Lunaria (A Soulmark Series Finale), page 42
Each careful drag of his lips across mine stirs up a storm of emotion inside of me. One that swells far too easily despite my fatigue. I smooth my hand over the prickly stubble at his jaw, surprised to find trails of wetness there. I pull back and stare at Adrian in astonishment.
His lashes glisten from the tears he’s shed, but there is no shame in Adrian’s eyes as he stares back at me. “I failed you today. I couldn’t protect you.”
“No.” My rebuttal is delivered sharply, but I am quick to soften the word as I repeat it. I stop the bow of Adrian’s head, clasping his face with both hands tenderly to keep his obsidian eyes on me. “Today, we won. Today you trusted in me, and I in you. My only regret is that I didn’t do it sooner. I let them hurt you, Adrian. I should have—"
His eyes narrow to slits in a silent rebuke. I deflate in understanding. There is little point in trying to take on any blame when I don’t allow Adrian to do the same.
Adrian’s hand gropes at the blankets to cover us. Once laid beneath them, he regards me with wonder. Long, calloused fingers brush my colorless hair away from my face so that he may trace the small bundles of intraflora that frame my cheekbones.
“You are cold, ov thera.” He brings my knuckles to his lips and kisses each ridge. The gleam in his eyes begins to smolder. “Let me warm you.”
Adrian curls around me, and I nestle gladly back into the safety of his arms.
“I love you,” I whisper. “It seems impossible, I know. Truly we’ve known each other for such a short amount of time—but I do. I love you.”
“You were terrified of me,” he murmurs atop my head, “and rightfully so. I was a beast, beaten and broken by those cowards. You were the light I couldn’t give up.”
“Do you love me, Adrian?”
He doesn’t hesitate in his answer. “I loved you from the moment you brandished that ridiculously small knife at me in the Valley of Ways.” Adrian snorts in amusement and chuckles. “I knew then the Gods had gifted me with the perfect mate. Fearless in the face of danger. Absolutely stunning in her brilliance.”
I turn my head into his bicep to smother my smile and release a happy sigh as he peppers kisses on my neck.
The inviting heat of Adrian’s body lulls my eyes closed.
“I love you, Lunaria,” he declares softly. My smile remains as we curl further into one another and sleep.
++
When I awaken later, it is with a foggy head and stiffness in my bones I’m unused to. The groan of discomfort I emit stirs Adrian from his sleep, and he is quick to mimic my utterance.
“Everything is sore,” I mumble, forcing myself into a seated position. My fingers attempt to rub small circles at the base of my shoulder blade, where the secondhand pain of Adrian’s gunshot wound lingers.
“We are alive and that is more than enough,” Adrian says, stretching with a grimace. “Come, ov thera. We shall eat and recuperate. Our bodies need sustenance.”
I dress and give Adrian one of the bed’s blankets to wrap about himself. After a trip to the bathroom to wash and relieve ourselves, we journey downstairs in semi-halting steps. Hopefully, the coven has supplies left to help our soreness.
“Well, it’s about time,” Gran laments upon seeing us. “I was starting to worry you used up all the hot water.”
Just off the kitchen, in the formal dining room, sits a formidable group. My eyes roam over them, Gran and Aunt Lydia, the Adolphus brothers and their significant others, Atticus and Winter, as well as Alekos and Celosia. A cry of relief bursts from my lips as I speed toward them.
“You’re all right!” Alekos joins the fierce hug Celosia and I gather one another in, his long arms squishing us in tighter.
“I’m so sorry we left you, Luna,” Celosia says, “but Alekos and I couldn’t allow the doorway to be destroyed.”
I shake my head as best I can. “I’m just happy you weren’t hurt.”
Celosia untangles herself from our bundle with a flushed face. “We were! Well, Alekos was.” Celosia’s skin and wings flux with illumination as she gestures impatiently for Alekos to turn around. “See for yourself!”
My eyes widen as I take in the long gash along the leaflike wing on his right side. White, shimmering thread keeps it stitched together.
“Will it heal?” I ask.
“As long as your friend doesn’t strain himself by flying off too quickly, I’m sure Diana’s work will do the trick,” Aunt Lydia declares. Alekos flattens his wings against his back, a sheepish flush painting his dusty brown skin.
“Come sit,” Alekos offers.
The wolves stiffen minutely as two chairs scrape across the floor to the table with a wave of Gran’s hand. Ryatt sneezes as Adrian and I take the additional seats. Upon sitting, I take further stock of the room. Several bottles are scattered across the length of the table. Bottles of wine and liquor. Zoelle is the only one without a hard spirit in hand.
“It’s really, really over?” I ask tentatively.
“Yes,” Xander replies, pride etched in his gruff voice. A final weight lifts off my shoulder at the confirmation. The muscles in my back and neck loosen as I slouch back in my seat. “We’re still cleaning up and running the perimeter, but so far, things have run smoothly.”
“What happened while we were asleep? How long did we sleep?”
Gran crosses her arms over her chest. “You slept for a good twenty-four hours, dear. Maybe more. The fighting ended sometime before midday yesterday with the last of the Wselfwulfs coming to heel permanently after they ambushed some of my girls.”
A stillness follows Gran’s response, but Quinn fills it as she stands to pour Adrian and me a generous allotment of wine. I clear my throat as I watch the plum-colored liquid spill into each glass.
“How did we win?” I murmur, catching Quinn’s eye as she passes me my glass.
She takes a breath and sets down the bottle of wine. Her arms fold stiffly over her chest. “Before we get into that, I need to say something. I’ve spoken with Celosia and Alekos already, but I need to speak my piece with the two of you as well.”
“Quinn, it’s—"
Quinn holds up her hand to silence Ryatt’s subdued intervention. Tears glisten in her eyes.
“You left us defenseless the other day. Callie and I, including everyone else in the manor and those who came for medical attention, depended on your group to be our eyes at the forest line and defense. We were attacked. Some of the Wselfwulfs got into the house.
“Zoelle had to defend us, and the amount of energy and magic she exerted left her almost unfit to take care of those who sought medical treatment. Callie and I were forced to barricade ourselves in the computer room, and Keenan—" Quinn thrusts her sights heavenward as her tirade seizes. Her chin wobbles as she inhales a shaky breath for composure.
Blood drains from my face. My intraflora shrinks. “What happened?” I question thickly. Quinn glares at me, face flushed.
“He wasn’t supposed to fight, but Zoelle couldn’t handle all of them, so Keenan was forced to defend the manor. So was the raven shifter who stayed behind, and Ruby. And do you know what happened? Deval got out because everyone who was supposed to be watching him had to stop the Wselfwulfs who got in. You want to know why we won? Deval slaughtered—"
“Enough, Quinn,” Xander commands.
Her mouth seals shut despite herself as twin trails of wetness coat her cheeks. Quinn wipes them away with the back of her hands and locks her glare on some point above our heads.
"I thought we were all going to die," she says, her words coming out between gritted teeth. My shoulders sag at her final words.
“Deval was not the reason the war turned in our favor,” Xander says firmly, his tone leaving no room for discussion. “It was because of our allies. They came forward and took me as their alpha. Their willingness to follow my command didn’t just strengthen me, but the entirety of the pack. Our combined strength and fortitude earned us the victory, not to mention the help of a spirited fairy who took out one of the alphas.” Xander glances between Quinn and me, a frown digging into the center of his eyebrows. “If I recall correctly, Ruby and Nova got him under control in the end.”
“Not before Deval took out a handful of our own wolves,” Quinn says in distress. "He was barely in control of himself." Anxiety rattles my body as I digest the news.
“And Keenan... did he... is he?” I ask, almost too afraid to hear the answer.
“Keenan is fine,” Zoelle says, “but he was injured again. Callie is taking care of him. The conflict in the manor left them both shaken up. It left us all shaken up," she admits with a grimace, and Quinn ducks her head. "The good news is, I was able to magically sedate Deval when Ruby and Nova dragged him back. Unfortunately, half his body was covered in second-degree burns because he was out fighting until dawn.”
“I’m sorry,” Celosia breathes, her hand finding mine beneath the table and gripping it with all her might. “I’m sorry for the losses you and your friends endured on our behalf. I'm sorry we abandoned our post and left you to fend for yourselves, but we could not sacrifice our only way home.”
“Couldn’t you have just picked a new tree?” Quinn asks, turning her sapphire gaze to Celosia without any anger in her voice. My friend rolls back her shoulders. Her somber face is unwavering.
“No,” Celosia says.
“We barely saved it from the Stormrow’s magic,” Alekos adds. “In a few days, the tree will die.”
“A few days?” I whisper.
Adrian’s arm curls around my back and urges me to lean against him. I do so, reveling in the small comfort his warmth and Celosia’s hand provides. Alekos nods.
“We’ll need to leave before then,” he admits. “Will you be able to travel?”
Adrian squeezes my shoulder. “We will.”
Quinn immediately bursts into tears, her glossy blue eyes staring at me hopelessly. What energy sustained her angered rant depleting in one fell swoop. “Well now I feel like a complete bitch," she cries noisily. "So, this is it? This is goodbye?”
“Oh, no more tears,” Aunt Lydia complains, though there is no denying the thickset emotion-laden in her words. “I can’t stand it.” She wipes discreetly under her eyes, and I must blink rapidly to assuage the rise of my own.
“I was never meant to stay,” I whisper when the room goes quiet.
A floorboard creaks ominously behind us. “You’re right, and it’s far pastime we sent you home,” a hoarse voice answers. I inhale sharply and spin in my seat to gape at Aunt Mo.
“You’re supposed to be in bed, Maureen,” Gran reprimands.
“And miss the party?” She snorts and glances pointedly at the chair Winter occupies. My friend rises, along with her husband, with great haste. Both offer Aunt Mo their seats. She takes the nearest one, sitting down with a grave sigh. My throat tightens as I take in the mass of black scabs spoiling her alabaster skin. “Do we have any of that bathtub gin from the Germaine’s left?”
Aunt Lydia rolls her eyes and snaps her fingers with purpose. From somewhere in the kitchen, a cabinet door snicks open, and seconds later, a large glass bottle comes soaring through the air to land in front of Aunt Mo.
“After all these years, you think your taste would have improved,” Aunt Lydia taunts.
Aunt Mo cracks a wide smile. “If I remember correctly, it was you who accompanied me to acquire this particular spirit. Atticus, be a dear, would you?”
Atticus makes short work of uncorking the bottle and pouring a glass for Aunt Mo. Immediately after, he directs Winter to the remaining empty seat and hovers behind her, his hands resting on the chairs tall back. Aunt Mo takes a gulp, face cringing as a whoosh of air sails out of her mouth once she swallows.
“That’s bound to put some hair on my chest,” she wheezes and laughs. The sad tension that is prominent in the room breaks as a few people chuckle along with Aunt Mo’s good humor. But the mood retreats to its melancholic air when the laughter dies down.
“What next?” Winter inquires.
Gran and Xander lock eyes. “We go back to our lives without the threat of the Wselfwulfs’ or Stormrows’ wrath hanging over us,” Xander states. “Our allies will leave tomorrow after I release them from the pack so that they may rejoin theirs.”
“What about my cousin?” Winter asks with her trademark timidness.
Xander curses and runs a hand over his hair. “Damn, I nearly forgot about her and the Wselfwulf in our basement. Christ, when was the last time we fed them? The past day or two have been a blur.”
Zoelle sits up straight. “The last meal they got was an early lunch today. I sent down some soup.” Zoelle cringes. “They haven’t eaten since… and it’s late.”
“Great,” Xander mutters.
“I’ll make a call home and see if one of the leeches or bird-folk can handle putting on a new pot of soup for our duo,” Ryatt offers and rises. “Tomorrow seems as good a time as any to get them out of our hair. By then, the majority of the mess in the forest will have been cleared.”
Ryatt walks off with Quinn’s eyes tracking his departure.
“Is there anything you’ll need from us to get home?” Aunt Mo asks me. I turn to my friends, meeting their furrowed brows with one of my own.
“We’ll need to pass through the tree’s doorway with the crystal” Alekos supplies after a long moment. “It’s our best chance of leaving.”
Suspense ripples through the link between Adrian and me, as we wait for the witches to respond.
“Of course, you can, Alekos,” Zoelle replies with confidence, after a long look with Gran. “We’ve no need for its protection anymore.” The room lets out its collective breath.
I smile, but it is wane. I sink back into Adrian’s side, fingering the wine glass in my hands. “Then I suppose my friends and I will take tomorrow to rest, and, on the next...”
“Return home,” Adrian rumbles. My friends’ relief is palpable as they voice their agreement, but my own is tainted with thoughts of goodbye.
My sight slips over the kitchen, running over the large island where many talks and cookies were shared. The scent of the kitchen is spoiled by magic, but underneath it is the familiar perfume of spices and tea leaves that have come to comfort me in my time here. I turn my violet eyes to Aunt Mo and the gin clutched in her crippled hands.
“My offer still stands.”
The elderly witch passes me a tight smile. “I’m very glad to hear it.” She sighs, her smile softening. “I thought it was all a dream.”
“What offer?” Ryatt inquires with a hitched eyebrow as he re-enters the room. He shoves his phone into his back pocket and lets his gaze pass from me to Aunt Mo.
“Well...” Words fail me as the attention of the room falls on me.
Aunt Mo curses and tosses back the gin in her glass in a couple of unsteady gulps before slamming it on the table. I catch Zoelle’s flinch, and Xander’s sympathetic grimace as Aunt Mo succumbs to a hacking cough.
“There’s certainly no need to sugarcoat the obvious,” she says, voice hoarse. “I’m dying. I don’t anticipate lasting the week after all I gave, and I gave everything.”
Zoelle’s face pinches. “There has to be something—"
“No,” Aunt Mo says, her voice cutting enough to strike down any more potential protests. “My end has been coming for quite some time, and I’m... I’m ready. And God-awful tired. Lunaria here was gracious enough to offer me the opportunity of, well, saying an opportunity of a lifetime just doesn’t seem to do it justice.”
The appreciation in her voice does not go ignored. A lump forms in my throat as I sniff and wipe at my nose. Bowing my head for a moment, I nod in affirmation.
“I wish for Maureen to take her final rest in the Hollow Woods,” I confess, lifting my eyes to search the reaction of my friends and heart’s content. “Without Maureen’s gift, the crystal would still be in ruins and our chance of returning home even slimmer than they are now. For all my time in the human realm, I never saw such feats of magic or such a generous gift be bestowed upon strangers, such as us.”
Aunt Lydia tuts her disapproval and our gazes clash. “If you think for a second you aren’t—" Her lips purse together in anger. A scowl sears itself on her face. “You’re no stranger, Lunaria, nor your friends. Not to us. You’re one of ours.”
“And ours,” Xander adds with the same firm tone as Aunt Lydia.
“Here, here!” Ryatt jumps in, raising his glass. “To Luna and her friends, fairy-thee well and may your journey—"
Groans rip from each mouth in the room as hands with glasses full and half-full alike, falter and dip down.
“Seriously?” Quinn gripes. “That’s your toast?”
“Oh, come on, man. You can do better than that,” Atticus cajoles.
Rather than take offense by the table’s collective exasperation, Ryatt smirks straight at me. “Thank you, fairy much—"
More groans, but this time they are followed by laughter. Glasses clink and smiles are exchanged. As I cheer with my friends, I receive their silent approval regarding Aunt Mo and as I go to clink glasses with Adrian, he kisses me instead.
++
There is nothing to pack up when the time comes. It makes our departure from the witches’ home strangely... hollow. What fills the void is the mass of witches who fill each room downstairs, eager to say their goodbyes and send us off with trinkets and tonics. By the time we make it out the backdoor, an overstuffed bag of goods in my arms, I’m a mess of tears that cannot be stopped. And though the well wishes are heartwarming, it is the sweet song they sing to Aunt Mo as she wades through the house that refuses to let my waterworks stop.
Our trio follows Gran and Aunt Lydia out the backdoor and into the forest. The two women stand on either side of Aunt Mo, shepherding her forward. But they don’t make it far before Aunt Mo becomes too winded.
“Koma.” Come.
The trio halt at Adrian’s command, the sound of his rumbled voice coaxing and reliable. He approaches them, his intent unmistakable as he extends a hand to Aunt Mo. Gran and Aunt Lydia step aside, and a second later, the third of their triad is cradled in Adrian’s arms.
