Eldritch Sparks Read online

  Chapter 2

  Roman knew without asking that I’d want a cup of tea. He was already puttering around in the kitchen, ignoring Sergei’s bemused expression. While the water boiled, he reached deep into a cupboard and pulled out a bottle, then grabbed a steak from the fridge. The steak didn’t surprise me that much, since he’d already explained that shifting required a lot of protein, but I hadn’t seen the bottle before. Roman was a bourbon man.

  After pouring a splash of golden liquid into two tumblers and slicing two thin strips from the raw steak, Roman extended one of each to his brother.

  “With meat and mead, we greet our guests,” he said solemnly.

  Sergei glanced at me. I had no idea what was going on but I raised my eyebrows as though I did and he was being rude. Frowning, he accepted and replied, “With meat and mead, we keep the peace.”

  My stomach did a little flip as they swallowed the meat whole and raw, then threw back their drinks.

  “You’ll let her see, but not take part?” Outrage tinged Sergei’s voice.

  I casually reached for the bottle, recognizing the logo on the label from visits to the farmers market. Ginger mead from one of the local meaderies, as potent as wine. I wondered if it would have the same effects that wine would in warding off the power hangovers I got when I called Air, or the same Chaotic effects that made me avoid alcohol in company.

  Roman, seeing that I had no interest in getting involved, answered for me. “She doesn’t drink.”

  “Witch?” Sergei eyed me speculatively.

  “No,” Roman said.

  “What then?”

  “That’s my business,” I interjected, relieved that he didn’t already know and wanting to keep it that way if I could. I was still having nightmares about being drowned by the elves after being discovered last winter. Still looking over my shoulder for Troy, the prince of House Monteague⁠—and the man who’d done the drowning on the order of an elven terrorist to avoid blowing his deep cover.

  I gritted my teeth and gave Sergei a level look. If Roman hadn’t told his family about that when he’d contacted them, I wasn’t keen for the rumors of my nature to spread west. Bad enough that half the Triangle seemed to be talking about elementals. Val, my dea friend and the only other elemental I knew, wasn’t super pleased with having to take extra precautions against discovery. The other local elementals avoided me entirely, thanks to my connections to both Callista and the elves.

  “Your business?” Sergei said, low and slow, after waiting for me to add more. When I accepted the cup of tea from Roman rather than elaborating, he scowled.

  “Speaking of business, what brings you here in person?” Roman said into the awkward silence as he leaned against the small dining table. The folding leaf clattered. “I thought I was dead to y’all.”

  “Technically, you still are.”

  I grinned. “Oooh, a super secret mission.”

  “Yes, actually,” Sergei said. Now that he knew neither Roman nor I would be bullied or seduced, he dropped both threat and charm, settling into an anxious uncertainty. Werewolves aged slowly, but something about Sergei was starting to make me think he was as young as he looked. “The clan doesn’t know I’m here. Pops wanted it kept quiet to avoid setting a bad precedent.”

  The slackening of his posture and energy brought my shoulders down a bit. I still didn’t trust him, nor did I like how he’d just turned up, but I’d listen to him if he wasn’t trying to throw his weight around. Having Callista and two-thirds of elfdom against me was enough to worry about without adding the most powerful wereclan in three states.

  Roman went to pour another drink, topping up Sergei’s glass when he nodded. “I’m not in the mood to sniff down trails,” Roman said. “What does he want?”

  “What he always wants. More.” Sergei studied me again but continued speaking to his brother. “Pops is pissed that you had the balls to reach out but more that you held back what she is and made yourself the key to the deal. Power shifts are bad enough without unknown players.”

  “And he’s always the wary one, I know.”

  “So. All you said was that you, Torsten’s coterie, the Monteagues, and a handful of djinn had come to an agreement facilitated not by Callista but by one Arden Finch.”

  If I hadn’t had years of practice not reacting to outrageous statements, I might have turned to glare at Roman. He’d told them about my involvement but didn’t say anything to me? Bitterness stung through me. He knew how much trouble I’d had juggling the vamps and the elves.

  Unfortunately, the control I maintained over my reactions apparently didn’t extend to my scent because Sergei sniffed and frowned at me. “Something in there is not quite right.”

  “Close enough,” I said, playing along until I could discuss it with Roman in private.

  Sergei grunted. “I see. What do the Volkovs need to do to join?”

  The shift of Roman’s eyes to wolf silver undermined his bland tones as he named the price. “Be ready to stand with the rest of us when we’re revealed to the humans.”

  Goosebumps raced down my arms, despite my having had a little over two months to get used to the idea.

  Our guest went ghost pale, his eyes shifting and a ripple shuddering over him, the way Roman reacted when he was fighting the change. “When⁠—what?”

  “There’s a start-up in RTP. Healthtech,” I drawled, as though I was completely accustomed to everything happening here. They would both be able to hear my heart racing, but in Otherside⁠—and especially with wereanimals⁠—attitude counted. “They’re on the verge of developing a test that will out us. Callista wants to get in front of it.”

  “You know this how?”

  “I’m a private investigator.”

  A sneer twisted Sergei’s lip. “You’re a snitch.”

  I couldn’t help laughing. “Nah. I solve problems for humans. Pure serendipity that I was hired for that job.” Tilting my head, I gave him my best dead-eyed stare. “The snitching comes in when I act as a Watcher.”

  His eyes widened, and he took a step back before he could catch himself. Face flushing and fists clenching, he looked at his brother and snapped, “Is this a joke or a trap?”

  “Neither,” Roman said as he eased between me and Sergei, protective as ever. “Arden has a knack for dropping into the middle of things.”

  Sergei gritted his teeth. “And this Reveal? Why weren’t we consulted?”

  I took a step to the side, wanting Sergei to see I could stand on my own two feet. He needed to keep wondering what kind of Othersider I was to be tapped as a Watcher, privy to Callista’s plans, and powerful enough to get the master of Raleigh and an elven House to play nice with the wereclans after thirty years of restrained tension. “Callista has her reasons.”

  “Meaning you don’t know.”

  “Meaning since when have any of us had a say?” Roman pointed out. “Isn’t it time we changed that?”

  “Be careful, brother. That’s dangerous talk from a cur with no pack.”

  “This cur managed to survive fifteen years alone and win friends of influence. Be careful yourself.”

  They stared at each other, a dominance battle I was already bored of. Finishing my tea, I gave them both my back as I went to drop the tea bag in the trash and rinse the cup.

  “Arden!” Roman shouted, but the deep-chest growl from behind had warned me. My hearing wasn’t werewolf-good, but it wasn’t human, either.

  I hauled open the fridge door just in time for Sergei to crash into it. He bounced off with a yelp and tripped. I pounced, riding him down with a throat jab pulled short enough not to crush his windpipe but not short enough to avoid hurting him.

  “Don’t try me,” I warned over his bark of pain and surprise.

  “Bad move, Sergei,” Roman said in a bass growl. “You’ve broken peace.”

  “She⁠—never drank,” the wolf cringing beneath me rasped.

  I
needed to establish my own dominance, or I’d be looking over my shoulder for this one as well as Troy. “We won’t have any more problems, will we, Sergei? Or I’ll show you what I learned on my last visit to the Crossroads.”

  Neither of them knew the only thing I’d learned in the Crossroads was that I’d drawn the attention of the old gods somehow and didn’t want to go back. It wasn’t something I talked about. But rumors of the Crossroads were dark enough to make Sergei nod enthusiastically, or try to, with his bruised throat. I waited until he went still and bared it to me entirely, having learned from tickling wars with Roman to look for the gesture.

  “Good boy,” I mocked when he offered it, waiting another second to make my point before rising and going to lean against the counter.

  He bared his teeth as he rose, and for a moment I thought I might have pushed him too far. Then he shook himself and backed down again.

  “You staying in town?” Roman asked in a deceptively calm drawl, pulling his brother’s attention away from me.

  “Yes, though I was hoping for some fast food.”

  Roman shook his head, the drawl firming. “No.”

  “No?”

  “You’re not hunting in my woods. Not when setting me up for an out-of-season kill can score you political points back home. If I find out you did anything other than buy mundane food from a real restaurant or store, you’ll regret it.” He stared his brother down. “And I will find out.”

  Sergei’s smile had an edge to it, and I didn’t know if it was because he’d been caught plotting or simply that he was pissed at having to obey an exile. “Perhaps you could spare a steak then. It is the full moon, after all.”

  “It’s time to go, Sergei,” Roman said, glowering.

  “He’s not shy about asking for things, is he?” I grumbled.

  Roman shrugged. “You don’t ask, you don’t get. Or you have to steal it. ‘Scuse me.” He leaned to kiss my temple. “I’ll just walk him to his vehicle.”

  With Roman escorting Sergei out, I had a minute to myself. Did I want to be angry about this? Yeah…I think I do.

  Roman had no control over Sergei turning up unannounced, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about having spoken to his pack, let alone dropping my name into it. My understanding had been that he was waiting to see what Torsten would come back with before taking the massive step of reaching out to his family. Now it looked like he’d gotten ahead of himself and dragged me in behind him.

  Footsteps crunching up the gravel path gave me a last few seconds to prepare for the coming fight⁠—ahem, discussion⁠—with Roman. They did nothing to prepare me for the psychic wail that ripped through my consciousness.

  Every muscle in my body spasmed at once. A scream tore free, dragging all the air from my chest until my insides crumpled like an empty chip bag. When there was nothing left, I toppled.

  The world went black then flashed to white. I writhed, face down in fine-grained nothingness, pins and needles pricking every one of my nerves.

  The Crossroads.

  None of my limbs worked. Moving hurt. So did not moving. I opted for the former, pushing through immateriality until I found my feet. The Crossroads was not a place I wanted to be and not a place I should be able to reach on my own. The djinn could reach it. So could Callista.

  And so could the old gods.

  “She felt it. How curious.”

  I whirled, time passing like molasses even though I faced the other direction in half the blink of an eye. A dark-skinned woman leaned on a was staff and twirled an ankh round her finger. Arrow shafts poked out of a quiver at her hip, and a bow rode on her back. A strip of red cloth held long locs away from her face, and her red kilt fluttered in an unfelt wind under strip-leather armor.

  “Curious? More disturbing,” her black-masked companion said. He was striped in red and white paint, with deer hoof spools dangling from his ears, and the Milky Way glimmered where his eyes should be. The last time I’d been here, he’d shot me with an arrow that had crackled with lightning when I pulled it out. I still had it, buried deep in my closet, and I never wanted to touch it again.

  Fear gripped me by the throat. That arrow had fucking hurt, and none of the gods had been on my side. On the contrary; they’d been willing to let me be a sacrifice of blood and bone because I couldn’t summon enough Air to suit them after having been metaphysically beaten within an inch of my life and fighting back to kill a terrorist.

  “Nothing to say?” The goddess circled me, still whirling her ankh.

  The god smiled, raising a hand to bounce a ball of flame from fingertip to fingertip. “Perhaps she is to be a sacrifice after all.”

  “Fuck that,” I gasped, taking a step backward in a jerky, fast-slow way. I didn’t remember that from the last time I’d been here, but last time, a djinni had framed the Crossroads for me.

  “Some spirit! Excellent.” The ball of flame bounced faster.

  “What do you want?” My voice was unsteady, but I think they liked it. Fear was as good as adoration to them, I guess.

  “Only to examine you for a moment. You’re still weak but growing stronger, and the time is coming,” the goddess said. Neith, I thought, recalling the research I had done after the first time I woke from a nightmare of my last visit here, and the god was Mixcoatl.

  I couldn’t keep an eye on her and Mixcoatl at the same time. They could move here. I couldn’t, and I was going to dislocate a knee trying to turn quickly enough to keep them both in sight. “What time?”

  “She did not feel that a moon ago,” Mixcoatl said, ignoring me and clenching his fist to extinguish the flame.

  Neith’s gaze seemed to weigh me. “No, I think not.”

  “Feel what?” I asked, unable to help the natural curiosity that came with being a private investigator, even though my heart thudded.

  They grinned like cats, already fading.

  “The magician,” Neith said.

  Then they were gone, and with a jolt, so was the Crossroads.

  Chapter 3

  Four silver eyes stared down at me when I found reality again, and two disastrous things happened. First, as soon as I found breath, I reflexively pulled on Air and forced it outward, blowing the predator eyes away in a gust of wind as I pushed myself backward and out of reach.

  Second, Sergei lost control, went full wolf faster than I would have thought possible, and launched himself at me.

  Snarling and snapping erupted as Roman met him, changing even as they collided. The wall of the trailer bowed as they crashed into it. The coat stand overturned with a clatter when they rolled into that next. Someone was going to think there was a dogfight going on and come to investigate or call the cops. If that happened, we were in breach of the Détente and fucked six ways from Sunday.

  “Enough!” I forced a wedge of Air between the two and ripped them apart. Roman had the sense to stay where he was thrown. Sergei gathered himself for a leap.

  I’d been right. He made a massive wolf with intimidating teeth and claws that gouged the already scuffed linoleum floor. That only mattered if he could reach me though.

  “Stay,” I snapped, making a grabbing motion with my right hand. I didn’t need gestures to do my magic, but I’d found they focused my intent more.

  Sergei halted, wrapped in loops of solidified Air, not tight enough to hurt but enough to keep him where he was.

  “Arden,” Roman murmured.

  I turned, and he winced at whatever was in my face⁠—or maybe it was the glowing gold of my eyes, giving me away as an elemental as much as the wind had.

  “Your hand, babe.” He quivered, trying to force a reversal of his shift when there was too much fear and adrenaline in the air.

  My right hand, directing my magic, was fine. My left dripped blood where I’d dug my nails into my own palm. I opened my fist and stared at it, unable to look away from the swelling beads dancing as my hand shook.

  A vicious grow
l drew my attention back to Sergei. With a thought, I muzzled him, looping a breeze around his snout and stiffening the air molecules.

  “You need to learn manners,” I said, “Before someone has to teach them to you, or worse, calls the fucking police.”

  The wolf stilled and whined.

  “Do. Not. Fuck. With. Me.” I punctuated each word with a pointed jab of Air in his ribs to make my point. “If I can survive the elves and kill a fucking elven prince, I can bury you without breaking a sweat.” That was only partially true, but hey, I was still here and Leith Sequoyah was dead at my hand.

  Sergei whined again, and I let go of Air. He clattered to the floor, landing in an ungraceful heap of long limbs and grey fur before slinking behind the couch. I shuddered at the sound of bones rearranging in both him and Roman, who managed to convince his body to shift back as soon as his opponent was out of sight.

  “Bleeding mother of the twins,” Sergei said in a growl from behind the sofa. The sound of the shift continued. “She’s an elemental. I thought they were myths or that the elves had killed them off. Roman, how the hell did you get mixed up with one of those?”

  “I’m right here,” I snapped. “Don’t you talk about me like I’m not, and don’t make me remind you about manners.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Sorry.” He popped up just as his eyes returned to a solid grey that could pass for human. He flushed, making him look even younger. “It’s just⁠—I mean⁠—”

  Roman cleared his throat.

  Sergei glanced at him, then at my raised eyebrows.

  “I’ll get you some pants,” Roman grumbled as Sergei rolled his eyes and grabbed the car magazine on the side table, holding it in front of himself.

  Sergei and I waited. He glanced around the trailer while I looked anywhere but at him. I don’t think either of us had a problem with his nakedness in principle, but it was weird seeing my boyfriend’s little brother in the nude on our first meeting.

  “This was not how I planned on this meeting going,” he said as the silence grew heavy.