The Spirit Walker (BOOK ONE): The Ripple

Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Game

The blanket is spread, the whiskey refilled, and Ness leaves Maise and I to sit, yawning, as the sun glints against the morning dew. I see her dipping and weaving through the crowd, stepping over blankets and between napping children with practiced ease. She stops every so often, the light catching in the beads in her dark, spiky hair as she speaks with other Sagwu-Dhaoine.

She doesn't return until the Rattler leads the line of cheering, shouting men into the clearing. As if by magic, my eyes immediately snap to Calum, who is still painted but mercifully wearing a loincloth, and his gaze finds mine. He grins- his smile wide and white and brilliant, and my heart leaps to my throat as my lips stretch to match and I wave giddily.

"Great spirit, I wish you'd just shift already. Fuck each other's brains out and get past this shitty honeymoon stage. It's disgusting."

I wrinkle my nose at Ness flip her the bird. She barks out a surprised laugh and returns the gesture, chuckling all the while. I do it again, with both hands this time, and Ness chortles.

"My Lady, that is no way for the future Bhanrigh to behave," Maise quietly chastises me, pushing my hands down into my lap. "Elder Diyani would not be pleased."

"Oh stuff it," Ness retorts with a roll of her eyes.

An old, stooped man steps forward toward Calum, a long instrument with wicked looking prongs at its end clasped between his gnarled hands. With surprising agility, the little old man seizes Calum's arm, and lifts it to eye level. Before I can ask what he is doing, he has plunged the prongs at the end of the stick into Calum's shoulder.

"What the fuck?" I hiss, as the old man drags the instrument of torture down to Calum's elbow, trailing blood in its wake. Calum seems completely unfazed by the blood and the pain. He continues to grin, like a madman, and even waves at me cheerfully with his free hand.

"Another part of the old ritual that stuck around. It is supposed to make them stronger," Ness explains, with a wry curve of her lip.

I gape as Calum's entire left arm, and then his right, and then each of his legs, are mutilated. Through it all, he doesn't even flinch. He just stands there, alternating between grinning at me and joking with the other ball players. No one- none of the other participants, no one in the crowd- seems phased by the practice but me. The little old man finishes off the torture by scratching an X across Calum's chest, and then turns to torment another poor soul, who also responds with grins and good humor as his blood drips to the earth.

"What the fuck?" I whisper again, wide eyed. Ness laughs.

"Prissy Brit-Spawn," she says, but the insult almost sounds fond. "Everyone who plays is a Skin Walker. We heal fast. Don't worry- Calum's a big boy. Besides, the cuts are shallow- they'll be scabs by the end of the game, and gone by morning."

Calum and the other bloodied men pass a bowl of ointment between themselves. My breath catches as I watch the play of Calum's beautiful hands- at the way his palms and fingers smear the clear gel along his broad shoulders, the rigid planes of his abdomen, his strong thighs... His muscles glisten like oil rubbed bronze in the morning light. Calum's eyes meet mine, and his full lips turn upwards into a little smirk. His eyes trail down, slowly tracing the curves of my own body, and my veins ignite. My bottom lip goes between my teeth, and Calum's dark, hooded gaze is suddenly riveted to that spot.

Just the night before last, it was his teeth sinking into my lip, gently nipping and teasing, his tongue sliding over that spot and then against mine while those hands traced the curve of my thigh and...

"You're going to hyperventilate."

I wrench my gaze away from Calum and back to Ness. I hear a few snickers, and a quick glance around reveals that the groups of people seated nearest to us have been watching Calum's and my not-so-subtle interaction. My face burns. My gaze darts back to Calum and I realize he is laughing at me. I scowl, and furiously look away.