"Pull through, come on, Enlil, hand over hand," I encourage the young male to keep going.

This is battle. Not just swords and blades, but fighting your own body. The fatigue Enlil is clearing suffering from is awful. He's been stuck in this mudpit, cold, the sounds of his harsh breathing and the mud sucking his body deeper is all that can be heard. His hands are worn raw from the rough rope, but he can't let go of his only hope of rescue from this muck.

"Pull, one side then the other," I say calmly. Too many of my warriors are weak like this. Big muscles, but poor endurance and weaknesses in their musculature that can easily be revealed by changing the training regime in just the slightest way.

"Can't Captain," Enlil gasps out. "My heart is racing. It fucking hurts." He sucks in air. "Sorry, Cap."

"Keep going, Enlil."

"Lios," Belen is standing behind me, arms crossed over his chest, a worried look on his face.

"What's wrong?" I ask him.

He takes me aside and says in a low voice, "it's too much, Lios. I could barely make it through this training course. I told you yesterday that most of the recruits wouldn't be able to make it through."

"The first time," I clarify. I look over at the mudpit, the burning embers, the deep pool, and my favorite, the ropeline high above our heads. It took days to put it all together.

"Let me explain, Lios. We... most of us," his left eye twitches a little as he looks at me sternly, "most of us, became Recondites because we needed a home. Some may have sought glory in being a Recondite. Most felt a calling, but not like the temples, you know? Then, Lios, my friend, we fought a mock battle, a swordfight, with a veteran Recondite. If we did well we're in."

I scowl. Enlil is lying in the mudpit, still breathing too heavily. Amar is stuck on the ropes. He's moving, but so slowly that it'll take him most of the morning to cross. Urla is dipping his feet in the pool because the embers burned the soles of his feet. He's not swimming, he's relaxing... on my damn training course.

"Urla!" I bellow. That's all it takes for the male to fall into the pool. At least now he's swimming.

"Lios," Belen sighs.

"They need to be better, Belen."

"These males are recruits, Lios. They don't have the hawk tattoo. That's the difference."

"There are only twelve of us, Belen, who have the damn hawk. Twelve in this entire city who can pull themselves out of a mudpit and swim a little? How will we survive?"

Belen just looks at me. "It's like you're preparing for war, Lios."

"We just had a hailstorm, Belen. How much food for the city was destroyed? Always be prepared, Bel. Always be ready for war. If you're not? Then you'll die. It's that simple."

Belen just shakes his head. "Just take it easy on the recruits, right? Push them hard, don't push them away."

I scowl. "I will think about it, Belen."

Hanish, one of my twelve, jogs up to me. "Captain," he says grimly, "there's been a disturbance over in the Fourth District. Your female's there."

"Fuck," I growl out. My eyes flash on Enlil and Urla. "Make sure that those two don't drown," I tell Belen.

He nods. "I think I'll have them run a little, Lios, instead of killing them with mud."

"Fine," I snap. "I thought that my Flame was in prayer?" At least that's what my spies... the patrol, told me.

As the Captain of the Recondites, the warriors of the gods, I am responsible for the protection of the buildings that house the gods and all of their many inhabitants. Most citizens of the city have no idea that our soldiers are more than glorified guards. We also investigate any situation that would anger the gods and... well, if we find a problem, then we also find a solution. We are the foot soldiers, the investigators, the protectors and they're not that many of us to go around. If my female wants to pray, then at least she is in one place and protected behind the red and black stone of Nateo's temple.

"What is the disturbance?" I ask Hanish.

"Death over there, but that's not what is making your priestess go crazy, Captain. Word has it that she's in a noble's home and is refusing to leave."

"I am going to check on that disturbance in the Water neighborhood," I tell Belen.

"Good hunting, my friend," he says to me.

I ignore his snarky reply. He fears for me, but Nateos hasn't smote me from the earth, yet.

Jogging out of the barracks I leave the temple complex behind. On the hills above me the walls of the city gleam in the morning light. It's inspiring to me today. Many of the citizens of the city do not understand, but the warriors and priests of war and death love the dawn, maybe more than normal. Death is not just about endless darkness, but also renewal. Every bright sunrise reminds me of the beauty of life.

If not for the city, then I would still be in the desert. The cold was soul-deep at night, but the sand... The fucking sand was a purely physical pain in my ass, literally.

I keep to the shadows on my way up the hill. Very few citizens pay me any attention. It's typical, I've learned. No one sees shadows coming.

In the desert the nomads' commune with the gods is far more deep but fragile than here in the city. They have no temples or holy people. But, still these city-dwellers blind themselves to gods' presence more often than not.

Samhill Square in the Water District is one part of the city that I am becoming familiar with quickly. It lacks the sqaulor of the true slums, yet for some reason the incidents of murder, rape, and abuse are unreasonably high here.

High above the Square are the palaces of the noble Houses. Sometimes I wonder if those extravagant shifters ever see what is right under their noses.

Maybe they should lower those noses every once in a while and take a look around.

When I reach the house that is the scene of the latest report I don't bother to knock on the front door. I can hear the sobs, the wails of mourning, the murmur of voices. I'm not ready to let anyone know that I am here, yet. It's always better to get the lay of the land and then surprise the suspects.

Loping into the alleyway next to building I climb the window lattice and leap onto the first roofline, intending on entering the bedroom through the window.

The gorgeous female standing in the upstairs room, hands on her sweet hips, yelling at two of warriors of the Fourth House, stops me in my tracks. Hanish was correct, my female is here.

"Why, my Sprite, are you out of your temple and no one told me?" I murmur to myself. The smidgen of guilt that I feel from the harsh training cycle I have planned for the recruits disappears. How do they 'lose' my female? The most precious female in the entire city?

She was in the temple, praying, or so I was told. Clearly, she is nowhere near the temple, and with not a single guard in sight for this priceless female.

I can't perform my duty to her if I don't know where she is. I'll need to know where she is, at all times. Preferably under me, in my bed. Or hers. I'm not picky.

I shift, adjusting myself in my pants. The fit of them is a little snug suddenly.

I need to focus. Perched on a section of roof only slightly wider than myself is not the time to be salivating over my female.

I walk off of the roof, landing lightly on my feet. The wailing from the front of the house has stopped, replaced with whimpers and sniffles. Out of the corner of my eye I see a face peer out of a door in the alley across from the house.

"Hello," I walk over cautiously. I don't want my peeper to be scared off before I can talk to him.

"'Lo," he mutters. Old, rheumy eyes widen when I step out of the shadows. Blue eyes showing the white of age fasten on the tattoo of the Recondites that crawls down my neck before disappearing into my shirt.

Curling my shoulders inward a little, I keep my body posture relaxed, the grin on my face easy and welcoming. "Rough Day?" I ask casually.

Like most gossipers, the chance of spilling some secrets makes the old geezer open both his mouth and his door.

"Bad night, mores like," he says. A hand trembling from the shakes so common to the elderly pulls open the door a little more. White tufts of hair sprout from his balding head. I think his ears have more hair than his head.

"What happened?" I ask him in a hushed, conspiratorial tone.

"Screaming," he tells me in a flat voice. Despite his lack of tone, his eyes show fear. "Last week the missus lost her husband. He's hauntin' her now. Evening time last, she was screaming."

He falls silent. "Stopped about right after midnight."

"Is she the victim?" I ask.

He nods. "Yep, she's dead, not sure if I'd call her a 'victim.'"

"No?" I prod.

"Naw. No' a victim, 'cept maybe of the curse."

"What curse?" I ask swiftly. My precious female is here, is that why? A curse? She may be the one to respond to a call if the family thinks that the gods are angry with the dead.

"The First House curse." His rheumy eyes widen on me in disbelief that I even needed to ask for clarification.

I frown, "Love's curse?" I've heard of the First House, fallen in the last few years from the strongest House in the city to a House in absolute disrepair.

"Aye, her husband was a noble shifter up in the palace," he lifts in his chin in the general direction of the First House's palace above.

"How did they end up in the Fourth District?" I ask him. Samhill is not a place high nobles frequent. It is solidly lower caste nobility around here.

"Left to escape the curse, I reckon." He snorts derisively, "thought they could fool the gods theyselves." He chortles, shaking his head.

"The gods don't usually bother to murder housewives," I point out. As fascinating as the talk of a curse is, I need a suspect.

Rheumy eyes blink at me as if I'm an idiot. "Ain't no crime, here. The missus, she killed herself, didn't she?"

I feel a shock ripple through me. "Suicide?"

"Aye. Haunted by her noble husband. Missus hung herself from the rafters."

"Thank you. I need to go see this for myself." My skin itches to be closer to my Flame. I want to commit every carnal sin with her. That now-familiar overwhelming pull is itching at my spin and I need to be within touching distance of her.

"Goodday, then, young male."

---

My grey-eyed stalker is here and I've never been more thankful to see him. Well, that's not true, I admit to myself, I was happy to see him when he saved my life before.

I need his help again and I don't appreciate that fact.

"Sprite," he walks across the floor to me, eyes unpeeling my clothes as he does. "How are you, love?"

I force a smile as he wraps his arm around my waist and inhales my scent from my hair. The warriors from the Fourth House stare at us with open mouths. I'm not happy with his very public claim. What is he thinking?

"Captain," I return his greeting a little too coldly. His arm drops from around my waist and I grind my teeth.

"Why are you here, Sprite? I was told that this was a suicide scene? Are you helping the family?" he asks.

He's so blunt. "I'm not helping these cretins," I snap out. I can be blunt, too apparently.

Help

"They have angered you," he murmurs. He turns a look of utterly cold rage towards the two warriors. They are so intimidated that they both step backward, faces draining of color.

I place my hand on Thelios' chest. "Something is hidden here. I am not here for the dead female or her family. Something is wrong, Captain. Please, I need to search the house and these males won't allow me to."

Help please Lady

He doesn't even question me. He can't possibly know that I can hear grief from those dead and alive. Although, he can see my gargoyles. The three brothers are with me, pacing the house, hissing and spitting at the two Fourth House warriors.

Sera steps forward, once again imploring the two males from her birth House to let me into the private rooms. I managed to sneak into the bedroom upstairs earlier, that was a dud. The cries of grief became weaker up there. Unfortunately, these two males caught me snooping and won't let me explore the property further.

Help me?

"Give my female anything she wants," Thelios orders.

I think my shock must match the looks on the faces of the two Fourth House warriors. A Recondite is impartial, usually. Apparently Thelios doesn't care about tradition. I don't care, there is something terrible about these cries. Something so awful, unrecognizable, really.

"She wishes to explore the House. We merely want her to wait for the noble family of the deceased to arrive."

"There is no time!" I snarl. I'm not a shifter, but I sound as vicious as one.

"Sweetheart, don't upset yourself. Let me handle this," Thelios sounds soothing, but I hear the joy hidden in his tone.

Curious as to why he's happy, I turn to look at him. If I wasn't watching, I would have never seen his hands and feet move, a blur of motion. It looks like he barely hit the two warriors, but they both fly across the room and hit the heavy stone wall with a dull thud.

I gasp.

"They are alive!" Thelios defends himself from my accusing stare.

"He threw them across the room with one hand," Sera says weakly. Then, she shakes herself. "Go quickly, Mara. I'll wait here to let you know if anyone else is coming."

I don't wait another moment. There's no time. Momo is scratching at the small door in the kitchen frantically while Mishu and Mushu growl at the small space underneath. I stare at the wooden panel. It's fitted seamlessly into the wall with no visible handle.

Help

"Easy there, little male," Thelios kneels down a very gingerly picks up Momo to set him to the side.

I almost laugh hysterically at the look of mistrustful wariness on his face as he handles my gargoyle with the utmost care. He threw two full-grown, highly-trained male shifters across a room but is afraid of my little beastie.

When Momo sits and waits I have to admit that Thelios is worming his way into their stone hearts. He has continuously fed them treats for the past weeks. Apparently it's made inroads. Fatties.

Thelios examines the door, then pushes, hard on one side. When that does nothing, he pushes on the other side.

It slides open. I choke on the smell, it is a dead scent, rotting and foul.

"Stay here, my love," Thelios murmurs.

The voice is silent. "I have to go down there, Thelios," I tell him through numb lips.

"I don't know what's down there, Sprite," he says grimly.

I peer around him. It's a hole, with a rickety staircase down into utter blackness.

"I can't see anything," I say, a little panicked. I need to go there. The voice... someone needs me.

"I can. Stay."

He disappears and I fall to my knees, squinting into the dark hole to see if I can make him out. It's pitch dark, nothing to see, but I can hear... chains.

"Oh, gods, father what is happening?"

Enslaved his Fated

He will be punished for all of eternity for this

His voice is grim. The god is angry and I fully understand why when Thelios returns.

A tiny child is clutched in his arms. The little thing is so bedraggled and filthy that it's hard to distinguish features, although I see hair that may be as red as mine. Pale, eyes closed, skin brown and black from filth, dressed in rags. I've never seen this sort of horror in my life.

"The mother is dead," he says, his face pale.

I choke on a sob.

"The nobles are coming down the street-" Sera runs into the room, coming to a halt when she sees the mite cuddled into Thelios arms. "Where..."

"He is the child of the male of this house," I whisper. It hits me in the gut.

"He died last week, and the dead female downstairs is his truly Fated. He kept her down there. He enslaved her. This is his child. He... He's evil. He-"

Daughter

"Why would he... how could he do this? What do I do?" I stare at Thelios. His face is stone cold, but mine is warm from the tears pouring down my cheeks.

Calm child

"I was too late to save her," I whimper. I heard the voices and couldn't find the House. I was afraid, too afraid to venture into the Fourth District. I finally asked Sera to come with me, only to find a house in mourning here.

Take her home

"Mara, the nobles are coming," Sera is also in tears, her face full of fear. "You need to leave before they arrive."

"Who is she?" I ask them as if there is an answer in the air.

Momo starts to hiss, his wings opening, nostrils flaring.

"Come here, love," Thelios adjust the babe in his arms so that it is leaning on one broad shoulder. He opens the other arm for me.

"Father says to take her home," I mumble with cold lips.

"Go, I'll explain everything here," Sera says urgently.

"Does she have a home, Sprite?" Thelios asks gently, wrapping one strong arm around me.

"Our home," I mumble.

"Done," he says quietly. "Hold onto me, Sprite. Can you hold me tight?"

In answer I entwine myself around him, not caring about the tingles of awareness that spread across my skin. In this moment my unwanted bond doesn't seem so terrible a thing.

He walks, quickly, to the rear of the house, holding both of us as if we weigh nothing. I bury my face in his neck, inhaling the scent of desert and male, feeling his warm pulse under my lips. It's intoxicating, the scent of him, but I have no desire to explore this feeling. Everything fades away but his other burden, the tiny little creature that is so quiet, so still, in his other arm.

Those dark leathery wings spread from his back. There's barely enough room in the yard for him to stretch them out.

"Hold me tight, Sprite," he murmurs. We take to the skies.