The tang of blood in his throat excited him, threatened to choke him. He’d tasted it before, but only his own, or the juice of a beast slaughtered to provide sustenance.

Never the blood of a human.

Zero jumped over a fallen log, stumbled, righted himself, then slowed to glance over his shoulder. It wouldn’t be long before someone pursued him; magiks were forbidden to hurt humans, never mind what he’d done to his handler. He wasn’t sure how it happened. One minute he’d been following a scent on the wind, using his unique abilities to find the herbs the healers needed to concoct their medicines. The next his incisors pierced Marita’s throat, her voice shrieking his name in the crisp morning air.

“Zero! Zero!”

And then the screeching stopped, drowned by the blood filling her windpipe. He recalled stepping away, surveying what he had done, and remembered hating her for calling him by the label humans called him to make fun of him, to cause him to feel less than them. It wasn’t the name his own tribe might have given him, if such a thing existed, as some insisted. He didn’t know if others of his kind lived somewhere in a bigger world, but it didn’t matter. He’d stood over her for an indeterminate time, desperate and salivating, before he’d bent over and ripped a chunk of flesh from her leg.

She screamed again—or made a sound approximating a scream given her weakness and her throat being full of her own blood—and Zero realized he needed to leave, no matter how agreeable his tongue found the fresh meat. Somehow, someone would hear her, then they’d hunt him down and kill him.

Zero didn’t want to die.

How long had he been running? How many fallen trees had he jumped and hills had he climbed? How many bushes plucked at his fur? His own blood burned in his veins, the effort of maintaining his form during such exertion making it thick and viscous. He looked up at the sun hanging lower in the sky than when his teeth tore open the artery in Marita’s neck, sending blood spurting into the air and splashing his face. At least an hour had gone by, more likely several, and he’d maintained a brisk pace. He moved twice as fast as any human as a wolf; even if they found a way to track him, they’d take a while to catch up.

He slowed, stopped, feet scuffling in the forest's detritus spread across the ground. His breath heaved in and out of his lungs. Sweat plastered fur to his body at the base of his neck, under his arms, down the middle of his spine as his heart beat hard in his ears. He listened to its rhythm, aching for it to calm him. Part of him wished he was a magik with the ability to travel through time—did such a thing exist? He’d return to that moment and stop himself. Another part wished he didn’t need to flee. Her flesh had thrilled his mouth, its sinewy texture rough on his tongue, the flavor of the blood tangy and sharp.

Zero sucked a string of saliva between his lips and focused on slowing his breathing. Gradually, it came under control, allowing him to turn his attention to other matters. He lowered himself to the ground, kneeling amongst the ferns and foliage gathered around the bottom of a trunk thicker than three of him, taller than dozens. But the tree didn’t matter, it merely gave him a place to lean while he concentrated on transforming, nothing more.

His eyes slid closed, and he clamped his lids tight to block out the sunlight filtering through the high boughs, trying to force its way to his mind. Colors and patterns swam in his darkened vision. He scrutinized them until he found the one he wanted, then fixated on it, forcing the silhouette to hold its shape.

The silhouette of a wolf.

Its paws beat unseen ground as it ran in place in his field of perception, as though it craved to flee from him as he had fled Marita’s weeping body as life left it for good. But no matter how hard it tried, he held it. The effort tightened the sinews in his neck and his back pressed against rough tree bark; he ignored it, focusing his attention on the tiny, wispy form as it changed colors, struggled against his hold, and finally transformed.

It jerked, the running paws coming to a sudden stop. The imaginary beast straightened, rising on its hind legs like a grizzly threatening to attack. A wave of relief washed through Zero, for this wasn’t an act of aggression but the next step in his unbecoming.

He’d always preferred being in his animal form; it felt more natural but took an immense amount of effort to remain so during daylight. Under moonlight was a different matter.

But the moon wouldn’t be shining in the sky for hours yet, and the exertion of his flight had left him drained. So he leaned against the trunk of the tree, watched the wispy beast standing behind his closed lids. It stretched to its full height, its canine hind legs straightening as his own mimicked what his hooded eyes saw. The animal’s shaggy mane shortened and his own receded into his skin.

The wolf canted its head toward the sky to howl, snout outlined against a smear of yellow as it shrank, its teeth diminishing along with it. He rubbed his tongue over his incisors behind his real lips as the sharp points designed for rending flesh turned flat and dull. His heart sank with it; he inhaled a deep breath through his nose, found it bereft of the intricate bouquet he’d gotten used to, and opened his eyes.

The sun made him squint as his human pupils grew accustomed to the brightness and his brain acclimated to seeing differently than his wolf’s eyes did. When the light no longer threatened to blind him, he opened them fully, prepared himself for the greens and browns of the forest, the blue of the sky. Color was the one thing he regretted giving up whenever he shifted from man to wolf.

He pressed against the tree, its rough bark biting at his flesh and causing pain where thick fur had protected him a minute prior. He levered himself to stand. Desiccated pine needles and bits of moss stuck to the skin of his bare ass; he brushed them away and shivered at the change of temperature after having gone from hirsute animal to naked man. He glanced at himself, wishing he’d thought to grab Marita’s pack before he fled. Then he’d have clothes to keep him warm, and boots to protect his feet from twigs and stones.

“No matter,” he muttered, and stepped from the tree.

The sole of his right foot found a sharp stone, making him jump and whimper deep in his throat. He reached down and wiped at it to ensure the rock hadn’t stuck. His palm came away bloody.

The crimson smear enthralled him, took his mind to the blood pumping from Marita’s throat. The wound he’d made with his teeth.

Why?

In their years together, he’d never contemplated how she might taste, or considered overpowering her and escaping. Now, having done so, it was obvious he could have accomplished it whenever he’d wanted. Marita was small, weak. All she had over him was control, the capacity to force him into whatever she wanted him to do. An ability she and others had taken advantage of over and over while he denied his own power. Was this why he’d killed her? Was enough finally enough? He didn’t recall making any such decision. One instant he was scenting herbs, the next blood filled his mouth.

Blood.

He drew the tip of his tongue across his palm, expecting the flavor to excite him the way Marita’s had. It didn’t. Not only was it his own, but the sweat and dirt on his hand tainted the sweetness, left him disappointed, sad.

He wondered if he’d miss her.

He realized he did. Missed her pack filled with his clothes. Missed her calming words and gentle touch that always helped him shift back. He missed her unique scent made up of perspiration and breath and woman. He missed the flavor of her…

Zero shook his head and stepped away from the tree again, careful to avoid the vampiric stone hidden among the ferns. He achieved one more step before stopping, his mouth open and his eyes fixed on a spot ahead of him.

The air shimmered, twinkling and dancing the way the sun shines on a lake. Zero stared, mesmerized by the anomaly, curious what should cause such a wonder. A hole appeared in the center of the wavering iridescence, small at first, then widening. Through it, he saw trees, but not the ones he should be seeing. These belonged somewhere else, and the realization made him understand.

A traveler.

Recognition had begun taking hold when the opening expanded enough for a man to jump through. At least, what he thought a man. He towered over Zero and the other people who followed him through, his form encased in metal as sunlight glinted on the long sword he brandished in his right hand. The fellow may have yelled, or snarled, or bellowed, but the sudden rushing of wind in his ears hid it from Zero as his body instinctively began to shift.

No time to change or to flee.

Zero cast his gaze past the metal behemoth and settled on the girl who’d followed him and the other men through, those less armored and weaponed than the first. His attention locked on her, and hers on him. Her bright eyes widened as she must have realized what he concluded at the same moment.

A connection existed between them. Like he and Marita.

There’s only supposed to be one.

Zero perceived a patch of hair pushing through his skin, but it was too late. The armored giant reached him, blade flashing, as blood spattered in the air for the second time that day.

***

Help me.

Llyris Fildarae heard the words in her head, not with her ears, and knew at once they came from the young shifter about to become fodder for Rein Shriken’s sword. Her muscles tightened and her breath caught in her throat. How was it possible for him to contact her thus? He should have had a connection with his handler and no one else, and each handler only had one magik with which they connected. She must have imagined it.

Please help me.

The words sounded as if he’d whispered directly in her ear.

“I can’t,” she spoke aloud, unaware she had.

“Did you say something, miss?” Ilkari Vasuk asked from where he stood behind her and to the right, forgotten.

She shook her head. “No,” she breathed and said no more, unable to speak or look away as Rein Shriken’s sword split the shape-shifter in two from shoulder to groin. She jerked with it, like she’d taken some of the impact herself.

The voice went silent.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, pushing her hand into her pocket and gripping the candle she found in its depths.

Though they lacked the ability to communicate on any tangible level, her bond with Flayre always calmed her when she needed it. Did it do the same for the tiny magical creature? She’d likely never know, but now she wished she’d been able to offer such relief for this unnamed young fellow. How sad for him to die alone, with no contact with his handler or anyone else besides the man wielding the sword to end his existence.

But he had contact with me.

A gust of wind shook tree branches and touched the cheek of Llyris Fildarae, sending a shiver along her spine as she watched Rein Shriken standing over his kill. The knight glared at him like an animal unworthy of the life he’d lost. Bits of coarse hair stuck out from the youthful man’s skin, and Llyris wondered how the encounter might have gone if they’d come upon him in wolf form. Perhaps it would have lasted longer, but she doubted he’d have provided much challenge for the duchy’s champion. She may have recently met him, but his reputation preceded him.

The young man jerked, the unexpected movement startling her as he struggled to roll over. It didn’t affect Rein the same way. He raised his sword, droplets of blood rolling along its silver length, then swung it down, the steel whistling as it arced through the air, separating the man’s head from his body. Llyris spun away, turning her gaze from the sight, the brutality sickening her.

“It’s what’s necessary to make sure a jick is dead, right, Jai?” Rein said over his shoulder.

“You know best, my friend,” the other knight said in his high-pitched voice, so uncharacteristic of his physical stature. “Nobody has dispatched more of them than you.”

Llyris bowed her head, looked at her feet. What had happened when she and the young shifter gazed upon each other? Some connection. But she had never seen him before in her life. How could it be?

“Are you all right?”

She raised her chin to find Ilkari Vasuk, Rein’s squire—a man in his mid-fifties with graying hair, entirely too old to be an attendant—had moved to stand in front of her a few strides away, a concerned look on his features. Llyris got the impression he wanted to move closer, perhaps put his hand on her shoulder, but resisted. She’d known him for the same two hours as she’d known Rein and Jai after arriving at the baron’s for her latest—her second—assignment from the handlers’ guild.

“Yes,” she said, then paused. “Yes, I’m fine.”

He took a step nearer to her. “It’s difficult to watch, isn’t it?”

She shrugged, playing it nonchalant despite the urge to weep welling up inside her. He offered her a smile for comfort, but it came out lopsided and sad. The sound of boots trampling ferns pulled them from each other.

“Here,” Rein said, extending the bloody sword as he strode by. “Clean this for me, Ilkari. Then gather the beast’s head. It will be worth a reward, I should think.”

“Of course,” the squire replied, accepting the weapon.

“How long before you’re ready to return us, girl?”

Llyris looked up from her feet into the fighter’s face, still mostly covered by his helmet. The nose piece extended down, leaving two shining blue eyes peering out at her. A moment later, he lifted his hands to the side of his head and pulled the helm up and off.

Light-brown locks spilled from under, flowing past his shoulders. A few strands stuck to his forehead, plastered to it by sweat from wearing the armor for so long, but it didn’t detract from the effect his countenance exerted upon her. She stared at his face: high cheek bones, chiseled jaw, piercing eyes. She’d heard stories of the handsomeness of Rein Shriken, but hadn’t experienced it until now. Breath caught in her chest.

He paused, seeming to give her a chance to experience him, before he spoke again.

“Well? Do you need much time to prepare?”

She shook her head, cleared her throat, and stumbled back a step.

“No,” she said, her voice coming out but a squeak, so she made a second attempt. “No, not long.”

“Good. I ache to change into more comfortable attire. Let me know when you are ready, girl.”

“But,” she said, then hesitated, unsure if she should speak the words threatening on her tongue. “What about him? And his handler?”

Rein stopped and faced her, the scowl disturbing his features doing little to detract from his comeliness.

“Scavengers can have him,” he said and spat on the loamy ground. “And the woman is not my concern. Someone else will take care of her. There is no money in retrieving a dead handler.”

He spun on his heel and headed toward Jai, who held out a towel for him. Rein took it, thanked his friend, and wiped sweat from his brow, then went a few more paces before sitting himself on the trunk of a fallen tree. He sat hunched over, elbows resting on knees before looking up at her.

“Well?”

She started, then glanced away as she dug into her pocket, fingers searching for the smooth surface of Flayre. When she found the tiny creature, she pulled her out and held her up in front of her eyes, letting Rein notice her working on his request.

When the magical being slept, she appeared no different from a candle to the inexperienced eye. Her sleek skin and rounded shape seemed made of wax of such a dark purple as to be one shade from black. But as Llyris grasped her, she sensed her warmth, the gentle movement of her soft hide as she drew breath. She raised her hand closer to her mouth, parted her lips.

Truthfully, she didn’t know if Flayre was female or male. She decided on her name and to refer to her in the feminine after nothing more than a feeling.

“Flayre,” she whispered, her air brushing over the creature.

The creature stirred, a quiver rolling along her wax-like flesh. Then the purple cylinder rolled over, bent at the middle, and sat up. Llyris took her with her free hand and held her out in front of her. Besides the movement, nothing else suggested the object contained life. It drew no breaths and possessed no eyes to open. But Llyris knew different. Not only did life lurk within, but significant power as well, power she controlled. Such was the role of the handler of magiks.

She turned to where Rein sat waiting, Jai standing close beside him. They watched the squire fish a canvas sack from his belt and stalk through the ferns toward the dead shifter. He grabbed the severed head by the hair and lifted it while shaking the satchel open with the other hand. The squire’s lip curled as he struggled to stuff the trophy into the bag, blood dripping from the ragged wound, and Llyris thought she noticed him wrestling to control his rising gorge. Her stomach roiled along with his and she recalled the pleading expression on the young man’s face before Rein had struck, the begging words in her mind. Might she have stopped the deadly attack? She didn’t think so but, if she had, what result would it have brought? Stepping between a knight and the punishment to a magik for slaying his handler would have earned her no accolades and more likely expulsion from the guild, at the least.

She wondered again about the sudden and unexpected link she’d noticed with him, and hearing his words in her head. A glance at Flayre held in her hand made her realize she felt the same thing now.

“Ready?” Jai inquired in his high-pitched voice.

Llyris nodded. Instead of going to them, she waited for them to come to her.

The knights arrived first, sour looks on both of their faces. Ilkari came a few seconds later, Rein’s sword belt slung over his shoulder and weighing him down.

“I hate this part,” Rein said.

Jai spat on the ground. “It always upsets my stomach.”

“Keep your eyes open. And look at your feet,” Llyris advised. “I’ve been told it helps.”

“Does it affect you in this way, too?” Ilkari asked. He wore an expression similar to the others’. “You must have done this many times.”

She shook her head and shrugged, unsure what message to send. “It used to, but not anymore. Flayre takes care of me.”

“Flayre,” Jai repeated with a laugh. “I can’t believe you named a jick. They’re called Unnamed for a reason.”

She opened her mouth to respond, then thought better of it. Instead, she rubbed a finger along the side of the small creature, letting it know of their readiness. It stirred against her palm, lengthened.

“Get ready,” she told the others. “Here we go.”

Llyris closed her eyes and directed her energy toward the living thing in her hand as she pictured their destination: the courtyard outside the baron’s keep. She held it in her mind, sharing it with Flayre. A simple trip, as they’d taken it several times before, though this counted as the first time they’d brought the others with them.

One of them gasped, and she assumed it to be Ilkari. Surely great warriors like Jai Aryn and Rein Shriken were neither startled nor impressed by a thing as insignificant as this. Still, she couldn’t help herself. She opened her eyelid a crack to peer at them and found them staring at her hand. If they were traveling somewhere they hadn’t seen before, transporting based on memory or scent, as they’d done to find the man-wolf, she wouldn’t have dared spare a shred of her concentration. But the baron’s keep was familiar enough to Flayre she could have taken them on her own if she didn’t require a handler.

They stared at the wispy entity wavering over top of the cylinder. It appeared much like a flame, but dark and emitting no light. It flickered and curled like flame, or a twist of smoke, dancing as though tethered in place and desirous of escape. So close to the truth.

“Go,” Llyris spoke aloud. She needn’t have spoken but sometimes enjoyed adding theatrics for the other people involved. She hoped her display might impress Rein.

The world swam around them, colors and shapes smearing and melding. Jai grabbed Rein’s shoulder, steadying himself or offering support. Ilkari lurched but found his footing again as the tunnel opened up before them. She peered along its length, saw the courtyard beyond. Approximately twenty paces separated them from their goal rather than the many leagues which actually lay between them.

“All right,” she said as she started out, Flayre held in front of her. “Follow me.”

She didn’t need to lead any more than she’d needed to coax the tiny magical being into action with a spoken word, but she enjoyed feeling necessary.

Llyris led them along the path, the space under their feet white as Flayre’s magic obscured the world outside them. She went a few paces, moving confidently as she had done so dozens—more likely hundreds—of times before, then glanced over her shoulder to make sure they followed. The men did, but not in a straight line. They walked like sailors navigating the deck of a ship tossed by a violent storm, lurching one way then the other. Drunk sailors. She stifled a smile and choked down the giggle threatening in her gullet, then offered her free hand to Rein, who was doing his best to lead the party of three.

“Here, let me help,” she said.

The renowned fighter looked at her offering for a second before taking her fingers in his own gauntlet-encased hand. The touch grounded him, steadying his steps, and those of Jai following, hand on shoulder. They left poor Ilkari to find his own way. Llyris sympathized with him, but she possessed no more limbs to offer.

They progressed more quickly toward the open end of the gauzy tunnel and, a moment later, passed out of it into sunlight in the courtyard. Rein yanked his hand away, cleared his throat.

“Wasn’t so bad, was it, Jai?”

The other knight shook his head, but his complexion showed a slight green tint. A few seconds later, Ilkari stumbled out, dropping to his knees with a clatter.

“Careful, man,” Rein said, bending to grab his sword belt from his squire. “You know better.”

“So sorry, master.”

Llyris wanted to say something, offer words to comfort the squire. After all, the others made it through more easily than him because of her help. She didn’t, though; she didn’t want Rein to think ill of her. Why it mattered, she wasn’t sure. After this, she’d likely never see him again.

Flayre flickered and danced at the end of the purple cylinder until Llyris pulled her close and blew on her the way one did when extinguishing a candle. The magical creature straightened, then melted into the cylinder, the wavering tunnel closing up as it did. Before it disappeared, Llyris glimpsed red blood spattered on green ferns and her stomach clenched.

“I’ll never get used to being near jicks,” Rein commented as he angled to head toward the keep. “I don’t know how you handlers do it.”

“Oh, they’re not so different from us,” she started, then realized the fighter no longer listened to her. Jai had also turned to follow his friend, leaving only the squire close enough to hear. He shrugged and offered an apologetic expression, then trailed after them, laboring under the weight of the sack containing the wolf-man’s head in the other hand. She considered it might be the gravity of his cargo which slowed him, rather than its mass.

The trio got a few paces before a tall fellow in a gleaming uniform stepped out from the crowd and into Rein’s path, two other men dressed in similar fashion with less gaudy decorations a pace to the rear of him.

“Rein Shriken,” the obviously important man declared. “Baron Sylleth requires your attendance.”

“I have recently returned from a foray and need time to cleanse myself. Tell Sylleth I will call on him after I have bathed. Tell him I have a gift for him.”

Though she stood behind him, unable to see his face, Llyris heard the fighter’s sneer in his tone; she noticed the similar set tilting the other man’s mouth.

“You’ve mistaken my words for a request,” the man said. The other fellows with him contorted their faces into stern expressions, but she doubted Rein cared about them.

“What is this all about?” Jai demanded.

The well-dressed soldier neither answered nor diverted their attention from the subject of his invitation. Llyris watched the knight shift from one foot to the other, then raise a hand and run his fingers through his hair. Despite having spent a few hours enclosed in his helmet, his locks looked none the worse for wear, in her opinion. Perhaps touching it thus convinced him of the same thing, for he relented.

“Fine,” he said, starting out again and pushing past the messenger and his small entourage. “But this had better be important. Come on, Jai.”

The other knight followed along behind his friend, leaving Llyris and Ilkari to watch them go. She looked to the squire, who shrugged at her a second time—his most common gesture, she thought—before he set off after his charge, the severed head banging against his leg in his hurry.

Llyris watched them for a minute before realizing the messenger and his men hadn’t left. In fact, the gaudily decorated man had redirected his gaze toward her and stood watching her with one eyebrow raised, as though he couldn’t figure her out. A second later, he spoke, and she understood.

“You, too, handler. The baron has requested your presence, as well.”

She didn’t mean for her eyes to widen or her mouth to fill with nervous saliva, but both happened without her consent.

“Me?” she asked before gulping the mouthful of spittle threatening to spill out of her lips and down her chin.

“You.” The man turned sideways and gestured with a sweep of his arm, the sarcastic tone of the action and his demeanor unmistakable.

Llyris nodded and shivered, trying to suppress the dread building up inside her.

What could the baron want of her?