Witches, Wolves, & Warlords (Shifters of Bastion Keep #1)

Chapter Four

Lord Sergiy Usenko was not happy.

Oh, he had been, thirty minutes ago. Riding in the back of a humvee, singing a victory song. Their warband had entered an Umbral gate and cleared it of hostile shadows and two spirit kings, only suffering minor injuries. Morale was high, and the next evening's feast would be amazing, with shared tales of feats of glory.

And then, when he'd called in the request for transport, Roland had told him that their witches were here, and he'd thought, finally! More good news, after nearly two months of doing without magical support—other than Roland, of course.

He'd worked with different willworkers before. Roland strove to choose the best fit for Bastion, but there was only so much sway he had, and sometimes pickings were slim. Druids were alright, but while they did wonders with improving the keep and its lands, they couldn't directly support the fight. Modern mages were more versatile, and able to send the guardians out with wards at the least, but they kept trying to pick apart their system, and usually had a know-it-all personality clash.

But witches, now! Some could be a bit out there, and you couldn't always tell if their magics and charms were working, but just like witches and their familiars, witches and shifters got along fine—though granted, Serigy might be a bit biased, having grown up reading the fabled accounts of fire witch Little Red and her Big Bad Wolf mate until their book covers had nearly worn away.

So two weeks ago, when Roland had told him he'd found not just one, but three witches, he'd been ecstatic! And he couldn't ask for a better variety of disciplines, except maybe for a Hedge witch with their focus on spirit realms. But oh, the plans he'd made, for after the witches settled in.

But then he'd come face to face with a skittish young man, something inside of his chest had clicked , like a key being turned, or kindle being set alight, and all rational thought went out the window.

Scowling, he sat in a chair next to Auguste, one of his own pack that had suffered cracked ribs from being thrown off a cliff. He told himself he was watching over his men, but no, his eyes kept being drawn to a certain taller witch that strode shirtless and barefoot among the guardians. The witch had been hesitant at first, and seemed somewhat in awe of Teresa—that part at least was understandable—but after his first few charms, he'd fallen entirely at ease, and was scratching some of the guardians behind their ears, or absentmindedly petting them while he performed his witch magic.

Auguste nudged him with a foot, and he looked over.

"Thinking about bedding the orc, boss man? You've been staring at him nonstop."

The growing heat in his chest flamed, despite his attempts to extinguish it. He grunted.

"No. I am… merely making sure that the Green witch doesn't hurt any of our fellows with careless charms."

Auguste yawned, then winced, and Sergiy could sense his physical discomfort. "If you say so."

"I do."

Teresa approached, ignoring him as she picked up the chart that was hanging at the foot of the bed.

"Back so soon, Auguste?" she asked, reading down the list and moving to retake a couple of his vital signs.

"Just you wait, Teresa, one day when I jump off of a cliff, I'll actually fly! Fingers crossed."

She scoffed, ran her hand over his bruised-up chest, and then listened to his breathing with a stethoscope.

"It doesn't sound like you punctured anything, and all your bones are in the right spot. Bed rest until noon, then I'll check you again and see if we can't clear you to at least walk between your own room and the Great Hall. No roughhousing, understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Now, I know you don't like codeine—"

"Nope, it gives me heartburn."

"—so either we can do naproxen, or get our Green witch over here. He's got a pain relieving charm. It's somewhat acceptable."

High praise from the protective mama bear, especially for a stranger that had not yet proven himself.

Auguste lifted his head from his pillow to give Sergiy a teasing grin. "Aye, let's bring the witch over! His charm will require him to put his hands on me, right?"

Sergiy shot him a look that was entirely unamused.

"Green witch!" Teresa called out.

Sergiy saw the man— Bruin —bounce up out of a chair where he was taking a breather with the other two witches. All three came over.

"Yes, nurse. Hi, Auguste. I remember your name because it's the same month I was born in."

Against his will, Sergiy's brain filed that tidbit away.

Bruin circled the long way around to the other side of Auguste's bed, bypassing Sergiy. The witch looked at him, then immediately ducked his head when he saw him scowling.

"Just pain relief? Hmm."

"You're out of moss agates, though," the one named Rosemary said. She looked right at Sergiy, her gaze unfathomable.

The last witch rolled a crystal-tipped wand between his fingers thoughtfully. "Perhaps you could split one gem between two patients?"

"No, I think I got something. The goal is to let him breathe easy, right? A healing amethyst would work just as well, once I pair it with… this!"

Sergiy watched as the healer drew out two gems from his bag, a purple gem and a light-blue crystal of some kind.

"Air energy? Makes sense," Lux said. "Alright, let's circle up."

"No, I can handle this one by myself, you two rest," he said with a stubborn set of his jaw that showcased his adorable tu—his small tusks. The witch closed his eyes, then intoned:

Bring your ease, O' breath of air.

Pain surcease; his breathing fair.

After speaking his incantation, the witch reached down to take one of Auguste's hands, pressing the gems into them and holding his hand.

Auguste reached his other hand up, running his thumb over the back of Bruin's hand. Sergiy saw the witch grin back, and he fought down a feeling of irritation.

"So…"

"I'm not done yet," Bruin said. "Just even out your breathing, and don't let go of the gems, okay? Shouldn't take but ten seconds."

"Healing energy, I beseech, aid this guardian," Bruin said as he closed his eyes, then continued to repeat the same phrase.

Watching the pair carefully, he saw Auguste's eyes widen after a short moment. His packmate took in a deep breath, and then a larger one.

"Careful with the deep breaths." Bruin wiped at his own forehead, apparently tired. "You're not healed yet, it just won't hurt as much, so you could accidentally strain yourself."

"Either way, thank you. Bruin, right?" The man nodded. "It's a nice name. I think you'll be seeing my face around a lot. Somehow I always end up in one of Teresa's beds, ha!"

"I'm sure it won't be a bother."

Sergiy growled. "If you're already expecting more injuries, Auguste, it sounds to me like you're asking for more training. Expect some one-on-one sessions starting tomorrow."

He felt Teresa looming behind him.

"When you're recovered, I mean," he amended. Auguste just gave him a cheeky grin.

Bruin took the gems out of Auguste's hand, then set them on the nearby nightstand, saying that as long as he stayed near the crystals, until their energy ran out over the next few days, he'd find his pain lessened.

"So take them with you when you go to the bathroom, or breakfast, or wherever. I will want them back, though."

"Oh, an excuse to see you again! How clever of you, witch."

Sergiy stood up to his feet quick enough to knock his chair back, but refused to look at Auguste or acknowledge his teasing. What business was it of his if he and the Green witch wanted to share a bed?

Except the sparks in his chest said that it absolutely was his business, now. Growling, he stalked off to the infirmary exit, pausing when he saw Teresa beckon.

"Lord Sergiy," she said with a respectful bow of her head, giving no indication that she'd ever helped change his diapers. "Ten guardian casualties, nine minimally injured, one lightly. All are expected to make a full recovery, and thanks to the Green witch's help, I expect light duty for most within a day, and full duty for even the worst injured by the end of a week. Perhaps sooner."

"Thank you, Teresa. I'm headed upstairs to report to Lady Usenko and the war council." He turned to face the room, raising his voice. "Alright, you mangy pack of shadow slayers! Time to clear out and let the heroes rest. But more importantly…"

"Follow rule two!" the rest of his warband said, some breaking out into loud howls, yowls, or growls, as suited their particular shifter form.

He watched as most of the others filed past, bidding their last farewells, each one thanking Teresa as was the habitual ritual. He saw the three witches pick up their bags, about to do the same, but Bruin paused. Reaching into his bag, the Green witch pulled out a set of pipes and the smallest drum he'd ever seen, then leaned down to whisper to Teresa.

"Nurse, is it okay if I stay another hour or so? I know a few soothing melodies. It'll help them sleep, and enhance the charms I've already set."

The nurse considered him for a moment, then nodded. "One hour, and if any a one of my patients complains at the noise, you stop."

"Yes, ma'am."

Watching, he saw the green-skinned, brown-haired, barefooted witch—why was he barefoot? —pull a chair out between the ten recovering guardians and begin to play something like an Irish air on his pipes. He didn't sound exceptionally gifted, but it was still pleasant to hear.

Teresa appeared in front of him and crossed her arms.

Giving her another nod, he turned on his heel and left the infirmary and the accursed witch.

He only made it as far as the next hall, stopping when he saw Russ approach, carrying a basket full of lidded tumblers; ice water for the injured, most likely.

"My lord," he said, approaching within arm's reach. "I'm happy to see you well."

"Thanks. It proved easy enough, at least until the last couple of hours."

"Mm." Russ stared at him a moment longer, his concern clear to anyone who knew him, obvious in the way he leaned forward like an alert spotter on their training course. "My lord, you smell bothered. If you need anything, you can always call upon me."

Sergiy almost spoke up, then. Asked him what he knew about the Green witch. Asked him for advice about the new feeling in his chest that hadn't been there an hour ago.

Asked him to just stay with him, bodies intertwined, like he used to.

But he wasn't that cruel, so instead, he simply shook his head.

"Thank you, Russ. If you'll pardon me, I need to get to the war room."

His childhood friend and more nodded, then stepped around him and into the infirmary, while Sergiy headed to the stairs that would take him to the second floor.

His older siblings were waiting for him at the landing, and they proceeded to flank him on either side as he led the way down the hall.

"Markos tells me you had a triumphant mission," Marka said.

"Too right, we did," Markos said.

"Dozens of shadows slain, and two spirit kings."

When Sergiy didn't respond, Markos shrugged, then explained, "Tough fight, but nothing we couldn't handle."

Marka tapped at her chin, and Sergiy could sense her mixture of amusement and consternation.

"So, brother of mine, what could it possibly be that has you sour as a turtle on its back?"

"It is nothing," he said, pushing open the doors to the war room. "I was just surprised earlier, that's all."

His mother and step-father stood up as he entered, though Roland barely gave him a glance, studying the table. The other two pack leaders, Yacob and Summer, were already present.

"Surprised about what?" his mom asked.

He ignored the question as he moved to the side of the digitally enhanced map table, but he knew his face was flaming, and that they could smell how unsettled he was.

"Let us focus on this, first. Please."

His mother stared at him, but eventually nodded, and Gregory sat back down with a laptop to record events, pushing glasses up his face. Sergiy grabbed a pointer, using it to indicate regions.

"Recap?"

His step-father began clicking on the laptop. "Incursion on April twenty-ninth, late afternoon. The initial warning arrived at T-minus seven hours. Guardians arrived on site at T-minus two hours. No breaches in the veil at that time. Guardians then entered the Umbral realm, first penumbra layer. Guardians returned from the Umbral three days and… nine hours later."

Sergiy took over. "When we entered the Umbral, there were several small packs of hostile spirits ambling around the area, but no leader and so were disposed of rapidly. We did two days of hunting before finding two spirit kings at the center of the path, Despair and Faith, working in tandem. We had to chase them deeper into the realm, hence the lack of communication the last day. We dispatched both, and the remaining shadows fled. We returned with no deaths and ten lightly injured, Summer's pack taking the brunt of casualties when they engaged the Faith spirit. Teresa is expecting a full team recovery within the week."

"Excellently done, warlord," his mother said. "And the day-to-day report?"

Sergiy handed a pocket notebook over to Gregory. While his step-father began transcribing it, he gave his own abbreviated version.

"It was still odd to see two kings at once," he said in the end. "Spring is here, we should be getting weaker incursions, not stronger."

"Might be a fluke," Roland said, chiming in. "But I'll study our records to see if I can't find out if there's something still drawing them here, like a centennial event. The Celestial and Hearth witches know some divination magic, I'll let them get used to the keep first, and then tap them in a few weeks."

Markos lifted his head. "I saw our new witches in the infirmary. They seemed like they knew their stuff. Good job, Roland."

"What's your impression of them so far, High Priest?" his mother asked.

"It's far too soon to tell," Roland hedged, then looked Lady Usenko in the eyes, shrugging. "But in general, still about the same as what I saw at recruitment. As a coven, Lux Manus seems to be their natural leader. Professional, forthright, but also willing to listen to the others, and defers to them when the task calls for it. I have high hopes for that one. Rosemary might surprise me, though. She seems to have the sternest spine of the lot, and will absolutely call someone on their shit. Bruin, now…"

Sergiy shifted on his feet, and he could tell that Markos was studying him closely.

"He's adapting quickly," Roland finished begrudgingly. "He's already treating the guardians like family, in some ways. If I'm being honest, I think they've got themselves a new chewtoy in him."

Markos laughed. "I had the same impression! I think I'll invite him to watch some of our training sessions. Hmm, but what do you think, brother? You were watching him like a hawk the entire hour. Is there something you see in him that we're missing?"

Sergiy crossed his arms, which did nothing to contain the embers in his chest that were starting to catch fire.

"He is as he appears. But I am doubtful that he will join us on our hunts, as I know you are hoping. He seems flighty."

Marka and Markos shared a disbelieving look, then shrugged.

After sharing a few more reports and then planning out the packs' schedules for the next incursion, Lady Usenko closed the war council, and they left the room.

Sergiy bid a goodnight to Summer, Yacob, and Roland, then followed his family to his mother's personal sitting room.

The instant that they were inside, his mother threw decorum aside, sweeping him into a hug.

"It is so good to have you both home safe," she said, turning to hug Marcos as well. "Now, to the cookies! Zell?"

"I made them fresh this very hour!" a dark-furred, chubby wolf shifter said as he came forth bearing a tray. He wore nothing more than a frilly apron and a beaming smile on his muzzle as he held out the platter of snickerdoodles and chocolate-chip cookies. He turned his gaze to Sergiy and yipped, his tail wagging madly. "Good to see you well, son."

"You too, bat'ko ."

After grabbing a cookie for himself, their group followed their mother as she took a seat in a plush armchair, dragging the smaller Gregory into her lap and giving his neck a quick nibble. His twin siblings took the sofa, and Sergiy sat in his own chair.

After every incursion, once the injured had been seen to, and the war council updated, they gathered together as a family. It had been a tradition started twenty years ago by his own dad, Zell, when his mother returned from her hunts. As a child, Sergiy remembered looking equally forward to both her and the cookies. When Sergiy had taken over command of the packs five years back, they'd continued the tradition.

Sergiy watched as his father passed out glasses of milk to the twins, then a larger one for dipping to his mother, accepting a kiss from both her and Gregory in return; no love was lost there, he knew. His father loved his mother, but being ace, he'd encouraged her to find someone to help fulfill her other needs. She'd chosen Gregory, and over time the two men had grown to care for each other just as deeply as they each loved her.

Sergiy stared at his cookie, then saw his father approach, pause, then set down the glass of milk he was about to hand him before striding over and sniffing him from head to chest, ignoring Sergiy's half-hearted protests.

"You smell troubled," he said, then whined. "Sergiy, what is it? Did something happen out there?"

Sergiy hesitated, not wanting to give voice to his suspicions.

"Not at all, papa!" Markos said casually. "Everything was clear as spring water. I think my brother just has a new crush."

"Ooh!" Marka said. "Is it one of the new witches? Which one? I'll bet it's Lux, he's slender and graceful and has abs so toned you could bounce a knife handle off of them. If I were interested in men, I'd be jumping all over that."

Markos laughed. "No, it's the other one, the Green witch. Ser-Bear couldn't keep his eyes off of him the entire time he was helping Teresa. What was his name again? Oh, right. Bruin. Right, brother?"

Sergiy made to stand up, but his bat'ko was still standing in the way, and a bounce of his belly sent him back down to his seat.

"... yes," he admitted."The witch's name is Bruin."

"Oho!" Markos cackled. "Bruin like a bear! Ser-Bear and Bear!"

Marka reached for another cookie from the platter on the table. "We'll call your relationship bear-bear. It'll be cute. You'd best hurry if you want to date him, though, I already saw Yacob eyeing him."

"Auguste, too," Markos said. "Though I know he, at least, was only teasing. For now. "

Sergiy snarled, and his uneaten cookie snapped in half, leaving crumbs on his kilt and the seat. The others quieted.

"Ooh," Marka said. "I don't think he liked—"

"Sergiy," his mom said, interrupting the twins' banter. She shared a look with Zell. "Why does this witch bother you? Did he say something insulting? Does he smell corrupted, or off?"

"No," he admitted. "And he smells… he smells like freshly-dug dirt after a rain, or a sun-heated rock after swimming in a cold river."

"Then why?"

Bruin the Green witch. Sergiy could see him clear as day in his mind. Wavy brown hair and beard. Rounded face and guileless expression, probably gullible. Soft, weak body that probably had never set foot in a gym, not at all like the fit men that he normally slept with.

"Because this, this…"

Compassionate witch, who treated his packmates like they were family, who wasn't nervous or shy around their beast forms, with his green-tinted skin the color of spring leaves, and who had adorable little tusks and walked around barefooted like a child, innocent and unafraid amid the blood and pain.

" — this witch is apparently supposed to be my promised mate. My fucking mate!"

And as he said it, the embers in his heart flared and roared, drowning out his family's surprise with its proclamation of 'Yes!'