I don't own Doyle, the Secret Saturdays, or some of the various people that the characters talk about.
I own Corbin, Zander, and the rest of the household, as well as Fae and the Mulo Clan and some of the other various people that the characters talk about.

Stray

"Doyle does not know of those taken by the grey demons," the chovihano said, "but you can tell the Rom Baro that his daughter is dead."

"No," Fae whispered. "Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that."

"Yes," the chovihano said. "And I will need to speak to the clans about these other children he had met."

He told them of the "home" that had kidnapped the boy. He spoke of the children there, Romani and otherwise. Doyle had remembered the Rom Baro's daughter best, remembered her singing.

It was the singing that identified her. The Rom Baro's daughter had always been fond of that wolf protection song, a song that nobody had taught her, in an older dialect that none of the clan but elders long dead could speak.

"Is there something we can do?" Corbin asked. "If some of the children were not Romani—unfortunate that such would be necessary, but then the law might be interested—"

"No," the chovihano interrupted. "These were all orphans, beggars and the like. Children who were already on their own. Children like Doyle, Romani or not."

"Children who won't be missed," Zander translated. "Or at least, that the law won't care about them who will miss them."

The chovihano nodded.

"But that's not what's bothering you, is it?" Fae asked. "Not...all that's bothering you."

"It is bad enough when the gadje seek to exterminate our people," the chovihano replied. "They, at least, have the excuse that they are fighting against foreigners, those who are not their people. No matter that they do to us the crimes they accuse of us." He laid his forehead in his hand. "There is another child he met at this place, shortly before he'd run. I don't believe it was one of our missing children, but the boy believes it was another Romani. This other child...if I could lessen his guilt, it would only be to say that perhaps he'd been stolen from his clan, and made to forget his people."

"What did this other child do?" Fae asked.

The chovihano looked up at her. Tears glistened in his eyes. "He tried to poison Doyle." Zander shared a startled glance with Corbin, and Corbin nodded. "He tried to kill Doyle. And his reason, as Doyle remembers it...his excuse was because Doyle is Romani."

Fae gasped. "But...but you just said this other child is—" She stared at the chovihano, horrified by the implication.

"No, he isn't," the warrior growled. "By blood, perhaps, but blood, only. He is not Romani. And the clans will know of it, soon enough."

—

The chovihano waited until the household was asleep. He set a trance upon the warrior to eliminate any interference, then settled himself to wait.

It did not take long for his visitor to show himself.

"You summoned me, mortal?" the birdman asked.

"What is the matter with you?" the chovihano snarled. "What have you been doing to this child?"

"My job," Anzu replied.

"Your job? Your job?" The chovihano shook his head. "Your job is to protect the boy! Your job—"

Anzu cocked his head. "Since when do I need a mortal to tell me my job?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.

"Deity or not, I can see your mark on this child. Not even the gods can break their promises—"

"Truth, we cannot," Anzu replied. "Our laws forbid it. That's why we take care how we make those promises. One of my brethren prepares for war; you have seen it, haven't you? And you have seen the role that the child must play? I promised to guard him, yes, but only to prepare him for that role."

"By breaking his mind before he has a chance to play his part? Anzu, which side of this war are you on?"

Anzu chuckled. "The only side that matters; mine. And let me tell you, I may not care for direct intervention—"

"Pah! You're a Trickster; you thrive on direct intervention."

"No," Anzu replied. "It is against our laws; mortals must be allowed their free will. But I will not stand for interference with my plans. You know perfectly well that no god can protect against suffering, not even for a single mortal. He could never be truly safe unless he remained in one of your spirit-homes."

"I know that," the chovihano replied, a little sadly. "Suffering is what allows us to learn and grow. The spirit-homes are useful for restoration, but they are too perfect; if he lived there, he would become stagnant." He glared at the god. "I cannot argue with much of what has happened; much of his suffering was by mortal hands, and your only fault was that you did not prevent it. But this other—you tore the veil, Anzu! Even an experienced chovihano dares not venture too long in other worlds. But the veil around this child—you've ripped it open."

"It was...an emergency," Anzu replied, his voice carefully bland. "I acted on the first thing that came to mind. But it will repair itself; the veil has been torn before, and has always repaired itself!"

The chovihano blinked in surprise. Was the god...remorseful? Ashamed of his actions? Could it be that he was concerned for the child...or simply for the god's plans for the boy...? What, indeed, compelled the gods to take an interest in any one mortal, at that? "The veil can repair itself in time, yes. And the damage may seem little enough to a god, who can pass through it at will; certainly most mortals would never notice." He glared at the god. "But for a mortal with the boy's power—he is more sensitive with his instincts than most chovihano with a lifetime of training. Can you not see what it will do to him?"

"I know," the god said with a sigh. "And I cannot fix it; the veil will heal on its own, as it always has, but for the child—I dare not risk that again, so soon. Not even to correct my mistake." He smiled. "But you can help."

The chovihano frowned. "How?"

"You wish to protect the boy, yes? And your tribe wishes to purify that which taints these people, these lands."

The chovihano nodded, carefully. "What are you getting at?"

"You can cast a spell on him, one that would protect the child, and not only would it not interfere with me, it may help my plans. We cannot forbid mortals from such intervention, after all."

"What kind of spell?" the chovihano asked. Anzu lifted an eyebrow, and the chovihano frowned at him. "I don't trust you; I cannot agree to anything, not even for the child's benefit, if I don't know what I'm agreeing to, after all."

"Oh, nothing much, nothing much," Anzu said. The chovihano snorted in derision, and Anzu smiled. "I wish to prevent his nature from being influenced by other forces, is all. Any forces."

"You would have him stagnant, after all?"

"No, no, no, change would still be possible." Anzu shook his head. "I would not take that from him. No, he could still learn from his mistakes, still be swayed by a good argument, still learn to recognize friend or foe, still adapt to his environment. But he must choose to do this." The god sighed. "It is those stains on his soul that worry me, chovihano. Those are not of his doing, not of his choosing; he was tainted by the mere presence of evil, by a force that he has no control over. I wish to ensure that he can never be corrupted by any force, except if he allows it. I have power enough to do this, but our laws would forbid it. If I gave you the means to cast such a spell...."

"Oh? You've had so much fun manipulating his instincts, Anzu; you would give that up for this protection?"

"Of course not," the god said with a laugh. "But it is still his choice whether to trust those instincts, no matter their source."

"I suppose...if I modify a few variables from the purification ritual," the chovihano mused, "and add that to the protection spell the warriors use...." He frowned, then finally nodded. "Yes, I can do it. I will do it, if only because I cannot see how even you could make such a spell worse."

Anzu nodded. "I will try not to."

Section 1: That line about the song the girl knew, that nobody had taught her, is important. (More to the point, that she knew it, though nobody had taught it to her, is important.)
In one of the other stories.
But only if readers pick up on it once I get to that point.
It's a "because I felt like it" hint at one of the stories that stems from this shared history, rather than an "official" tie between stories. So if nobody spots the connection (which won't happen until I begin posting that other story, but I digress), I'm not worried.

If you would like to see the original version on which I based the protection song, check out
gypsymagicspells dot blogspot dot com forwardslash 2010 forwardslash 01 forwardslash wolf-protection-spell dot html
Thanks to Fanfictiondotnet's web addressing systems, you'll have to replace "dot" with "." and "forwardslash" with "/"
New readers: this story has been revised a few times since the original posting. I'd originally just had her singing. Then I decided to do that hint, and had to come up with a few details about the song to imply that hint, then I recently came across the aforementioned site.

Section 2: I threw in that remark about the veil, because at some point in the next arc...I somehow manage to retcon my own fanfiction.
Though considering I could work in the change just by rewording a sentence or two in an earlier chapter, is it really a retcon?
I'll probably have more "retcons" as I go along, simply from learning new things as the show continues.