Chapter 32 Feray
Feray
Khal returns several hours later and drops another dead deer on the porch of the alpha house. The scent of blood looms in the air, making my stomach growl.
Torben leaves the sitting room and drags the body back to where we're settled. We found a room with a functional fireplace, and I'm camped out in front of it, watching Easton's chick hop around.
He's the size of my fist, covered in downy fluff that shifts between sunset orange and deep crimson depending on how the firelight catches him.
His eyes—those are unmistakably Easton's.
Warm amber with flecks of gold, ancient and knowing despite the tiny body that houses them.
When he looks at me, I see my mate staring back, trapped in this fragile form.
In the bond, I can feel Easton's love for me. He worries about whether I'm alright with what happened.
"I'm sorry I didn't move faster. The vampire—he had a power. He slowed time." My bottom lip quivers as I fight the tears, still blaming myself for his death.
The chick stops his hopping and tilts his head, watching me with those too-knowing eyes. A soft, mournful chirp escapes his tiny beak—a sound that holds centuries of understanding in its simplicity.
The only other vampire I've ever interacted with is Dezi. I've seen the bloodlust in his eyes when I cut myself. Even when the hunger rose, he had control.
These vampires were feral. Lost to their hunger.
I stare at my mate's chick, feeling inadequate and guilty. I couldn't get to him, and I'm supposed to be some great Luna. How can I protect a pack when I couldn't protect my own mate?
"Little wolf, he wouldn't want you blaming yourself. He's alive, and now you get to protect him for a while." Torben shifts a finger to a claw and slices meat from the hindquarter. "Make sure you eat, too."
He presses a kiss to my temple, then sits back, cutting a piece for himself and watching over us.
"Where's Diaval and Khal?" I glance over my shoulder.
"Diaval went hunting for himself. Khal ate and is watching over the house."
Reaching into my bag, I pull out a knife and cut ribbons of meat free to feed Easton. Raising a slice, I offer it to his chick.
He chirps excitedly, his tiny wings fluttering in a blur of orange and gold. His beak snaps open—wider than should be possible for something so small—and he gobbles down the offered food with the enthusiasm of a creature ten times his size.
Feeding Easton's chick is a comedy of errors as he almost bites my fingers, overeager to eat. Giggles escape my lips as I watch him bounce on spindly legs that seem too long for his round body, trying to snatch the next ribbon from me.
"Silly chick!" I waggle my finger in his direction.
He stops and tilts his little fluffy head, ruffling his down indignantly. Then he squawks at me in protest—a sound that's half-adorable, half-offended royalty.
Something warm unfurls in my chest. Even as a hatchling, he's still Easton. Still indignant. Still mine.
I keep feeding him until I see his crop is full and distended, a visible bulge beneath his fluffy chest. He waddles—there's no other word for it—over to my sweatshirt on the floor and climbs in, his tiny talons catching on the fabric as he burrows deep into the sleeve.
Within moments, soft peeping snores escape from the bundle.
My eyes move over his little body, and I use the sleeve to cover him. The rise and fall of his breathing is hypnotic. My mate. My ancient, powerful phoenix. Sleeping in my dirty sweatshirt like it's the safest place in the world.
My heart cracks and heals simultaneously.
"You're going to make a wonderful mom when you're ready." Torben says with an easy smile.
"Fi's mom was great. She never made me feel as though I wasn't hers." I shake my head and swipe the rogue tear from my eye. "Do you know our birthdays are two days apart?"
Smiling fondly, I think about the joint birthday parties we had on the day between us. On the actual day we were born, Fi's mom would make our favorite meal for dinner.
"I didn't know that." Torben scoots closer and pulls me to him. His thick arms wrap around me, and I feel his heart thudding in his chest.
"Yeah, I'm the eighteenth and she's the twentieth."
Leaning back, I close my eyes. Reaching out through the bond, I feel Diaval's dragon roaming the edge of the mountains that separate us from the tundra beyond.
Khal's basilisk is slithering around the outside of the alpha house, keeping watch.
And Easton—a warm ember glowing softly, peaceful in his sleep.
"The warnings call us the children of the moon. I have yet to figure out what that means."
"You'll figure it out. You're the smartest woman I know." He kisses my temple, and I melt into his arms.
If I wasn't so concerned about another attack, this would be kind of romantic.
A deep rumble escapes Torben's lips, and I know he feels the same.
"I don't feel so smart." I look at my hands and flex them as I snuggle closer, resting my head on his chest. "Supposedly I'm going to be a powerful Luna, and I couldn't even save my mate."
I motion in Easton's chick's direction. The sweatshirt rises and falls with his tiny breaths.
"That was no one's fault." Torben spins me to face him and holds my chin, not allowing me to look away. His eyes glow with the power of his bear. "It could have been any of us. Unlike Easton, we cannot resurrect. You would be kneeling by a grave instead of watching over a chick."
The words hit me like a physical blow. Torben. Khal. Diaval. Any of them could have been the one with their throat torn open. Any of them would have stayed dead.
Just before the tears break—as I realize how much worse the day could have gone—Diaval enters the room and scoops me up out of Torben's grip.
"My eternal, please understand we did all that we could. We were outnumbered thirty to one. He wiped out the bulk of the vampires. Probably saved all of us." Diaval searches my features, hoping I understand.
Easton's sacrifice saved the family.
"I was almost there. Whatever that vampire did to time slowed me down. I couldn't get to him fast enough." Gripping his lapels, I try to get him to understand what's bothering me.
"Wait... You could move?" He looks at me puzzled, then over at Torben. "Were you able to move?"
"Not even an inch. I felt Feray's wolf use me to launch off of. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her fly through the air in slow motion. It was like her wolf was floating for a moment until she hit the vampire. Then I could move." Torben pauses, eyebrows raised. "How did you manage to move?"
He tilts his head, looking at me just as puzzled as I feel.
"I don't know." I shrug.
"That's part of the power of the Luna. She has to be able to protect the pack. A lot of vampires have powers. The older they are, the stronger the powers. That's why he could slow you and not stop you." Diaval gives me a knowing smile. Pride shines in his eyes.
"Do you think it's because I'm a Luna?" I glance anxiously between my mates and then at the chick in my sweatshirt.
"You're a true Luna. Straight down your bloodline. Never forget it. We are your pack and your family." He smiles and leans down to kiss my cheek.
"We should sleep." I change the subject, staring at my sweatshirt moving from Easton's chick.
I get up and move away from the guys, stripping out of my clothing. My shift is fluid and painless—different from how it usually goes.
Once my paws hit the floor, I shake out my fur and move over to the sweatshirt, curling myself around it. Gently, I stick my nose under the sleeve and sniff Easton. He smells like woodsmoke and cinnamon and something distinctly him—even in this form, even reborn, his scent remains.
Flicking my ears, I listen intently to the flutter of his baby phoenix's heartbeat. It's faster than a human's, a tiny drum beating against fragile ribs.
Consciously, I have to remind myself that he is my mate and not my prey. My wolf understands, but her instincts are harder to silence.
Irrationally, I haven't eaten enough, saving the majority for him. An entire deer is far too much for a hatchling. But here I am, ignoring my needs to tend to his.
He saved us, and I will never forget it.
The next morning comes far too quickly, and my stomach is growling loudly.
Using my muzzle, I move the sleeve aside and my breath catches.
The chick has tripled in size overnight.
Where yesterday he was a fluffy ball of down, today he's a young bird with actual feathers—iridescent plumage that shimmers between copper and gold, with streaks of deep scarlet along his wings.
His tail feathers, still short but growing, fan out in a gradient from amber to flame-orange.
He looks like he might be able to fly.
His eyes blink open, and that ancient knowing gaze meets mine. A musical trill escapes his beak—a sound that resonates in my chest like a bell.
Good morning, my wolf.
I can almost hear the words in the melody.
Carefully, I unwrap myself from around the sweatshirt and walk over to what's left of the deer to eat.
"Are you ready to go exploring, Feray?" Diaval asks, walking up alongside me and threading his fingers through my thick fur.
Turning my bloody muzzle to him, I nod my head. I take several more bites before heading to where I left my clothes.
Shifting back is painless as well, and it makes me arch an eyebrow.
"I know that look, Precious. What's puzzling you?" Khal steps over what's left of the deer.
"Shifting doesn't hurt anymore." I lower my gaze, shifting my hand back and forth, waiting for the pain that never comes.
"There's always a little pain with shifting, even for me." Diaval shifts his hand to dragon's claws, then back again.
"Same with me." Torben shifts his hand to bear's claws, then back again.
"Mine doesn't hurt." Mentally, I'm adding another notch to the freak belt I'm apparently wearing.
"I'm sure it has something to do with being a Luna and needing to shift quickly." Diaval states matter-of-factly.
"You're probably right." I shelve the conversation for now as I reach down for Easton.
He pops up and runs over to the deer to feed himself, his movements more coordinated than yesterday. His beak tears at the meat with surprising efficiency, and I watch him eat with a strange mixture of pride and maternal worry.
A soft laugh escapes my lips as I shake out my sweatshirt and slip it on. I watch him eat his fill before he comes to stand before me, head cocked expectantly.
His feathers catch the morning light streaming through the broken window, and for a moment, he's luminous—a small sun burning in the middle of this decaying room.
Reaching down, I scoop him up. He's heavier today, more substantial. His talons grip my fingers with surprising strength, and he nuzzles against my palm before I stuff him inside my hoodie.
The warmth of him against my chest is a comfort I didn't know I needed.
Time to find the house in the picture.
Khal leads the way out of the house and down the main street. Cradling the baby phoenix inside my hoodie, the surrealness of the situation settles over me like a thin veil.
It's astounding how quickly he's grown—transformed from a vulnerable hatchling to a young bird adorned with feathers, already a quarter of the way to adulthood. His heartbeat thrums against my chest, syncing with mine.
The cobblestone beneath our feet seems to absorb the gloom of the abandoned town, mirroring the overcast sky. As we traverse the desolate streets, my eyes catch details I had previously overlooked—the broken windows, the claw marks etched on doors.
Why didn't I notice them before?
The vampires wiped out an entire town. Probably overnight. Families. Children. An entire pack, gone.
The thought makes me hold Easton's chick a little tighter.
Dried leaves skitter across the cobblestone when the wind blows, adding an eerie symphony to the atmosphere. The sound, coupled with the occasional creaking of a rusted sign swinging lazily, intensifies the ghostly aura.
The windmill, a skeletal silhouette on the horizon, marks the intersection leading to the road we seek.
"Are you okay, Feray?" Torben's voice cuts through the ominous quiet, and I realize how tense I've become.
The intersection looms ahead—a place stained with the memory of Easton's death and rebirth.
"Yeah. Just afraid of being attacked again. That, and finding the house and there's nothing left, or there are no clues to who I am." The words are laced with anxiety and determination.
Inside my hoodie, Easton stirs. His little phoenix head pops out of the top, feathers ruffling in the breeze. His amber eyes scan our surroundings with an alertness that seems impossible for something so small.
He's still protecting us. Even now. Even like this.
I bite my bottom lip, the weight of our quest pressing down on me like heavy fog.
The baby phoenix seems to sense my unease. He stretches his neck up and nuzzles against my jaw, making a cooing sound—low and melodic—that settles something deep within me. A warmth spreads from where his feathers touch my skin, chasing away the chill of this haunted place.
We reach the intersection. What remains of the battle has been blown away on the wind.
Everything except the stains of Easton's blood on the cobblestone.
My stomach lurches at the sight. Dark rust-brown against gray stone. Evidence of the moment I almost lost him forever.
"Don't dwell, Precious." Khal blocks my line of sight and tips my head up to look at him. "He's alive and well in your hoodie."
Khal's lopsided smile makes me laugh half-heartedly.
He's right. I have Easton in my arms, and I didn't permanently lose him. Perhaps I'm displacing my fear of being alone again on this minor bump in the road.
Between the death of Fi's birth parents and now who knows what happened to mine—the fear of loss is at the forefront of my mind. Everyone I love seems to slip through my fingers like smoke.
But not this time. This time, he came back.
"He is, and I'm thankful." I kiss the top of his little bird head, his feathers silk-soft against my lips. Again, I ignore the predatory instinct that whispers dark things.
Easton chirps—a sound of pure contentment—and tucks his head back into my hoodie.
"We all owe him a debt that we can never repay." Diaval says and bows his head lower than Easton's.
For a dragon to lower itself like that speaks volumes about the respect given. Dragons bow to no one. Not kings. Not gods. Yet here is Diaval, five hundred years of pride and power, bending before a chick the size of a grapefruit.
Because that chick saved us all.
I watch Diaval take point and head down the path before us.
This small exchange feels big. I feel like the dynamics in our family just shifted. Easton, even in this vulnerable form, has earned something that cannot be taken back.
When he returns to himself, he'll be more than my mate.