Wildblood

Chapter 31

31

Miya

The chill hit Miya’s skin like a thousand glass blades, and the sweltering heat finally abated. Kai’s lips on her own had been torrid, bruising, every unspoken thorn between them coalescing into a chemical eruption that left them both bewildered. He liked to tease—to battle where he played—but in his desperate bid for something resembling control, he’d spiraled right out of it. She knew what he was doing the moment he’d dropped his hand from her thighs in that alleyway. He was angry with her, and this was his catharsis. But their savage lovemaking seemed to have rattled him as much as it’d given him an outlet.

He’d sunk his teeth into her until she gave him what he wanted: a reaction. Slapping his smug, self-satisfied face felt good, and his eager acceptance of her outburst softened the sting of his anger. He had no right being upset with her for strong-arming him into therapy, but he had enough sense not to begrudge her too deeply. Kai preferred hate-fucking to nurturing his resentment, and she figured sex was preferable to pummeling drunks or stuffing his feelings into a metaphorical lockbox. If orgasms helped him process his emotions, she would happily oblige. That is, so long as he stuck to therapy.

Their clothes disguised most of the grass stains as they headed back to the King of Spades . The walk was quiet, contemplative, neither of them filling the space with idle chitchat or rote pleasantries. Miya appreciated that about Kai; he felt no need to break the tension with platitudes. If he wanted something, he’d ask for it.

Kai draped an arm around her shoulders and pressed her to his side. His lips brushed her temple, and she gave his midsection an affectionate squeeze. Before she met him, she rarely thought about how much could be communicated through a touch, a look, a smile. Silences were meant to be awkward, and every emotion required a corresponding name to give it meaning and expression. But she’d learned to listen in other ways—to hear those weighty things whispered by the unsaid. Miya loved words, but there were so many other ways to speak.

As they approached the King of Spades, Kai slowed, his body going rigid.

“What’s wrong?” Miya asked as his arm slid from her shoulders.

“It’s too quiet, but everyone’s awake.” He took an anxious step forward, then rocked back, grinding his teeth in apparent indecision. The lights were off throughout the building save for an upstairs room and the vestibule at the bar’s entrance.

Miya grabbed his hand. “Come on.”

He didn’t resist as she led him onward, and the door swung open before they reached it. Bathed in buttery lamplight, Ama stood at the threshold, expectant.

“What happened?” Kai asked gruffly, his hand now on the inside of the open door.

The white wolf cut him with a glare and addressed Miya instead. “Caelan slipped out while you were gone.”

Kai opened his mouth—probably to berate Ama about how she’d failed to detect this—but Miya pressed her elbow to his ribs, shutting him up.

“Gavran and I tracked her down,” Ama continued when the barrage never came. She sighed, hanging her head. “I didn’t even notice. She was completely soundless, odorless. We only realized when we found the door wide open.”

Kai’s mouth snapped shut, and he swallowed his insult. “Where’d you find her?”

Ama gave them both a heavy look. “She was headed for the park. We intercepted her and dragged her back.”

“ Dragged ?” Miya echoed, alarm sharpening her voice.

Ama shook her head in apology and stepped aside to let them in. “She fought us. We locked her upstairs in the spare room and barred the window. Dahlia is with her, trying to keep her calm.”

Miya’s head spun as she rounded into the dining room. Gavran was perched on his favorite beer tap and croaked in greeting while the domovoy crouched in the corner beneath the antique mirror. He appeared restless, shuffling from one foot to the other as he wrung his little paws.

The park. Caelan had a fixation on Boston Common—the place she’d first appeared, seemingly out of thin air, before the Carvers adopted her. Her family said she was trying to find a door, and Miya had all but confirmed that Caelan was searching for a way back to the dreamscape where she could rejoin the leshy. She didn’t want to use the gateway at the long-felled Great Elm, yet she kept sleepwalking there. Someone with Miya’s abilities could easily tear through the gnarl between realms at the site, and Caelan had done just that when she’d stumbled into Boston’s material sphere three years ago, seduced by something on this side—a mysterious her . Whoever she was, she was drawing Caelan to the park with increasing persistence, to the place where spirit met flesh and the boundary between worlds remained thin.

Crowbar thumped down the stairs and threw her arms up. “Oh, thank titties, you’re back.” She looked thoroughly spooked as she glanced between Miya and Kai. “The whole building was going haywire for a solid half-hour.”

Kai narrowed his eyes. “The lights?”

Crowbar nodded. “Yeah, the electricity was bonkers?—”

“I’m going to check on her,” he interrupted, pushing past the bartender.

Miya followed, surprised by his eagerness. Before either of them bounded to the second floor, Kai halted. Caelan stood at the top of the stairs, gripping the banister.

The King of Spades went silent as a grave.

The teen stared down at them as they all stared up in turn. Even Gavran twisted his head around to peek.

Kai’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “You okay, kid?”

Caelan’s bottom lip quivered, her grip on the rail tightening. She shook her head, then slowly made her way down the stairs. “I need to go.”

Kai placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. “No, you don’t.”

“I do.” She shrugged him off. “I need to put an end to this.”

“Put an end to what?” Miya asked as Crowbar backpedaled to give them space.

Ama snatched her girlfriend’s arm, reeling her farther out of the way.

Then, the lights shuddered, a low hum penetrating the quiet. Shadows bled from corners where they ought to have stayed, pooling along the floor like ink.

“I have to go.” Caelan’s voice filled with urgency, darkness passing over her face as indiscernible shapes scurried along the walls. She took another step, but Kai blocked her with his arm, his palm flat against the opposite wall.

“If you think that because you’re scared,” he said, “you’ll only fuck things up for yourself.”

“He’s right,” Miya agreed. “You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Caelan whispered. She grabbed Kai’s jacket sleeve to pull his arm away, but he wouldn’t budge. A sudden deluge of anger contorted the girl’s face, and she tried shoving past him. He caught her and hauled her back, and a furious shriek ripped from her throat as she began to thrash.

“She’s doing it again,” Ama warned, shifting to block the door as Crowbar swore loudly.

The room tilted, shadows darting across the walls and floor in a chaotic dance. The bulbs flashed, then faded, their electric whirrs a discordant song. They were like bone spurs to Miya’s eardrums. Disoriented, she stumbled to the side and glimpsed Crowbar clutch the bar top for dear life, her knees buckling. Gavran flapped his wings, cawing frantically, and even the wolves fought to steady themselves. Ama widened her stance, and Kai braced against the wall with one arm as the other encircled the teen to subdue her.

It didn’t work.

Caelan flailed wildly, landing blows wherever she could. Her elbow clipped Kai’s jaw as she twisted in his grasp, and he leaned back when a fist came flying at his nose.

“She’s a lot stronger than she looks,” Kai said after an annoyed grunt.

Miya believed him. Caelan seemed imbued with supernatural might as she revolted against Kai, clawing and kicking to get free so she could flee the King of Spades.

“Do not let her go,” Ama yelled across the room, umbral whorls slithering around her feet. “Whatever is calling to her wants this. We can’t let it get its way.”

Pushing off the wall, Kai wrapped another arm around the girl, locking her against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he said through clenched teeth, then lifted his gaze to Miya.

“I’m on it.” Gathering her bearings, she navigated toward the center of the room, tracking a web of dark wisps that sprawled across the wall. Light filled the bar for a splintering moment, and Miya realized they were vines, crawling toward the door that Ama guarded. Pivoting, she glimpsed a lumbering silhouette behind the white wolf.

The leshy.

A skitter of fear stippled Miya’s spine. What the hell was he doing here? Was he the cause, or had he finally come to collect?

Ama spun and jumped away, her silvery hair static with unease. The stranger floated into the bar, his ratty coat and craggy skin filling the stark shadow in the vestibule. His cedarwood eyes locked on to Miya, and something tugged at her mind, sawing at the tether between her spirit and her body. Black stars bloomed before her eyes.

The leshy was trying to force her consciousness into the dreamscape.

Miya battled the onslaught of sleep when a pair of vicious snarls rived through the chaos. Both wolves doubled over, agony snaring them as they lost their footing. Ama dropped into a crouch, her back arched as her nails dragged down the floorboards. Then, a feral sound tore through the air behind Miya, and she saw Kai crumple as he released a shell-shocked Caelan. With an angry shout, he pounded his forearm to the wall, slamming straight through it as he caught Miya with an anguished stare. His eyes gleamed with fury and blood as he bared his teeth, his canines lengthening into sharp points.

“What the hell!” Crowbar tried to scramble over to them but tumbled to her knees, disoriented.

Ama’s head snapped up, her amber eyes as bright as Kai’s, her mouth twisted into a pained rictus. Her fingers bent wrong, nails thickening into blunt claws, and she bit down on a whimper, her voice hoarse as she pleaded, “Stay away from it, Dahlia!”

They had no idea what the leshy would do to an ordinary human. It brought out the true nature in things, but it seemed only for the worse. Straining to keep her attention on the approaching spirit, Miya watched as it reached for Caelan, beckoning her closer.

Spellbound, Caelan took a clumsy step forward, and then another.

“Gav…ran…” Miya struggled to call for her familiar, sinking to her knees as her strength seeped away. Through slit eyes, she glimpsed the raven dive for the leshy. The nature spirit swatted the bird away, trapping him in a thicket of foliage that sprouted along the winking sconces. Voluptuous bloodred lilies wriggled from their stems. Petals unfurled like jaws and stuck to Gavran’s plumage, blanketing onyx in carmine. A fetid odor oozed from the blooms, and Miya clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from vomiting at the stench, her vision swimming. Gavran beat his wings against his bonds but quickly grew docile, slumping against the sinewy shackles.

Miya had to do something . Although the leshy manifested pieces of himself in the physical world, he was still immaterial. If Miya slipped into the dreamscape, she could contend with him on her terms. But it felt like a trap. The leshy wanted her where she couldn’t communicate with Caelan and the others. To stop the teen from fulfilling the very portent she resisted, Miya had no choice but to remain physically present. The wolves were paralyzed, powerless against the change being forced upon them. Miya and Crowbar were the only ones left, and the Dreamwalker wouldn’t endanger one of her best friends over a mess she and Kai had invited.

Every second that passed dragged Miya further from herself. She could barely stay awake, let alone move. Every weapon in her arsenal was useless or indisposed.

Then, a small round shape streaked past Ama and into the center of the fray. The domovoy planted himself between Miya and the leshy. Hackles raised, he chittered and straightened, balancing on his hind legs. As he rose to his full height, Miya felt the leshy’s enthrallment weaken. Her eyelids grew lighter, her body less like lead, and she realized…

The domovoy was defending his home.

His shadow grew, and grew, and grew, until it dwarfed the leshy like a mountain towering over a shrub. Lips pared back from sharp teeth, and the house guardian spread his arms wide, reaching. Those tiny fur-covered arms could grasp only air, but the spectral limbs that mimed the domovoy’s movements stretched beyond his natural range, curved shadow claws latching on to the walls.

The sinuous vines squirmed and gibbered in dissent, and the leshy raised his head, the motion slow, stilted. His ancient face was hewn from primordial wrath, every cut in his craggy skin a score against his patience.

Unbothered, the domovoy tightened his phantom grip and pulled.

The interior of the building morphed like a fever dream. The house groaned, the floor roiled, and the walls slid from place like a living maze. With every swipe of his arms, the domovoy maneuvered his colossal shadow and rearranged the bones of the house. The leshy lurched to enter further, but the domovoy stamped a foot, and the floorboards sliced upward, disorienting the invader. He tried shambling forward a second time, but the house warped yet again, erecting walls, shifting tables, and sculpting impenetrable doors at the domovoy’s command. The vines that’d snared Gavran stretched, then snapped like bramble under a heavy boot.

With large shining eyes locked on the leshy, the domovoy released a threatening rattle that drowned out the awful squelching of carnivorous flora. His leviathan shadow wielded the home like a fortress and a blade all at once. With a final decree from its small but fierce protector, the house pushed the leshy back into the vestibule, past the threshold, and out into the cold.

The domovoy whipped an arm across his chest, and the door slammed shut.