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Peyton nodded. “I’ll be over tomorrow to finish up on the shop front with you. I can’t come tonight because Mom needs me to help her with the housework.” Peyton was a good daughter, helping Anadey as much as she could.
“No problem, Geoffrey’s insisted on seeing me tonight. I’m not looking forward to it, tell you that much.” I let out a long sigh at the thought, wanting to chuck everything and go hide my head under the covers.
“Lannan summon you, too?”
“Gods, I hope not.” As Anadey brought us our meals, wrapped in recyclable containers in a paper sack, I handed her a twenty and motioned for her to keep the change.
“You look tired, my dear.” She gave me a quiet smile.
“I am tired.”
“You need to fly. Go home, meditate, and stretch your wings. Rhiannon—tomorrow, you come over for your lesson.” And with that, Anadey was off, serving the rest of her bustling diner, all signs of the fight with the Lupas extinguished.
I picked up the sack of food and turned to Rhiannon. “Let’s get moving.”
“The snow is piling up awfully fast.” She struggled to push the door open and one of the busboys came out after us with a snow shovel and shoveled our path to Favonis.
On the ride home, I stared at the bleak winter as the wind howled around the car. Ulean, is Myst growing in her power to harness the weather?
She is, my friend, she is. And if you don’t stop her, the winter will never end. She is the season, Cicely. She is the dark night of the year.
After lunch, Rhiannon went to lie down for a while and I retired to my room, determined to spend the afternoon in flight. I needed to transform so badly that my body ached, and my spirit felt trapped, locked up like a canary in a gilded cage.
I slipped out of my clothes, shivering as I opened the window and crouched on the sill, my pendant around my neck. Closing my eyes, I reached for that feeling of transformation, of the winds lifting me aloft. A swirl of snow caught my breasts, but I ignored it, focusing on a silver light that grew from somewhere deep within me. The light started as a narrow beam, a laser point, and grew, spreading like the blast from an atom bomb. As it spread out to encompass my toes and then my feet, the sensation worked its way up my body, spinning me around.
I tensed, gritting my teeth as I leaned forward, and then the ground whistled up to meet me as I let go and swandived out the window.
Within a blink, I was in owl form. The shift came easier each time.
I rose on the wind, Ulean shrieking with delight as she flowed along beside me, sparkling currents on the slipstream. The air slid past, ruffling my feathers as I dipped and turned, screeching in pure joy, my wings slowly flapping two or three times before I stretched them out to glide on the updraft.
The ground stretched below, a panorama of white, and the house and forest seemed at the same time so huge but so small as I circled overhead, reveling in the freedom flight brought me.
And then, there he was—the great horned owl—swooping in from the side to match my movements. We flew, synchronizing movements as he encouraged me to turn on the wing, to glide like a shadow over the yard.
You are out during the daylight—not usual, my friend.
He tipped, wing to ground, as he turned and I followed suit. I kept watch for you. It’s dangerous out here for young owls. I would not have you get hurt.
Who are you? Are you one of the Cambyra—the Uwilahsidhe?
There was a silence. And then: I will teach you to hunt now. You may never need this skill, but if you get stuck in your owl form, you should know how to take care of your needs.
Inside, I grimaced. I didn’t really relish eating a mouse or rat, but then something in my blood stirred and I followed him without protest as we headed over the yard. Not that I really expected much prey to be out—the snow had started to fall more thickly and the flakes were sticking to my wings.
As we glided over the backyard, the great horned owl suddenly made a slight motion with his head and turned sharply, homing in on a movement on the snow. Two rabbits were there, beautiful and white against the ground, hidden by the camouflage of their coats. I stared in horror as the owl began a hunting pass, but then my blood stirred and all I could see was a red haze and the hunger hit me.
I targeted the smaller of the rabbits, who suddenly looked skyward and then started to run, but we were faster and I flew low over the smaller of the pair, instinctively bringing my feet forward and extending my talons. With one swipe, I grabbed the screaming rabbit by the scruff of the neck and powered myself back into the air. Exhilarated, I rose and followed the owl as he flew to the great oak.>She brightened as we entered the diner and motioned to an empty booth. I glanced at the counter. Werewolves from the Lupa Clan . . . crap. Why they ate here, I didn’t know—considering how much they detested the magic-born—but a few had become regulars and were in here every time we dropped by.
They snarled as Rhiannon and I walked by, and I ignored them. It was dangerous to engage the Lupas, and we did our best to pretend they didn’t exist. I slipped into the booth on one side, Rhiannon on the other. Anadey came by, pulling out her pad.
“You girls want hot coffee?”
Rhiannon shook her head. “No more for me today. Tea, though—strong, with milk.”
I glanced up at the older woman. She was pushing sixty, but in pretty good shape even though her bones creaked and her muscles hurt from the long hours she spent on her feet. Anadey crackled with magic. She was one of the shamanic witches who could work with all four elements—unusual, and they were usually loners.
“I want a hot mocha, please. Triple shot, with whipped cream and chocolate shavings, please.” I smiled at her and she laughed.
