A Feast of Souls: Araneae Nation, Book 2 (18 page)

“You all right there?” Lleu touched my arm, and I jumped again.

Sakwa glared at me over her shoulder through slit eyes.

“The canis are in the grasses.” I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants legs.

“Not many other places they could be.” Lleu flinched when another howl sounded from someplace to our right. “They make a right bit of noise when they’re riled, don’t they? Loud buggers.”

Straining, I craned my neck and scanned the area. “I wonder what stirred them.”

“Whatever it is, Vaughn doesn’t seem pleased.” He pointed ahead. “He’s on to something.”

“Can’t you scent the problem?” He was Mimetidae after all.

“I can try.” He lifted his chin, inhaled. Strange he hailed from a clan of trackers, yet the use of his nose hadn’t occurred to him.

“Well?” I prompted, curious what he might discover before Vaughn deigned inform us.

Coughing through a series of panted breaths, he said, “Rot. Something nasty lies ahead.”

A shiver traveled the length of my spine.

Vaughn held up his hand, and our procession halted as he slid from his mount into the grass. When he squatted, grasses shielded him from the neck down. He rocked forward on his haunches and appeared to prod something on the ground. A moment later, he hefted a skull on the edge of his sword. Meat and fur clung to bone, but there was more. Wrongness clung to the remains. If I strained, I could make out the wisps of the soul already departed. Echoes of life resonated to the bone in most living things, but there was a curious absence of life energies about the skull, as if whatever spirit had once dwelled there had long since passed. Odd since its decay ripened the air.

“Gods’ web, Vaughn, think of what you’re getting on your sword.” Lleu’s voice boomed.

“Of all the lives his sword must have ended, you’re scolding him for getting animal blood on it?” I had drawn Vaughn’s attention too. “Is the rest of the body there? Or perhaps more bodies?”

There was a slight chance an aural reading might provide us with information about its cause of death. Besides the fact I was curious as to how the soul had been snuffed out so thoroughly. It seemed this was a prime opportunity to examine a victim other than those I had studied in Beltania.

Perhaps the clue to what spared our home and clansmen lay in these bodies.

“There are several, another herd.” Vaughn let the skull tumble. “Don’t come any closer.”

“I want to see the bodies.” I ignored his scowl as I dismounted. “Animals have spirits too.”

Canis song picked up member by member, until we were surrounded by the pack’s music.

Vaughn startled when Brynmor’s head nudged his elbow. “So I am reminded.”

When Vaughn dared to scratch behind his ears, I swore his father smiled.

Chapter Eleven

Wading through the grass to reach Vaughn gave me time to prepare myself. I pressed a hand to my stomach. The stench hit first. I remembered the smell of rot from the varanus I’d attended, but this was worse. Those had been fresh corpses. These were days old, left in the heat to spoil.

“Don’t touch them,” Vaughn cautioned me.

I rolled my eyes at him. “I’m not the one going around jabbing things with my sword.”

Lleu choked on a laugh. “She has you there.”

“Quiet,” Vaughn ordered, returning his attention to me. “Well? You and I are the only ones who have seen two sets of victims.” He withdrew a cloth from his pocket and cleaned his sword. “The manner of death is identical to the herd of pecora I encountered on my last journey through Beltania. What of the varanus? Your maven mentioned they were slaughtered while in a barn?”

I nodded, settling onto the ground a ways from the bodies. “We isolated the sick animals in one barn away from the others. So few were ill, we didn’t realize it was the plague at first. Then, a clanswoman of ours went to fetch her husband and stumbled across the carnage. The handlers with their necks broken, the varanus split open and the stench…it’s worse now than it was then.”

“Has anything else…peculiar…been found?” he asked, mirroring my position.

“Do you mean was another wing found? No. There was only the one, and its authenticity is in doubt.” I crossed my legs and steadied my breathing. “Chinedu gathered specialists to examine the wing. None of the scholars agree on what sort of animal would have such large appendages or what role they may play in transmitting the plague. Creatures on that scale would be noticed.”

“Hmm.” He watched Brynmor cross to me. “It was once customary to claim a token or leave one’s mark at the scene of a coup. It’s possible whoever is behind the deaths and disappearances left a clue to their identity.” He drummed his fingers on his crossed ankles. “These are strange times.”

“Shh.” I silenced Vaughn when Brynmor lay down and placed his head in my lap. Our faint connection pulsed in sheens of blues behind my eyelids.
Inhale. Exhale. Focus on the souls here.

A vibrant green thread spun from my soul, and I imagined a noose at the end catching on the gates of the spiritlands. With effort, my soul climbed from my body, ascended until I hovered over the threshold from which I could never return. As always, the temptation to cross beckoned.

“No.”
Brynmor stood beside me as a male, his hand on my shoulder.
“Ask your questions so we can leave this place.”
He glanced past me with a puzzled frown.
“What is that? Is it yours?”

He lifted the thread I’d used and offered it to me.

“It’s a construct of my…”
I smoothed my thumb over the silken line, gasping when I saw my bright green thread shot with black strands.
“I don’t understand.”
I stared at Brynmor, at the trail left behind him. His thread pulsed black. Meaning this thread must belong to…
“Vaughn.”

The cord was tied to me and the world below, not Brynmor, and who but a Mimetidae would have a life thread that pulsed with their clan’s colors and with the same black as Vaughn’s eyes?

I placed a hand over my chest, and it ached sweetly.

“I don’t see anything or anyone here.”
Brynmor’s projection drew me from my thoughts.

Turning a slow circle, I realized he was right. We were alone. If spirits had languished here, they would have been summoned to me, brought to this place to speak and then to be dispatched.

“This isn’t the spiritlands, merely the gate. All those who cross the threshold must remain.”

Brynmor took a cautious step back.
“You could have warned me.”

“I was surprised you came.”

“My son…”
he began.
“Vaughn is worried. You should have told him your intentions.”

“Oh.”
I was so used to slipping between worlds, so unused to explaining myself. My grip on the thread tightened. Vaughn had anchored me without even realizing what he was doing. I was amazed. I trusted myself to go alone when Old Father was unavailable for assistance, but this. It humbled and shamed me.
“You’re right. I should have warned Vaughn first. We’ll return now.”

Following the thread, my soul found the way down into the world and back into my body. I braced for the rush of sensation, the return of my physical senses, and slipped into consciousness.

The world rocked beneath me, and my balance shifted.

“Mana?” Vaughn’s mouth was at my ear, his murmured prayers easing the descent back into my skin.

I tilted my head back. His brow furrowed as he traced the curve of my cheek. Lleu and Bram stood one at each of his shoulders. They both released audible sighs when Vaughn crushed me to his chest. Gasping for breath, I fought another ascent. He had almost squeezed my soul right out of me.

“I can’t…breathe.” My voice was a whisper.

“You left without telling me. Your body was cold…and your eyes…” A shudder ripped through him. “Never leave me like that again.” He rocked me. “I’ll have your word you won’t.”

“You know I can’t give you that.” I circled his neck with my arms and pressed my face into his throat. “I’m sorry. I should have told you, but you’ve seen me meditate before, so I didn’t—”

He silenced me with a kiss, the harsh pressure of his lips against mine. His groan vibrated in his chest, and I placed my hand over his heart, imagining the black thread of his lifeline tossed to me. Was this connection with him what couples felt when they tied their life threads? If so, I was ruined. Warmth, assurance, fear, anger, all pulsed through that wispy thread until I’d settled fully into myself and that precious link between us evaporated, leaving me bereft, yearning for him in ways that bespoke of permanence. Dangerous the way he aroused those hungers in me with ease.

“Once,” he said. “I saw you ascend one time, and I realize now the pains Old Father took to ensure you appeared as if you slept rather than…” His breath came harsh, ragged against my ear.

Lifeless staring, vacant eyes, a husk without a soul, yes, I could imagine what he’d seen.

Pressing kisses along his jaw, I whispered, “I’m sorry I frightened you.”

His laugh startled me. “I don’t think there’s a word for what you did to me.” Air hissed from between his teeth when he resettled me across his lap. Hard male flesh rested against my spine. I groaned when his nostrils flared, knowing he had scented my response to his kisses, to his touch.

Burrowing my face against his neck, I hid from his reaction.

Fangs scraping across my pulse coaxed a shiver from me.

“The things I could do to you, Mana.” His teeth sank into my skin, the bite of pain exquisite. I whimpered when he withdrew. “This is not the time, and here among the dead is not the place.”

“We should get going.” My voice cracked.

His voice radiated satisfaction. “Did you discover anything?”

“No.” I braced on his shoulders and stood. “The souls here are gone. We were too late.”

Limbs awkward and loose, I almost toppled back onto his lap. I kept my hand on him as he rose. His solid, male warmth surged through me. His touch soothed the chill from my bones.

Scanning my face, he said, “You didn’t use dayflower oil, or if you did, I didn’t notice.”

He meant to ask if I’d suffer the drunken effects of deep meditation from using the extract.

I reached down and Brynmor was there. He leaned against my thigh and helped steady me. I smiled down at him with growing fondness. “It seems with his help, I can circumvent using oil.”

“Still, I’d feel better if you didn’t ride alone.” He caught my arm and led me to his mount.

It took some effort, but I dug in my heels. “Would you mind if we rode Sakwa?”

He glanced between the varanus as if having trouble telling them apart. His chin lifted, nose taking in my scent and matching mine to her. “Is there a reason you prefer your mount to mine?”

“She has a bit of a reputation,” I admitted. “Much like Noir, Sakwa has little patience for the handlers or much of anyone else. She’s been alone in the stables since I left for Erania.” I knew it without asking. I doubted her disposition had changed during those weeks. “I think she’s lonely.”

With a curt nod, he said, “All right.” He swept a hand before us. “After you.”

“Nervous?” I grinned as Sakwa’s head lifted.

“You compared your varanus to my ursus, so yes. I’d say it’s safe to say I’m wary. Noir is a beast even on her best days.” He eyed Sakwa. “She appears to have a nice enough disposition.”

“You would think so.” I took his arm for support, which earned him a glare from slit eyes. Moments later, Sakwa began twitching her tail. She sidestepped me. “I think she knows.”

“I think you’re right.” Nudging me aside, he grasped her halter before she trudged along her merry way without us. Sakwa swept her tail at Vaughn’s ankles. He avoided the lashing once, but she was quick and determined. Her tail caught his knees the second time and he toppled.

When he sprung to his feet with murder glinting in his eyes, I stepped between them. Sakwa hissed at me, her tongue flicking between her lips. She smacked as if his taste fouled her mouth.

I caught her bridle. “You can stand an extra rider for a little while.” I scratched her ears until her expression turned less mutinous. “Vaughn is our friend who will help me stay in the saddle.”

Though I doubted she understood me, she did bump my cheek with her snout.

I held her and chatted while Vaughn mounted. Her tail twitched, but she behaved.

Once he was settled, I went to him and he lifted me onto her back, into the saddle. His arms wrapped around me, his scent enfolded me. He held my hands, which gripped the reins, allowing me to melt against him. With his chin on my shoulder, I let my thoughts drift over what Lleu and Bram and I had spoken of. Now was not the time for such discussion. Regardless of how much I knew Vaughn deserved to be absolved of his guilt, if something happened to Isolde, if we had come too late, then he would only trade one burden of self-loathing for another. Better to wait for now. If circumstances in Cathis had deteriorated, we had plenty of time for recriminations later.

Sunset heralded our arrival in Cathis. Reds saturated the sky. Thin clouds slashed across the dying sun. Crimson towers jutted, one from each of the four corners of a high-walled fortress. Its color reminded me of blood, its shape reminded me this was a clan of mercenaries, and its heir’s hands on my hips held me still as my mind whirled with horrific rumors uttered about this place.