Desire Untamed (Feral Warriors #1)(63)

"She's part Mage, Untrained, I think," he told the healer, "Maybe she accidentally did this to herself. Or maybe this is my fault. I cut out her cantric."

Esmeria winced at his confession, but said nothing as she went back to work, shoving her hands beneath the blankets to lay her hands on Kara's wounds once more.

They'd made it to the Georgetown enclave without the draden finding them, but Kara wasn't healing, and her body was losing blood fast. Faster than her quickly healing body could make more. If this continued, her organs would start shutting down.

Lyon held Kara still as Esmeria worked. She lay tucked against him, beneath a warm layer of woolen blankets soaked with her blood, her skin white as death. He'd climbed into the dry tub with her the moment they'd arrived, not wanting to ruin any more carpets or furniture than necessary. Kara had to be losing a good pint every minute. Despite the blankets, she was shivering in his arms, and he was terrified that the spell, if that was what it was, would take her. That he'd caught Vhyper too late.

"How's she doing?"

Lyon looked up to find Tighe standing in the doorway. "We can't get this bleeding to stop."

Concern clouded his expression. "I'm sorry. Maybe the Shaman can help figure out what's wrong. He's just arrived, by the way."

As if on cue, Paenther stepped through the door, followed by the Shaman. Jag brought up the rear. One of the oldest of the Therians, the Shaman had been the victim of a Mage attack in his youth, and while he'd continued to age for a few more years, he'd ceased to grow or fully, physically, mature. He was taller than Kara, but not by much, and far shorter than other Therian males.

He wore his dark hair long and tied at his nape and still dressed in an old-world manner, with his black pants and ruffled white shirts. His thin face remained youthful, never having quite developed a full beard, nor the hard angles of a full-grown male. But the man had long since accepted what he was and often said a few inches of height was a small price to pay for the ability he'd acquired as a result. A talent for magic.

Though the man had a name, it was ancient and hard to pronounce. He'd long ago asked to simply be called the Shaman.

The three Ferals took up posts around the outer walls of the oversized bathroom while the Shaman came to sit on the side of the tub, opposite from where Esmeria continued to struggle against the constant flow of Kara's blood. His eyes were wary and guarded, reminding Lyon this man had as much reason to hate the Mage as Paenther did.

But as the Shaman stared at Kara, something shifted in his eyes, filling them with confusion. He reached out and placed his hand on her head, then slowly shook his own.

"She's not Mage." His eyes flicked up. "Why did you think she was Mage?"

It was moments before his words finally penetrated Lyon's stunned mind. "She had a cantric buried in her hip."

The Shaman's dark brows shot up. "A cantric." He closed his eyes and began to nod his head. "She's got echoes of a load of magic garbage inside her. Including a bleeding spell. Has she been around any Mage in the past few days?"

"She's been nowhere but Feral House."

"Any symptoms other than the bleeding?"

Lyon nodded. "She's been afraid. Terrified. And it's been getting worse. How long has she had that cantric?"

"Impossible to say. Maybe years. But the magic's new."

The Shaman watched her thoughtfully, then shot out a hand and laid it on top of Lyon's own head.

Lyon stifled the rumble in his throat and let the man work.

The Shaman stood and went to each of his warriors, one after the other, touching them thoughtfully.

"You're off. All of you."

"What do you mean… off?" Lyon demanded.

"Not bewitched, or anything like that, but off somehow. I suspect you have a dark charm in the house. A strong one. It would account for the oddness I'm feeling in you and for the strange fear your Radiant's been experiencing. That cantric acted as a magic catcher. Probably didn't bother her at all until she arrived at Feral House and came in contact with the charm. Whatever the dark charm was designed to do is probably going crazy inside her and may have triggered any number of old spells that cantric may have come in contact with long before it was ever put inside her. I don't feel it in her now. Did you take it out?"

"I did."

"Good." He looked thoughtful. "If she's been acting afraid, that might be the purpose of the dark charm. Have any of your men been experiencing similar symptoms?"

"Fear, no. But they've been going increasingly feral. I've had to lock up two of them."

"Definitely a dark charm, then. Probably with some kind of chaos spell. I see them from time to time, though I haven't heard of one strong enough to bother a houseful of Ferals in a long, long time." He rose. "I'll drive out there first thing in the morning and find that charm. Once I've taken a look at it, I'll be able to tell you more. In the meantime, I suggest you and your warriors each find a willing female and clear yourself of magic." He nodded at Kara. "Once she's healed, she's going to need a good sexual release, too." His eyes narrowed. "Full penetration. Nothing less is going to clean out that mess of magic inside her."

"There!" Esmeria cried. "I think… no." The healer pulled her bloody hands out from under the blanket and sat back with a sound of deep frustration. "I thought I'd stopped it."