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“Ben Sagata. The alpha of the Lupa Clan.” Rhiannon shook her head. “He rules them with an iron paw, I gather. Rumors are he’s vicious and cruel, but he tries to keep his people on the right side of the law. Most of the time.”
“Whatever the case, I would not want to meet him in a dark alley.” But then again, I’d already had a run-in with two of the Lupas my first night home, and one of them had been taken out by the Shadow Hunters. “I wonder how he knew . . .”
“You mean that there was trouble? Probably the clan connection. Most Were clans have a connecting thread that runs through them.”
I glanced over at Peyton, who had joined us. She tossed her apron to Lucky, who took her place behind the grill. “Do you?”
“Do I what?” With a long sigh, she wiped her forehead, leaving a small streak of grease. I picked up a napkin and gently reached up to brush it off.
“Do you have a connection with the werepumas of your father’s tribe?”
She shrugged. “Da ran off years ago. Left us alone. He never took Mother home to meet his family—I don’t know if they even knew he married her. The werepumas are strong with magic, but unlike the werewolves they don’t tend to approve of interracial marriage, and since my mother is one of the magic-born, there’s a chance they don’t even know I exist. I’ve never gone to them to find out. I think I’m afraid they’ll reject me.”
“Do you want to meet them, ever?” I was curious. I wanted to meet my father, perhaps because my relationship with my mother had been so rocky and my father had given me the gift of flight. Especially now, since I had learned that Myst had been my mother in my life before. I wanted some feeling of roots, and the only ones to provide that had been Heather and Rhiannon. And now, Myst had Heather. Whom would she strip away from me next?
“I don’t know . . . as I said, I’m afraid they may reject me. But someday . . . if I marry and have children and any of them turn up with strong Were blood, I suppose I should, for their sake.” She looked uncomfortable, so I backed off.
“We should head home.” I motioned to Rhiannon.
“But you didn’t get your lunches,” Peyton said.
“Can you wrap them up for us?” The thought of a cozy lunch out had been pretty much disrupted by the Lupa wolves, and the world felt harsh and too bright with the snow. I wanted to go home, light a fire in the fireplace, and try to find some time for peace and solitude. I needed to meditate, to clear my mind and search for some semblance of inner peace.
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.
