Page 124 of Haunted

Drop it, Kenrik. Drop it! My concentration rips from the mountain cat. The animal is free for now.

Kenrik raises the blade high above his head, gripping the hilt with two hands.

Don’t do this! I screech.

Kenrik plunges down with all his might. The blade sinks into his thigh, clear to the hilt, barely missing the bone.

Blinding pain drops me to the ground. Kenrik screams. My voice joins his. My leg has no visible wound, but the pain is real.

The pain is always real.

Curse you! I cry.

Kenrik passes out at the same time I do.

79

I wake up who knows how much later and push myself upright and probe my thigh. It’s tender. I dip into our shared bond. Kenrik is nearly healed, and a twinge of jealousy licks at me. For a mortal, he heals faster than I do.

If I ever get my hands on you… I don’t send the thoughts to him because he’s out cold. Do I wake him? I want him to suffer by watching what happens next, but he’ll try to stop me. Who knows what he’d do to himself to thwart me again.

I scrape to my knees and pull myself up to the table in my chamber. An ancient tome lies open on the oak surface. No one has disturbed me. My guards know better than to interrupt what goes on in this room.

I begin my chant. I close my eyes as I clutch a few of the mountain cat’s hairs. I have a large jar full of them so I can invoke the spell that links us.

My consciousness tears away from my mind. It races across leagues of countryside, over mountains and rivers, down valleys and gullies, until it plants itself in the cat once again.

We’re drinking from a stream. I lift our head and glance around. Dusk is falling. The air is sweet but still. We turn and loop through the woods, racing along until we come to a trail. The hardest part about possessing the beast is figuring out where it’s roamed in my absence. I sniff the air, begging for a breeze to pick up Niawen’s scent. Eventually, I recognize the area. After ten minutes, we bound up the hill to Niawen’s cottage. Sheep bleat in the pen near the home.

I’ve caught Niawen just in time.

Another scent catches my attention, from another person nearby. I step out from the shadows of a scrubby bush as a rumble courses up through my chest.

I am hungry for vengeance. I am hungry for release from purgatory. The thoughts are sent from the beast to me.

I will release you from this enslavement, I tell it. Soon.

The child, my daughter, Ahnalyn, freezes when she hears my growl. She turns. Slowly. She was almost to the cottage, almost to safety before she saw the cat.

My hackles rise. I mean to frighten her. Her face is ashen. She’s too little to know what to do, too little to know how to use the power of light that Niawen’s kept hidden from her.

So I will coax her darkness forth.

A breeze stirs. Niawen’s heady scent fills my nostrils. She’s right behind me. I turn to her, tearing my eyes away from the child.

Pain fills my chest. Niawen, my love, I must do this. For our daughter. Your sacrifice, my sacrifice, will strengthen her.

Harden her.

I try not to vomit.

I am determined, no matter how painful this course may be.

Niawen is not mine anymore. What I am about to do shouldn’t hurt this badly.

It will always hurt.

I draw a ragged breath, the cat and I.

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