.

Silently, he settled beside her, close enough for her to feel his warmth. Close enough that she wanted to crawl into his lap and share lots of warmth.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Not hardly. We need to talk about this, Vixen. How long have you been seeing pixies?” From the look in his eyes-so much darker a green than the pixie’s-he really was upset.

On her part, she felt pretty fine. What a major relief to know he saw mini-people thingies too. Maybe she wasn’t a candidate for a psych hospital after all.

“Vicki? Answer me.”

“Oh. Sorry. Pretty much since I got to Cold Creek. At first I only saw flickers, maybe a hand sticking out…” She trailed off as a pixie hand poked out of the branches and grabbed more food.

“After you arrived? Not before?”

“After. I saw dwarf-looking people in the tavern one night. What other strange critters do you have in this area?”

“In this area? What-” He broke off and tilted his head, listening. A second later, Vic heard the scrunching of snow under someone’s feet.

Alec was at the entrance before she even stood; the man could move when he wanted to. He cracked the door, then opened it wide. “I didn’t expect you today.”

“Something came up.” Calum clapped his brother on the shoulder and stomped snow off his bare feet. Without even a blush, he walked into the cabin, bare-ass naked. Okay, yeah, she’d seen him stripped before. In moonlight. Now, by the light of the lanterns and fire, she couldn’t drag her eyes away. Hell, no woman breathing would have been able to look away. He must have exerted himself running up the mountain for every muscle on his darkly tanned body was pumped and rippling. And his body was all muscle. She swallowed.

To her regret, he dressed quickly in a black sweater and jeans from the wooden bin. After pulling on a pair of thick woolen socks, he finally looked over at Vic and pinned her with those dark eyes.

She saw an accusation in them and stiffened. Whatever it was, she hadn’t done it. Well, maybe she had, but she was leaving. It didn’t matter. “What now?”

When his gaze finally released her, he noticed the branch and glanced quizzically at Alec.

“Vicki found a frozen pixie,” Alec said. “She saw it.”

“Interesting.” He put a tea bag in a mug and added boiling water from the pot.

Alec narrowed his eyes. “You don’t sound surprised.”

After seating himself at the table, Calum set his cup to one side. “I think you’ll understand in a minute. Victoria, join us, please.”

His low authoritative order made her feel like a two-year-old. Annoyed, she tossed another chunk of wood into the fireplace. They might be used to this weather, but Iraq’s climate was a lot warmer. She took a chair across the narrow table from Calum.

Alec sat beside her.

“When you said goodbye to Thorson, you told him Lachlan made you a gift,” Calum said.

She felt Alec freeze beside her and started to turn toward him.

Reaching across the table, Calum cupped her chin in his hand, his fingers warm, but firm. “No. Talk to me.” His deep voice held the authority of a master sergeant.

“Yes, sir. What do you want to know?”

“Just before Lachlan died, did he do or say anything strange? Give you a reason to feel he wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Well…”

“Victoria, I realize you tried to save Thorson pain, but I need to know it all, ugly or not.”

She pulled back. “The kid was trying to think of something and couldn’t remember it. Then he said…um, something about fire and blood. He got blood on his hand…“ She stared down at the table. Remembering…

He touched her filthy face and smiled at the dirt on his bloody fingers. “Earth.”

“Honey, I want you to rest,” she urged. Please don’t do this to me-live! “Just concentrate on breathing and-”

“And finally my spirit-that’s the gift. I remembered it,” he told her, pride in his voice. “C’mere.” He lifted his arm, like for a hug and she leaned forward, winced as his hand came down on her bitten shoulder and dug in.

“…but he didn’t-didn’t live. He was-” She blinked furiously, her throat tight, her arms remembering the feel of the boy as he went limp. Why did bodies get heavier when the soul had flown? Flown, God, she was getting all sentimental. She pulled in a shuddering breath, gave up the pretence, and roughly rubbed the wetness from her cheeks.

The silence finally registered. Alec was never quiet. She looked up to see him staring at her as if she’d grown horns. Calum had an intent look on his face, a finger tapping his lips.

She slapped the table hard enough to make her fingers sting. “Tell me what’s going on. Now!”

Calum glanced at his brother, one eyebrow slanting up.

“He performed the Death Gift? For Vicki?” Alec’s voice was ragged.

She made a fist. If they didn’t explain, well, she was going to have to hurt them.

Calum took her hand and gently opened her fingers. His gaze held…pity? She stiffened.

“Victoria, just listen to me. First of all, Daonain are descended from the Fae.” He noticed her blank look. “The Sidhe? Fairies?”

“You come from something six inches high with wings? Pull my other leg.” She attempted a laugh and failed.

Alec snorted. “Not Disney fairies. More like…ah, the elves in Lord of the Ring. Tall, slender, magical. Lived in woods. Didn’t like iron.”

Metal-she could hear Lachlan’s weak voice, “My body pretty much shut down yesterday; I’ve been on borrowed time since. It’s a shifter thing; all that metal, you know.”

Calum continued, “Before they abandoned our world-oh, a couple of thousand years ago-the Fae occasionally had offspring with humans. Some of those Fae were shapeshifters, so their mixed-blood children inherited the ability along with the other fairy traits. When Daonain mate, new shifters are born.”

“Yeah. Alec explained that part.” That heavy feeling crawled into her chest again.

“Did he now?” Calum’s gaze went to Alec and returned to her. “There is one other way to create a new shifter. We call it the Death Gift ritual.”

Ritual? She had a bad feeling about that word. She tugged at her hand, but he didn’t release his grip.

“Like the Fae, shifters are partly magical,” Calum said. “The Death Gift is pure magic. All Daonain learn it and know it is ours to use if we so choose…at the time of our passing.”

She stiffened, shook her head. No.

“Yes. Lachlan wasn’t confused. He invoked the ancient ritual to make you a shifter.”

Relief rushed through her. “It didn’t work, then. I’m no werecritter.” She turned her hand over within his grasp. “See? No fur.”

“And none on me.”

Oh, shit. She stared at him, remembering how he’d blurred, then been a mountain lion, all power and grace.

“How long have you seen pixies?” Calum asked.

“Soon after she got to Cold Creek,” Alec said. “Dwarves, too.”

What did that have to do with being a furball? “I see what’s here, and this mountain has pixies and dwarves all over it.” She had the urge to hunker down as if a ‘ma deuce’ had just opened fire.

“So that’s what you meant.” Alec shook his head. “Vicki, there are sprites all over the world.”

Her jaw dropped. “No. I never saw them before…”

“One of those fairy traits,” Calum said, “is the Sight-the ability to see the OtherFolk.”

“Oh, hell.” This was so not good. She pulled her hand away from Calum’s grasp and hugged herself. The entire world seemed to have transformed, like flying from the arctic to the tropics, only much, much worse.