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A shallow pit had been dug next to the granite, and inside the pit was a jumbled mishmash of remains. Remains of what—or rather, who—I didn’t know, but a tennis shoe rested near a pile of bones that were still covered with all too juicy bits of flesh and muscle still attached. There were other tattered remnants of clothing, and other bones—some cleaned to a high sheen, others still ripe—and I fought back my urge to empty my queasy stomach.
“There goes my appetite,” I muttered.
A shift in the light caught my attention, and I turned, dagger raised. The silhouette of a man was headed our way. He was almost invisible, and would be if he turned sideways. In the flickering of Morio’s fox fire, I spied the barest glimmer of a face in the inky depths of the shadow. Skeletal, it was frozen in a steady stare aimed directly at me.
“Great Mother Bast. It’s a revenant!” I whispered a quick prayer to the Mother of all Catkind for protection as I backed up, bumping into Roz, who was standing right behind me.
Smoky let out a long breath. “The cold won’t stop him. He’ll just find the frost a nice change.”
Rare entities, revenants tended to inhabit the Netherworld and Earthside haunts more than Otherworld ruins, but I knew what they were and what havoc they could wreak. A single touch from one was enough to give an FBH a heart attack. While they didn’t have the same effect on the Fae, they were capable of doing significant damage.
Camille glanced at me, then at the shadow. “What can we do?” she whispered, her voice raspy with fear. She glanced at Morio.
He grabbed her good hand. “Reverente destal a Mordenta.”
She nodded and placed her feet square, sliding her injured hand inside the pocket of her skirt. I wondered if she was looking for the unicorn horn, but when Morio began a low incantation and she fell in sync with him, I knew they were up to some sort of death magic.
Smoky looked ready to pull her away, and I grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. He swung on me, his eyes narrowing, but I pointed toward the shade. “We need all the help we can get. Do something—anything! I’ve got nothing. I’m no good against these things.”
Roz was frantically pawing through his duster. Vanzir pushed his way between the revenant, which was headed my way, and me. “It can’t really hurt me that much,” he said over his shoulder. “Stay behind me.”
I let out a long breath, hoping that we could dispatch the spirit before the venidemons cleared the frost out of their brains. Fighting both at once would be a disaster.
Smoky glanced at me as I pointed toward the nests. One of the flies had shaken off the snow and was almost aloft. He shook his head. “I can’t use that spell again for a while. Weather magic is taxing, especially in my human form. I’ll attack it if it comes this way.”
He was nervous. The thought that something might actually frighten the dragon hadn’t occurred to me before, but one look at his face told me his fear was for us, not himself. And that made me downright terrified.
Just then Vanzir whirled and shoved me back, sending me careening across the room. I blinked. What the fuck? And then I saw that the revenant had attacked him, trying to reach around to grab hold of me. As he grappled with the shadow, his arms went through it, and the spirit darted around him and once again was heading my way.
Cripes! I steadied myself and looked for a place to run. Why was it so interested in me, anyway? What the hell was so special about me? As it bore down, Smoky raced by and took a swipe at it, but his taloned hand just flew through the revenant, too. And then I was facing it—the creature from the Netherworld. As it reached out, I heard Camille scream, and everything began to grow fuzzy. Something was happening to me. The room went caving in as my body contorted, twisting in on itself, folding, melting, reforming into new bone and muscle and sinew.
And then I found myself on all fours—four big black feet, four silken furred legs—and my breath came thick and frozen in the chilled room.
And he was standing behind me, his jet hair streaming down his shoulders as a woven garland of burnished maple leaves flamed in a wreath around his head. His eyes were as I remembered them: twin diamonds in a black velvet tapestry. His cape—covered with a kaleidoscope of leaves and flame—fluttered around his black boots. Frost fell from his heels, and the scent of graveyard dust and old books and crackling bonfires embraced me. He tightened his grip on a silver chain that I now realized was attached to a collar. My collar.
The Autumn Lord turned to the revenant, who cowered in his presence. “Down, dog,” he said, and his voice rocked the room. “My Death Maidens are not for the likes of you.”
As the spirit backed away, I glanced up at my master, and he leaned down. “Delilah, my dear one. I have a task for you. And no specter from beyond the grave is going to interfere.” With a rough laugh, the Autumn Lord waved his hand, and the shadow vanished in a shriek of twisting color.
CHAPTER 6
A job? Through the heady scents that buffeted my senses, the words echoed in my ears. And then I felt myself begin to shift again. Within seconds, I was standing before the Autumn Lord in a cloud of mist and sparkling smoke. I couldn’t see the others, but from experience, I knew they were there, that we’d just shifted into a slightly different dimension.
After I’d regrouped from the sudden shift into panther form and back, I looked up at the Autumn Lord. Elemental Lords were always tall, it seemed, always towering above even someone of my height.
I hadn’t actually seen the Autumn Lord, except in dreams, since I’d faced down and defeated Kyoka, a thousand-year-old evil werespider shaman. I genuflected. After all, though not my own choice, the fact was the Lord of Autumn was my new master, and I bore a tattoo in the shape of a black scythe on my forehead that linked us, that would forever remind me of it. I owed him respect.
“I’m not sure what to call you,” I said.
He gazed down at me, a strange light dancing over his face. From this angle, he was handsome, darkly enticing, and I felt my breath flutter in my lungs. Was this why his Death Maidens who served him after their deaths were also his wives? Charisma, he had, but it was entwined with such otherworldliness that I couldn’t even consider whether he was handsome or not.
“No one knows my name, not a name such as you have, but I will give you one you may use. For your lips and my ears only.” He leaned over, and his lips grazed my ear, sending a shiver of fear through me that almost verged on arousal. “You may call me Hi’ran,” he said, then brushed his fingers across my lips.
I could barely breathe as the cold chill of his flesh sent sparks through my body. “Hi’ran,” I repeated, mesmerized by the feel of his touch. I opened my mouth, just enough for his finger to graze the inside of my lip.
“Hush and listen. You will never speak my name to another living soul, nor to any who are dead or walking beyond the grave. It is your link to me and exists only between the two of us.”
As he spoke, a mist drifted out from his fingers and entered my lips, and I felt it swirl in my mouth, the taste of cigar smoke and brandy and crackling hearth flames. I sucked it deep into my lungs, and the energy flowed through my body, heightening all of my senses. I wanted to fall into his arms, to feel his lips on mine. He was so alien and yet so seductive. And then the mist seeped into my throat and onto my tongue, and I knew I’d never be able to say his name aloud to anybody, nor write it down, nor transfer it in thought. It was our secret—and ours alone—and would remain hidden for the rest of my life.
