Night Myst (31 page)

Higher I climbed, until I reached a branch a good forty feet off the ground. I edged out on it, shaking the snow off to the ground as I stared at the darkening sky and began to shed my clothing. I dropped my jacket and shirt, watching them plummet to the ground, then without thinking, shimmied out of my jeans and panties, and they, too, fell away to the bottom of the tree.

Shivering, I crouched naked on the branch, holding on to nearby limbs for balance. The clouds parted then, a thin sliver to show the brilliant moon shining through. Below, the mist was rising, rolling along the ground, seeping up the trunk like a blanket of soothing smoke.

Under the cloak of cloud and stars, I gazed up at the heavens, unable to think, unable to put words to my thoughts. The necklace beat a staccato tattoo on my soul, the music swirled around me, notes flooding the wind, and the call was too strong. I couldn’t ignore it, couldn’t shake it off. Inhaling a sharp breath, not knowing just what I was doing or why, I let go of the branch and went into free fall, heading toward the ground.

As I whistled through the air, something began to shift, and my body twisted inside out. A blink of an eye, and I was gliding silently on the currents, wingtips wide, zebra stripes of black and white. I opened my beak and let out a call, and the screech echoed through my body, raspy and shrill and enough to scare the hell out of every rat and mouse that might be hiding in the yard.

Then it hit me—I was aloft—in flight—gliding through the yard toward the woodland. But the ravine and the forest glowed with a light I’d never seen before, and I veered to my right, avoiding the tree line. There was something in there, something nasty that set traps for owls like me, and I wanted no part of it.

I sailed effortlessly, turning on a wing to glide back toward the house, seeing everything from a vastly different perspective but still retaining my sense of self. In fact, I felt far clearer than I ever had. The necklace still dangled around my throat and I knew that if I wasn’t wearing it, I’d shift back into my human form again.

Sweeping over the house, I spiraled, circling around, then coming to land on the bough of the oak. There, near me, the great horned owl perched on the limb, talons gripping the bark. His eyes were whirling as he watched me. I could swear that I saw a tenderness in them, a welcoming home, and I let out another shriek and he answered.

He leapt off the tree, gliding low through the mist, and I followed. We flew in tandem, turning, twisting, spiraling aloft through the fog bank, then swept up again and across the face of the moon, as the true meaning of freedom flooded through my body. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else could mar the expansiveness of the world.

For sheer joy, I did a barrel roll and headed toward the ground, pulling up just in time. The horned owl followed me and we danced our dance. At one point, I saw Kaylin standing on the porch, my clothes in his arms, as he watched us cartwheeling on the wind.

There is time enough for that. We will talk later. For now, explore your new freedom, child of the wind.
And she laughed and her currents carried us forward as she rode the slipstream with us.

We passed through a host of spirits gliding through the yard and they dove to all sides, looking terrified as we shattered their composure.

The other owl answered.
Yes, ghosts and owls are closely aligned. We are the creatures of dark magic. We ride in the wake of the Bean Sidhe. We bring tidings from the dead. Ghosts and spirits are part of our heritage.

Part Fae.
I was part Fae?
My mind tried to process the concept but I kept coming back to one thought.
You knew my father? What was he like? What is his name? Is he still alive?

But the owl fell silent as we twisted another loop around the house and he came lightly to rest in the oak again. He let out a piercing call that sliced through the night and I answered.

And then he leapt and dove, and we were off once more, winging through the dark as he taught me to spread my wings and fly.

Early toward morning, the owl landed on the eaves next to my room. I landed next to him, exhausted, desperately needing to rest. We’d flown through the night, turning, dipping, but ever-always avoiding Myst’s forest.

I blinked.
My other form.
There had been points through the night when I’d forgotten I had another form.

Just focus on letting go. But do so inside or you’ll topple off the roof.
Ulean’s voice was clear, distinct from the owl’s.

As I pondered how to get inside so I could try to change back, Kaylin showed up in my room and eased the window open. He gently reached out and I hopped on his arm, and then he lifted me inside and set me on the ground.

I waddled around, my talons uncomfortable on the hardwood floor, as I tried to figure out how to shift back.

Ulean’s comforting voice filtered through the slipstream again and I hooted softly, grateful she could read me even though I’d shifted form.

Just let go of the form
. . .

I calmed my thoughts, reached down deep. Consciously, I let the owl form dissolve, picturing myself as . . . me . . .
Blink.
A few seconds later, I toppled over on the floor, naked except for the necklace.

I’ll give Kaylin this much: Instead of staring at me, he immediately covered me with a blanket from the bottom of the bed. I slowly sat up, rubbing my head, which hurt like a son of a bitch. The necklace throbbed gently against my chest.

“Before we even start to discuss this, please go downstairs and get me a cup of tea.” I slipped out of the blanket and into the thick terry robe that Rhiannon had loaned me. This time, Kaylin watched.

“Dude, eyes back in head.” I stared at him and he let out a soft laugh.

“Sorry, but you aren’t exactly hiding it.”

“I just changed into an owl and flew around the yard for an hour or two or three. Why should I be thinking modesty after that? I mean, come on, it was . . .” I softened my voice, the sarcasm drifting away. “It was the most incredible thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He relented. “Sorry, but as old as I am, I’m still young compared to others like me. And you’re . . . you have a magnetism about you that’s hard to ignore. Cicely, what happened out there?”

“Tea first.”

While I climbed into bed, shivering because now I felt cold all the way through, Kaylin dashed downstairs and returned ten minutes later with a tea tray holding a pot, two cups, and some toast and jam.

As we drank our tea and ate our toast, I told him everything. Told him about always feeling a connection to the owl, about getting the tattoos even though I didn’t know why I had to, about the owl feather that I’d found on my pillow one morning, never questioning why it had come into my life, just accepting.

“The owl in the wood, he said I’m part Cambyra Fae, like Grieve. Can this be possible?” I stared at my hands, looking at them in a different way than I ever had before. I’d always known I was one of the magic-born, but having someone tell me I was part Fae was like finding out that I’d never really known who I was. I’d never known myself. Not fully.

“Possible? Yes. Likely? It seems so. What else could explain what happened? I suppose it could be an elaborate trap, but it doesn’t feel like it to me.” He made sure I was comfortable, then headed downstairs after securing my window and making sure the protection charms were strong over it.

As I stared out at the growing dawn, I tried to comb every inch of what had happened, but the beauty of the experience kept flooding in and pushing logic and thought to the side. Within half an hour, I found myself dozing off, and in my dreams, I soared with the great horned owl, still gliding the night sky.

The next morning, I was so stiff I could barely climb out of bed. At least, my arms were stiff. My shoulder muscles throbbed with a deep, pounding ache that I’d never quite felt before. I flashed back to the night before, wondering if it had been the transformation—if somehow my wings had been virginal and needed to stretch and carry me to build their strength.

Rhiannon was waiting downstairs, along with Leo and Kaylin. They all looked up at me and I realized Kaylin had spilled the beans. Eh, well, it kept me from having to explain again.

“So how was your night?” I asked, sliding into my chair as Leo set a plate of bacon and eggs in front of me. I glanced up to find them all just staring at me, silent. “What? Okay, so I turned into an owl, went gallivanting around the yard, and boom, here I am, hungry and sore as hell. What more can I say?”

“So Kaylin told us. What do you think it means?”

I stared at my plate. “What it means,” I said softy, “is that I’m not who I’ve always thought I was, for one thing. Otherwise . . . How can I possibly know everything this signifies? I don’t even understand. It’s going to take me a long time to sort this out, to assess what impact it’s going to have. I always knew I was of the magic-born, but, Rhiannon . . . if my father is Cambyra Fae . . . does that mean yours might be, too? We were born on the same day. Neither of us ever met our fathers. And now, we can’t even ask Heather.”