Unbound (5 page)

Her breathing grew ragged as the serum worked; she took advantage of it and tried to look as if she were growing tired. She fought to keep him in her line of sight while he moved faster and faster around her, ignoring Roo.

The wolf leapt again, his claws raking her arm when she blocked and lunged with the sword, slicing a narrow line across the MoonSkins belly.  He shifted and the blade bit again into his shoulder. With a howl, he darted off. She spun around to where she thought he’d be, only to find him somewhere else. With no time to block his momentum, he hit her. His claws sliced through her clothes and raked her stomach. She slammed into the rough stone wall; the force of the blow cracked her skull, sending her into darkness.

* * *

Hidalgo watched the woman slide to the ground. The sudden pain in his hind leg reminded him she hadn’t been his only opponent. He turned on the dog, forcing him back. She’d made a mistake thinking he only had one master. He would be well paid to off the meddling bitch. He licked his muzzle. Her dog was just a bonus; he could have a little bit of fun before he killed the woman. Snarling, he grabbed the dog by its shoulder, swinging it about with his teeth before digging his claws into the belly.

The dog whimpered before it fell to the ground.  Hidalgo moved in for the kill, only to be surprised when the dog’s teeth clamped around his wind pipe. It collapsed under the pressure before he felt his throat being ripped from his body.
It was supposed to be fun
he thought as he struggled for breath. He made a final attempt to take the dog with him, clamping his jowls around the dog’s throat in his death throes.

* * *

Kayla peered through blurry eyes at the unfolding horror. “No, Roo,” she croaked. Filled with rage, she struggled to sit up, hoping she could reach Roo before the Wer killed him.

The intensity of her emotions grew. Painful warmth filled her limbs. When she could no longer take the pain, heat flowed down her arm and out the tips of her fingers. It struck the MoonSkin in a flash of blinding blue light. He flew back; the wolf disappeared. In his place lay a badly mauled, naked man.

Unable to understand what just happened, Kayla stared in confusion at the scene before her. She tried to stand, but fell back. “Roo,” she whimpered and once again slid into unconsciousness.

* * *

Kayla blinked, her thoughts hard to hold onto as she woke. She could feel the cold wet asphalt and slimy alley sludge beneath her cheek. The smell made her vomit. The world spun about her. Crawling to her hands and knees, she let her head hang briefly before she stood. She held onto the wall, then, pushing off, she stumbled a few steps towards Roo.

Something caught her eye as she walked. She squinted through the blood that dripped into her eyes and stopped, wiping her hand across her brow. She cleared away the worst of it. Shaking her head, the world spun. Her stomach rolled. Groaning, she grabbed her knees until her head settled. She lifted her head and looked towards the end of the alley.
He’s dead
, she thought.

Nyx, her long dead cat, looked at her from a pool of light at the end of the alley.

Kayla straightened, “Nyx? Is that you?” Moving in his direction, she reached out her hand, but he turned and moved away. She stumbled after him, soon realizing she wasn’t going to catch him. She stopped; Roo wasn’t following her. She looked back. He lay unmoving near the MoonSkin.

“Roo?” She lifted her hand to her head, confused, unable to think. Frightened, she went back to him, slid to her knees and ran her fingers through his coat matted with blood. Realizing he had saved her, tears streamed down her cheeks, leaving trails of white across her grime covered face.

“No, not Roo,” she pleaded. She heard a meow. Something butted against her hand and she felt soft fur beneath her fingers, though her eyes told her nothing was there. Hope bloomed in her heart. “We’ll get help, boy,” she whispered.

Sliding her arms under his limp body and hefting him to her chest, she followed the shadow cat down the alleyway. Her legs trembled under Roo’s weight.

Kayla came to an alcove in the alley. The cat passed through the wall. Unsure, she frowned. Kneeling down she slid Roo onto the ground, then stood, reaching out to investigate the wall. A sharp twinge of pain shot through her arm and wound itself around her chest.

Squeezing, it stole her breath. A major ward flared to life, refusing her entry. Thick cords of air wound themselves around her body, lifting her up. She hung there, fighting to breathe, unable to defend herself, her charms useless. It flung her onto the ground.

Kayla hit her head against the pavement. As darkness closed around her, she saw something coming towards her.

6

Gannon looked up
from his work when he felt the slim form of a cat brush against his leg. Seconds before, something strong hit his ward. The concussion threw him forward across his workbench. Aftershocks vibrating through his workroom knocked scrolls and books off his shelves.

He glared down at the cat. “What have you brought with you
this
time?”

The cat disturbed his work more often than not these days; it seemed for the last few months it’d been a constant nuisance. Gannon scratched the cat under its chin while he thought.

Gannon, will you pay attention?

Gannon shook his head and looked around. The cat glared at him, twitching his tail back and forth. When he had Gannon’s attention, he jumped down and headed for the gate.

Here.

Gannon stared at the cat.
No, it couldn’t be,
he thought as he walked across the room and stopped near the cat. Opening the portal enough to see through, he took in the scene before him. At the foot of his gate lay a woman, her clothes covered in blood. She didn’t appear to be breathing. He didn’t stop to think. Before he knew what had happened, he crouched beside her, gathering her hand in his. The faint fluttering of her pulse beneath his fingers wasn’t a good sign.

A large dog lay near her; he supposed it could have given her the wounds, but that didn’t sit right with him. He went to the end of his alcove, looking up and down the alley. In the distance, he could see a body, but couldn’t make out any details. He loped down the alley and, kneeling near the naked body, he turned it over, his heart sinking.

“MoonSkin.” He looked the body over, noting the deep cuts that laced its skin. He scanned the area and his gaze landed on a sword. Picking it up, he raced back. He didn’t know if he could save her from the MoonSkins bite.

He tossed her blade through the archway, wincing as it clanged against his table. He regretted having to treat her weapon in such a way, but he couldn’t carry both her and her sword. Kneeling next to her, he scooped her up into his arms.

“My god,” he whispered to the unconscious woman. He could only hope she stayed asleep. Going into his workroom, he laid her down on his cot, then gathered the few things he didn’t have in his cottage that he would need to treat her.

His focused fused on the girl. He didn’t pause as he dug through his supplies. A sharp stab of pain in his leg stopped him. The cat withdrew his claws once he had his attention. He slammed his mortar back onto the table.

“What
is
it?” He turned to the cat.

The cat yowled and ran back to the portal.

“It’s just a dog. The girl needs immediate attention.”

The cat stared him down.

“Oh alright, but if she die
s,
it’s on your head.” He glared at the feline and went back through the gate to pick up the dog.

“You’re in a right sorry mess, aren’t you, boy?” Gannon set the injured dog down inside the gateway before returning to the girl. He would have to wait.

Gannon noted in passing that the cat ran over and bumped heads with the dog before returning to the girl’s side. He lay with his head next to hers, purring while Gannon worked.

He looked at the cat and dog a moment. A niggling thought touched his mind, then disappeared. Shaking his head, he knew it would come to him.

Standing, he gathered the last of his things. He’d done what he could to stabilize her, and taking care of them would be easier in his cottage. He shifted the T’ween; it barely took a thought anymore to shift the dimension.

With just a picture in his mind of what he wanted, in an instant, he went from his workroom to his cottage. A word started the fire and then he set a kettle on to heat.

After clearing his table, he went to the hearth, got the kettle and set it on the table. He took out a bowl along with his mortar and pestle. Shuffling through the narrow shelf next to the table, he found the herbs he wanted to burn the poison from the dog’s blood and send him into a restful slumber.

As he worked, he murmured a soft chant under his breath. After putting the ingredients into separate bowls, he poured hot water over the comfrey so that it just covered the leaves, and left it there to steep. He added chamomile to the wolfs bane in the mortar, working it to a fine powder.

He poured the mixture into another bowl, covered it with water, stirred, added more water and let it cool. A measure of ground white willow bark went into both bowls.

After the tea steeped for a few minutes, he strained the cooling liquid into another bowl, placing it to the side. He rinsed the strainer before straining the comfrey. The thick gel oozed through, the leaves remaining behind.

Lining up a syringe, bandages and the concoction on the table, he filled the syringe with the wolfs bane mixture and knelt next to the dog.

“Hey, old boy, I need to give you something to ease the pain and leach the poison from your blood. I’ve got to clean and bandage that gash you’ve got on your side.” He talked to the dog, more to calm the animal’s nerves than because he thought the dog could understand.

The dog looked at him with big, solemn eyes and nodded.

“Alright. Here goes.” He squeezed the syringe into the dog’s mouth. He sat back on his heels, petting the animal, as he waited for the medicine to take effect. The dog’s eyes began to droop and he laid his head in Gannon’s lap.

Satisfied the dog wouldn’t feel what he was doing; Gannon picked him up and laid him on the table. He went to get the kettle and some rags to clean out the wounds. Taking a closer look while he cleaned the slashes, he didn’t like what he saw. The wounds gaped. Gannon pushed them back together and realized he would have to stitch them.

After sterilizing the sewing tools and his hands, Gannon stood next to the dog. He picked up the bowl with the comfrey gel; scraping it out with his fingers, he smeared it into the wounds. Then he reached for his needle, threading it with horsehair. Gannon gritted his teeth, pushing the needle into the dog’s hide as he watched for any sign of pain.

The dog whimpered a little, but otherwise lay still. Satisfied he was truly out; Gannon stitched up the rest of the gashes, then put more comfrey on the wounds. He wrapped the bandages tightly around the dog, feeling along his body for more wounds and smearing ointment into any he found. When he finished, he set aside his implements, and laid the dog next to his mistress. He covered them both with a quilt.

Once he’d put everything back in its proper place, Gannon put a log on the fire, banking it, and settled into his chair for a long night. He watched as the girl’s pillow indented and heard the soft purr of a contented cat.

Shocked, he realized he was dealing with a Guardian.
Or maybe two,
he thought, looking at the dog. Without realizing it, he soon drifted off…

7