Chapter 13 The Bird Takes The Wheel
The Bird Takes The Wheel
TAURUS
She’s lost her bloody mind. The blood loss is making her daft.
A pull on my veins from her sipping is distracting me a little, but I’m sodding terrified. I can do a bit of her magick since we drained, but it’s only parlor tricks. She’s telling me I can heal major organs by feeling my way around inside her.
Honestly, I think her faith in us as magick wielders is misplaced.
The long hair looks focused and composed, as if he does this shit all the time, so maybe I’m mistaken.
He barely bats an eyelash being the laid-back lounger he is, but I hear that he’s murmuring something under his breath that sounds vaguely foreign.
I guess that it’s a spell or hex that she’s taught him.
That git was more than comfortable with Beltane, and the last time he ran off, it was to her sacred space.
I think he’s got more knowledge—maybe her entire family does, even the Prada princess—than they let on.
Back to the problem at hand—what do I do?
I tap into her power, finding the atrium inside of her where the candle of her spirit burns.
Cracking the door that’s purple and sparkly, I realize this is where the magick lives.
It looks like a sodding fairy decorated it; it has to be the right place.
I feel my entire body sway as her power slams into me as it opens fully.
Shit. She’s not kidding.
The spectacle my primary caused wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg. How in the hell is she keeping all of that under wraps? Is that what all these bloody doors are for? It’s not the time to inspect them; I have to fix her before she bleeds out.
Once I get my bearings, I search around inside my minx. I’m looking for a tear in her lung, knowing that is the most important piece. She needs to be able to breathe, and then I have to stop the bleeding. I wouldn’t have a damn clue how if I hadn’t asked her about it after she did Talia’s eyes.
My wife said it was like taking magnetic sand to piece together a sculpture.
That’s do-able as a metaphor, so I focus on the tiny cells, gathering and shaping and mending piece by piece until I see her lung looking pink.
Her breathing stops rattling like a death knell.
Now that she can breathe, I clean fluid out of her lungs, fixing the damage from the tear so I can move on.
I raise my hand and wipe my brow. I’m sweating something fierce, and I feel like I’ve run a thousand step set with a weight on my chest. I don’t know how she does this like she does, looking fresh and composed and not a drop of sweat on her.
She always seems wiped out after, but I didn’t realize what a toll it takes because my wife makes it look so easy.
She makes this all look easy. It’s why she’s my blood warrior and the strongest woman I’ve met on either side of the Rift.
And if I don’t fix her, she’ll be an ex-warrior—no pressure.
I open one eye, watching our other mates for a moment before starting the hard part.
The lounger is still murmuring under his breath, doing what he can to help me.
It makes my lips curve up when I realize that when I’m connected to her magick, I can see their auras, hear some of their thoughts, feel their fear, and touch their hearts without trying.
Every little nuance of them is curling out to me like tendrils of smoke, and as I touch them, I tap into the stream of energy or emotion.
Interestingly, I see one snaking out of the bed by the fireplace where Aradia’s snoozing away.
That’s how her Beast speaks with the tiger.
My eyes dart to the window, and I see movement from the garden. This must be what she sees every day, all day long. All of nature, everyone she meets… reaching out to her magick and connecting her into their universe.
Talk about overload.
She must have the strongest shields this side of the bloody universe.
Christ, that’s what the bloody doors are for!
That atrium is her soul flame, and everything around it is a door to parts of her, from powers to memories. It’s her mind palace—that explains everything.
Shaking my head, I go back to generating heat to my fingertips like she does, hoping to start by healing the wound from the inside out.
The minx is drinking fiercely now, and that can only help.
I knit together strands and cells and pieces, coating the work with a blanket of her magick.
As every bit joins and pinks up inside, I slog my way through, remembering she wants the scar as a reminder.
I hate that, and I hate that the stoat does it too.
Both of them need to let us heal them, love them, and let go of the past. I sigh, realizing that I need to do the same, so I send love and forgiveness to both of my mates along their connections.
I can’t get angry at my primary for allowing my powerful, stubborn wife to do something that she couldn’t have stopped or predicted if she’d wanted to.
My acceptance seems to cause a surge of energy to flow through us all, making even my mates reel a bit.
Jesus, that’s potent.
It looks like they agree because they seem to try not to lose focus as they deal with it.
~You’re doing so well, baby. It’s almost there. I feel you learning. ~
She’s not kidding about that, but I’m relieved to hear her voice again. I’ve drained my wife and taken her soul so far into mine they melded, and yet I didn’t have a clue how deeply she feels all of her surroundings day to day, minute to minute.
I’ll not forget.
I lay my palm on her chest after I heal the last of her wounds and look over at my mates. I send them both another apology—Talia, for overreacting and Rafe, for not seeing everything in him I see now. I let go of their power and allow my connection to my wife to lessen to a normal level.
“There you go, heart of mine. All better now.”
Her eyes open, and the smile she gives us warms me from head to toe. “Thank you, baby. Thank all of you. You were wonderful.” She reaches her hand out, and I take it, squeezing it.
It doesn’t last, though, because as she reaches out to her newest mate, her brow furrows. Talia slipped away while I focused on my wife and mate, headed out to make herself some scars of her own.
Damn it.
”What-what did I do wrong? I wanted to thank her. I wanted...”
My wife’s eyes well with fat tears, and I curse silently at my primary for upsetting her so soon after the healing. I know what she needs and why, but she always thinks about what’s good for everyone. “Shh, love, don’t cry. I’m sure it’s all right.”
The newly-healed minx’s eyes dart from me to her primary as we both try to contact or infiltrate Talia’s mind, finding out what’s going on, where she’s going, what to do to fix this. I sigh as I find the info rather than asking for it as the long hair’s doing.
“Shit. Talia still blames herself, pushing you to hurt yourself for her. You almost died because of her, and she’s having a mighty hard time living with that, love. She couldn’t heal you. She’s in pain and wants to scar herself because of this. She’s looking to hurt herself; it’s not pretty.”
“I tried telling her it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know it was bad. I don’t want her to do that. I keep saying things and no one listens!”
“I can’t feel her anymore, so I can’t find her,” I say, rubbing my hand over my face.
Damn that bloody place she goes to hell.
“I can,” my wife whispers. “I know where she is, so use my head to get us there.”
I look at her, then at Rafe, who shrugs. “She’s been there. I used her magick there; it’s like a homing beacon.”
“One of these days, I’m going to find that place and build a bloody house there. I’m sick of this disappearing shit.”
“He feels her if he tries hard enough because of the portal.”
“Then go to her, you git. Bring her back,” I growl, frustrated and raw beyond the telling of it.
“I can’t. I could only go because she was there and opened the portal, dragging me in. I can’t pop places myself, you know,” Rafe shakes his head, frowning.
“Great,” I mutter. “Minx can find the place, but she’s too weak to pop. You can feel her, but can’t pop. I can pop, can’t feel her, and don’t know where it is. It’s like being in a fucking Tolkien movie. Anyone got any bright ideas?”
My wife looks up at me for a moment, her expression tired and sad. “I’m trying. I’m reaching out. Maybe I can get through—give me a few.”
I sigh, holding her close, cradled in my arms with my hands splayed over her still flat tummy. Maeve is in there, and it makes my heart warm, soothing away some aggravation of the day to connect with the wee little princess.
She finally looks up and sighs, smiling wanly. “She’s coming home. She and I will have to talk about ‘appropriate reactions’, she says, but she’s coming back now.”
I try not to show my surprise, as I’ve waited days for Talia to trot her rear end back from that place, and it took my wife minutes.
If she doesn’t know she’s the star of this show, I can’t see how she’s missed it.
Kissing her forehead, I murmur, “Good. She can find the stoat and stay with him for a bit, then tomorrow, she can have you to talk to. We’ve got to settle this soon as we’ve got well over a week before that blasted party and we gotta be a united front.”
I fear that is going to be the worst trial we’ve faced yet, and we’re not united enough to take them all on in person.