The Soother (14 page)

Truth was, neither did he.

“Has anyone had contact with the council?” Calliope addressed the members of her coven who were just rousing from yet another nap, this time right after the sun had set. Gathered now, not one piped up that they had heard from the council. About half of them stood, leaning against the stronger witches, shoulders slumped, eyes downcast. Their injuries should have healed by now. That they hadn’t fully recovered weighed on her mind like a herd of elephants. Mentally and physically spent, they ambled around camp as if they were millennia old rather than centuries. How would she ever heal them all?

Small fires burned as the crisp evening air settled in. Dark clouds littered the sky assuring the moon would not be offering its white light this evening. Calliope smelled rain in the air. If she were right, the storm was still several hours out. Nonetheless, they’d need to seek cover soon.

“What about Carrine?” Calliope asked hopefully, while eyeing Krystoff. She didn’t know what to think about him. He’d called her spineless and then kissed her senseless. Her body still tingled from their lovemaking. From one whammy straight to the next. She’d
misconstrued?
Well, he could misconstrue himself out of here.

Krystoff was a conundrum. Sir Charmer had even charmed her coven — the entire lot of them. They’d gone from tsk’ing and shooing to whispers and cooing. He stood amongst them now, Isabelle glued to his side like he was some kind of savior. Tia stood to his right, smiling as if she’d just swallowed a canary. Calliope now knew who Krystoff had roped into helping him with his romantic ambush. “Anyone at all heard from Carrine?” she asked again.

More head shakes. How could that be? Carrine always found a way to get in touch. Unless … Calliope refused to go there. She was on her own then. Expectant gazes met hers as she scanned the crowd. Krystoff was about to see just how spineless she was … or wasn’t, as was the case.

Calliope clapped her hands, demanding attention. “We need to prepare. Everyone eat up and then collect your magick. Whatever it takes,” she said, as grumbling made its way around the crowd.

“But — ”

“She’s right. We must fight.”

“Too tired … ”

“How about tomorrow, Calli?”

“Tomorrow may be too late.”

She didn’t know which witch had spoken what. Didn’t matter, though she was grateful for the handful that agreed. The others? Where were the fighters who had defended their homes? Their sistren? Had the Mistropans taken even that? Stripped them of their pride? Calliope raised her hand to cut off any further discussion. With her brow lifted, she said, “Whatever it takes.”

The crowd slowly dispersed, leaving only Calliope, Krystoff, Tia and Isabelle. Isabelle’s eyes played ping-pong for all of ten seconds before she muttered, “Yeah. I’m gonna get some chow.”

Isabelle skipped away. Calliope considered doing the same, but she’d have to deal with Krystoff eventually. May as well get it over with.

Tia cleared her throat. “I’ll help in any way I can, Calli. Just let me know what you want me to do.”

Calliope offered her a smile. “I appreciate that. For now, could you try and boost morale?”

Tia nodded. “I’ll do what I can,” she said. She tilted her face toward the darkening sky. “Seems the clouds have brought a heavy dose of gloom.” Tia sighed, rubbed her shoulder. Then as if catching herself, she dropped her hand, pasted a smile on her face and made her way to the others, bells tinkling in her wake.

Calliope made a mental note to try another round of healing on Tia’s shoulder. Fixing her gaze on Krystoff, she pursed her lips and waited for the inevitable. He said nothing at first, only shook his head. “What?”

“They’re not ready,” Krystoff said, stepping close.

“You think I don’t know that?” Calliope snapped. “That’s why they have to train.”

“No. I mean they aren’t ready to train.” Krystoff reached for her arm. When Calliope jerked away, he merely moved his hand to her back, gently guiding her farther away from any prying eyes and ears. “Look at them,” he whispered, nodding his head toward a small group huddled together around the cook fire. “They’re worn out. Forcing them to train now will only exacerbate the problem. They need time to rest.”

“There is no time to rest. You’ve said it yourself,” she said and stepped back so she wouldn’t have to crane her neck. Her breath caught in her throat and Calliope imagined herself back at the hot springs, back in his arms. The night agreed with him, creating a backdrop for the masterpiece that was purely Krystoff. Calliope shook her head, forcing her thoughts to veer away from the town of temptation and head back toward the valley of danger. “Darker times are coming,” she continued. “What happened at home … Hell, Krystoff? That was just a prelude.”

His thinned lips parted to suck in a deep breath. “Assuredly. The Mistropans are coming after us.”

Suspicion crept under her skin, settling like hot, jagged coals. “And why is that, exactly?” she asked. “What precisely did you do to earn their wrath?”

Krystoff swept a hand through his hair. “Not theirs. Hers.” Another deep breath, this time through his nose as his clenched jaw threatened to pop. “I crossed their queen. No one crosses her.”

A touch of fear mixed with the stacking layers of suspicion. Calliope sighed and sat down, the large rock offering solidity in a very fragile situation. “Who the hell is their queen?” she quietly demanded.

Krystoff remained standing. “Riona Dubhar, queen elect of Mistropa.”

“And?” she asked, crossing her arms and lifting a brow. There had to be more to it than that. Why else would Krystoff look as if he would rather bolt than be standing here confessing? This was the first time he’d ever seemed less than confident. Part of her wanted to go to him, wrap her arms around his strong body and promise they’d figure all this out. Together. Another part of her knew he was about to drop a very deadly bomb.

“The queen is also my mother.”

• • •

Krystoff braced for it. He had no doubt the wrath of Riona Dubhar would be nothing compared to the wrath of Calliope the Soother. While Calliope may not have evil tainting her blood, she did have a temper that ran just shy of boiling. Especially when it came to him.

“Your mother?”

Krystoff lowered his head once.

“Your
mother
killed my people?”

Her steely voice would have made a weaker man bristle. Krystoff had never been weak, but her words were like a vise-grip on his heart, squeezing the life out of him. “Indirectly, yes.” The time to leave had come. The farther away he got from Calliope and the other witches, the better. But not before he came clean. “Riona ordered it.”

“Because you crossed her?”

“Partly,” he answered. “Being embarrassed doesn’t sit well with her either.”

“How did you embarrass her?” she questioned, dropping her arms to her lap and then picking at her nail polish, her eyes never leaving his.

She wouldn’t like his answer. Nonetheless … “I didn’t, angel. You did.”

Calliope paled, her skin ghosting to the point he worried she’d faint. Krystoff pushed his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for her. She wouldn’t appreciate the help. Not now. But if she started to fall, he’d catch her. No doubt about that.

With one hand pressed against the mountain, Calliope rose. She teetered briefly before finding her balance. “What kind of woman issues orders for an entire village to be slaughtered?” Her whisper was so jagged it nearly shredded his skin.

“One consumed by shadows.”

• • •

With the dark of night came a decision. Probably not a wise one, yet Krystoff found himself offering to help the witches prepare for the next battle rather than pulling a disappearing act and hightailing it out of there. Guilt wasn’t the only feeling guiding him at the moment. Not that he wanted to examine that other feeling too closely. His impetuous rendezvous with Calliope had alleviated the ache in one appendage, only to take root in his heart. Krystoff rubbed his chest and searched the trees for the owl — his owl. Perhaps his guardian could help make sense of the emotions swirling inside, fighting with the shadows for the ultimate prize. If only Krystoff knew for certain he was making the right choice.

“I know Riona,” he explained to an unconvinced Calliope. “I know how the shadows work. They’ll use them against you. Not all shadows wait for an invitation. You think they only cling to those with a dark soul? Wrong,” Krystoff quickly continued. He didn’t pause long enough to breathe, let alone long enough to let her answer. He only knew of one being the shadows feared. Scout held off the shadows as if he wore repellent. Krystoff had never figured out how he did it. Once he found him, he’d string him up and force him to answer that question. He forced the poisonous thoughts of Scout’s refusal to help away.

“Many of the Mistropans started out just as light as you,” Krystoff said. “But they learned quickly how to use the shadows to their advantage. Those shadows will fight alongside their hosts. They’ll worm their way inside some of the weaker witches. And when that happens, Calliope,” he said, “your coven will not only be fighting the Mistropans, they’ll be fighting each other. With the amount of shadows inside Riona’s people, you don’t stand a chance. Not with the numbers you have. Not with so many still injured and unable to use their magick.”

Krystoff sensed the rejection perched on her lips. “I can help,” he continued. “I’ll leave it up to you. This coven is yours and I’m an uninvited guest. A very knowledgeable uninvited guest, I might add.”

Calliope blinked, once, twice. “Fine. You can stay.”

“Thank you — ”

She reached up and pinched his lips shut with two fingers. Krystoff allowed it for the simple reason it was Calliope and he enjoyed feeling her touch. Any way he could get it.

“To help,” she said, her voice so stern it left no room for argument. “Once I feel we’re prepared, you need to go. Maybe we’ll all be safer that way.” Calliope dropped her hand. “And for the record, there won’t be any more fooling around between you and me.”

“Fooling around? Is that what you call what we did?” Krystoff moved in, backing Calliope against a tree, the ache in his heart changing from a dull pain to intense throbbing. “I’ll help you. You have my promise. But we most assuredly did not fool around and you know it.” He didn’t believe her for a minute. They’d connected on a level that had soared way beyond fooling around. Krystoff lowered his head until his lips touched her ear. “What we did may or may not happen again. I make no promises on that subject.”

Calliope lifted her chin. “What if I tell you to leave now?”

He shifted just enough to be eye to eye. “Then I’ll phantom out of here. Think hard, angel. If I leave, I won’t be back.” Whatever it took, he would make certain he stayed away. No matter how much he wanted to be by her side. Permanently.

She angled her head to peer around him. “They need you.”

Krystoff closed his mind to the sound of her heart, a clear reminder that he hadn’t fed recently. “You need me. If you can’t admit it to me, at least be honest with yourself.”

“Why are you doing this?” Her blue eyes shimmered with more questions than just the one she’d asked.

“What precisely is
this
?”

“You know exactly what I mean.” She pushed against him. He stayed rooted. Calliope grunted. “You make everything so blasted complicated. Before you, life was simpler. Now it’s twisted and tangled and difficult.”

“Exactly.” All those things and so much more.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Now you’re truly living.” Krystoff pressed his lips to hers briefly. “You can thank me later. I have work to do.”

Calliope watched him walk away. Again, he wore all black, but even in the dark she could see his strength. Or maybe she only felt it. Krystoff was a force like no other. He was deadly and powerful in more ways than she dared count. Her stuttering heart was clear evidence of that.

Yes, she could be honest. She needed him. He knew how the Mistropans worked, how they fought. Her experience with them, while intense, was brief. Her magick hadn’t worked against them, hadn’t even made a dent in their proverbial shields. So, yes, she needed Krystoff for that. Anything else was a moot point. They were like oil and vinegar, fire and ice, war and peace. They didn’t mesh. Or they shouldn’t. On paper, they could never work. But life wasn’t paper and Krystoff had made valid points. Not that she’d admit that to him. He was conceited enough without her throwing in another round of compliments.

Standing around psychoanalyzing herself wasn’t doing any good, only muddling her brain more until she felt like an anguished teenager pining for her first love. Love didn’t play a part here. Surely not. Probably not? Maybe. Calliope mentally donned her big girl panties — fierce black ones — and joined the rest of the witches, and Krystoff, who was currently spouting orders in that sexy voice of his.

“Tia, you need to remove the bells from your hair. They’ll be able to hear you from at least a mile away.”

Tia nodded enthusiastically, already unbraiding her hair to remove the strings of bells.

“Isabelle, are you at full magick?”

“I am, sir,” Isabelle said and saluted, bouncing on the balls of her combat boots.

“Krystoff will do,” he said without a hint of a smile. “That sparkly shirt of yours?”

Isabelle glanced down, shimmied a little. “It’s totally cute, right?”

“What it is, is a beacon. You may as well paint a target on your chest and call it a day.”

Her shoulders slumped. “Oh.”

Calliope patted Isabelle’s back. “It is cute, but Krystoff is right.” Calliope moved through the crowd until she stood next to him. Krystoff greeted her with an encouraging smile. While she wasn’t ready to smile back, she did nod before turning to her coven. “Krystoff is going to help us prepare for the next attack. He’ll teach us how to fight off the shadows, which are every bit as dangerous as their hosts. Maybe more so. Some of his
techniques
may go against your nature, but if you want a chance to survive and rebuild our homes, a chance to find the rest of our family, we’ll have to listen to him.”