The War Priest Read online

  1.

  Until Joss Bristow laid eyes on Callum McRae, she didn’t believe in love at first sight. Her entire body shouted yes, him, he’s the one.

  Then she found out he was a monk, consecrated to the Order of Saint Casimir. Now, that was a bad day, but it got worse when Ash Valley exploded, and nothing had been the same since. Life had been a series of bad and worse scenarios since the conclave failed, and she’d rarely felt more useless, tagging along to Thalia Talfayen’s coronation to offer the gift of song.

  Because that’s all I can do, all I’m good at.

  If she was honest, she’d also wanted to see Callum McRae again, not that he ever spent more than forty seconds with her if he could help it. Earlier, at the ceremony, she had sung a gorgeous rendition of “Fit for a Queen”, and now she was looking for him, but for an enormous man, he had the uncanny ability to disappear.

  While Joss was searching, she ran into Mags—and gods, it felt like forever since the security chief had left Ash Valley. “Have you seen Callum?” she asked.

  The other woman was observant, but Mags shook her head. “Sorry, I’m on the hunt myself. I have some intel to relay.”

  “Oh? Any good gossip?” By Mags’s expression, that was certainly not the case. “Yikes, sorry I asked.”

  Mags sighed. “It’s related to the circulation of a drug that’s wreaking havoc in the Eldritch population. Seems like it’s coming from Burnt Amber, too, which makes it a bear problem.”

  “He has enough on his plate,” Joss said, wishing she could do something. For Callum, for anyone, actually.

  Unlike her cousin, Pru, she didn’t have a hidden knack for leadership. She had a beautiful voice and she’d recorded a few songs, made a modest living from it, but that wasn’t very useful, currently. And unlike Mags, she wasn’t the pride badass, either. Her tendency to look on the bright side might come in handy, Joss supposed, but during dire times, people got tired of those who were endlessly chipper and full of sunshine. They started wondering if her mood was chemically enhanced and suggested random drug testing.

  “I’m aware,” Mags answered, “but facts are facts.”

  That ended the conversation, and Joss watched Mags round the corner before resuming her own search. Like most Animari, she had a heightened sense of smell, but there were so many people wandering around that the scent trails had been crossed until it was tough to tell where Callum was. More than once, she found where he had been; he didn’t linger in one place for long.

  If she understood him at all, he would be leaving today. The Golgoth were marching on Burnt Amber, massing near the borders, and there had already been skirmishes. Callum must be anxious to get back, to ensure that his people were safe. His commitment to duty was one of the things she admired about him; Joss hadn’t told anyone about her crush, but she was easy to read, so people were already starting to tease her. That had to stop.

  She’d accepted that she couldn’t have what she’d first wanted from Callum. Untouchable described him perfectly—and she got that—but she hadn’t given up on the idea that they could be friends. There had to be a reason why she’d had such a visceral reaction to him. Maybe he was destined to be her bestie or something.

  Not that he was cooperating at all.

  Though she didn’t find the head of the bear clan, she ran across a few of his people in the courtyard. Unabashedly curious, she listened to their conversation, lingering nearby with the pretext of checking her phone. They were still scrambling the signal so a close inspection would prove that she was eavesdropping, but she was interested enough in bear gossip not to mind potential exposure.

  “It’s bad,” the first one said softly.

  “And it’ll get worse when we go back. This is likely the last trip we’ll be able to make before the Golgoth cut us off. Is Callum working on any of the old alliances? Before Beren died…” The woman let out a long, mournful sigh, as if she couldn’t stand to finish that sentence.

  Does that mean Burnt Amber doesn’t approve of the way Callum’s running things? Joss knew that Beren had been venerated, and his loss must have been a great blow to the bear clan. Though Callum had been technically Beren’s closest heir, nobody ever expected him to take charge, considering his commitment to the Order of Saint Casimir. Beren had been contemplating a bond with a new mate—when his life ended in a fiery explosion, courtesy of the treacherous Lord Talfayen.

  “War is hell,” the first responded. “But I do wish it wasn’t so damn depressing. Martial law is sapping all the joy from life, along with my will to fight.”

  “Callum is so strict. If only we were allowed some form of entertainment,” the second woman admitted. “But the order is all about self-sacrifice and discipline, and that life is all Callum knows.”

  The first woman groaned. “Would it really be worse to let the Golgoth win?”

  “Don’t let anyone else hear you say that!” The second woman glanced about with a worried expression and focused on Joss, loitering nearby. Her eyes narrowed. “Are you spying, cat?”

  Joss tilted her head, pretending to be casual. “Not on purpose, but I did hear you talking. It occurs to me that your troops could use a morale boost.”

  “What’s it to you?” The first woman seemed inclined to be belligerent, but the second put up a conciliatory hand.

  “You have something in mind?”

  “Well, I’m a singer… I’m not sure if Callum would allow it, but I could come to the hold and do a show or two, something to buoy everyone’s spirits.” The offer popped out before she could stop it, but she had no regrets.

  This might be a worthwhile way for her to contribute to the war effort. She wasn’t a leader, a healer, or a fighter, but maybe she could inspire through her music, offer soldiers the strength to fight on against the invading Golgoth. Joss bit her lip, hoping the bear warriors liked the idea because she couldn’t sell Callum on it without their support. Intuition told her he’d bluster against the suggestion on principle, but nothing ventured, nothing gained, and all that.

  Just then, Callum arrived on the greensward. Joss’s silly heart fluttered at the sight of him. He was a roaring fire of a man, a big stone hearth that you could cuddle up to and stay warm for days. If not for his thunderous scowl, it would be impossible to refrain from hugging him. She loved his ridiculous height and his broad shoulders, his deep chest, and his wild beard. Most of all, she adored his flecked hazel eyes with their black lashes, the tips bleached gold from Callum’s tendency to frown at the sun. Currently, he was surrounded by the rest of the bear entourage, and by the look of them, they were all ready to roll out.

  The first woman smiled broadly, winked at the second, and said, “Good news, everyone! I’ve booked some live entertainment.”

  “What the hell,” Callum said, glaring at Joss as if she’d instigated an insurrection beneath his nose.

  Fair, as that was sort of true.

  “Entertainment?” One of the men repeated the word in a questioning tone and aimed a flirtatious look at Joss. “What kind of fun are you offering, little kitty?”

  Callum growled deep in his throat. “So help me, Garven, if you say anything more perverse, I will put you through the wall. We don’t have time for this shit.”

  Joss decided that was like he’d defended her honor and beamed a bright smile in his general direction. “Thank you! I had no idea you were interested in guarding my virtue.” To Garven, she added, “I’m a singer. And yes, I do take requests.”

  The war priest blinked a few times like her smile carried the same impact as a fist upside the head and the skin visible above his beard went ruddy. He recovered swiftly and snapped, “Don’t encourage him!”

  “There’s no time to argue,” Garven said with a faint sigh. “We’ll be lucky to get home before the next strike.”

  Callum was about to lay down the law regarding Joss Bristow, the proper definition of a distraction if ever there was one, but his phone beeped. Not an actual message, as the Eldrit
ch firewalls were solid, but a backdoor protocol that allowed a warning to slip through. If they’d activated this application, things must be dire indeed at Burnt Amber.

  Thankfully, he was done with diplomatic nonsense, and he had nothing further to say to Joss. She often contrived to be in his vicinity, though he had no notion why she enjoyed flustering him so. His demeanor discouraged most, and the rest of them were frightened off by his impatient scowl.

  “Let’s go, you lot. We’re loading the vehicles and leaving in ten minutes. We need to get home so we can seal our borders and activate all our defenses.” He sounded grim, even to his own ears, but like it or not, no help was coming.

  The other Animari had their own problems and the situation was dead messy for the Eldritch as well. Though the Golgoth had suffered heavy losses near Hallowell, the main force remaining was mustering on the edges of Burnt Amber lands. If the Gols took the hold, they’d also lay claim to the factory that could turn the tide of the war.

  We have to hold. There is no other option. But the cost would be high, perhaps too much so.

  In truth, it already had been. Some days, when Callum awoke, he still couldn’t believe that Beren was gone. I was his heir, but I was never supposed to inherit. His world was constantly spinning these days, just an endless cycle of dire news and grim necessity. He’d lost the brotherhood where he offered daily devotions and took comfort in the fact that his life had meaning. Those rituals were more than repeated patterns; they also imposed order on one prone to tumbling into chaos, if left to his own devices.

  Callum wondered if the clan had any notion just how tempted he was daily to cast aside all prudence and strategy. Every single day, he wanted to stomp out of Burnt Amber and bellow a challenge at the nearest elite Gol and demand they settle this shit once and for all. If he did that and died, he’d leave his people helpless, leaderless, all over again.

  And my cousin isn’t ready. Hell, I wasn’t either.

  Whether he was the best person for the job or not, it hardly mattered anymore. Callum was all they had. At least he’d studied battle tactics as part of his theology course, reading about how the order had participated in various conflicts over the years. That was more than his cousin knew about heading up the clan during wartime. Once this was all over, he could step down and go back to his quiet, contemplative life.

  Or at least, he clung to that tantalizing thought when shit got so tough that he could hardly stand his own situation. With a quiet snarl, he swung into the lead vehicle, trusting that the rest of his men would see to their own leave-taking. He’d made it clear how long they had; only fools would test him past a certain point.

  With little fanfare, they put Daruvar behind them with the slow grinding of ancient gates. It was a long, long ride to the Burnt Amber borders, and he didn’t want to talk to anyone, but as soon as they passed beyond the range of the Eldritch signal jammers, his phone lit up with urgent messages. The Rover was quiet, as the troops let him focus on the anxious queries scrolling on his screen.

  Finally, he called Renna, who was ostensibly managing things in his absence. More like, she’d been urging other people to pester him for hours. “Get everyone in the room. If you want my input, let’s do it all at once.”

  She immediately cowered at the sight of his face. Now that was good for a man’s mood, wasn’t it? Though it wasn’t like he’d ever been adroit at charming people, Callum didn’t think he was always so…whatever he was that made people look like that. Renna’s eyes shone too bright as she blinked back tears.

  Hell, I didn’t even say what I wanted to.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just… I really don’t know what to do. None of us were alive the last time…”

  The conclave failed? Before it existed?

  However Renna had intended to complete the sentence, she didn’t speak further, leaving Callum to fill the silence. Thankfully his beard hid the clench of his jaw as he battled resentment. How old does she think I am? I’m lost without Beren too and hiding my incompetence in anger.

  But he couldn’t admit that. Not to anyone, ever. Even if I’m not enough, I’m all they have.

  “How close are they?” he asked.

  There was no need to elaborate. With the Gols massing, their intentions weren’t in question. It was a matter of when they’d attack, not if. After their ignominious defeat at Hallowell, they had to have bear ordinance to compensate for the troops they’d lost, both to death and defection.

  “Fifty kilometers, but they’re breaking camps. If they push, they’ll be here before dawn tomorrow.”

  Quickly Callum checked their arrival time and privately cursed the fact that he’d weighed the political benefit of showing good will that he didn’t feel regarding Thalia and Raff’s wedding. Not that he bore them any malice—he just found it a colossal waste of time when he had precious little of it to spare.

  “Did the engineers complete the minefield?”

  “It’s set, but we can’t go live until you’re back,” Renna answered.

  He thumped his fist on the back of the driver’s seat. “Don’t put us in a ditch or slam into a tree but get us home as soon as possible.”

  “Understood,” Garven said.

  He might be a feckless flirt, but he was also hell on wheels. The vehicle jumped in response to Garven’s demand and Callum tried to gentle his expression. Hopefully Renna could hold her tears until they terminated the call.

  “Did you catch that? We’ll be back before they attack.” He couldn’t bring himself to promise because shit went wrong all the time. “But…if something happens to delay us, then activate all defenses. All of them.”

  Renna gaped, her eyes wide, tears forgotten for the moment. “You’ll be locked out if I do that.”

  “And so will they.”

  Nobody objected, though it was a death sentence. Twenty tired bear soldiers, split between two Rovers against the collective might of the Gol empire? His mouth quirked in a reluctant smile. There were legends about bear berserkers who could take out five times their number, but even a performance like that wouldn’t save them. This time, they needed to be fast, not fierce.

  “I understand,” Renna said heavily.

  “Don’t fret too much. With Garven at the wheel, this Rover is practically flying. And…” He angled a look behind him. “Vehicle two is keeping pace. Try to keep everyone calm until I get there.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Thanks. McRae out.” He shouldn’t be so gruff with her.

  Callum knew damn well that Beren hadn’t chosen Renna for her competence. She was his uncle’s pick, however, and would’ve been Beren’s mate if the old bear had finished courting her before…well. That left Callum and Renna in an awkward, uneasy relationship, as she might’ve been his aunt by marriage, but she was also younger than he was. It had seemed right, respectful even, to leave her in charge when he went to Daruvar, but maybe he should have picked someone more seasoned…

  Eh, whatever.

  Tired of everything, he tilted his head back and went to sleep. When he woke, long hours later, they were racing toward the hold with Gols in sight behind. Groggy at first, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, but apparently Renna’s nerve must have held. Though it was close as hell, she seemed to be watching their progress via remote and activating defenses behind them—with only seconds to spare.

  As the grid went up, the Gols abruptly broke pursuit when the lead vehicle went up in a fireball, taken out by bear mines. Whoops rang through the Rover as they cruised into the hold. Good work. Seems like Beren chose well.

  Exhausted and sore, he clambered out of the vehicle and stopped, unable to believe his eyes when Joss Bristow hopped out of the second Rover.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he bellowed.

  She lifted her chin and pointed at Garven. “I was invited, remember?”

  2.

  “I’m so glad you made it back in time.” A stunningly beautiful woman hurri
ed out of a large building nearby, and Joss could only stare at her in wonder.

  Before, she’d thought Dalena Asher, Dom’s first mate, was the loveliest person who’d ever existed, but this woman rivaled her with a spill of silken black hair, melting brown eyes, and golden skin that practically shimmered in the early spring sunlight. Her features were symmetrical and delicate, brows perfectly arched, lashes thick and lush, framing soulful eyes and a prettily curved mouth. Thankfully, her arrival also distracted Callum, who was likely about to roar his head off over Joss’s presence.

  This might be the most reckless thing I’ve ever done.

  Joss admitted that silently, even while acknowledging her own tendency to leap before she looked. Of all the Bristow cousins, she’d gotten herself into the most scrapes, taken the most risks, and generally been accounted a cheerful nuisance by most of her relations, a complete contrast to her careful cousin, Pru. Now, she was standing in the middle of Burnt Amber with only the clothes on her back and no plan for what came next. She couldn’t even explain why she’d jumped into the Rover along with everyone else, just that it seemed like the thing to do at the time.

  She doubted Callum would be amused by that explanation.

  “You did well, Renna.”

  Wait, did Callum McRae just praise someone? Joss stared as the woman offered a tentative smile. “I only did as you said and waited as long as I could. They can’t strike while our defensive grid holds.”

  “We’re safe enough for now, but we’re completely cut off,” Callum said grimly.

  Shit. That sounded as if she couldn’t go home, even if she wanted to. And she hadn’t told anyone before she left Daruvar. She wondered if Burnt Amber had jammers like the Eldritch to prevent the Golgoth from hacking into their communications. If so, she might not be able to send a message to her family for a while. Since he didn’t want her here in the first place, she wouldn’t piss him off by asking for special treatment.