Magic Triumphs (Kate Daniels 10)

“I love the Kate and Erra show,” she said. “You should take it on the road.”

I picked up my platter of barely seared venison and carried it inside. Andrea held the door open for me.

“As I was saying,” Erra continued, “there has never been a child of the Wild within our bloodline. I was hoping that the Wild wouldn’t manifest, but it did and now it coexists with our powers inside his body. The might of our magic fuels him. I fear for my grandnephew, for he may be capable of terrible things.”

My aunt, the party pooper. “Why should he be any different than the rest of us?”

My aunt opened her mouth and closed it. “Good point.”

In the kitchen, Julie pulled three loaves of bread out of the oven. She’d taken over the baking a couple of years ago and always had starter dough on hand. The bread smelled like heaven. Andrea snuck toward it.

“You’re not invisible,” I told her.

She stopped and gave me an injured look.

I turned to my aunt. “Have you ever heard of someone killing a large number of people and then extracting their bones?”

“How large?” Julie asked.

“About two hundred.”

Julie blinked. “That’s a lot of people.”

Erra mulled it over. “Your grandfather did it once.”

“What?”

“The tribes of Hatti had gotten themselves a particularly persistent chief called Astu-Amur. Big on balls, short on brains. He invaded us seven times over a forty-year period. Each time we beat them back, but your grandfather, Shalmaneser, finally had enough, so he ordered the heads of their fallen gathered, cleaned, and piled into a large mound so the next time they came to invade, their army would see what happened to their predecessors.”

“Why clean the skulls, though?” Derek asked. “Wouldn’t the severed heads be more effective?”

“Because scavengers are less likely to nibble on a clean human skull than on something with flesh still attached. Besides, having a pile of rotting human heads is unhygienic,” Erra said.

Of course. When making monuments of human skulls, one must always keep hygiene in mind. “How did he clean the skulls?”

“Dermestid beetles, of course,” Erra said. “Fast, thorough, and the flesh is returned to nature.”

Scratch dear Dad off the list.

A door swung open. My son stumbled in, still in half-form. Relief washed over me. I hadn’t realized I had been that worried.

Grendel got off his pillow, his tail wagging. Conlan shuffled over to the mutant poodle and crawled onto Grendel’s pillow. The big black dog flopped next to him. Conlan hugged Grendel and closed his eyes.

Curran followed, still in human form but without shoes. He must’ve shifted into a lion, then shifted back and put his clothes on.

“Did you have fun?” I asked.

“Yes, we did.” Curran grinned. “Our son is a shapeshifter.”

He was so happy. I almost laughed.

“Your son is a freak of nature,” Andrea offered, munching on a slice of bread. “It’s not natural for a toddler to have a half-form.”

“He’s a prodigy,” Curran told her.

The prodigy made a quiet whistling sound. He was snoring. Grendel lay perfectly still, panting, his eyes shining, and generally acting like being hugged by a sleeping monster-child was his highest aspiration in life and now that dream had been fulfilled.

“Freak of nature,” Andrea said again.

Curran looked at her.

“Fine, fine.” She waved her hands around. “I’m leaving.” She grabbed a loaf of bread, snagged a venison steak, and swiped a bottle of sangria off the counter. “I know when I’m not wanted. Kate, you still owe me lunch. I’ll let myself out.”

She disappeared into the hallway. Our front door clicked closed.

Curran frowned. “Did she just steal our food?”

“You’re welcome to take it up with Clan Bouda,” I told him. “But since our son bit their alpha today, I don’t know how much ground we can gain there.”

“He bit Andrea?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Ankle?”

“Shin, actually. She said his teeth scraped bone.”

“Good bite,” Derek said.

Curran grinned wider. It was good that Jim wasn’t here. They would probably high-five.

I glanced at Conlan. He was asleep without a care in the world. My life had irreparably changed today. Nothing would ever be the same. I had to figure out how to roll with it by the time Conlan woke up.

Curran wandered over casually and snagged a chunk of Julie’s bread. “What set him off?”

I wiped my hands on a kitchen towel. “Do you want to eat first or see the box?”

“What box?” Derek asked.

Curran glanced at my face. His expression hardened. “The box first.”

* * *

• • •

CURRAN LEANED TOWARD the box sitting on the porch table. His nostrils flared. Gold rolled over his gray irises.

Derek’s upper lip rose, baring the edge of his teeth. He looked like a wolf now. A sharp, feral wolf.

“What does it smell like to you?” I asked.

“A predator,” Derek said. “Never smelled anything like that before.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“It smells like panic and running for your life,” Derek said. “I would remember this.”

“Smells like a challenge,” Curran said.

Julie frowned at the box.

Curran opened it and took the rose out. His voice took on a quiet measured tone, as if he were talking about the weather. “Interesting.”

My aunt focused on the box. “I’ve seen this before.”

Oh goody. “What is it?”

“It’s an old way to declare war.”

Great.

“It was used to overcome the language barrier. No translation needed. Submit to our demands or . . .” Her translucent fingers brushed the knife. “We’ll cut your throats and turn your world to ash.”

Better and better. “Would Father . . . ?”

She shook her head. “This was the way of the uru. The outsiders. Barbarians. Your father is a civilized man. If he were to declare war, he would call you first.”

Well, at least I could expect a phone call before Roland unleashed Armageddon and murdered everyone I loved.

Julie went inside.

“What about the rose?” Curran asked.

“I don’t know,” Erra said. “Sometimes they put a bag in the box to symbolize tribute.”

“Pay us and we’ll go away?” I asked.

“Essentially. I’ve never seen a blossom like this. The rose is the flower of queens. When your grandmother built the Hanging Gardens, she filled it with roses.”

And that was precisely the problem. We knew what a rose meant to us. We had no idea what it meant to whoever sent the box.

Julie came back out with a piece of paper and a pencil.

“How do we know who sent it?” Derek asked. “Why declare war and not identify yourself?”

Erra turned to me. “Did you see the messenger?”

“No.”

“If we wait long enough, we’ll find out,” Curran said, his gaze dark.

“They signed it,” Julie said.

Everyone looked at her.

“The box glows blue,” she said, drawing. “There is a lighter blue symbol on the lid.” She held the paper up. Two circles joined by two horizontal lines. It looked like an old-fashioned barbell.

“The alchemical sign for arsenic?” I frowned. That made no sense.

“Could also be the astrological symbol for opposition,” Julie murmured.

I glanced at my aunt. Erra blinked. “Izur?”

“What’s Izur?” Julie asked.

Erra stepped down into the yard, where the first stars dotted the darkening sky and pointed in the direction of Ursa Major. “Izur, the twin star.”

Julie’s eyes lit up.

“Don’t do it,” I told her.

She held her hands out. “Aliens.”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, why can’t it be aliens? Ooo, maybe your whole family is aliens.”