Page 39 of Wolf of Ashes
When I can see him, I can keep him contained within the limits of his form, but now that my eyes are closed, his power feels…
Massive.
As if it stretches well beyond the limits of this parking lot. Seemingly held together only by his will and the intense flow of dark magic from the ring around his finger. Which is itself like a beacon behind my eyelids.
“Around a corner now,” he says, tugging me to the left. “And another corner.”
The moment we complete the second turn, a gust of wind hits me, even saltier on my tongue than the stifled breeze within the parking lot.
“Straight ahead now,” the keeper whispers at my ear. “And across a street.”
A deserted street, it seems, since I can’t hear any sounds of people or machinery that could indicate vehicles are near. The keeper said the population in this coastal town is low, but it must also be approaching the darker part of night now. Creatures like me come out at night, but humans need to sleep.
“Through this park,” the keeper murmurs. “Not far now.”
He steers me on a curving path across a soft surface that makes my toes curl. “Are we walking on grass?” I ask, nearly opening my eyes to see it.
“We are, but wait. Don’t open your eyes yet,” he says. “You’ll spoil the surprise.”
I give a soft growl that I’m giving up the chance to see grass in favor of whatever surprise the keeper has in store for me. It had better be fucking good.
My feet finally leave the soft ground and then I’m walking on a surface that feels like pavement again. It’s a descending path that makes me wobble for a second before I regain my balance.
My next footfall crunches on a rough, powdery substance.
“What is that?” My softly whispered question is snatched away by the wind, which has become intense, gusting against my hair and chest. If I were wearing loose clothing, it would be plastered against my body. As it is, the cold makes goosebumps rise on my skin and my nipples tighten unpleasantly.
I wrap my free arm across my chest and I’m on the verge of asking the keeper for an illusion jacket when he makes a growly sound, his lips close to my ear. The tension in the sound tells me he isn’t happy with something. Emerald light flares beyond my eyelids. And then, suddenly, the wind dies down, leaving only a peaceful quiet and a comfortable warmth.
“Better,” he says. “Only two more steps now.”
Now that the ferocious wind has died down, I can more easily sense the panthers milling around me, the brush of their fur against my thighs and the soft purring sounds they’re making. It’s as if they’re supremely happy and now my level of anticipation increases.
If the panthers like what they’re seeing, then maybe I will too.
The keeper lets go of my hand but doesn’t stop touching me, gliding his palm along my forearm and up to my shoulder.
He whispers in my ear, “We’re here, but don’t open your eyes yet.”
Then I feel the tug of his hands at the back of my head.
“You need to see this with your eyes, unfettered by a blindfold.”
My reaction is defensive and not entirely rational. My hands snap up behind my head to stop him from untying the material. “Stop. I need this blindfold.”
It’s my guard against the world. My safety net. Without it, I’ll feel exposed. Worse, I’ll feel like I’m putting this piece of my mother away from me.
The keeper doesn’t rise to my anger or react to my fear.
“Not right now you don’t.” His compelling whisper sends a tingle through my body. “If you won’t trust me, then trust the darkness that lives within me.”
Trust the dark.
When the light has only ever brought me pain and torment, the dark is my solitude. My constant.
His lips brush against my earlobe, and it feels like a spark. A burst of heat that soothes my tension.
A moment later, he steps away from me. He may have loosened the blindfold, but my own hands are keeping it in place. It’s now my choice to remove it.
