“A tooth and a claw.” She cradled both in her palm. “I didn’t know what to do with them. I know they’re supposed to be carried in a pouch. But the ceremonial pouch should be given by the oldest female on the matriarchal blood line, which would beanistaa’aaSofia.” She shot a quick glance at her mother, a hint of bitterness twisting her lips. “Onlyanistaa’aawon’t believe me.”
O’Neill grimaced, sympathy stirring. He remembered Sofia. Remembered her righteous devotion to the old ways. She’d been one of the most outspoken against him in his youth. Certain of his worthlessness and trickery. Her voice had also been loudest against his lion claiming. The one most often demanding proof.
Gracie was right, heranistaa’aawould not believe this unusual claiming, or create the totem pouch to honor it. Rocking onto his left hip, he dug into the right pocket of his tactical pants and eased out an untidy pouch. The rabbit fur was brittle now. The leather as well. It had not withstood the test of the past two decades. But then, he’d had no fucking clue what he was doing back then. He’d do better for his daughter.
“Then we will make you one. As I made my own.”
Gracie’s eyes were locked on the leather pouch with complete fascination. “You made your own?”
O’Neill’s gaze dropped to the misshapen bundle of fur. His lips twitched, a thread of humor rising. “I did. As you can see, I wasn’t much of a tailor back then.”
“And you are now?” Gracie asked, but she didn’t sound like she cared.
“I know my way around needle and thread.” But only when it came to stitching his own flesh. Not that his daughter needed to know that.
“What did yourheschrmalleave you.” Gracie’s asked, her gaze still locked on his palm.
“A claw and a tooth.” O’Neill said quietly. “As yours left you.” His gaze drifted from her face to her shoulder. “Go change into something that will leave your shoulder bare. We should treat the wound. Claiming bites can become infected.”
Although such a thing was rare. Claiming bites didn’t carry the bacteria or viruses of earthly teeth. The infection was more spiritual than earthly and came from the inductee’s resistance to the spirit claim. Gracie did not seem resistant. Just cautious.
Few among theHee'woo'neerefused their service to the elder gods. In fact, he only knew of one. Wolf’sjavaanee. But Aiden, as eagle chosen, would have been raked, not bitten. Same for Kait. Had either known what was happening to them? They had not been raised asHee'woo'nee. Indeed, theiranestoohad shunned his people and their heritage. Had he prepared his children at all? Had he done anything to inoculate them against spirit sickness following a claiming rejection? From the little O’Neill knew about the man, it didn’t sound like it.
What a dangerous disservice Winchester Senior had served to his kids.
He pushed the questions aside and concentrated on his daughter. She hadn’t left. Was she afraid her mother would kick him out without her protection?
“Go on.” He pointed to the hallway with his chin. “I want to see that bite. Make sure it’s not infected.”
After a brief hesitation, she offered a single nod and turned, padding out of the kitchen.
"She’s right.” Muriel said, her voice soft, almost apologetic. “Sofia won’t believe her. Won’t believe us. We’ll have to make her totem ourselves.” Tension flashed across her face, flickered in her eyes. “Why do you think she’s been gifted aHo'cee? Do you have any idea?”
His thoughts flashed from the five dead, yet undead, SEALs to a tank of vibrating nanobots, to the bot bomb they’d found in Kuznetsov’s compound, and the second bot bomb lurking out there somewhere.
“There is a war brewing acrossHokalita,” he finally admitted, his voice tight. He ran a hand over his hair and shifted to face Muriel. “An unfamiliar war. One with no rules and no clear strategy. One where we play catch up, always one step behind. Maybe Gracie is a gift from theTabenetha.Maybe an unconventional war requires an unconventional weapon.”
Muriel sucked her breath in—one long wheeze that echoed through the kitchen. The terror that bloomed on her face indicated she understood the implications. Her hoarse words made that even clearer. “But...” another sucking breath. “But...I...I...don’t want her to be a weapon. I want her to be safe.”
He understood that need. But he also understood that such things were out of their control. Still, she had just lost one child, she shouldn’t have to worry about losing another. “We don’t know what her spirit gift is yet. Perhaps I’m overanalyzing the situation.”
She choked and cupped her eyes, then took a deep shaky breath and straightened, squaring her shoulders. He recognized the gesture. He’d just watched their daughter do the same thing.
“If only we had aTaounahato counsel us.” Her voice was quiet...exhausted.
O’Neill scowled. If only.
He almost mentioned Aiden but swallowed the name at the last moment. It was still uncertain if, or when, Winchester wouldtake up his role among theHee'woo'nee.No sense in giving her false hope.
“How are we going to help her?” Muriel asked.
The anxiety burning across her face and into her eyes thrust a knife in his heart. She did not need this worry, on top of her grief over Daniel’s death and fear for her brother. But then his ears recognized her words. She’d said we, as in him and her—together.
A unit.
He’d never been a we before.
“We can start with the old tales. Perhaps within the Kali library, there are records of a Wolf choosing a woman.”
