"Order something with meat," White Hawk directed. "Your body needs protein and iron."
Meat? She rarely ate it these days. "Not now. It feels much too heavy."
Ignoring her protests, he told the waiter she'd have poached trout. She interrupted defiantly, ordered her own potato and vegetable, and asked for a fruit bowl on the side, but didn't bother canceling White Hawk's main-course order.
Now she took an indifferent bite of trout, mainly to keep White Hawk from pressuring her. It tasted dry and unpalatable, and she poked at the filet with her fork, then reached for another slice of apple.
"Eat more of the fish," White Hawk directed, never taking his gaze from the blurred scenery outside the window. The dark glass reflected like a mirror, and in it Lily saw his golden eyes burning. Slanted somewhat over his prominent cheekbones, they reminded her of a large cat.
And they simmered with intense hatred.
She couldn't blame him. If not for her, his lovely wife would still be with him. But since when did a queen pay attention to the loathing of mere men? She'd been used to the hatred of her prey, as well as the envy of lower werewolves.
Her reassurances weren't helping her withstand the assault of his animosity, which further dulled her appetite. Why had he saved her life just to torment her? Deciding his reason might prove valuable, she reached out her psyche to probe his thoughts. He'd shielded his mind well, so she expanded her probe, taking in the entirety of the train.
You cannot escape, Lily.
The mental message came from nearby, and Lily jerked her head, searching for its source. She saw nothing, although she hadn't expected to. Sebastian could be anywhere, but one fact was clear. He'd already found her and was probably on the train.
Just then, White Hawk looked back at her. "Eat your fish."
"I don't care for it." She reached for a slice of hot chunky bread.
With one fluid movement, he turned from the window and stilled her hand. "Eat," he said coldly. "We're not leaving until you finish."
"You sound like Mrs. Preston . . . but not quite as mean." She eyed him thoughtfully. Thinking of the blade he wore at his belt, she lifted a knife that had come with the fruit. Small, but keen and sharp enough to make a serious gash in the knife arm of a shaman — or the tender belly of a werewolf.
But escape would not necessarily benefit her with Sebastian so near. While White Hawk had his own plans for her, he was a less formidable opponent. And he'd almost as much as assured her safety, at least until they reached Ebony Mountain.
She'd spent five years roaming the canyon that housed the Dawn People and had never found her way through the maze that led to their village. She doubted Sebastian would fare any better. It looked as if the village was not just her best refuge, it was her only one.
To appease White Hawk, she speared a scrap of fish, pausing before she put it in her mouth. "Your concern for my well-being touches me," she said dryly, "but it makes no sense. You could have let me die and saved yourself the trouble."
His jaws flickered almost imperceptibly, but he remained silent and took a mouthful of half-raw steak. Lily chewed on her fish and waited.
"So why didn't you let me die? I know it would have given you satisfaction."
"You don't know how much," he replied grimly, the candles casting a dark shadow on his face, emphasizing the hard set of his mouth. "But it wasn't for me to decide. You must face the Tribunal."
She laughed suddenly. "Let me get this straight. I'm being pursued by the king of werewolves, who'll surely punish me more than you could ever dream. Do you think I fear any puny Tribunal your people could put together?"
Tony stared at her stonily. The thump of wheels on rails and the low murmurs of the other diners filled the silence. Then his gaze drifted to a spot behind her. Lily turned to follow it, but saw nothing.
"A female of the genus homo lupus," he suddenly intoned in a radically altered voice, "shall appear to The People cloaked in silver . . ."
His face seemed to grow more hawklike, sharp and menacing, and his tone brought back the night in the Clearing of the Black Hands. Dana Gibbs, robed in white and so obscenely pure. Morgan Wilder, fighting near to death for his love. Jorje, lying limp and lifeless near a snowy bank. And then the cries—hawk and dogs—screeching, howling, baying, as her werewolf heritage drained away. For the first time since being discharged from the hospital she felt the full horror of it.
"Although her names bespeak purity," he continued, "her heart is foul, and she shall answer to the Tribunal for her crimes.”
Lily's hands fluttered weakly, but she forced iron into her voice. "What the hell does that mean?"
White Hawk cocked his head with the same rapid movements of his namesake. Then his eyes cleared and firmly claimed hers.
"It is not for you to know yet," he said in a normal tone. "Now finish your meal."
Still somewhat shaken, Lily scooped another piece of fish onto her fork. "I take it back," she said with forced bravado. "You're meaner than Mrs. Preston."
"Who's Mrs. Preston?" White Hawk asked, seeming half surprised the question had left his lips.
She smiled wickedly. "My last nanny. I drove her mad. After that, no one would take the job."
White Hawk responded with a small sound, then looked back out the window.
As soon as Lily was certain his attention was on the darkly fleeing scenery and not on her reflection in the window, she snaked out her hand and closed a napkin around the fruit knife. After dabbing her mouth delicately, she lowered the linen to her lap, dropped the knife into the pocket of her jacket, and felt it settle among the plastic vials.
As she returned to her meal she wondered if she really had seen a smile tugging at the corners of White Hawk's mouth before he turned away.
Chapter Five
Tony guided Lily onto the debarking platform of the Flagstaff train station at dawn the next morning, keeping a possessive hand on her arm.
"You're treating me like baggage!" Lily irritably shook off his arm, dropped her suitcase, and refused to move until he let go.
"If you're thinking about escape, forget it."
"Never crossed my mind." He saw false sweetness in her smile, and her dark almond-shaped eyes gleamed like the wolf she'd once been.
But she was no longer fleet of foot. If she tried to run, he could easily catch her, so he didn't attempt to reclaim her arm. Picking up her fallen bag, he scanned the parking lot outside the open-air platform, seeking the vehicle he'd been promised would be there.
When he saw a squirrel's tail flying from an antenna, he heaved a relieved sigh. Delmar hadn't let him down.
"This way," he told Lily. "To our car." She accompanied him without objection, and as they approached the old boatlike vehicle, Tony saw her take in the seriously crumpled fender, the rust eating at the edges of the faded white paint.
"Our accommodations grow ever more luxurious."
Startled that her remark brought Dana Gibbs to his mind, Tony glanced at her sharply. It was not her comment that stirred the recollection, but her attitude. She wasn't complaining, simply making a rather accurate observation. Nor did she complain about the cold, although she hugged her linen jacket tight against the brisk mountain breeze.
He admired her spirit, one warrior for another. Although her cause was hopeless, she refused to bow to it. From the vantage point of her terrace railing, he'd seen the coldness inside that richly appointed mausoleum her parents called home. His heritage held such reverence for family; he could barely comprehend her uncaring parents or what harm such an upbringing might do to a child, but even that loveless childhood hadn't broken her spirit. Recalling her comment about the nanny almost made him smile again.
Then he thought of Tajaya's corpse, and his moment of sympathy evaporated. True, he found it hard to equate this small woman with the powerful beast who had taken his wife, but they were one and the same. Someday he might find forgiveness within his heart, but such was not yet in him and he woul
dn't pretend it was. That wasn't the warrior's way.
At the car, he opened the passenger door. "Sit here," he said gruffly, wanting her out of his way. "You'll be warmer."
She gestured at the seat "What would you like me to do with those?"
Several candy bar wrappers and a partly filled bag of potato chips were on the seat. A crumpled twelve-pack carton was on the floor. For the first time since he'd left Ebony Canyon to bring back Lily, Tony actually did grin. His father, it seemed, had partied long and hard the night before. Some things always remained the same.
Lily allowed him little time °for fond memories. She stooped to gather up the rubbish. "Fortunately, the vandal managed to miss your seat."
Arms filled, she turned toward a nearby trash barrel. Keeping her in his line of sight, Tony went to the trunk, where Delmar had promised to leave some supplies. They would descend over eight thousand feet from the canyon's rim to the floor, where the Dawn People dwelled. There, the cloying heat of the monsoon season would be at its peak, so he'd taken only light clothing from Lily's closet. But first they must travel up the mountain to face night temperatures even colder than in Flagstaff.
As promised, there were two parkas, a pair of sleeping bags, and a large hard-framed backpack crammed in amid several tire irons and a blown-out radial. Tony checked the parkas for size, picked up the smaller one, and turned toward Lily.
She still stood by the trash barrel, looking far into the distance, head tilted as if she were listening. "Lily!" he called sharply.
She glanced his way, then came toward him.
"Here." He shoved the thick parka into her hands, trying not to look at her as he began jostling the items in the trunk to make room for his satchel and her bags. "Wait in the car."
"Thanks," she said softly, shrugging into the coat and zippering it against the cold.
He grunted an acknowledgment, and when he finally managed to crowd the bags into the overstuffed trunk, he slammed the lid and started for the driver's door.
A short while later, after filling the almost empty gas tank, Tony parked in front of a drugstore.
"Get out," he said to Lily. "We're going inside."
She complied without comment, staying by his side as they walked to the store. Tony had expected her to attempt escape, and even though she hadn't tried so far he had no intention of relaxing his vigil. When they went inside, he firmly took her hand in his.
"How tender," she remarked, nodding at a lunch counter at one end of the store. "Shall we share a soda afterward?"
Tony ignored her and headed for the aisle he knew displayed the merchandise he needed. This was an old-fashioned drugstore, not one of the chains, and they stocked items in bulk, carrying medicines and tonics that had long fallen out of common use.
He found what he needed and picked up two cartons.
"Smelling salts?" Lily asked, arching her eyebrows. "It's flattering that you consider me so formidable, White Hawk, but in case you haven't heard, I'm not a werewolf anymore. Or are you planning to choke me to death with the fumes?"
"Cut the crap, Lily," White Hawk replied sharply. He'd had about enough of this woman's acid tongue, nor was he pleased that some of her quips actually amused him. "You think I haven't noticed how you keep looking around? Your leader's out there somewhere, isn't he?"
Lily shrugged. "I told you he'd come, but you weren't in a listening mood."
She seemed calm enough, which puzzled Tony. "I'd think he'd be the last person you'd want to see, Lily. He tried to kill you.”
Lily hesitated, her sarcastic expression fading. She shook her head. "The holy water made him clumsy and he accidentally scraped my skin. Human skin is fragile, you know–"
"No, I don't know," he replied harshly, "but I'm sure you do."
She regarded him a moment. "You see us as such evil creatures, don't you?"
"Evil is too soft a word."
"Ah," she murmured. "We're merely hunters, like you. I wonder how the cow would treat you should you suddenly become a member of its herd? Much as you're treating me, I imagine."
Jarred by her logic, which too closely paralleled Riva's teachings, Tony stared into her large dark eyes. Still shadowed underneath by her recent loss of blood, they gazed back intelligently, implacably, waiting for his answer.
"We've a long journey ahead," he finally said. "Let's pay for these and get on with it."
Still holding her hand, he dragged her none too gently to the cash register, and didn't let go of her until he deposited her back inside the cane knowing grin covered her face the entire time.
Trying his best to ignore it, Tony pulled onto the highway and headed east. They had several hours of rough roads ahead and another couple of hours of hiking before they reached the canyon's rim. Putting a heavy foot on the gas pedal, he kept his eyes straight ahead.
He wondered if Lily was up to the hike. Although her wounds were healing, she'd lost considerable blood and the prospect of carrying her down to the canyon floor didn't please him. Bad enough he'd been sent on this unholy mission, but to hold the wolf woman against his heart for hours on end . . . it didn't bear thinking about.
For the most part, Lily looked out the window. Once she let out a small gasp as he took a particularly sharp turn, and now and then she glanced over her shoulder out the rear window. He wondered what she expected to find? Was her werewolf king already in pursuit? Despite her defense of him, Tony doubted she'd welcome Sebastian's appearance, which would explain why she hadn't tried to escape.
It amused him darkly to think she might consider him her protector. Less amusing, he realized, was that he actually was. He'd saved her from a certain and well-deserved death, and was treating her more like a small ward than the evil creature he knew her to be. This thought fed his bitterness, and he nourished it, unwilling to betray Tajaya's memory in the smallest way.
Lily shifted suddenly in her seat, interrupting his thoughts. They'd left the highway and were careening faster than White Hawk knew was safe toward Ebony Mountain. The morning sun streamed through the windshield, providing only marginal warmth, and an icy wind billowed through the open passenger window.
Pulling up the hood of her parka, Lily reached for the window's handle and turned it. Nothing happened. She gave it a hard yank, then another. The handle came off in her hand.
"Throw it in the backseat," White Hawk offered, and she heard him choke back a laugh.
She gave the handle a cavalier toss over her shoulder. It landed with a thud. "Finally I've discovered your scheme. Death by freezing."
"It's an easy death they say," he replied, his amusement fading as quickly as it had come. "Better than you deserve."
"Do you really believe I'll let you kill me?" Lily asked softly, not really caring about his answer, just wanting to hear a voice. She'd grown weary of the silence.
"It is already done."
Already done. Those words did not come lightly from a shaman, and they sparked the same tremor Lily had felt in the dining car. They weren't so different, really, the Dawn People and the Lupines. While Western civilization worshiped timetables and science, both their kind followed a primal connection to the seasons, the tides, the moons. Signs and visions signaled coming events, which, thus indicated, could not be reversed.
Refusing to let him see her fear, she said, "Don't rely on your superstitions to protect you."
"I rely on nothing. This act is Star Dancer's decision and you're alive only by her mercy."
"Who, pray tell, is this person with the whimsical name?"
"You'll find out soon enough."
"How soon is that?"
"We'll reach the rim of the canyon a short while before the sun reaches the top of the heavens."
"Why don't you just say around eleven o'clock?" Lily suddenly felt cross. What did she care about this peasant shaman's convictions, or of whether or not he spoke to her? "You obviously understand clocks well enough to abide by a railroad timetable."
"There are no clock
s in Ebony Canyon." He glanced over at her scornfully. "You of all people should know that."
Yes, Lily thought, but she'd already forgotten. How odd that she'd retained some abilities, yet not others. Even now, if she tuned in, she could discern squirrels chattering softly in the thick fir trees. A wren alighted in the dark branches overhead. Somewhere, not far away, a brook rushed over a stony bed, gurgling softly. And though White Hawk kept his thoughts carefully guarded, she could feel his loathing so acutely it seemed like a physical force.
But she no longer retained the rhythm of the wild. The scents and sounds around her seemed alien, making her almost long for exhaust fumes and honking horns. That she'd survived — no, thrived — for years in this raw country seemed suddenly incomprehensible.
Tony made a sharp turn that sent her lurching toward him. Quickly righting herself, she saw they'd turned onto a rutted road lined with towering pines. Her seat was bathed in shadow, stealing away her only heat. Her teeth began chattering, and even the thick parka couldn't keep her from shivering.
Tony looked over at her. "You'll find blankets in the back."
She'd have preferred to deliver a sarcastic retort, but was too cold to expend the energy. Scrambling to her knees, she reached over the seat for a rough wool blanket, refraining from comment even when dried grass and stones tumbled out. Draping the blanket over her head and shoulders, she settled back into the seat, tired of the battle and weary of the cold.
Tony tapped the accelerator, which forced her deeper into the warming covers. "Sleep," he instructed. "We'll be there soon and you'll need your strength for the journey."
* * *
The sun was heading for its apex when they reached the canyon rim.
"We'll stop here to eat," Tony told Lily as they skirted the skeleton of Morgan Wilder's burned-out cabin.
Lily would have preferred not to sit in the shadow that reminded her of her folly, but they'd hiked countless miles since parking the car and she needed rest. She let White Hawk remove the steel-framed backpack from her shoulders, then sank gratefully to the ground.
Chills & Thrills Paranormal Boxed Set Page 31