Page 64 of Ulune's Daughter

Fucking chill, my brother thinks at me.

I glance over and scowl at him as much as my Cait face allows. We’re drawing the shades, pulling the umbra of Faery around us as we move through the mortal world. I’m able to draw the shades for myself but wouldn’t be able to cloak Mags and Dex in Faery without my twin at my side. Luca’s affinity for the dead makes the impossible effortless. Because we are, strictly speaking, on the other side of the Veil as we pull it into the mortal world around us, we’re all in our Cait warrior forms.

Mags and Dex, on all fours, slip through the shadows to stretch at my feet. They watch me instead of the three in the cave, awaiting my command. Luca stands beside me on two feet, his shaggy, corded arms crossed over his chest, shadows pouring off him like smoke. He elbows me.

I hiss at him.

My mate lifts her head sharply. Can she hear me? She shouldn’t be able to while she’s on the other side of the Veil.

Yeah, she clearly heard that, Luca thinks, very loudly.Would you fucking calm down? She’s fine.

I glower.

Four more jackals enter the cave. My hackles rise and my claws extend. I’ll disembowel them with one swipe if they so much as look wrong at my mate.

The young driver shuffles off to sit on a rock while the three others, clad in desert robes, their heads wound with cloths, their beards gray and long, group around my mate. One of them bows to her, which saves his life by a whisker, since I’m tensed to pounce.

“Professor Wyndham,” the old jackal says. “Zeki tells us you propose placing the cup in the Motherwell?”

Kellan stands and bows, which makes my whiskers vibrate with a silent hiss. The jackals should be face down on the rocky floor, abasing themselves to my mate.

“The Air in this cave is cursed,” she tells the elderly jackal. “Your Motherwell is poisoned. Drinking blood from the cup won’t protect you. I can break the curse, but I can’t reverse it. By the time the poison’s worked its way out of the water and ground and plants, you’ll all be long dead. You believe the cup will cure your village and I hope you’re right, but even if you’re wrong, you have nothing to lose. You’re all dying.”

Maher grumbles and the elders look extremely disconcerted behind their beards. They draw away a few steps to confer. My mate returns to her rock. Rhodes takes her hand.

I’m going to bite that hand right off him.

No, you’re not, Luca snaps into my mind.

My twin being able to read my thoughts when he’s near me in our full Cait forms is not always an advantage.

The elders deliberate quickly and return to Kellan, sweeping deep bows to her.

“We agree to your plan, Professor Wyndham,” the elder who first spoke says. The other two nod.

“Okay.” My mate rises off her rock and dusts off her perfect bottom, which I still haven’t gotten a taste of because she always mounts me in her sleep. I really need to figure out a way to fuck my mate when she’s awake. “You’re probably not going to like this, but I think you should all leave. I have no idea what the magic I’m going to attempt will do to anyone in the vicinity, particularly the non-magickal.”

“Weres have their own magic,” Maher says.

“I get that,” Kellan responds. “I just have no idea if it will protect you against my magic. I’m not boasting, Jakob. My own magic plus my banshee blood is a potent combination. I’m going to draw on everything I have. You don’t want to be around when I do. You’ll be standing at ground zero.”

Maher rubs his hand over his face. “You’ve never unleashed your full magic around me before, have you?”

“Not even close,” Kellan says.

“I still have nightmares ... about the dead.”

Kellan nods. “My banshee blood calls the death-wind whenever I do deep Work. That’s what you saw, and you only saw it for a few seconds while I was holding open the portal for Cami and María José. Sorry to say this but expect the dead to walk through your village for a couple of years, if this works.”

The elders exchange speaking glances, but don’t protest. When the young driver climbs off his rock and puts his arm out to escort the creakiest of the three, they let him lead them off without demur.

Maher lingers, staring at Kellan. “Whatever ill will you have against me, don’t take it out on my village.”

Kellan pulls a limp paper bag out of her backpack and shakes it at Maher in a gesture I do not understand. “Anti-asshole charm, remember? I’m not going to do your village any harm and, if this works as I hope, I’ll be doing them some good.”

Maher gives her a final, hard stare. “It wasn’t the Seer, was it?”

Kellan’s throat works. “No.”

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