Immortal Wolf - By Bonnie Vanak Page 0,13

my sight. I’d say I’m much less cavalier with it than the old ones.” Raphael removed the blade, flipped it into the air and sheathed it.

“We’ve never had a Kallan who wasn’t a pureblood. You’re a mixed-blood, so different.”

His jaw tightened to flint. “There’s a first for everything. I worked hard to become Kallan and passed the test. That’s all your people need to know.”

Sunlight glinted off the dagger’s fine gold hilt. Emily hedged. If he were to kill her with the blade, then she wanted to see it closer. Touch the knife that would end it all. She stretched out her gloved hands. The covering would protect the blade from contamination.

“May I see the Scian? I’ve never held one before.”

“No.” His voice was curt.

Hurt, she retreated to the end of the porch. Raphael stared out at the woods. “Come, Emily. Walk with me. It’s time to begin your lessons.”

“I’m not a good pupil.” Anger roiled within her.

“All transitions learn. It’s my job to teach you, to prepare you for your journey to the Other Realm.”

“A journey I won’t easily take,” she whispered.

His gaze softened. “Then let’s walk, a simple walk through the woods. Show me your woods, Emily.”

Given no choice, for he seemed determined to shadow her, she headed for the forest, the Kallan giving her plenty of space. Leaves drifted lazily downward, brushed by a cool wind. Emily scuffed her bare feet in the thick padding of dead leaves, moss and grass as they entered the woods. The path she used was wide enough to admit two, but Raphael trailed behind her. Sunlight filtered through the tall oaks, pines and maples. The welcoming scent of forest and earth wrapped about her senses. She breathed deeply, smiling. Here was home, a sacred place where she felt most comfortable.

“Do you always go barefoot?” he asked.

It’s the only part of me I feel free to bare. “When I can.”

When they approached the small glen, she tried to quickly pass, not wanting him to investigate. But Raphael halted.

A frown creased his forehead as he gazed about. “This is a sacred place, with much ancient energy. I feel a heaviness in the air as well. It’s coming from over there.”

She gazed in the direction of his pointing finger and her heart dropped.

“No, you shouldn’t.”

Raphael left, heading toward the direction where he’d pointed.

“Don’t. It’s nothing you need to see,” she called after him.

But as she raced forward, it was too late.

Raphael entered the small space with its uncommon quiet. No songbirds chirped here, and though the trees were not as thick, the air seemed dense.

He stood before the stone altar and touched the ancient rock with a solemn look.

Emily fisted her gloved hands. He was here to kill her. She didn’t dare trust him or anyone else. Raphael was her executioner. No overtures of kindness, treating her with respect and talking with her and staving off the constant loneliness would change that.

The stone altar served as a granite barricade between them. Raphael shifted, putting a hand on his hip.

A stray beam of sunlight flashed off the solid gold dagger hilt at his waist. He caught her staring at the dagger.

“Oh, Emily,” he said softly.

With a strangled sob, she turned and ran blindly through the forest, away from the grim reminder of what was to come. Finally she reached the haven of her cottage. Emily squeezed her eyes shut and, with all her emotions and thoughts, called out to the one destined for her. He’d told her he’d be out of reach for a few weeks, but her need was urgent.

If Amant could not help her, no one could.

Raphael walked through the forest, deeply troubled. Faint energy emitted from the stone altar where Emily would be executed to end the curse. The sight had not bothered him, but he sensed something of tremendous importance had occurred there. Yet the altar held no tinge of death or sorrow. He could not make out the energy patterns.

Pity surged through him, banishing the earlier resentment. Emily thought he wasn’t as good as the other Kallans because of his mixed blood. Unworthy. Old memories flashed through him. Walking to town, to the Vieux Carre, from his simple bayou home to get supplies. Other, more pure Draicon taunting him, throwing stones and laughing.

Dog. Mongrel.

Would old prejudices against his Cajun blood never cease?

Raphael shoved aside the bitter past and concentrated on Emily. His transition came first. He must find her, get her to calm down again if they were to work