Page 88 of Crossroads Magic
Benedict blew out his breath. “I’m a Caladrius.”
I drew a blank. After a few seconds, I said, “I do a lot of reading about supernatural things—”
He winced.
“What? ‘Supernatural’?”
“We all very natural,” he said quietly. “But I’m surprised you haven’t heard of my kind. There’s nothing glamorous about us. Nothing you could make into a sexy movie.”
“Broch?” I smiled.
“Ah, so youdoknow about him. He likes to warn people, so they don’t freak out about having Boris Karloff next to them.”
“Which is ironic, as he is one of the most congenial people I’ve met…and I’ve met a lot of people. So what are the Caladrius?”
“Caladrii,” he corrected. “We’re shifters.”
“Werewolves?” I breathed.
“Birds,” he replied. “Werewolves arenotnatural…not the way we are. They’re a stunted mongrel of a species that can’t reproduce except by infecting humans.”
I gasped. “The hikers! The group walking the greenway.Theywere werewolves.” I pressed my fingers to my temple. “Hirom called themdoggies. And I didn’t pick it up. Werewolves hate vampires. At least, that’s what the books usually say. And Broch was wary, that day.”
Benedict nodded. “They don’t have a lineage, except what they conjure up with their ‘breeding’ lines. And they resent anyone who they think might look down on them. They knew Broch for what he was—werewolves always know. But the neutrality of the highway made them keep the peace.”
“So you are a bird shifter?” I couldn’t imagine it. “What sort?”
“No sort,” he said. “My family can trace their roots back to Rome itself.”
“Marcus,” I said, with a note of wonder in my voice. “It’s an ancient Roman name.”
He nodded. “My family descends from the patrician Marcius family. Every male descendent is of the Caladrii, and a Caladrius is a healer. You’ll find us in Roman mythology. The healing bird. Only, we don’t breathe in vapors.” His smile was a quick flash.
“You hand out nostrums, instead,” I said, thinking of the blue liquid he had given Ghaliya.
“What I gave Ghaliya was an herbal tincture,” he replied, as if he had read my mind. “There was nothing powerful in it. Garlic, and some other herbs. That isn’t how we usually heal someone.”
“Then why didn’t you heal her? Could you have?” I thought of the agony she’d gone through after he had left and my anger stirred.
“I wanted to,” Benedict said. “But you were standing there and I…” He looked away. “I didn’t want you to see me do anything not human.”
I would have to think about that afterwards. “But later, when you gave her the tincture, you could have done what you do, then.”
“I wanted to try the tincture first.”
“Why?” I demanded. “If you knew you could help by…by doing whatever you do as a Caladrius, why didn’t you?”
Benedict looked uneasy. He rubbed the back of his neck.
“You could have helped my daughter!” I cried. “Yousaidyou could! But I had to dig up a spell and cast it myself! So tell me why you said you could help!”
He dropped his hand. “Because Iwantedto!” he shot back. “Do you not understand how badly I wanted to take away your pain? Your fear? But I’m not strong enough right now!”
He looked away again.
Huh? “What does that mean?”
“We’reshifters.” His voice was very low. “When I shift, when I fly, it is restorative. The ability to heal is finite. It weakens when used too much. But flying builds the power back up. I don’t know why. None of us do. But we understand how to manage it.”
