Passion Untamed (Feral Warriors #3)(57)

Lyon had called a short while ago to tell him Hawke and Kougar had found no sign of the Mage who'd called him through his shackles. It was possible Birik's control over him extended much farther than they'd believed. Lyon had urged him to be careful.

Paenther glanced at Skye, who watched out her window, her fingers laced with his. He still held her hand. For reasons he wasn't entirely sure of, touching her calmed him. Grounded him. And seemed to do the same for her.

"We're here, Beauty."

Finally releasing her hand, he handed her the map printout he'd pulled from the computer before he left. An aerial map upon which the Shaman had drawn a star in what appeared to be an empty lot a block from the beach. "This one's up to you. If the Shaman's right, I won't be able to see it."

He drove down the road, per the Shaman's directions.

Skye pointed. "There."

All he saw was a plot of sand between two large, dark beach houses set high on stilts. "I'll take your word for it." He parked the car at the edge of the road and climbed out.

As he helped Skye out, she looked up, meeting his gaze, a worried look in her eyes. "The Shaman told me to call the animals, but the last time I did that, I forced the Ferals to shift, and they couldn't shift back right away. What if it does something bad to you, too?"

Paenther shrugged and ran his fingers through her hair. "Don't call so hard this time."

A small smile lifted her mouth. "Okay."

As she closed her eyes, it was all he could do not to lean forward and kiss her. But her magic was already unpredictable enough. Better to let her do this on her own.

Within a few minutes, three feral cats and two red foxes ran up to her. As she knelt and greeted each one with a stroke of her hand and a soft word, doves and crows and a dozen seagulls gathered around her, several landing on her shoulders and head. She only smiled and reached up to stroke them, too.

A bemused smile on her face, she stood and looked at him. "Ready?" She turned and opened a gate in a fence he couldn't see.

As Paenther followed her through the sea oats, a man suddenly appeared a dozen yards in front of them, fury on his face. Old, the Shaman had said, but like all immortals, he appeared to be no more than thirty. Except for his clothing. He was dressed much as humans must have been in the early days of civilization, in a simple brown belted robe that fell to his ankles. Worn sandals covered the soles of his feet. His brown hair was long and stringy, a short beard covering his jaw and upper lip.

Paenther snagged Skye around the waist and pulled her behind him, birds and all.

"Who do you think you are?" the Mage demanded.

Paenther growled low in his throat. "The Shaman told us where to find you, Ezekiel."

"Little Therian bastard." With a dismissive wave of his hand, the Mage turned away.

"Skye's an enchantress and needs some guidance."

Ezekiel paused, then turned back slowly, eyeing the creatures on her shoulders and at her feet. Then his gaze rose and widened, looking beyond them. "Well, I'll be."

At the sound of a low whinny, Paenther turned and stared at the two horses. Skye's face lit. As she went to them, Paenther turned a wary gaze back to Ezekiel. "Mustangs?"

"Aye. Only a powerful enchantress could call them like that."

He looked back to where Skye stood stroking their sleek brown necks. Mustangs ran wild on the island, the descendants of horses brought ashore by Spanish explorers around the time he himself was born.

Skye sent the horses away and came back to join him. "We need your help, Ezekiel." Her voice was firm and strong even as her hand slid into his. "Since I was a child, the archsorcerer, Birik, has used my gift to raise dark power. Now he's trying to open the Daemon blade. We have to stop him."

The Mage grunted. "There's nothing I can do." But he didn't turn away this time.

Skye's cool fingers squeezed his hand. "The Ferals will stop him. But thanks to a couple of Mage attacks, this warrior is in danger of losing his animal. The Shaman thinks I might be able to help him if I learn to pull the good energies. I need you to teach me."

"And what is it to me?"

She released Paenther's hand and started to step forward, but he barred her way with his arm. She glanced at him, but didn't fight him.

"Do you know what Inir's doing?" she asked the Mage instead.

He grunted. "Stealing souls."

"Yes."

"He hasn't stolen mine, and he's not going to because no one knows I'm here! Or they didn't," he added with a grumble.

"The Shaman said there's no darkness in your heart," Skye said softly. "I can see that in your eyes. It's been a long time since I've seen Mage eyes with a soul."

Ezekiel frowned, peering at her. "Why are you with a Feral?"

"He rescued me from Birik. I was the only one in that stronghold who hadn't been turned."

"Birik will be after you, then."

"He's after both of us. He used us to free three wraith Daemons from the blade. I've seen what they do."

The Mage muttered something unintelligible under his breath as he turned away. Suddenly, the run-down lot disappeared. In its place stood a small frame structure, far older than its neighbors. Unlike the other homes, it sat only a few feet off the ground as if only grudgingly acknowledging the nearby ocean. Quaint, with two dormer windows attesting to a small second story, it appeared freshly painted and surprisingly well maintained.