Hour of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #1) (21 page)

the soft groaning of the trees swaying in the wind. Thin gray clouds trailed across the sky,

blotting the sun‘s warmth, and the air was so cold it hurt her lungs. Alec would probably come

out to check on her if she stayed here much longer. He never seemed to leave her alone for—

She thumped her head against the trunk. Had she subconsciously hoped he‘d chase after her

when she left Cold Creek? God, she was such an idiot.

Well. She exhaled slowly and watched her breath hang in the air before the breeze took it

away. At least that idea was killed dead. Absolutely no hope of a relationship. She shouldn‘t

have let Alec talk her into coming up here. And damned if he‘d keep her from going back down.

If Swane had people watching her house, well, wouldn‘t it be too bad if she had to disable a few?

Break her heart, it would.

Fine, then. Get breakfast and some coffee, bundle up, and move out. She had a plan.

Shoving her icy fingers under her arms, she headed back to the cabin.

She stepped inside and stopped at the sight of Alec near the fireplace. Buck-naked. Washing

himself off with a sponge. The light from outside glowed against his skin, highlighting the hard

muscles, the tight curve of his ass, his long, lean thighs, and glinted off the golden-brown hair at

his groin and chest. Her breath strangled in her throat, and every little hormone that had finally

cooled down flared up again like she‘d been napalmed. Growling, she backed out and slammed

the door behind her so hard the cabin shook. An avalanche of snow from the roof hit her, and

something thudded on her boot. She looked down.

It was a tiny doll, the size of her hand. On the roof? Probably some boy had teased his sister

by throwing her dolls up there. She‘d get Alec to return it to whomever.

She turned the toy over, smiling. Naked. Anatomically correct with small high breasts.

Pointed ears? An elf doll?

It moaned.

―Fuck!‖ Vic dropped it, caught it in midair, and felt it move slightly within her grasp. It was

one of those tree-thingies. She shoved the cabin door open. Naked or not, Alec needed to answer

more questions. ―Yo, cat-boy!‖

The irritated look on his face was a pleasure to see. He‘d donned his jeans and was pulling

on a green flannel shirt that matched his eyes.

She held up the doll-that-wasn‘t-dead. ―What the hell is this thing?‖

He walked over. ―Oh, shit.‖ Cradling the doll-thing gently in his hands, he squatted next to

the fireplace. ―Toss more wood on, would you?‖

With another log, the fire blazed higher. She dropped down into the pile of blankets beside

him. ―What is it?‖

―She, not it.‖ Alec held it closer to the heat. ―She‘s a wood-sprite. A forest pixie.‖

―Oh, well, I knew that,‖ Vicki said sarcastically. ―What‘s wrong with it— her?‖

―They hibernate during cold spells. She probably came out for some sun and got caught by

the storm. Didn‘t make it back to her hole.‖

―Will she be okay?‖ The little thing looked dead.

―Should. We‘ll bring her out of hibernation and take her to her tree. She‘ll need food. Here,

hold her while I get something for her to eat.‖

He handed Vic the tiny body before she had a chance to object. ―But—what do I do? Jesus,

Alec, I don‘t know what to do!‖

―Hold her close enough to the fire that your fingers feel toasty. Try not to drop her.‖ When

he grinned, she wanted to slug him, but he stood out of reach.

Staying motionless, Vic felt the chill leaving the pixie, and it took an occasional breath. It

really was alive. Fucking-A, I‟m holding Tinkerbelle. When it quivered in her hand and opened pale green eyes, sheer wonder filled her. A pixie.

Alec returned with a four-foot pine branch and a handful of evergreen spriggets. ―Not the

finest cuisine, but it‘ll do.‖

The pixie blinked at him, and he smiled at her. ―Hey, sprite.‖

―Does it speak English?‖ Vic whispered.

―They don‘t talk much more than a squirrel does, but they understand quite a bit.‖ He held

up a tiny piece of fir and laughed when the pixie sat up and snatched it out of his grasp. Vic

stayed steady as it perched on her palm, nibbling on the greenery. ―It‘s warm.‖

― She—and that‘s good.‖ Alec propped the large branch against the wall, securing the base

with chunks of firewood. ―There. She can hang out in here and finish warming up.‖

Vic leaned over and extended her hand. The pixie dropped the greenery and leaped,

disappearing in the foliage. ―Cool.‖

Alec piled the pine and fir sprigs next to the branch. ―Good eating, pixie. Have at it.‖

A tiny hand reached down and snatched up a piece.‖

Vic stared at the branches. ―It‘s just like the pixie-thing living in the oak in my front yard. It

keeps throwing things at me.‖

Alec picked up his coffee. ―Mmmmh, she‘s been pretty bad-tempered ever since old Bert

died, and the new owner turned the house into a rental. Pixies are offended by change.‖

―Me too.‖ Like having little things appearing all over the place. This whole mountain was

weird. She settled back into the blanket pile. ―You know, I—‖ With his cup halfway to his

mouth, Alec stared at her as if she‘d turned into some freakish pixie-thing.

―What?‖ she snapped.

―It didn‘t even register—you can see her.‖

―Well, duh, she‘s there, isn‘t she?‖

―No. Not to humans.‖ Alec scowled. ―I keep forgetting you‘re not Daonain. You have the

Sight.‖

―Do I look blind?‖ He was acting really bizarre. ―What did you put in your coffee?

Whiskey? I want some.‖

He rose and filled her cup again. She sniffed it. No alcohol in hers. Didn‘t that just figure.

Silently, he settled beside her, close enough for her to feel his warmth. Close enough that

she wanted to crawl into his lap and share lots of warmth.

―Are you okay?‖ she asked.

―Not hardly. We need to talk about this, Vixen. How long have you been seeing pixies?‖

From the look in his eyes—so much darker a green than the pixie‘s—he really was upset.

On her part, she felt pretty fine. What a major relief to know he saw mini-people thingies

too. Maybe she wasn‘t a candidate for a psych hospital after all.

―Vicki? Answer me.‖

―Oh. Sorry. Pretty much since I got to Cold Creek. At first I only saw flickers, maybe a hand

sticking out…‖ She trailed off as a pixie hand poked out of the branches and grabbed more food.

―After you arrived? Not before?‖

―After. I saw dwarf-looking people in the tavern one night. What other strange critters do

you have in this area?‖

―In this area? What—‖ He broke off and tilted his head, listening. A second later, Vic heard

the scrunching of snow under someone‘s feet.

Alec was at the entrance before she even stood; the man could move when he wanted to. He

cracked the door, then opened it wide. ―I didn‘t expect you today.‖

―Something came up.‖ Calum clapped his brother on the shoulder and stomped snow off his

bare feet. Without even a blush, he walked into the cabin, bare-ass naked. Okay, yeah, she‘d seen

him stripped before. In moonlight. Now, by the light of the lanterns and fire, she couldn‘t drag

her eyes away. Hell, no woman breathing would have been able to look away. He must have

exerted himself running up the mountain for every muscle on his darkly tanned body was

pumped and rippling. And his body was all muscle. She swallowed.

To her regret, he dressed quickly in a black sweater and jeans from the wooden bin. After

pulling on a pair of thick woolen socks, he finally looked over at Vic and pinned her with those

dark eyes.

She saw an accusation in them and stiffened. Whatever it was, she hadn‘t done it. Well,

maybe she had, but she was leaving. It didn‘t matter. ―What now?‖

When his gaze finally released her, he noticed the branch and glanced quizzically at Alec.

―Vicki found a frozen pixie,‖ Alec said. ―She saw it.‖

―Interesting.‖ He put a tea bag in a mug and added boiling water from the pot.

Alec narrowed his eyes. ―You don‘t sound surprised.‖

After seating himself at the table, Calum set his cup to one side. ―I think you‘ll understand in

a minute. Victoria, join us, please.‖

His low authoritative order made her feel like a two-year-old. Annoyed, she tossed another

chunk of wood into the fireplace. They might be used to this weather, but Iraq‘s climate was a lot

warmer. She took a chair across the narrow table from Calum.

Alec sat beside her.

―When you said goodbye to Thorson, you told him Lachlan made you a gift,‖ Calum said.

She felt Alec freeze beside her and started to turn toward him.

Reaching across the table, Calum cupped her chin in his hand, his fingers warm, but firm.

―No. Talk to me.‖ His deep voice held the authority of a master sergeant.

―Yes, sir. What do you want to know?‖

―Just before Lachlan died, did he do or say anything strange? Give you a reason to feel he

wasn‘t thinking clearly.‖

―Well…‖

―Victoria, I realize you tried to save Thorson pain, but I need to know it all, ugly or not.‖

She pulled back. ―The kid was trying to think of something and couldn‘t remember it. Then

he said...um, something about fire and blood. He got blood on his hand...― She stared down at the

table. Remembering…

He touched her filthy face and smiled at the dirt on his bloody fingers. ―Earth.‖

―Honey, I want you to rest,‖ she urged. Please don‘t do this to me—live! ―Just concentrate

on breathing and—‖

―And finally my spirit—that‘s the gift. I remembered it,‖ he told her, pride in his voice.

―C‘mere.‖ He lifted his arm, like for a hug and she leaned forward, winced as his hand came

down on her bitten shoulder and dug in.

“…but he didn‘t-didn‘t live. He was—‖ She blinked furiously, her throat tight, her arms

remembering the feel of the boy as he went limp. Why did bodies get heavier when the soul had

flown? Flown, God, she was getting all sentimental. She pulled in a shuddering breath, gave up

the pretence, and roughly rubbed the wetness from her cheeks.

The silence finally registered. Alec was never quiet. She looked up to see him staring at her

as if she‘d grown horns. Calum had an intent look on his face, a finger tapping his lips.

She slapped the table hard enough to make her fingers sting. ―Tell me what‘s going on.

Now!‖

Calum glanced at his brother, one eyebrow slanting up.

―He performed the Death Gift? For Vicki?‖ Alec‘s voice was ragged.

She made a fist. If they didn‘t explain, well, she was going to have to hurt them.

Calum took her hand and gently opened her fingers. His gaze held…pity? She stiffened.

―Victoria, just listen to me. First of all, Daonain are descended from the Fae.‖ He noticed

her blank look. ―The Sidhe? Fairies?‖

―You come from something six inches high with wings? Pull my other leg.‖ She attempted a

laugh and failed.

Alec snorted. ―Not Disney fairies. More like...ah, the elves in Lord of the Ring. Tall,

slender, magical. Lived in woods. Didn‘t like iron.‖

Metal—she could hear Lachlan‘s weak voice, ―My body pretty much shut down yesterday;

I‘ve been on borrowed time since. It‘s a shifter thing; all that metal, you know.‖

Calum continued, ―Before they abandoned our world—oh, a couple of thousand years ago—

the Fae occasionally had offspring with humans. Some of those Fae were shapeshifters, so their

mixed-blood children inherited the ability along with the other fairy traits. When Daonain mate,

new shifters are born.‖

―Yeah. Alec explained that part.‖ That heavy feeling crawled into her chest again.

―Did he now?‖ Calum‘s gaze went to Alec and returned to her. ―There is one other way to

create a new shifter. We call it the Death Gift ritual.‖

Ritual? She had a bad feeling about that word. She tugged at her hand, but he didn‘t release

his grip.

―Like the Fae, shifters are partly magical,‖ Calum said. ―The Death Gift is pure magic. All

Daonain learn it and know it is ours to use if we so choose...at the time of our passing.‖

She stiffened, shook her head. No.

―Yes. Lachlan wasn‘t confused. He invoked the ancient ritual to make you a shifter.‖

Relief rushed through her. ―It didn‘t work, then. I‘m no werecritter.‖ She turned her hand

over within his grasp. ―See? No fur.‖

―And none on me.‖

Oh, shit. She stared at him, remembering how he‘d blurred, then been a mountain lion, all

power and grace.

―How long have you seen pixies?‖ Calum asked.

―Soon after she got to Cold Creek,‖ Alec said. ―Dwarves, too.‖

What did that have to do with being a furball? ―I see what‘s here, and this mountain has

pixies and dwarves all over it.‖ She had the urge to hunker down as if a ‗ma deuce‘ had just

opened fire.

―So that‘s what you meant.‖ Alec shook his head. ―Vicki, there are sprites all over the

world.‖

Her jaw dropped. ―No. I never saw them before...‖

―One of those fairy traits,‖ Calum said, ―is the Sight—the ability to see the OtherFolk.‖

―Oh, hell.‖ This was so not good. She pulled her hand away from Calum‘s grasp and hugged

herself. The entire world seemed to have transformed, like flying from the arctic to the tropics,

only much, much worse. Pull it together, Vic. ―So, am I going to suddenly burst into claws and whiskers?‖ She tried for sarcasm, but damned if it didn‘t come out a whine.

Alec stood and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his hard chest.