Calling the Wild Read online

  “Close your eyes and center yourself, the way you would before a spell.”

  “If I close my eyes those things will eat me.”

  Kiron turned to her in exasperation. “They cannot eat you, they do not have heads.”

  “That’s not helping.”

  “Do it, I’ll watch the…er…things.”

  Moira closed her eyes. The moment she did her brain threw up, in Technicolor, a replay of scrabbling pallid dead hands. Shoving that into the recesses of her mind, Moira let her magic swell, pulling it up from the center of her body and pushing it into her limbs. She drew in a bit of Kiron’s magic, using the sizzle of the thick white power of The Wild to burn away her panic.

  I need the book. I need to read The Prophecy. I need to know if there is a way to escape my fate.

  I brought the amulet. I sacrificed for it.

  I need the book. What do I have to do to get it? What finishes the spell?

  A soft voice, one so seamless and light that it might have simply been her own subconscious responded, “A name. There is power in a name.”

  Of course. A name to open a spell. Old magic, strong magic. She spoke the name in her mind, thinking it with assurance and conviction—The Dark Queen.

  “Moira, you need to see this.”

  At Kiron’s words, she opened her eyes. The flesh on the back of the thing standing on the grey spoke of rock began to glow. The flesh lit from within, the colorless light tinted sickly grey by its skin.

  A seam appeared down the center of the creature’s back, along the top of the spine. Additional seams appeared across the small of the back and shoulders, forming an ‘I.’

  The seams parted, the flesh of the back opening up, peeling back, square-edged flaps of flesh dangling from the creature’s sides. Moira turned away, pressing a hand to her mouth as she swallowed back the bile that had risen in her mouth.

  When she could stand it, Moira looked back. Ribs protruding from his spine all the way to the small of his back. She could see the ribs on one side of his body, but something hid his ribs on the other.

  With deep reluctance, Moira stepped forward, curling her toes under as she came close enough to touch the creature.

  Filling half of the exposed space in the creature’s back was a sheaf of papers, bound down to its spine with thick wire that pierced the paper, threaded through the ribs, under the spine, and then up to pierce the paper again. Breathing through her mouth to calm the need to vomit, Moira looked at the first sheet of paper.

  Unrecognizable writing, strange spiky characters, marked by thick lines and elaborate flourishes, were rooted in the center of the page. As she watched, the characters mutated, wriggling and then reshaping.

  The Dark Queen.

  “This is it,” she breathed, looking back at Kiron, wonder writ upon her face in her wide eyes and parted lips.

  “The book is inside that creature.” Kiron pointed out, unnecessarily.

  “Please don’t remind me.”

  She turned to the book-creature. As distasteful and frightening as she might find it, Moira would not turn away now.

  She reached for the top page.

  “Welcome to my Library, Dark Queen. Have you come to learn your fate?”

  Moira snatched her hands back and looked up, fingers shaking as her body dumped adrenaline into her system.

  Across the circle stood a tall figure robed and veiled in black. The voice was that of a female, though throaty and deep. The figure was tall, almost as tall as Kiron in his centaur form, and wide. The shoulders were at least as long as a broom handle, and might have been longer. It was hard to tell because one was hunched up.

  This was the troll, the creature who’d ripped apart old scrolls to bind the Dark Prophecies individually, sealing them in the flesh of hideous creatures.

  “The Dark Queen?” It was Kiron’s question. Moira turned to look at him, keeping the troll on her line of sight. He looked to her for confirmation, and Moira nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. She’d fought so hard to keep him from knowing, to keep him in ignorance of what she feared and what she was seeking. Now he knew.

  Kiron turned his face away, jaw working, and through the spell that bound him she could feel his conflict.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, so soft she didn’t know if he would hear.

  “You fought bravely to get here, Dark Queen.”

  Moira turned her attention back to the troll. She, for Moira knew it was female, was constantly in motion. The encompassing veils she wore twitched and flittered and she rocked side to side. There was an odd rhythmic clicking sound as she moved, something hard tapping against the floor.

  “I am not the Dark Queen.”

  “You are.”

  “I am not.”

  “Then why are you so ardently pursued by the Black Emperor?

  “Who?”

  The head, large as a tombstone, tilted side to side, back and forth, back and forth in a sickening motion. “You do not know.”

  “That is why I am here. All I want is to read the prophecy.” Moira’s heart was thumping with fear. The Black Emperor was another of the Dark Prophecies, what did that have to do with her? Had she been searching for the wrong spell?

  “So you can find a way, a way to escape your destiny.” The crazed head tilting stopped, and she started rocking forward and back instead.

  “I am not the Dark Queen.”

  “You have denied your identity for a long time, daughter of Sekhmet.”

  Moira didn’t respond, couldn’t, for it was the truth.

  “Read then. Reach into my beast and learn the truth.”

  Moira swallowed, clasped her shaking hands, and looked at the flesh-bound pages. She wanted to turn to Kiron, wanted to seek comfort in his touch, but this was something she would do alone.

  Reaching out, Moira placed her hand on the center of the top page. The papers flipped open on their own, pushing her hand away, and Moira gagged when her hand brushed against the edge of the creature’s open skin.

  Holding her contaminated hand away from herself, Moira started to read.

  Chapter Thirty

  In a time of awakening, the Dark Queen will rise:

  Companion and mate of the Black Emperor.

  Her power will be great and terrible.

  Beneath her rule the Dark Kingdom will rise.

  The night will once more find power over all,

  And the Earth will remember darkness.

  Knowing neither mother nor father, she is born of the old gods,

  From ancient magic draws her command.

  The Dark Queen is beloved by no human, and desired by all.

  A warrior fierce, her savage heart will surpass that of the Black Emperor.

  Moira stepped away from the book. Her back hit something and she yelped, but Kiron’s hands soothed her, settling on her shoulders. He was leaning forward, reading over her shoulder.

  “That isn’t me,” she whispered fiercely. “That isn’t me.”

  She looked at Kiron, who squeezed her shoulders. “What I know of the prophecy matches this,” he said, voice grim. “That when the Dark Queen and Black Emperor come together, there will be a return of The Dark.”

  “That is not me. I have a mother, and a father. I am not a warrior.”

  Kiron stroked her shoulders, but through the spell she could feel that he disagreed.

  “No!” She pushed away with him, directing her anger and fear towards him. “I am not that! I am not evil. And don’t tell me that isn’t evil. Read it! ‘…And the Earth will remember darkness…’ They’re talking about death! Evil things.”

  “Foolish child,” the troll scoffed, and Moira turned to her, magic, fueled by anger, swelling under her skin. She threw out a hand, unthinking, and a ball of magic, one of her stunning spells, flew from her hands. It was raw and rough, formed through force of will, rather then skill and ritual.

  “Moira, no!” Kiron shouted, but it was too late.

  Th
e speeding ball of magic, visible as a globe of fluctuating green-tinted atmosphere, struck the troll, dropping her to the floor.

  “Moira.”

  She whirled to face Kiron, muscles tensed for a fight. He was supposed to be on her side, to support her, but he was turning against her. He believed she was what they said, what that foul book said.

  “Moira, listen to me.” He held up his hands, placating her with a soft voice. “You match many of the things written there. You were not born of human parents, you have the powers of a Goddess from one of the oldest pantheons, and those powers are destructive, dark.”

  “I don’t want to hurt anyone,” her voice broke on a sob and she looked over at the crumpled figure of the troll. Her skirts had fallen awry, and one leg, a mutated mix of flesh and wood, half living flesh, half petrified tree, was exposed.

  “You think they’re right,” she accused.

  “Not necessarily. There are many ways for the Prophecy to be interpreted, and many paths each being can choose.”

  Kiron approached her, firm but slow, giving her time to move away. She didn’t. Kiron knelt on his front two legs, putting them at a more equal height. “Moira, look at me.”

  He waited until she looked at him, waiting for it to be her decision, before he cupped her face. “I am still here. I will stay with you.”

  “But what of the Black Emperor? Who is he?”

  Kiron’s dark eyes were soft and tender as he looked at her. His lips parted, but his eyes flicked up, his expression hardened, his eyes turning flinty in an instant. He rose on all of his hooves. Heart thumping, she followed his gaze to the ceiling.

  The height of the building and arrangement of lights left the ceiling in shadow. Kiron drew a ball of magic, swirling his left hand over the open cupped palm of his right hand. The white-hot magic swelled in his hand, sweet and bright as a new star. With a strong underhanded throw, he tossed the ball into the air, sending it to the dark ceiling, illuminating the things that waited there.

  They slithered and rolled across the ceiling, skittering away from the light. Their names were unspoken, the stuff of nightmares. Thin veined batwings graced the backs of scaled serpents. Slithering beasts with a thousand legs and horns slid around the bodies of their companions. She saw two of the water beasts from the warehouse moving amongst the rest, their glistening bodies streaking the other beasts with water.

  Light flared around Kiron as he called magic to him, his face fierce and beautiful as he faced a battle they could not win.

  “You ask for the Black Emperor?”

  The questioned boomed across the walls, coming from everywhere and nowhere. It was strong and confident, but with a velvet soft edge.

  A pool of darkness detached itself from the far corner of the room. The darkness had no shape, its undefined edges fading to black curling smoke. Moira and Kiron stepped back. Moira, with a hand pressed to her chest, called up a stunning spell. Her mind had shut down, focusing on their most immediate concern. She would not, could not, focus on the horror of the monsters crawling over her head, because if she did, she would collapse under the weight of her fear.

  The dark cloud touched down, the lowest point of smoke becoming bare feet. The cloud condensed into a man—tall, slim and elegant, with pale gold hair and amber eyes. The final shreds of darkness condensing into a cloak that floated around him, black smoke trailing from the hem.

  He moved towards them with a rapidity that was inhuman and terrifying. He was closing the distance too quickly. Moira panicked and threw her spell. He brushed it away, sending it into a bookshelf, which trembled, the books falling to the floor.

  Kiron threw his spells, one right after the other. The first was knocked away, its power greater then Moira’s spell, and its impact shattered bookshelves, burning the books. The second struck the man, wrapping over his left shoulder in a blanket of shimmering white magic. He paused, and Moira’s hopes rose, but then black smoke crept up from the hem of his cloak and covered the white, smothering it. He resumed stalking towards them.

  They were close enough now that Moira could see his eyes clearly, and the swirling gold of his irises was beautiful.

  “You asked after the Black Emperor?”

  He smiled. Moira shivered, unable to tear her gaze away from his.

  Kiron darted in front of her, his side to the approaching creature, blocking her with his body.

  The Emperor’s attention shifted from Moira to Kiron, the smile dying, his face becoming deathly serious.

  “Take the centaur.”

  A hoard of beasts descended from the ceiling at his order. Kiron push Moira away to protect her from the flashing talons. He grabbed what looked like a flying lizard from the air and snapped its neck as a second beast tried to land on his back. He reared, throwing the beast free, his front hooves pawing the air, striking the creatures that reached for his soft belly.

  He sent a ball of magic into the chest of one. The creature glowed with light for a moment before exploding, its acid-black blood splattering across Kiron’s chest.

  The sight of him fighting for his life finally galvanized Moira. Drawing two stunning spells in quick succession, she threw them, dropping two of the beasts that circled in the air over Kiron.

  She was so focused on helping him that she didn’t see the Emperor coming. One moment she was watching her third spell hit a nasty little slithery beast, in the next her view was blocked by a set of shoulders draped in black.

  He cupped her face, and Moira screamed. His hand was like ice on her skin. She pressed her hands to his chest, shoving at him with magic, but rather them push him away her magic drew him closer, and he shuddered in apparent pleasure.

  “Your magic is as sweet as I imagined it,” he whispered voice smooth as cream sliding over her.

  “I-I am not what you want,” Moira stammered. “I am not the Dark Queen.” She looked up into those gold eyes, and the fight died within her. Worlds began and ended into the rich amber gold of his irises.

  If he heard her, he did not acknowledge it.

  “I,” he pulled his hand from her face, sliding it down her bare arm to cup her hand, “am the Black Emperor.” He stepped away from her, his arm out to the side, as if offering himself for inspection.

  He stepped close once more, icy hands moving over her bare skin with a velvet soft touch. “And you will be my Queen.”

  He cupped her cheek and brought their faces together, pressing his lips to her in a gentle kiss, so light that their lips barely touched.

  Moira’s eyes fluttered shut, her body dropping. The Black Emperor lifted her in his arms, and disappeared in a swirl of smoke.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  She woke with a gasp, her mind moving from blank sleep to terrified consciousness within the space of the breath. There was darkness all around her, and Moira whimpered.

  Light flared, great tracks of crystal in the walls winking awake. Moira closed her eyes, hand shielding them, until she adjusted. She kept her hand over her eyes, giving herself a moment to find her center.

  He was in the room. She could feel him, like a pool of elegant darkness.

  Prepared, or so she thought, Moira lowered her hand and opened her eyes. She was lying on a long chaise, the fabric soft cream velvet. Across from her, in a simple wood chair, sat the Emperor.

  She expected him to be lounging in a throne, but he was sitting forward, hands braced on his knees.

  “You are awake. How do you feel?”

  Moira checked herself, looking down to see that she was now wrapped in a long black cloak, his cloak.

  “Where am I?” She looked around at the gray walls. There were no seams in the stone. This was not a room made of stone, but a room carved from stone. Two great bands, wavering streams of pure crystal, flowed along the walls.

  “You are in my temporary home.”

  “Why?”

  “You are the Dark Queen.”

  “No.” She shouted it like a frightened child.

&nbs
p; He looked away, and for a moment he looked achingly sad. He pushed to his feet, and Moira was surprised by how graceful he was. One would think that the darkness he ruled would weigh him down, but he vibrated with energy and life.

  “I scared you. I didn’t mean to.”

  He came to the chaise beside her, and surprised her by kneeling. He held out his hand. Moira placed her hand in his, wincing at the chill.

  “I am sorry for how I treated you. It was my enthusiasm at having found you that led me to make poor decisions. I hope that in time you will forgive me.”

  It seemed so odd that the orchestrator of a year’s worth of suffering was so patiently and calmly kneeling before her. There were a thousand questions she needed answers to, a thousand accusations to be laid at his feet.

  “You bespelled Justin.”

  “It is true that I used magic to lessen his fear so that I might be able to talk to him without his mind shutting down, but he was eager for the foolish material things I offered in exchange for you. He was not worthy of you.”

  “You sent monsters to hunt me.”

  “In the beginning they were only meant to observe you, to tell me about you. I didn’t know that you would be able to see them, or that seeing them would scare you so. Later, after you ran, yes, I sent them to hunt you.”

  “You want to kill me.”

  “Kill you?”

  “The water beasts that hunted me at the warehouse… They attacked me, to kill me.”

  “Sweet Moira,” he cupped her cheek with the hand not holding hers. “They could not have killed you, because you cannot die.”

  Moira’s mouth dropped open in shock, and she started shaking her head denying his words. He dropped his hand from her cheek.

  “You deny all that you are. Deny your heritage, your place in our world as one of the last daughters of Sekhmet. Why?”

  “I…I am human. I have parents, and an apartment and I went to college.” Her voice broke, her body bowing under the pressure of trying to maintain the illusion. She turned away, not wanting him to see her like this.

  He was her enemy, the being she’d been running from. He was evil.