Concentric Circles Part 18

"I can tell, idiot!" Syther's voice ricocheted around them. "They have tampered with the other wand." He kicked Dragar again. "First, that Fae b.i.t.c.h shows up and steals my wand. Then Chilkwell kills Zubird. He will die!"

He snarled and shoved Dragar aside. "We must continue our Wraythe's Rite of Misery, regardless of what has happened." He bent over and picked up his wand, shifting it from one hand to the other as though it was hot.

Shayla crinkled her nose. Wraythes. That was the putrid smell a.s.saulting her. The Wraythes were a lesser Gnomonn from the underworld. Gagh! Shayla shuddered. The things you learn when you have to do a quick study.

Why did the White Lady want her to come here, anyway? Shayla blew on her sc.r.a.ped knee, a trick learned in her youthful days of tree climbing. Leaning back, she studied their environment. Ensconced within a cave, four black flamed torches emitted glistening light, reflecting off stalact.i.tes dropping from the ceiling. Water flowed through the cavern's center, whispering around calcified rocks on its journey through the earth.

The only other sounds were Dragar's heavy breathing through a congested nose and Syther's rapid chanting. Shayla listened as Syther spoke in an ancient language she did not understand.

Black blobs rose from the water, spinning as though a whirlpool. Four blended into two, and then slowly transformed into something resembling wet, tar-like human forms.

p.r.i.c.kles of apprehension laced her skin. She knew her reaction was a direct link to the Wraythes. One of them locked eyes with her. She hissed, unsure why she reacted that way, and held his gaze boldly, feeling relief that Syther could not see her.

The Wraythe on the left spoke with distain. "Why do you call, human?"

Syther gave a regal bow.

"Ever the minion, eh, Syther?" Saying his name gave her a bad taste in the back of her mouth. She tried to swallow it away and shook her head in absolute disgust.

"Have you heard the news, Wadd Sapropel? Zubird has been vanquished." Syther waited, watching the two Wraythes conversing in a language unknown to humans.

Shayla tilted her head, trying to hear. Parts of what they said made sense while others proved utterly indiscernible. Tension in her forehead grew when she understood one word, Fae.

The Wraythe on the right looked her way again. His facial features contorted.

Surprise? Fear?

Wadd Sapropel made a sound that reminded her of a flushing commode. "Why tell us?" he sneered, voice dripping misery. Eyes narrowed, Wadd raked Syther with depthless black penetrating orbs. "We are unconcerned with human endeavors."

Syther growled under his breath, jaw moving as through he ground his teeth. Angry silence ruled for long moments.

The Wraythe waited, unperturbed by human emotion.

Motioning with his hands, Syther insisted, "Wraythes are most content when creating misery. You tell me this is unimportant? Zubird was your link with humans. The only reason I could summon you today is that I have his wand." Syther pointed to the wand held tightly in a talon, hovering over the moving waters of the underground calcium spring.

The Wraythe on the left made a peculiar gurgling sound as though laughing. "That is not the only reason we come. You are a foolish human who knows nothing of what he deals with. I suggest you give up your plot."

"You know nothing of my plans," Syther growled, moving forward with menace. "I will not give up. Malvenue was the greatest magical mage in the twentieth century!"

"Fool!"

Shayla had the feeling of water crashing off a steep cliff. She stood, ignoring the pain in her knee.

Syther raised his wand, threatening.

Wadd Sapropel shook his wet head from side to side. "The Fae Princess is powerful. You know nothing of Wraythes. We honor and answer only to her from this moment forward."

Syther roared, "Scathergal!"

Harsh mocking laughter sounded. Wadd Sapropel remained unaffected by the curse. He began to spin with rapid intensity. In one final move of defiance, he waved his arms out, covering Syther with the darkest wet sludge from the pits of the earth.

Shayla felt the beginnings of wind that would carry her back to the Well. Determination gripped around an idea. Holding her hand out, palm up, she tried something on the spur of the moment. "Zubird's wand."

The wand vanished from the talon.

The Wraythes lowered back into the water, swashing into fusion.

Syther screeched and turned to face her, black Wraythe sludge oozed from his hair and clothing.

She was aware that for a brief moment, he could see her. The wand felt heavy as she raised her other hand, wiggling fingers in farewell. A fast spin and she arrived back at the Lionhead Fountain.

"Shayla, where did you go?"

Head still moving in circles, she grunted relief and leaned against the alter stone. "The White Lady took me to an underground cavern. Syther was there." She held Zubird's wand out to Joseph. The first time she really had a chance to study it; she noticed it was wood, wrapped with leather and copper. Obsidian beads and raven feathers hung from a leather thong embellishing its handle.

"Why would the White Lady take you to Syther?" Joseph asked, reaching for the wand.

James distracted her from answering. He knelt, looking at her knee.

She pulled away.

"It's all right, Shayla," he said, with gentle insistence. "I can heal you."

She watched amazed as James raised his hands and held them close to her injury. Warmth and a tingling sensation similar to when an arm or foot awakened from falling asleep pa.s.sed over her. The knee healed without a trace of scar. "Thank you," she whispered, filled with awe.

James smiled and lowered the hem of her white robe.

There was no dirt or tear from her foray into the cavern. She sighed and looked back up at Joseph. "Syther used Zubird's wand to call Wraythes. He was determined to use them as part of his plot." She paused, frowning. "Apparently, Zubird was the only one who could summon them until today?"

"Yes." Joseph glanced down at Zubird's wand. "I was unaware that Syther could."

Shayla chewed on her lip, and then began to shake her head. Trust runs both ways.

Joseph Chilkwell stepped backward, eyeing her closely after her silent response.

"What is it, Shay?" Meekal asked, concern etching his voice.

"They didn't appear because of anything Syther did. Well, not really."

"Shayla." Meekal said gently, concern reflected in his eyes.

"They appeared because I was there. At first, I was mad that the White Lady took me there. Then, I realized it was because she wanted the Wraythes to know about me." Shayla lifted a lock of her hair, waving it. "They saw me and refused to obey Syther."

"Aye, but why?" Meekal's eyes locked on the black-red strands between her fingers.

Amus.e.m.e.nt surged through her. "Something you forgot to tell me?"

Meekal's frown deepened even as realization came to Harry expression. He snickered, earning a glare from Meekal.

Shayla huffed in annoyance. "Fae Princess?"

"Oh," Meekal said, looking sheepish.

Joseph laughed. Chaeli and the others joined in. "Come on," Joseph said. "Let's go back to the manor. Mari will be holding breakfast warm for everyone."

A lively fire in the oversized fireplace warmed Shayla when she stepped into the dining room. Flames crackled and danced, giving heat and solace. The sideboard called, covered with all manner of delectable temptations. The heavenly scent of teas and croissants came to the instant attention of Shayla's stomach. It rumbled loudly.

Harry grinned and pa.s.sed her an empty plate. "Here, cous. Breakfast is a casual affair around here when we don't have guests. The Foxhill's left this morning."

Shayla surveyed the buffet. She didn't know where to begin. The breakfast fare proved to be an elegant selection of coffees, teas, croissants, and breads, including French toast, omelets, scones, and eggs Benedict. Finally deciding on French toast and Earl Grey tea, Shayla took a seat next to Meekal.

"Mum's French toast is great," Harry said, sitting across from her. "Course her scones are excellent, too." He demonstrated by biting into his and moaning.

Clinking her spoon against the sugar bowl, Shayla rolled her eyes, and added two heaping spoonfuls to her tea.

"Like a little tea in your sugar, cous?" His eyes widened in surprise when another helping disappeared.

Shayla giggled. "I'm a bit strange that way. I like my tea very sweet in the morning. That isn't weird. What's really strange is I don't put any sugar in if I drink some after breakfast." She stirred her Earl Grey, blew across its surface, and then sipped delicately.

"Americans," Harry said, shaking his head.

"Surely, cous," she drawled, grinning, "you don't think all Americans are like me?"

Harry, his mouth full, refrained from answering.

Hunger became her focal point. Shayla concentrated on eating breakfast. Harry was right; Mari's French toast was excellent. Everyone's conversation blended together, and she half listened to patches here and there.

"Sedeeva's shop was broken into."

"The Glas...o...b..ry Beacon said there's very little evidence. The police don't have any leads."

Meekal's leg brushed against her thigh. Warmth spread from the contact, bringing her attention to the present. She pressed back, indicating she was okay.

He leaned in close and breathed into her ear, "Where'd you go?"

Turning her head, she murmured, "Nowhere. I'm right here."

Meekal grunted, shaking his head. "You keep riding away from me. Perhaps, I should get a rope." He wagged his brows.

She snickered and rubbed against him under the table.

Gail leaned forward and spoke from her place down the table. "Kal, what are you going to do about the reward for Zubird? Plan a honeymoon?"

Surprise knifed through Shayla. She looked around at everyone, her eyes finally resting on Meekal. "Reward?" Honeymoon?

"You know I don't need or want the reward."

"Meekal," Gail insisted, "that isn't relevant. There's a reward. Even if you are an Adjutor, you're still ent.i.tled."

Meekal growled under his breath.

"Kal," Gail said, her tone slipping into a coaxing tone. "The Council will expect closure. You know the procedure. The Clerk's office will have to draft a twenty-five thousand pound note because it has already been allotted."

"I don't want it."

Shayla sensed Meekal's heart racing. The sensation threatened to overpower her in its intensity. Everything about their bond was still a new experience. "You're an Adjutor?"

"Later," he muttered, shaking his head angrily.

Her frustration spiraled. She hadn't realized Meekal had a job. Duh, Brinawell, she growled in her head. She had a.s.sumed the Bed and Breakfast was Meekal's source of income. This was something new added to the mix. She didn't understand the feelings she was picking up from him. They seemed to be anger and uncertainty.

"Yes, I'm an Adjutor." Meekal turned back to Gail. "I don't want the reward. Mrs. Graham was involved with the Children's Fund. I'll donate it to them."

Pride replaced Shayla's frustration.

"All right," Gail said. "I'll start the paperwork and have it ready for your signature on Monday. Will you stop by and sign them?"

"Yes. We'll do it then." Meekal's tone reflected one of finality.

Tension embraced the room. Shayla looked down at the last few bites of French toast and pushed her plate away. She didn't know why the question popped out, before it was a cohesive thought. "Are Wraythe essentially evil?"

Meekal sputtered on his tea. Coughing and thumping his chest. "No," he said, still coughing.

Harry gave her an understanding smile. "If something smells so bad it has to be evil, right?"

"That's not what I was thinking." Shayla fidgeted with her fork. "I was thinking that if Zubird could summon them along with the Gnomonn are Wraythe originally evil? Or do they just reflect Zubird's intentions?"

Shaking his head, Meekal explained, "Zubird was actually the first to perform the Wraythe's Rite of Misery. He did it for Malvenue. Brought the Wraythe forth in Wells. Set the whole village on its ear with grief and mourning. There was a rash of drug abuse and suicides before we figured out what was happening."

Harry interjected, "It was actually Vince who told us about the Rite of Misery. He found out about it during a meeting of upper level minions."

Shayla's gaze traveled to the other end of the table where Vince sat with his family, but then she rolled her eyes in disbelief. "Upper level minions?"

"Yeah, oxymoron." Harry's laugh sounded like a bark.

"Shay," Meekal said. "Wraythes aren't essentially evil if you think in terms of a filter. They reside on the bottom of lakes, streams and the ocean. A large part of Glas...o...b..ry and its surrounding area used to be marshes and bog. Silt and later earth moved here by residents served to raise the ground level. Residents drained the excess waters away. The result is habitable land. It's true much of the Wraythe contains pollutants, but that doesn't make them evil. They are a product of the earth and our mishandling of natural resources."

"So they reflected Zubird's intention?" Shayla pulled her brows into a tight knot.

"Yes." Meekal leaned away as Mari poured more tea into his mug.

Mari smiled at Shayla, holding the carafe, inquiring whether she wanted more tea.

"Yes. Thank you, Mari."

She poured, and then moved on to refill Joseph and Chaeli's mugs.