Passion Untamed (Feral Warriors #3)(58)

"Come in, then," he said with a motion of his hand, and turned to start up the front steps.

Paenther met Skye's gaze. "You did it."

She gave him a smile that was part triumph and part wary uncertainty. She'd gotten them a pass into the Mage's house. What came next, neither could know.

Paenther kept a tight grip on Skye's hand as they followed the Mage up the steps and into the house, but his knife hand remained free and ready.

The old hermit led them through a spare, dated living room and into a kitchen that looked like it hadn't been updated in half a century. "Sit," he said as he picked up the teakettle and carried it to the sink. "Tea?"

"Yes, please," Skye said, sitting at the rough-hewn dining table.

"No." Paenther's reply was brusque, but he didn't care. He was taking nothing in this place. The Shaman might trust him, but Paenther trusted no Mage.

As Ezekiel pulled down two large coffee mugs and placed a tea bag in each, Paenther studied the man, noting the way his hair hung in stringy hanks around his shoulders. Though he carried no scent of body odor, his grooming habits were far from impeccable. One of the hazards of living alone, Paenther supposed.

Ezekiel glanced at him, his eyes sharp and curious. "How did Birik come by the Daemon blade, Feral?"

"Feral House was infiltrated by a Mage witch several months ago. A witch capable of hiding her eyes from us. One of our own was cut by the blade and turned."

The Mage filled the mugs with boiling water, then carried them to the table and set one before Skye, along with a small saucer and spoon for the teabag.

"Thank you," Skye said softly.

"He's lost his soul," the Mage said, meeting Paenther's gaze.

"No, Vhyper's soul is still there. I talked to him in Birik's cavern after Skye captured me."

Ezekiel looked between them with interest. "She captured you? I thought you rescued her."

Paenther scowled at him. "We rescued one another. As I was saying, there's humanity in Vhyper. It's hidden, forced down, but it's still there. I know what I saw."

"That may be." Ezekiel pushed a large platter of cookies toward Skye, then took one for himself. "Terrible sweet tooth," he admitted, before biting into the treat.

As Skye reached quickly for a cookie, he remembered with a pang that she still hadn't eaten. He'd make it up to her. As soon as they left here, he'd buy her a feast.

"I've been studying this soulless plague on and off for centuries."

"Centuries?" Paenther asks.

Ezekiel nodded. "Whenever a Mage gets infected with dark spirit, the cycle begins all over again."

"What do you mean?" Skye asked.

"When Satanan was captured and incarcerated in the Daemon blade, he left behind wisps of dark spirit around the Earth, hidden in cracks and crevices, in caves and within the ground. Over the many millennia since Satanan's capture, most of these wisps have found their way into beings of one kind or another, generally subjugating the soul that inhabited the body and turning it pure evil. Most of these creatures have been human. They cause tremendous suffering while they live, but humans don't live long, and when they die, the dark spirit dies with them. Lamentable, but not a huge problem. The far greater problem comes when the dark spirit infects one of the immortal races.

"It's largely believed that the demise of the Ilina race over a thousand years ago resulted from dark spirit's infecting their queen, a woman of prodigious power who may have understood what was happening and made the ultimate sacrifice in order to keep the darkness from spreading.

"Unfortunately, the Mage have always had a weakness for the dark power. There have been numerous instances of dark spirit infecting Mage over the millennia, with unfortunate results. The worst, though, is Inir, the current Elemental. He was a dark and dangerous soul before he was infected. And I, for one, believe the spirit that infected him possessed more than a trace of Satanan's consciousness. The dark spirit alone merely turns the individual to evil. But Inir has come into possession of vast stores of knowledge that should have been lost eons ago. I believe Satanan is working through Inir to free himself and his horde from the blade."

When Skye grabbed yet another cookie, Ezekiel frowned at her. "Does no one feed you?"

Paenther grunted. "I tried this morning and failed. Birik served her only the flesh of the animals she calls."

Ezekiel stared at her, then scowled. "Birik's a stupid, soulless bastard." He rose from the table and removed the cookies. "Spaghetti with tomato sauce, a large salad, and garlic bread." He peered at her. "Will that do?"

The smile that spread across her face was so pure, so beautiful, Paenther felt his heart seize.

"That sounds wonderful. Thank you."

A small smile breached the Mage's face for a split second before he nodded and grabbed a pot from one of the cabinets.

Paenther forced himself to focus on the man's words. "How is Inir infecting others if dark spirit can't be shared in that way?"

"He's not. Not exactly." Ezekiel turned on the tap and filled the pan with water. "At least not in the same way. I'm still trying to figure it out myself. It's my belief that the stronger souls he's turned will survive the attack of darkness. That in those individuals the darkness is reversible. The question is, how to free them."