It was as if I had been freed from some sort of trap, and I could suddenly breathe again, while he snapped his fingers at the two wolf-ponies. At his command, the two of them shifted in one fluid movement until they were in their human forms.
Marcel, to Raphael's right, was a Spanish looking man with close-cropped chestnut brown hair and mean looking eyes. Amelie, to his left, was a stunning woman with willowy curves and jet-black hair tightly woven into hundreds of thin braids.
“So you will know them in both of their forms,” Raphael informed me and I nodded slowly. That was true … but there was something else … I cocked my head to the side, frowning at the handsome wolf Alpha while I tried to work out what could possibly be hiding in that statement.
Or maybe I was reading him wrong.
“That's a cool trick,” I commented, indicating to the fact that his wolves had just shifted fully-clothed. “I imagine it would be pretty annoying to carry clothes around with you everywhere.” Beside me, I felt Reece tense. His hand on my arm tightened a fraction and I wondered what I'd said wrong.
“Yes.” Raphael nodded and this time, both sides of his mouth pulled up in a smile. “It is a cool trick.” His bloodred eyes narrowed at me, causing his smile to turn into something more predatory.
“It's been a very long time since Le Gardien du Voile was seen. A very long time. Have you come to fix the Veil, then?” All three wolves watched me in hungry curiosity and I frowned.
What did he mean fix the Veil?
“Allons, bebelle,” Reece interjected, tugging at my elbow more firmly this time. “Kill is almost done healin' Arlo. We need to get goin' outta here.”
“Of course, I didn't mean to keep you.” Raphael snapped his fingers once more and his companions melted back into their wolf forms. “It was lovely to make your acquaintance … Ciarah.” As he said my name, he flicked a glance at Reece, who tensed even further.
“Ah, sure. Nice to meet you too, Raphael.” I nodded and he quirked another small smile.
“Please, cher, call me Rafe.” At this parting remark, he too shifted into wolf form, a glorious moonlight colored creature with burning bloodred eyes that stared straight through me before the three of them disappeared into the night.
Reece tugged at my elbow once more, but this time I let him lead me back to the bikes where he wrapped his huge hands around my waist and swung me onto the seat of his hog.
“Dat was mighty foolish of you, cher,” he spoke quietly, but with truth. “Dat dog wasn’t here for polite hellos, so he wasn’t. Nah, bebelle, he wanted lagniappe. Somethin' extra.”
“Like what?” I asked, confused as all hell. But that seemed to be my constant state since waking up in that dark and dirty alleyway. Confused.
“Now dat, ma little minou, I don’t know.” He swung his leg over the seat to settle in front of me while we waited for Arlo and Killian to mount their own beasts. “But we sure soon to find out.”
My new bedroom left much to be desired, but it was also a far cry from the place I'd spent my last five years. And possibly even my nineteen years before that? But still, even though the sheets were clean, rustling in a warm breeze from the open window, there was a sense of desperation, a flicker of feeling lost that settled over the room.
I swung my feet out of bed and felt the heaviness of my wings dragging behind me. I could reign them in, but I wasn't sure that I particularly liked to.
Nor did I like this room.
I swept my hands down my face and paused as a tiny creature landed on my windowsill and bared fanged teeth at me in a hiss. It had shimmery wings, like a dragonfly's, while the rest of it looked vaguely human.
“Hello little sprite,” I said, even though I had no idea how I knew what the thing was called. “No need to be so upset. I won't infringe on your territory.”
It looked at me with solid black eyes, the shape of sideways almonds, and then it hissed again, its mouth splitting its face seemingly in half. I frowned. The sprites were very particular over what other fae were welcome in their territory, but not only was I the Veil Keeper, but I was also not in their land whatsoever.
Veil Keeper? Sprites? How the fuck do I know this stuff?
I waved my hand at the sprite's mottled green body—its species was one who took after their own environment—and it bit me as hard as it could, drawing blood from my hand. It swelled in fat ruby drops and plopped to the old hardwood floors.
“Release me at once,” I said, and magic swept into the room, swirling the curtains, knocking over a dusty vase filled with dried flowers. The other me buried deep inside was appalled at the sprite's lack of manners. “Release me,” I repeated, my voice … husky but dangerous. Not my own. Not my own voice at all.
I felt my hands twitch, as if they were no longer under my control.
“Let go!” I snarled, and then my other hand was coming up and grabbing the creature around its tiny naked body. It was the size of a Barbie Doll, but even more alien, more exaggerated in its appearance. My fingers squeezed tighter, and it finally released its hold on my hand.
But I didn't let go.
My grip tightened, and I felt the magic in the room coil around me, ancient and old and sleepy. But angry, too. Furious.
With a sharp gasp, I released the small creature and stumbled back, leaving its crumpled form on the windowsill. After a moment of trying to catch my breath, I eased forward and poked it gently.
It was dead.
My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach, and I turned, fleeing the room, my wings sweeping along the wood floor as I ran.
Straight into Arlo's room.
The door was locked, but a flick of my finger and a dusting of magic unlocked it.
How I did that, I wasn't sure. But the same part of me that had killed the sprite had done it, that much I knew for certain.
Padding across the wood, I lifted up the corner of Arlo's blanket and slid into bed with him.
He was already growling and groaning under his breath, turning to face me, his naked body pressing up close to mine.
“The fuck are you doing in here again?” he snarled, but I was already reaching out and curling my fingers around his shoulders, putting my head in the crook of his neck. He smelt of mint soap and earth, fresh and wild.
In sleep, he'd shed his glamour so when he lifted his head to look at me, I looked into the emerald eyes of a god. His white horns curved up and away from the tousle of curled dark hair on his head.
He was magnificent, even if I was a bit pissed off at him, too.
“I killed something,” I whispered in low tones, “and also, I don't like that room. I much prefer this one.”
Arlo just stared at me for a long moment, dropping a hand to my hip.
My sleeping shirt had ridden up, revealing the pale curve of bare flesh, and his palm rested directly against it, teasing me.