One reason I never considered the possibility for my adopted lad. Munro remembered how excited Tàmhas had been, running up and saying, “Heath will do it, Da! He’ll give me the bite.” Hotheaded Prince Heath. As willful as King Lachlain and as wild as Prince Garreth—a ruinous combination. No one had been surprised when the prince had died young. . . .
“Munro?”
He snapped back to the present. “We’ll figure something out with your newlings.” He’d seen thousands of them in Quondam’s dungeon. “Just give me some time.”
“Aye, then. Rest easy, friend,” Madadh said. “And take care of your human.”
Munro found Kereny looking over at him and couldn’t drag his eyes from his new female. Fierce, intelligent, beautiful beyond the telling. With her tart, harridan tongue. Now would be a good time for me to stop staring. “She will no’ be human for long. . . .”
TWENTY-FOUR
As the wolf talked with someone on his new telephone, Ren followed Loa to the clothing racks, keeping that snake in her line of vision. It’d coiled up in a nearby corner, its shuddersome eyes watchful.
Had it been only hours ago that Ren had faced down a pair of viper shifters? Or a century ago? Because she was an actual time-traveler. And a replica—whatever that was—as well. She raised her hands to her face. Am I even real?
“You look like you haven’t blinked in a year,” the priestess said. “You need a chance to decompress, no?”
Ren dropped her hands. “What does ‘decompress’ mean in this context?” No wonder so many of the wolf’s phrasings had confused her. They were from the future!
“It means to process things without pressure.”
“This has been a lot to take in.” Another version of Ren had been hexed by warlocks and bitten by a Lykae. Then she’d died. How close had she come to resurrecting as a werewolf?
“Well, you’re safe here now—unless the Forgotten have a spirit trap, of course. So let’s get you squared away with whatever you need. Care to try any of these clothes?”
Ren perused the racks. Transparent blouses. Skirts that would scarcely cover her backside. “They appear very, um, modern.”
“Not to your taste. I understand. Nothing a little magic can’t fix.” Loa turned toward the aisles, motioning her to follow.
When a duffel bag suspended in midair began trailing them—evidently carried by an invisible spirit—Ren struggled to appear unaffected.
Loa retrieved a couple of packages of something called Dream Duds and dropped them into the bag. “These are pricey. Luckily, Munro is rich.”
Ren read one of the packages on the shelf:
Put your best foot, fin, or paw forward! This charm will conjure your dream outfit and recreate your hygiene rituals as needed. Teeth brushing, hair removal, cosmetics, and ’do included! Just apply the stamp to your skin. Lasts for two cycles of the moon.
Ren supposed she couldn’t scruple about using a witchly good, since her blade was magical.
Next Loa headed to a large display of H.O.W. Cuffs. Each one seemed to be fashioned from a different metal and was labeled by purpose: Tail Concealer . . . Contraception . . . Scry Cloaking . . .
The priestess selected two cloaking cuffs and popped them into the bag. Another phone and a nondescript silver flask followed. “My number is preprogrammed into all the phones I sell, so feel free to contact me. Well, not free. Standard rates apply.”
“Of course,” Ren said absently. The wolf kept drawing her attention as he spoke to someone in a language she didn’t know. Must be Gaelic. Though she didn’t understand his words, his bearing of command was unmistakable . . . and attractive.
When she replayed their time in the cave and their kiss on the battlefield, conflicting impulses warred inside her: the urge to explore what matehood meant—or throw that salt lick at his head.
“You can’t keep your eyes off him,” Loa observed.
Ren flushed. “I’m curious about what he’s doing. It seems my fortunes have temporarily been tied to his.”
“Can I give you some advice?”
Ren nodded.
“The spirits that surround me come from all walks of afterlife, but they each agree on one thing: time is precious. You’ve been given the second chance that none of them received. I’d hate to see you squander it.”
“You think Munro saved me?”
Loa inclined her head.
“Even if true, that doesn’t mean he owns me,” she pointed out. “It doesn’t mean that we have a fated bond.” Though apparently, the worlds’ most powerful soothsayer believed they did.
Yet how could Ren be fated to a male who expected her to relinquish everything that made her who she was? “Loa, I understand that you turn needs into realities. Can you help me get back to the past?”
“You’re not tempted to stay? I lived in your time, and I greatly prefer this age.”
“I liked my life.” Though I felt incomplete.
“Maybe you could make a new life with a certain wolf.” Loa lowered her voice to say, “Munro’s one of the good ones, you know.”
“Is he? He lied to get me to this time.”
“Can you understand why? Matehood is a Lykae’s religion. If he didn’t pull out every wolfy trick to save his fated female, he would have gone against his beliefs.”
“I didn’t ask for this connection.”
Loa gave a laugh. “Yet so many others have. Scores of immortals would kill to be his mate.”
Ren raised her brows. “Such as you?”
“I’m not immortal,” Loa replied, not answering the question.
“You were alive in my time. So what are you?”
Cheshire Cat grin. “Complex.”
“Is there a way for me to return to the past?”
“What did Munro tell you?” she asked airily. “He knows more about time travel than I do.”
“You’re hedging.” Hope leapt in Ren’s chest.
“And you’re perceptive. Perhaps there is a magical way that I’m not aware of. But the cost of magic is always steep. The greater the feat, the greater the price.”
“I’ll do anything to return.”
“Anything?” Loa’s eyes flashed white, and the air seemed to go still. Out of the corner of Ren’s vision, she spied the snake raising its bulbous head. “The word anything is a dangerous one filled with bitter consequences. I would know.” Appearing to wake from a daze, she said, “Consider your future carefully, blade huntress. With an aim as honed as yours, you had best settle on the right target.”