Page 41 of Claiming Starlight
Micah was still clearing the blood from his eyes when the fully healed Ranalf picked Micah up and threw him into the middle of the circle. It was all a blur; fur, claws, and teeth.
“How is he doing that?” Avó whispered.
“Doing what?” Sophie glanced at the woman uncertainly, then at Ranalf. What was Avó seeing? Or what was Avó not seeing? Was Ranalf stronger because of some kind of magic or artificial enhancer? Sophie looked at him harder, searching for a sign or something that didn’t belong.
Instead of moving with the flow of his body, parts of the necklace Ranalf wore seemed sunk into his skin, latched in place on his body. “The necklace. It must be that ugly necklace.”
“The necklace?” Avó frowned and looked harder at the brindle wolf-man.
If Avó didn’t see it, neither did Micah, Sophie realized. It was cloaked, spelled. “He’s wearing a necklace made of bones.”
“He brought that bitch’s magic into my house?” Avó realized aloud, disbelief clouding her expression. Before Sophie could stop her, the five-foot tall elderly woman walked into the middle of a brutal shifter-wolf fray. By luck or fate, her swinging cane miraculously made contact with the back of Ranalf’s neck.
Ranalf roared. It was not a wolf sound at all, but a monstrous sound of a man’s pain and anger. His body seized by magic, Sophie smelled smoke and ozone again as Ranalf arched his back and clawed wildly at his neck.
Thunder crashed above them, and the wind gusted through in a cyclone of manifest power Arms went up to cover heads, people ducked, a few even screamed.
“How dare you! This is my house!” Avó shouted as she hit Ranalf again. The string of the necklace snapped, slipping to the ground as the shifter toppled.
His claws raked the empty air, his legs shot out comically as he fell backwards on his ass.
“Sophie. Where is it? I can’t see it. Come here. Where is it?” Holding her cane in two hands, Avó poked at the ground, searching for the necklace.
That necklace was a polluted force of death energy. She didn’t want to go near it. Was one of Alexi’s bones a part of it?reathing heavily, Micah stood on the other side of the fallen Ranalf, clenching and unclenching his fists. As she watched, his body started to heal, a grotesque knitting of skin to skin. Nothing pretty like a sutured incision. Sophie froze as he tipped his muzzle her direction, sniffing the air. His muscles rippled and flexed, tension and intent flowing her direction.
But Ranalf grunted, and the spell was broken as Micah’s head twisted in the direction of the fallen shifter.
Shivering and pathetic, Ranalf looked like a drug addict in need of a fix. The loss of the magic had hurt him badly. Rolling to his side, he tried to stand but couldn’t manage it.
Fast as sin, Micah had a huge paw-like hand wrapped around Ranalf’s throat and was lifting him off the ground, shaking him like a ragdoll.
“Sophie. Show me!” Avó pleaded, tapping at the ground like a blind woman, still looking for the awful talisman. Near her foot, the grass was changing color, turning brown. Right before Sophie’s eyes, she watched brown become black as the patch of earth died.
“By your foot, Avó. It’s by the toes of your left foot,” Sophie shouted, pointing a finger but refusing to go any closer.
“Aiya!” Down went the staff, beating against the earth in rapid fire succession. On the fourth time, she connected with the strand of bones, and it exploded into green flame.
Chapter Seven
Micah
Losing the Morghanna’s magic Hollowed Ranalf out, took all his strength with it. He gave a weak-ass attempt to lift his claws but couldn’t get them above his waist. Not surprising—because that’s what happens when you bargained with a goddess—Micah shook the asshole like the trash he was.
Behind him, Avó and Sophie left the circle, further away but not at risk now that the threat had been neutralized. This fight was over. Fury still drummed through Micah’s veins. Ranalf had cheated Micah out of a fair fight, had stolen his starlight’s brother and betrayed their entire community. This win felt like defeat.
Although Ranalf had somehow managed to bargain with the goddess without being forced into the slave ring she used on the cocks of those she used, it seemed she’d given him a more devastating token of her affection; a collar only his Sophie could see. Thank whatever gods there were for Sophie. Without her, he might not have survived the stacked fight.
Syrinx the naiad spoke the truth that morning. Someone, one of his people, one of his own kind, as it turned out, had offered the blood of innocents to wake a goddess. Ranalf betrayed his own kind, and now the Reaper was coming for judgment.The Reaper could have that bitch of a goddess, but Ranalf would answer to Micah.
Stupid, fucking cunt.Ranalf hadn’t thought about the big picture. Bastard had no sense of responsibility or common sense. His actions never had consequences; his shit didn’t stink far as he was concerned. His family had sheltered him, made excuses, let him become a monster. No more excuses now. It was time to deal with him.
Throwing Ranalf to the ground just to hear him whimper, Micah scooped him up by one leg, then slammed him down again for good measure. Right in front of the people who had chosen the piece of shit as a leader.
When they’d walked outside to hear Avó’s story, half the yard were followers of Ranalf, believing his shortcuts and thievery would make life in this new world easier. Micah knew them all. Lazy males whose relentless hate for anything different or stronger than themselves made them stupid.
Lining them up and challenging them now with their leader weakened seemed like a good idea—get it done and over with. He didn’t want to deal with whiners or backstabbers a year from now.
He snarled a challenge into the air. Let the fuckers come. With a defiant glare at the watchers from the other yards, he dared them to take their turn. He didn’t have any energy to seduce their loyalty or play little games. They would follow him or fight him.
