Where Wild Things Roam

Wild Magic

Lili    

“Why are they like this?”

The car moves slowly, easing its way through the crowded streets to the plaza, then the park, then the pavilion where I know the rest of the pack leadership waits for us. People—strangers—smile and wave, even though they can’t see us through the car’s darkly tinted windows, a few even push against it, flattening handmade signs against the sides, hoping we’ll see them: We love you, triumvir mates!

“They’re a community. They consider us a part of it.” Anna’s terse answer doesn’t answer the question.

“We’ve been part of communities before this. It’s nothing new. Why does it feel different here?”

“Must be new if it feels different. They’re wolves.”

Ugh. I roll my eyes, waving even though I know no one can see me. “Are you telling me this doesn’t feel different to you?”

“It’s different,” Anna acknowledges. “We’re different. These aren’t people idolizing and mimicking the behavior of wolves. They’re actual wolves. This is how they are, how we are now. Or maybe they’re just bored.” 

I can see the pavilion, people packed around it. The black waves of Ian’s hair are easy to pick out, even above this tall crowd, and using him, I find Jack and then Sean. The car stops at the curb, and David gets out to open the door for us.

Jack’s adoptive mother, Ellie, has decorated the plaza like we’re some kind of heroes returning from war. Multi-colored flags flap in the light breeze along the park’s periphery and the pavilion itself is trimmed with floral studded swags and twinkle lights.

A hush settles over the crowd as we make our way to the pavilion where Ian, Darby, Sean and Jack wait. To the opposite side, four fully garbed Pawnee carry traditional drums and rattles. Members of Anna’s family. The Wolf People come to honor their partnership with the spirit wolf, one of their own becoming a wolf.

With a smile and a slight jerk of his head, Ian urges me closer, extending one huge hand to me, palm up. When I rest mine in his, he turns it over, and with a beautifully designed glass athame, makes a small cut at the base of my palm at the intersection of the lines on my hand. Then he does the same to his.

Pressing the bead of blood welling on his hand into the droplet on mine, Ian says solemnly, “By my blood so be bound, Lingling, sister triumvir mate of the Candlewood pack. Us to you. You to us. For as long as Arianrhod smiles down on us.”

“By my blood, I, Lingling, accept the bond—me to you, you to me—as sister triumvir mate of the Candlewood pack for as long as Arianrhod smiles down on us.”

A gasp rises from the crowd around us. The Luna lilies, normally sedate and pretty, release puffs of dandelion looking seeds into the air that dance on the breeze and float away.

My God, I think. Ellie could make a killing planning events like this for rich people. I glance at Ian again and smile. Knowing how deep his pockets are, maybe she already does.

As I take my place beside Jack, one of the men from Anna’s tribe sings out in a clear strong voice, the words unintelligible to nearly everyone here besides Anna, perhaps excepting Darby and now Sean. The hairs rise on the back of my neck, then prickle all over my body when the other three repeat it in an intricate harmony. A soft cadence rises from the drums, accented occasionally when they stomp their feet and jingling bells attached to the legs of their garb add to the hypnotic music.

Listening carefully, Anna waits for a cue in the tempo then takes her place before Ian. He proceeds through the same steps with the athame, then clasps his bleeding palm into the blood on Anna’s.

“By my blood so be bound, Anna, sister triumvir mate of the Candlewood pack. Us to you. You to us. For as long as Arianrhod smiles down on us.”

“By my blood, I, Anna, accept the bond—me to you, you to me—as sister triumvir mate of the Candlewood pack for as long as Arianrhod smiles down on us.”

I’m expecting the Luna lilies to burst with their seeds again, but the instant Anna speaks her part and goes silent, out of nowhere and clear blue sky, a loud clap of thunder booms through the air, the vibrations rattling inanimate objects around us and setting off a few distant car alarms. Startled, people in the crowd jump, milling about and looking worriedly at the sky. Random little shrieks ring out and several toddlers and infants begin to wail as the sound dies. Abruptly the drumming stops and the man who started the song steps down from the pavilion to carefully examine the sky. When he turns back to the pavilion, his eyes lock with Anna’s in a long stare.

I’ve seen Anna with her family before, and this exchange is nothing like those times. This time, she holds the man’s gaze. Refusing to bow to it, she raises her chin proudly, nobly, like a queen— and she’d make an excellent one. The man nods once, returning to his place beside the others on the pavilion.

Before I can consider more what this means, my head is full of genuine, welcoming voices and cheers and applause ripples through the gathered crowd.  I’ve never felt anything like this in my life. For the first time since I met Anna and through her, Jack, I can see a future. A huge smile cuts across my face and I look up at my mate, delighted.

 There’s no describing the pleased smile on Jack’s handsome face as he looks down at me. Wrapping his arm around Anna’s waist, he kisses her forehead, then does the same to me.

. Guiding us down the stairs into the knot of awaiting people, Jack has never seemed happier. Somewhere music starts up, and I can tell, this party is just getting interesting.

**

Sean    

Man, the Candlewood pack goes all out for these welcome ceremonies. Remembering my own ceremony in Ian’s office a few months ago—a few quick cuts that released Ivan and a few more bound me to Candlewood and Ian, and through him, it’s Luna, Darby. Perhaps it’s only for the women they throw this kind of bash.

Or perhaps they didn’t intend for me to be staying.

Feeling hands rest lightly on my shoulder blades, I turn to find Ian and Jack’s mother, Ellie, behind me. “I set up a designated table this time for the pack leadership. There’s food and drink. Ian and Darby are already there. Do you have a date you want to bring?”

I smile, shaking my head and she loops her arm with mine, guiding me through the crowd.

“How is a gorgeous man like you still single here in Candlewood?” She sounds sincerely amazed, but there’s no chance I’d explain myself. “I couldn’t keep the girls off Jack, and he’s cute, but nowhere near as striking as you, Sean. I could introduce you to some nice young ladies. Very good families.”

“No,” I chuckle, smiling. “Thank you. I’ve got a job to do. Maybe once I’ve accomplished it, I’ll take you up on that offer.” It’s a platitude I have no intention of ever seeing through.

We’ve reached the table, a long narrow rectangle set up not far from the dancefloor and the live band. Pulling out a chair for Ellie beside her mate, Michael, I take the seat on her opposite side, and a were I recognize from Townsend’s staff brings over glasses of wine for the three of us, even though they know I won’t touch mine during a gathering like this.

My eyes skim the crowd watchfully for strange behaviors, my nose working overtime to filter out the various scents of food, smoking tobaccos and rarely, weed, dirty diapers, and different shifter species.

The faint hint of superbloom drifts to me from the dancefloor and I watch as a beaming Ian whisks Darby around, the flare of her skirt swishing gracefully with them.

“They make a perfect couple, don’t they?”

Shit. Ellie is far too perceptive. I lean in a bit closer so she doesn’t have to raise her voice again and I don’t have to raise mine. “Theirs is undoubtedly an enviable match.”

“You know, if I had a dime for every time I’ve had this conversation with one of you young men, I’d have thirty cents right now. Something about these ceremonies seems to put you in a difficult state of mind.”

Blushing, I look out over the dance floor again, nodding towards Darby and Ian. “He hardly seems the type.”

“Oh, he’s confident now,” Ellie chuckles. “But when he was your age, he sat beside me just like you are—questioning why the moon goddess would bring Ivan—a Second triumvir—a mate before him, an alpha. And a few months ago, Jack did the same thing, and look where he’s at today.”

“In other words, I should be careful what I wish for?”

Ellie laughs, and the sound of it and the way her smile spreads over her face are obvious precursors to Ian’s—he’s definitely her son. Taking a sip from her wine, she rests her hand patiently on my forearm when she sets down the glass. “That’s always been the way with Jack—if he can’t serve as a good example, then he makes it a point of pride to be a terrible warning.”

“Well, you don’t have that to fear with me, Ellie. I don’t envy Jack in the least.”

“And you shouldn’t envy Ian either. You’re a bright, handsome young man, Sean.” Ellie gives my forearm a little squeeze that spreads through me like a warm hug, just like all good motherly hugs do. “Trust the path Arianrhod put you on. And in the meantime, you can ask a conveniently located old lady to dance.”

I grin, genuinely delighted by her offer, turning my palm up and presenting it to her, then leaning around her to look at Ian’s father, Michael. “I’m borrowing your mate for a dance, unless that’s a problem.”

Michael casts a brief glance my direction as if to check my sincerity, then replies in his usual deadpan, “Nope, Sean. Not an issue.”

**

Darby    

I sigh deeply. Between the triumvir mates ceremony and party, and now this private ceremony with Anna’s tribe, I haven’t been able to avoid him the way I’d prefer.

There’s silence through the link for the better part of a quarter mile as our tiny procession winds its way on foot toward the homestead for the private Pawnee ceremony, but I have no doubt this idiotic object lesson of Sean’s isn’t over. The silence only means he’s seeking a new angle of attack.

Begrudgingly, I resist the urge to comment about his constant state of haywire. It was, after all, the closest Sean gets to an apology. And, at least in this singular incident, he’s stopped assuming ill intent on my part.

Confused, my question echoes through the link before I can stop it.

Do I even want to know? I suppose I’m going to hear it anyway. At least if I ask, I’m not waiting for the other shoe to drop later.

We’ve reached the edge of the fallow field behind the homestead. Though the medicine man had already approved of the place for this ceremony, he walks the length and breadth of the field again as we wait, carefully choosing the exact placement for each participant, then directing us to them.

As we each take our positions as directed, the medicine man removes a stone from a beautifully beaded bag across his chest and sets it on the ground. From another pouch, he removes dry ingredients—small twigs, grasses and leaves, several colored powders, and bits of animal fur—placing them carefully in the smooth depression scooped out of the stone. He pours a thin rivulet of a hazy oil over the contents, then lights them on fire.

Lifting the stone chest high, he walks due east, then clockwise to the outside of all of us he’s positioned in the field, whispering an accompanying chant.

Returning to its center, he raises his face to the sky, his arms lifted out in supplication, and sings out. Along the perimeter, the drums begin a simple throbbing rhythm, silencing the noises of the nearby forest, then tumbling into their spaces. When the medicine man sings out again, the drummers echo his song and as the chant repeats the first time, the harmonized voices of Anna’s mother and sister join with the scratching hiss of rattles twisting into the pulse of the drums.

I lose track of the repetitions amid the droning, chanting voices and the pounding drums, but I feel the lulling hallucinogenic effects. Around the circle, a magic heretofore unbeknownst to me begins to spiral, sweeping each of us into it as it rises heavenward, allying energies into pillars and columns and opening a path.

Cued by a subtle shift in the tempo, Anna moves to the circle’s center.

From a small vial, the medicine man removes a smudge of white paint. Raising his hand, he draws a straight line from one of Anna’s high cheekbones, over the bridge of her straight nose, ending at the other cheekbone, and the energy around us surges.

The voices stop, but the pulsing drums are ceaseless, their tempo now hypnotic, holding us enthralled. The medicine man sings out once, then again, walking around Anna in a circle, his hands raised as if offering her to the sky spirits.

The low rumble of thunder begins somewhere distant towards the east. As it rolls closer, it hijacks the tempo of the drums and they beat faster, picking up a counter rhythm. Around us, the wind races through the trees, raising dust and debris and stifling the little fire in the medicine man’s stone bowl.

I squint my eyes, raising my hands to try to protect my sight. In the circle center, Anna clutches her middle, staggers to one knee, balancing herself with one arm braced against the ground.

I flinch at the painful pops and groans of her bones and body, audible even over the trance-inducing drums and the whirling winds hissing through the trees, as her shift is forced upon her. Struggling through the excruciating realignment of tissues and bone, she collapses to her hands and knees, panting heavily.

Her body swells to two, then three times her usual size and the neat t-shirt and shorts she wears tear apart, dropping in tattered shreds to the ground around her. Her face elongates and spines erupt over her smooth flesh in advance of a coat.

The medicine man staggers back, and my own breath catches, seeing now what he could see. The white streak of paint has turned blood red and glows. Anna hangs her head, a keening wail rising from her. A bolt of lightning, white hot and blinding, streaks downward. Striking her, it crackles with hot pink fire along her body, then fans out in a venous blue-white circle as its massive burst of electricity diffuses into ground.

The percussion knocks all of us backwards, throwing us to the ground and with a massive rumble, the thunder begins with the flapping of powerful wings. I struggle to sit upright, staring at what Anna’s shift has made of her.

The giant hawk-like bird is covered in shiny jet black feathers from head to toe reminiscent of her hair. Two thin white streaks from the bridge of her nose, run beneath her eyes and up into a short, pointed plume at the top of her head. Her long tail is bifurcated, and scissors as she turns, looking at each of us with eyes that spark, crackling like lightning.

Feeling hands on my arm, I look up to find Ian beside me, and let him pull me to my feet, just as Jack, Lili and finally Sean collect near us. Anna’s family gather in a huddled clot nearby.

Jack stares up at the giant bird. “Anna?”

She bobs her head, flapping her wings once and thunder rolls above the trees around us. 

“Um. Why’s she not a wolf?”

“Because she’s a bird,” Sean answers, almost calmly. “A really f*****g big bird with lightning in her eyes.”

Stunned, I can barely explain. “She’s a Thunderbird. I haven’t seen one for millennia.”

“Millennia. Good.” Jack nods his head. “Yeah. How exactly did she get were catalyst and turn into a bird?”

“Because she wasn’t just human.” I turn to Anna’s family and those around me follow suit. “Yours is a protected lineage.”

“Yes,” Anna’s brother replies, looking back at his sister, “but wolf. Like your kind.”

“Then what does this mean?” Ian asks.

“I can’t answer that. This is magic beyond my ken.”

“The Thunderbird holds the power of the storm,” the medicine man replies in English studded by the glottalized consonants and lateral sounds particular to Pawnee, the contrastive stresses exotic and strange. “She alone understands and can absorb the energy of lightning, that which holds all things together at the simplest level. She alone can wield it to move mountains and clear paths. Unlike all others, her course is precise, unwavering. She contains the forces of nature. Keeps them in balance. She is here because she is needed.”

“Whoa,” Jack whispers. “That’s more than I’ve heard him talk in three days.”

“That sounds an awful lot like a bad omen.”

Though Sean’s words aren’t directed at anyone in particular, when I look up, I find his gleaming golden eyes on me and hastily look away, knowing what he’s implying. Somehow, again, this is my doing.  

Anna beats her glossy black wings and rises, spiraling upward. Overhead, clouds gather quickly, and flashes of lightning race along her wings and forked tail, splintering out into the building clouds. As thunder rolls across the sky, a misty rain begins to fall.

Blinking against the light drops, we watch her as she flies for a few moments before gliding earthward again. As she lands, the rain stops and the clouds thin, beginning to break. Shifting, Anna huddles against the ground and Jack races toward her, pulling his wet t-shirt over his head and offering it to her.

“It’s cold,” Anna says weakly.

“Yeah, baby doll. It’s wet.” Jack grins. “If you hadn’t just rained all over us, it wouldn’t be. Come on, my bird girl. Let me help you up.”