Wild Wolf (26 page)

“You work on that—the cubs can help you. I'll do the sprinkling and try to get Graham free of these vines.”

Dougal saluted her, a mirror in each hand. “You heard her, kids. Help Uncle Dougal. Matt, stop
eating.
”

Matt shook himself free of another bag of chips and trotted off after Dougal and Kyle. Misty mixed the petals in the water with her hands, then lifted the mess and dribbled it over Graham's body.

Water pattered down to bead on his skin. Roses and the wet stamens of honeysuckle, the purple and white streaked petals of iris dropped on him, sticking to his chest and arms, curling around his tatts. Misty knew Graham was truly out then, because he'd have snarled at
flowers
covering his tatts.

Something bright flashed into Misty's eyes. Dougal's voice carried across the cave. “Hold it still, move it to the right. The
right
. No, the other right. Goddess.”

The light moved around wildly, winking in the darkness. A wavering beam slid onto Graham's body, faint but clear.

“There!” Misty shouted at him. “It's touching him.”

“Now call the blessing,” Dougal yelled back.

“What do I say?”

“Keep it simple.
The blessings of the Father God be upon you.
”

“The blessings of the Father God be upon you, Graham,” Misty repeated quickly.

Her words drifted into silence. The beam wavered again, spearing the wall and falling onto a strand of vine. The vine shrank away from the reflection, receding into the wall. Weird, Misty thought dimly, because plants usually tried to push their way
toward
sunlight.

Somewhere in the darkness, she heard little voices say, “Hold it still.” “
You're
moving it.” “I am not!”

Misty started scooping more water and blossoms onto Graham, every drop, every petal. “Damn it, Graham.
Wake up!
”

The vines around Graham jerked. Misty sucked in a breath. The vine flowers watching her trembled, light flashed over them wildly as the twins struggled with each other over the mirrors.

The ground shook a little, the earth giving a groan before it went silent again. Graham's eyes popped open.

Misty stilled, hands balling into fists, droplets of water snaking down her wrists.

Graham's gray eyes were blank, unseeing, but his chest heaved upward as he took a deep breath.

Sunlight from the mirrors hit him straight in the face. Graham's fists balled, and he jerked his arms open, snapping a few vines that held him.

He sat up, dirty, wet, and coated with flower petals. His eyes cleared, and he looked down at his body, then up at Misty.

“Misty!” Graham roared in a voice that brought more pebbles down from the ceiling. “What the
fuck
are you doing here?”

G
raham was weak. Dying—he knew it. The only thing that had kept him from going insane while the vines smothered him was the thought that Misty was safe.

Now Misty sat next to him, looking pleased with herself. She had dirt and yellow pollen smeared all over her, her hair a scraggly mess, and a big smile on her face.

Graham never seen her so beautiful.

“What the hell are you doing?” Graham demanded. “This is my fight. Get out of here.”

“A fight you're losing. Why did you sneak off like that?”

“I didn't sneak off. I was summoned.”

Misty lost her smile. “Leaving in the middle of the night without telling anyone is sneaking off.”

“Stubborn little . . . I told Reid. And he told you, the asshole. He was supposed to keep you home and not let you come after me. He's dead meat.”

“Reid didn't tell me anything. He left me a note . . . It's a long story.”

“Misty did a spell,” Matt said, running up to them. “She spun around and around, and then we were here.” Matt demonstrated.

“And you brought the cubs?”

“Yes,” Misty said. “Stop yelling. You'll cause a cave-in.”

A few more pebbles rained from the ceiling. Another faint groan sounded, as though rock shifted.

“I want you out of here,” Graham said.

Misty didn't wilt under his glare. No, she knelt there looking all pretty and sexy. “We came to get
you
out. I have a lot to tell you, but we can talk later.”

“Later? That will be a first. Usually you want to talk without delay.”

“Very funny, Graham. Can you break away?”

“I've been trying. Then I got covered with the damn vines and passed out.”

“Enchanted sleep,” Misty said. “You were in an enchanted sleep. I got you out of it, you know, like in
Sleeping Beauty.
”

Matt laughed. “Uncle Graham is Sleeping Beauty.”

Graham grabbed at the vines that held him, but he'd lost so much strength he could barely budge them. Uncle Graham was more screwed than anything else.

“I can't leave,” Graham said, even as he tugged at the vines.

“What are you talking about? Why not?” Misty grabbed the vines and pulled too.

Dougal materialized out of the darkness, holding a mirror in one hand, a wolf cub in the other. Graham thought he'd scented his nephew over there. He wanted to start roaring again, but he stopped himself. Yelling would only upset Dougal, and Dougal needed to keep calm and not go to pieces.

“I can't go, because Reid is trapped.” Graham tore away another vine that had rewrapped his wrist. The fact that he was too weak to do much about it worried the hell out of him.

“He's trapped too?” Misty looked dismayed. “Where?”

“In the ice.”

Misty stood up, which gave Graham a nice view of her legs in her shorts. Her skin was scratched and abraded, but even that couldn't mar her. Some of the scratches were from last night with her, when Graham had made hot pounding love to her in her garden. The thought of doing that again someday was one thing that kept him from crumbling and dying as Oison wanted him to.

“Where?” Misty started walking away, toward the sheet of ice.

“Misty.” Graham sat up, jerking at the vines. They still wouldn't let him go. Dougal tried to help, but to no avail.

“He's in
there
?” Misty stopped, horrified. “Is he dead?”

“Hell if I know.”

Dougal kept trying to free Graham, starting to moan when he couldn't. Graham had to switch his attention to bolstering Dougal's confidence. When he looked back at Misty, she was leafing through a book.

Must be her little book about flowers. The one that had gotten him drunk on tequila, making him take another step in his relationship with Misty.

“There's nothing in here about melting ice,” she said in frustration. “Or breaking ice. Nothing about ice at all.”

“Anything about water?” Graham asked. “Oison said his element was water. Reid's is earth.”

Misty turned pages, rustling in the stillness. “I don't know. Damn it.”

Dougal called out to her. “Anything about making plants stop messing with us?”

More rustling. “Let me look. Why are they doing this anyway? I mean, they're
flowers
. Plants aren't magical or sentient. Their ‘magic' is converting sunlight, water, and soil into food and oxygen. Photosynthesis. These plants shouldn't be alive at all. No sunlight, and these are all sun-loving flowers.”

“But this is Faerie,” Graham said. “So magical shit works. All the stories about magical creatures originated here. The stories are watered down in the human world, but the original incidents weren't.”

“Oh.” Misty looked back at Graham, her face losing some color. “So all the scary stories about frost queens and witches putting children in ovens are true?”

“Yep.”

“That's disturbing.” Misty went back to her book, as though determined to find something to protect her from every fairy tale ever written.

“Why the hell are Kyle and Matt here?” Graham demanded. Kyle was trying to help pull away the vines, while Matt was busy licking the ground around a crumpled bag of what used to be chips.

“Ben said they had to come.” Dougal shrugged. “I don't know why.”

“Ben?” Graham roared. “Goddess, get me loose. I need to strangle some people.”

“Here we go!” Misty actually jumped in delight, her feet leaving the ground. “
To train plants.
I thought it meant pruning. It kind of does.” She started moving excitedly to the nearest clump of plants. “Matt, Kyle, Dougal, I need petals from every single type of plant here. All of them. Don't miss one.”

Her legs moved as she ran about the cave, grabbing flowers and yanking petals free. She moved so fast the vines that reached for her didn't have time to latch on before she was at another plant. Matt and Kyle, turning human so they could hold the petals, ran every which way, making a game of it.

“I got the red one!” “No, I saw it first.” “You can have the purple one. I got yellow!”

Dougal stayed put, pulling futilely at the vines that refused to let Graham loose.

“Help them,” Graham said, keeping his voice firm but gentle. “If Misty's right, then she'll get me free. Go on. She needs you.”

Dougal shook his head, still tugging. As a cub, when he'd been lost in his own fear and misery, Dougal would fix on a task and not be able to stop. Graham, the best he could, put his hand on Dougal's arm.

“I need you to take care of her for me,” he said. “If something happens to Misty . . . I might as well die here.”

Dougal looked up at him, meeting Graham's gaze for a fleeting moment. “You really are going to mate with her?”

“I am. Definitely.”

“Good.” Dougal gave Graham a nod, seeming to take heart from Graham's statement. He finally let go of the vines and leveraged himself to his feet, then with a final look at Graham, walked away to find Misty.

“Now help me put them in a pile,” Misty said to the cubs. “Good. You've found so many, both of you. Let's see. One missing. Hyacinth.” She looked around. “I'll get it.”

Graham felt his compulsion spell kick in as Misty went toward the purple plants, a spring in her step. He knew, deep in his burning blood, that Oison was coming.

He rose as far as he could in the tangling vines. Dizziness smacked him, along with his Collar's shocks. “Misty!”

The earth groaned again. Dirt rained from above, more than before. Maybe this cave was about to give, burying them all.

As Misty reached for the lavender flowers rising from leggy stalks, Oison appeared right next to her. He raised his sword and brought it down sharply toward her neck.

Graham bellowed and fought the vines. Matt launched himself at Oison, shifting to wolf cub as he went. As the sword came down, he latched himself on to Oison's arm, foiling his aim. Kyle, also wolf now, slammed into Misty, making her sidestep. She lost hold of the hyacinths and fell, and Oison's sword swished over her, missing.

Oison, silent with rage, plucked Matt from his arm and threw him across the cave. Matt landed heavily on his back, cried out in a pathetic whimper, and went still. Kyle, yipping, ran to him.

Oison raised his sword again, but this time, Misty scrambled out of the way. Dougal was there, reaching for Oison. His hands went out as Oison swung, catching the blade. Dougal screamed as the Fae-spelled sword cut his skin. His Collar went off, snapping and sparking, Dougal continuing to scream.

Misty lunged for the purple plants again, grabbing a handful. She raced to her pile of petals in the middle of the cave, threw the hyacinths down, and lifted her book.

Oison shoved Dougal from him. Dougal fell, moving in pain, his Collar continuing to spark. Oison headed for Misty, who was walking around and around her clump of flowers.

“By east and west, by north and south,”
Misty read in a loud voice.
“By wind and water, fire and earth. By the Goddess and moonlight, by the God and sunlight—I command you to do my will.”

Oison was almost upon her, but Misty kept walking. She lifted the book. “I command you to do my will!”

The petals swirled with her passing, rising a little, then moved faster. Faster still. A vortex of them rushed around her, encasing Misty in its tornado.

The vortex of petals reached all the way to the ceiling. Then they exploded, bursting over the entire cave, raining down like colorful snowflakes. They carpeted the ground, spilling over the vines, the black obsidian, Oison, the fallen Dougal, Matt, and Kyle.

As soon as the petals started to fall, Misty sprinted back to Graham. “Let him go!” she yelled at the vines.

They shivered, leaves and flowers shaking. Then they withdrew, unwinding from Graham and releasing him.

Misty stared, her mouth open. “It worked!” She shouted in delight. “I can't believe it—it actually worked! I'm going to give Ben a big fat kiss when I see him again.”

“The hell you will.” Graham tried to pull himself up, but he fell again, weak and exhausted.

But Oison was coming. The Fae kicked aside vines and raised his sword again, swinging it hard at Misty.

Graham caught Oison's wrist, and the blade swung and met Graham's thick upper arm. Snarling, Graham let it cut him to the bone as he twisted Oison away from Misty, Graham's Collar sparking hard. He tried to change to his between-beast as he fought, his strongest form, but Graham found he couldn't shift at all. The sword, and his shocking Collar, combined to take the last of his strength.

Oison ripped himself from Graham's bloody grasp, and Graham fell to his knees.

Misty screamed at the plants, and pointed at Oison. “Take
him
, take
him
!”

The plants moved sinuously toward Oison, the vines that had held Graham prisoner now seeking the Fae. But too slowly. Oison spun out of their way, his black eyes filled with rage, and brought his sword down on them. The vines he severed shuddered, then turned brown and crumpled away.

Oison went for the source of his frustration—Misty. Across the cave, Dougal tried to rise, tried to help. Graham forced himself to his feet, dizzy and dying. But he'd stop the bastard from hurting Misty. No matter what.

The cave shook again, the earth emitting another groan. Rock and sand poured from the ceiling, hitting the flowers and obsidian, the Shifters and Misty, Oison. Dust rose to coat the air. Graham heard Oison cursing, which told Graham the tremors weren't of Oison's making.

The sheet of ice that held Reid cracked with the sound of a gunshot. Graham turned to it as the ice fell away in huge chunks, not so much exploding as pushing outward and shattering on the cave floor.

As the ice splintered into needlelike shards and more rock from the wall fell, Reid walked out from the rubble. His clothes were shredded, he had blood all over him, and he was mad as hell.

Reid shouted something in a language that was guttural and harsh, unintelligible to Graham. Oison, on the other hand, whipped around, his sword raised. Oison had stark fear in his eyes, which Graham would enjoy if he didn't feel so crappy.

Reid went for Oison. He bounded across the cave on his runner's legs, hands outstretched, those odd-sounding words pouring from him. Oison met him, swinging his sword. Reid shouted again, and the rocks that had blown out with the ice rose up at his command.

The plants were still going for Oison as well. They tangled his legs as Reid's rocks came down on top of the Fae.

Oison swung his sword at Reid, and rocks clanked against the blade. Oison whirled his sword again, and disappeared. Reid snarled something and disappeared with him.

The rocks were still spinning in midair. They stopped abruptly as soon as Reid vanished, raining down onto the cave, clacking against the obsidian.