The War Priest Read online

  Fuck it, we’re on borrowed time now.

  The soldiers stirred, looking at one another. Belatedly Callum realized they thought he was asking for a volunteer, someone who would be forced to cut and run while comrades died behind them. No surprise, but nobody wanted to carry that banner. According to the ferocious bear creed, it was better to die a hero than live as a coward.

  “Everyone take a step forward,” he said.

  This might not solve anything—

  But it did. They all snapped to obey, except a boy near the back who didn’t look old enough to be part of a patrol yet. He must be, though, because nobody was telling him to get the hell out. His slow response gave Callum the perfect target.

  “You. Back corner. Curly black hair.” Probably, he should be ashamed of not knowing everyone’s names.

  “Conrad, sir,” came the timid response.

  Callum got that a lot. Most couldn’t even make eye contact, let alone give him attitude the way Joss did. Damn it all, why was he thinking about her now, of all times?

  “Okay, Conrad. You’re our designated survivor. Do you understand what you have to do?” It was far from ideal for morale to be planning for a team wipe, but the alternative was unthinkable.

  The Gols picked off the security team’s drones at every opportunity, and they didn’t have an unlimited supply. There would come a time when old-school warnings were all they had left.

  “Get back to Burnt Amber no matter what. Carry the word,” the boy whispered.

  “Good man.”

  He realized that the mood was too damn dark and he couldn’t lead men who were half-convinced they were about to be massacred by a superior force. Shit, I’m so not cut out for this. The right words clotted in his throat, but dammit, he had to try.

  Callum made a fist, raised it in a symbol of preemptive victory. “Just a precaution. We’re going to destroy that recon squad and properly fuck those Gols up. And when we get back, drinks are on me at Nayan’s. We’ll get stinking drunk and celebrate with the best singer ever to bless Burnt Amber.”

  That was the right thing to say. A ragged cheer rumbled through the troops. Callum thought maybe Joss had been right when she said the soldiers needed a spark to raise their spirits. Some might not make it back, and the ones who did would need a panacea for their emotional wounds.

  “Damn right,” Garven yelled.

  That asshole was getting on Callum’s last nerve, especially when he remembered that fucking bet. They better not be pursuing that behind my back. He spared a dark look in Garven’s direction, but he didn’t say anything. If he got word of anymore stupid, disrespectful crap, he’d stomp the shit out of everyone involved.

  “That’s it, let’s go,” he said.

  With that, he slid into bear form, and for him, it didn’t feel that different from wearing human skin. He was a bit bigger and hairier, but otherwise, it didn’t change much. Callum lumbered out the wide doors and led the way through the tunnel. He could hear the soldiers following, including the boots of the four who had been chosen to fight with weapons and to carry gear.

  The tenets of Saint Casimir whispered at the back of his head. Harm none, for dealing injury to another harms your own soul. He’d already broken that scripture, multiple times over. Since Saint Casimir had lived and died during peaceful times, he hadn’t covered how a monk was supposed to navigate the hellscape of war.

  Twenty-five soldiers, against however many the Gols had on recon. To make matters worse, there were hundreds—if not thousands—camped around the border of the defensive grid and regardless of how Callum analyzed his options, he couldn’t see the war ending well for Burnt Amber, no matter how this battle went.

  Grimly, he charged, lumbering through the tangle of trees that should conceal his group long enough for them to launch the ambush. The Gols would be preoccupied with searching for and disarming mines, worried about setting them off. This patch of land was clear for now; they had to destroy the Gols and plant new mines.

  Before it was too late.

  He broke from the pines first and slammed into the closest Gol. Luck was with them. Most of them hadn’t shifted yet, and the bears tore into their flesh with razor-sharp fangs and claws.

  Gol blood tasted different than Eldritch, darker and saltier, more copper than sweet, with a tinge of heavy metals. Callum disemboweled his target with a swipe of claws and tackled a second, taking the Gol down before she could shift.

  A snap of his jaws crushed her throat, and then he was onto the next. Forty of them, panicked but regrouping. Some managed to push into their stronger forms, and the battle dug in, brute bear strength against armored skin and monster talons.

  He couldn’t understand base Gol but a huge bastard at the back of the group was snarling what had to be orders. If the leader dies, they’ll lose cohesion. Trusting his troops to cover his back, Callum charged straight through the chaos of the battle, taking glancing wounds that started to heal even as the claws dug into his fur.

  He roared a challenge and lowered his head, running at the big Gol, who stood on two legs, even after the change, red-skinned like a devil from the illuminated manuscripts he’d mentioned to Joss, vestigial wings, and a face that would give a child nightmares, complete with two rows of gleaming teeth.

  Though Callum went at the Gol leader with full strength, the asshole didn’t even flinch when their bodies hit. He wasn’t a clever fighter, so he took the pain when the bastard sank his claws deep into Callum’s back. Instead, he hoped his thick fur would protect him long enough.

  Savagely, he clamped his teeth on his enemy’s leg and bit down with absolute force. There was resistance, as Gol hide was tougher than cured leather, but pure strength drove his teeth deep into the thigh meat. When he pulled back, his jaws were bloody, and he’d severed the femoral artery. He wrenched away and waited for the bastard to die.

  The wounds on his back would heal. The Gol leader would not. The big bastard fell.

  As Callum wheeled to fight another challenger, he hoped he lived long enough to hear Joss sing one more time.

  7.

  Joss dropped the shirt she was holding. “They’re fighting. Right now?”

  The other three women stared at her with visible surprise at her strong reaction, and she bent to pick up the top, hoping that moment would be long enough to contain the fear rioting in her head. Callum wasn’t prudent or cautious; she could already tell that much about him.

  “Are you all right?” Trini asked.

  Over breakfast, she had learned that they were both elite members of the security team, also a mated pair. Instead of putting Joss and Renna to work, Trini and Emilia had asked them to go shopping, once they finished their meals. Since she still needed some stuff, she agreed, in exchange for someone willing to guide her to the bathhouse. Renna volunteered, so they’d headed to the shops as soon as they opened and Joss had been enjoying herself as well as she could, considering the circumstances. Until she found out the troops had gone out to battle the Gols.

  Callum might be hurt. Or—no, I won’t think that way.

  “I’m fine.” Somehow she managed a smile.

  “Are you already falling for one of our fine soldiers?” Emilia teased.

  Gods, Joss didn’t want the conversation to head down this avenue, but if she denied it too vehemently, it would make everyone more suspicious. “Who knows? There are a lot of interesting possibilities. I didn’t come here for that, though. The timing…” Her mouth twisted, as she hoped her meaning would come across.

  Trini sighed. “I absolutely understand. Attraction doesn’t always respect propriety or preferences, though.”

  A rueful laugh got away from Joss before she could stifle it. “That is so true.”

  If she could control her heart, she wouldn’t have fallen for someone—at first sight no less and the absurdity of that wasn’t lost on her—who had no inclination toward intimacy. To conceal the sharp, visceral fear screaming in the back of her head, she replaced
the shirt on the rack and grabbed the rest of the things she needed.

  The store they were in had a little of everything, a one-stop shop, though Joss noticed the shelves were looking a little bare. Softly she asked Renna, “Have the Gols interfered with deliveries?”

  Renna nodded. “Supplies have been stolen and while we’re not low on food yet, certain goods will be scarce until the end of the war.”

  Joss turned a bottle of lotion over in her hands. The brand identified it as a product manufactured in Hallowell, and the factory probably wasn’t running anymore. This wasn’t the sort of thing the Gols would steal, but more of it wouldn’t be coming. All her life, she had taken certain small luxuries for granted; she saw that now.

  Hell, she’d taken peace for granted.

  Gently she set the cream in her basket. For a little longer, she could choose to smell like raspberry and lemon. The only thing she still needed was a performance dress. Between the donations and the clothes she had picked out today, Joss was fine for daily wear, but she didn’t sing in her street clothes. To wow the audience, she needed to look extraordinary.

  “Not finding what you need?” Renna asked.

  With a sigh, she confided the problem and Renna beamed a satisfied smile. “If that’s all, let’s visit the bathhouse—I promised I’d go with you, then you can borrow something from me. Depending on the cut, a few of my dresses should fit.”

  Joss wasn’t so sure of that. She had a fuller figure, especially in the hips and bust, but maybe… hanging around this store wouldn’t cause a suitable gown to manifest, at any rate. She turned to Trini and Emilia.” We’re heading out. Thanks for including us.”

  “Our pleasure.” Trini spoke for both of them, then addressed her mate. “You want to get coffee before we take that walk in the garden I promised you?”

  Idly Joss wondered what kind of bears these two were. She could imagine Trini as a grizzly and Emilia as a red panda. Wait, were red pandas technically even bears? She decided it didn’t matter if her imagination was factually correct.

  Waving to the other women, Joss followed Renna to pay for her purchases. As she set them down, she realized she didn’t have a local account yet, Nayan hadn’t paid her, and she didn’t have any proof that Callum had offered to cover her expenses, not that she intended to let him do that for long.

  She hesitated as the pleasant, white-haired woman started tallying her items. “You must be Joss,” the clerk said cheerfully.

  That cut into all her concerns. “What? I mean, I am but how do you know?”

  “Callum stopped in yesterday to ask me to add you to his account. His description was enough for me to ID you on sight?”

  “What did he say?” she asked, knowing she probably shouldn’t indulge that curiosity.

  “Long hair. Not red. Not brown. Green eyes. New face.” The older woman mimicked Callum’s terse delivery, startling a laugh from Renna. The woman went on, “Since I’ve never seen you before—and I run into everyone sooner or later—it was a safe guess.”

  “Oh. Then…thank you.”

  It was impossible not to be touched that he’d taken the time to look out for her, even more when she recalled how opposed he had been to her coming to Burnt Amber in the first place. In the end, she got everything with no stress and Renna helped her cart the items back to her room.

  “Bathhouse?” Renna asked.

  “Just let me get the toiletries I bought.”

  Though she hadn’t known Renna long, it was almost like bathing with Pru, lots of splashing and silly jokes. But all the while, it was impossible for Joss to forget that she didn’t even know if Callum was safe. Performing when she was in a crappy mood had given her a fair ability to cover her real feelings; just as well, because she didn’t want to discuss any of this with Renna. They were both newcomers to Burnt Amber, and Joss got on well with her, but she wasn’t ready to swap confidences.

  After, she got dressed and accompanied Renna back to her quarters. The woman had a surprising number of beautiful dresses, or maybe not that surprising when Joss considered that she’d come to woo Beren. Beauty was one way to someone’s heart, she supposed, though that only worked if they were susceptible to visual lures.

  Also, as Joss had feared, Renna had no sense of how slim she truly was. Most of the dresses Joss tried wouldn’t zip, but she found a stretchy red number that she could squirm into. Tighter than she normally preferred, but it would work, she decided, surveying herself from all angles. The design was deceptively simple, letting her body speak for itself.

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll borrow this one.”

  “I’m so glad you found something that works,” Renna said. “Do you need shoes?”

  She hadn’t bought any new ones, so that would be a yes. They found a pair that laced up her ankles, a little long, but otherwise okay.

  “You really saved me. Thank you.” On impulse, she hugged Renna and got a gentle squeeze. “I hope we can hang out again soon. Right now, I need to head to Nayan’s and see if she’ll let me rehearse.”

  “Definitely.” That had to be a response to the request to first comment. “I’ll be there to cheer you on tonight!”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  Renna put the dress and shoes in a handbag. “Here, you probably don’t even have a purse with you.”

  That…was also true. “You’re doing too much. I won’t be able to repay you.”

  “That’s not why people help others,” Renna said, narrowing her eyes.

  “I know, but…ah, hey, do you like sweaters?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?”

  “I’ll knit you one! Provided I can find the supplies here.”

  Renna grinned. “I doubt there’s been a run on needles and yarn.”

  “Awesome! What’s your favorite color?”

  “It’s orange. Warm flame tones anyway.” Something flickered in Renna’s expression, but Joss didn’t know her well enough to read it.

  “I can’t promise professional quality, but I’ll do my best.”

  “I’m sure I’ll love it.”

  Already planning the pattern, Joss hurried out, eager to get what she needed before she headed to Nayan’s. Already, she could get from her building to the entertainment complex, no problem.

  Staying busy might even keep her from worrying herself sick.

  Bloody awful.

  Those two words described the scene and Callum’s mood. They had taken out the recon unit, all forty of them, but it cost five bears, including Trini and Emilia’s replacements. He still didn’t know their names, and it was a shit move to ask, now that they were dead.

  “How long on the mines?” he snapped.

  “Another half an hour at least,” the tech answered.

  He’d shifted back, so he was bloody and naked, standing amid a field of bodies. The birds had already started eating the dead Gols. He shooed the scavengers away from the Burnt Amber bodies. Maybe this was a sentimental decision, but he couldn’t do otherwise, even if it weakened them.

  “Five of you, take our dead back to the hold. We’ll have services tomorrow.”

  Garven was the first to object “That will only leave—”

  “You heard me,” Callum cut in.

  Yeah, he damn well knew how many would be left guarding the techs while they finished setting the new mines. They had to rake the whole area; otherwise, it would be too obvious where the new ones went in. He was moving soil to finish the work faster, nothing he hadn’t done in the order.

  “Fine,” Garven said. From his tone, he didn’t like this call. “I’ll lead the returning team. With your approval.”

  That didn’t particularly sound like a request to Callum, but he wasn’t about to start a dick-swinging contest with Garven. Not that it’d be a competition from what he’d seen. He grunted his assent and kept moving after the techs.

  After the squad split up, the next hour was both tedious and nerve-wracking. Any minute, more Gols could hit them, and they we
re woefully undermanned. His nerves stretched tighter and tighter as he worked and surveyed the tree line in all directions.

  Only basic confidence in the grid and in the security team who should be scanning with drones and who would surely deploy one to serve as a physical warning kept him calm. Still, he was sweating, despite the nip in the spring air, from the tension.

  Finally, the tech said, “Done. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Callum did one more pass and then he nodded, satisfied at how thoroughly the earth was churned. It looked like the whole area might be seeded with fresh explosives.

  “Travel back however you want,” he said.

  A few shifted, but most jogged as they were, too tired to spare the energy to change. The ones who had been bears the whole way stayed in that form, so a near even mix of people and bears rambled back to the entrance to the tunnels. Callum studied the area carefully to make sure there were no witnesses, then he opened the entrance and stumbled into the darkness. His whole body hurt from half-healed wounds, already scabbed over, but damn sore.

  He waited for everyone to pass, then secured the hatch. The others didn’t wait, he was the last one back to the ready room. It didn’t take much empathy to register the grim mood that kept everyone quiet as they changed. Didn’t seem right to celebrate when they’d lost five of their own, and the victory didn’t feel decisive anyway, more like they’d bought some time.

  With bleak resolve, Callum ran the numbers in his head and realized that at the current rate of attrition, he’d lose the rest of his soldiers before the Gols ran out of bodies to throw at the mines, and then there would only be civilians left to battle the elite Golgoth soldiers. Never had he felt so hopeless. Once, it was close, but that was a simpler, more personal despair. This feeling encompassed all the souls who lived in Burnt Amber, and who thought he could find some miraculous way to save them. But Saint Casimir didn’t specialize in miracles.