A bolt of pure outrage shot through her, and she wanted to howl it to the sky. She arched her neck, throwing back her head, tempted to let the sound emerge.
The first twinge in her knee went unnoticed. Then she felt another. And a third. A familiar stretching sensation radiated through her fingers and toes.
Lily leaped up.
"Is something wrong?" asked Kessa, who had returned to her hearth.
"No, no, nothing." Lily forced herself to walk calmly forward with the plate in her hand. She gave it to Kessa, whose brow was still wrinkled with concern. "I'm—I'm just desperately wanting a bath."
Kessa smiled, took the plate, and turned back to her fire. Lily headed for her pueblo, climbing as rapidly as she could without slipping, then ran to her quarters and pulled the curtain shut behind her.
Her heart raced, but she walked calmly toward her pallet and sat down. Shala had assured her the rapid healing came from White Hawk and Star Dancer's medicine, and Lily had wanted an explanation so badly, she'd clung to it without examination. But she still had scars from the wounds White Hawk had treated on the train, while not a mark remained from last night's injuries.
Just will it, she told herself. Will it, then you'll know.
She brought her hands to her lips and rubbed them absently, only vaguely aware her breath was coming in ragged heaves. Some time passed before she found her courage. Staring at the backs of her suntanned hands, she breathed the word: Alchemize.
Instantly, a layer of silver hair covered her arms and hands. The swiftness of the transformation stunned her. She'd always alchemized more easily than most werewolves—Sebastian had said it was because she hadn't fought her new nature—but never this quickly. Even the Lupine King did not alchemize with such speed.
In bewildered agony, she stared down. Where was the wiry coat of the werewolf? This hair looked like the down of a newborn pup. She ran her tongue along her teeth and discovered she also lacked fangs. She had no claws, nor did she have the werewolf's height.
She recalled the fate of a man who'd fled from the ceremonial ring into the thick woods before the ritual was finished. The pack never found him, but whispered stories returned of a creature half human, half monster, unable to shapeshift and doomed to eke out his existence with the other beasts of the wilderness.
She killed the scream before it left her throat. Panicked, she willed herself into human form. Again the transformation came instantly.
Pulse still racing, she tried to logically assess her fate. Was the botched ceremony effecting its changes slowly? Would new attributes appear each day until . . .
. . . until she was again filled with bloodlust?
Poor Morgan, she thought unexpectedly. All those years of fighting his werewolf urges. What horrors the struggle had driven him to — crawling through snow and bogs, seeking lesser forms of life to fulfill his dark needs. But Morgan was safe now, redeemed forever, while she could only contemplate living as he once had.
She let out a whimper. Where was God, or the Great Spirit the Dawn People so revered? She'd been deserted.
But this wasn't a curse from the deities, it was Sebastian's handiwork!
And she'd been moved with sympathy for him! Like a father to her? No! He'd needed a devoted follower to keep his pack in line. See how quickly he'd replaced her with the jealous Beryl!
Her joints creaked again. A sharper pain streaked through one knee, jolting her. Swiftly she calmed down and willed the changes to cease. They stopped immediately, but now she knew this wasn't a fluke. Her werewolf nature had returned. What was she to do? She'd already brought danger to the Dawn People by leading Sebastian to them. Now she herself was the danger.
She saw only one solution. And she would have to carry it out that night.
Chapter Nineteen
"Why didn't you tell me?” Tony demanded without preamble, not bothering to hide his anger from Riva.
She looked up from her work at the loom, the corners of her mouth lifting. "Tony it's always a pleasure to see you."
"Cut the crap, Riva! I want to know why you kept this from me."
"My, I see your time in the mechanical world has renewed your colorful vocabulary " She cocked her head to the right. "Let's sit on the dais. We have much to discuss. I want to hear of your vision quest."
"Not until you tell me about Lily's part in the journey to Quakahla." But he moved to the platform anyway, knowing Riva would reveal only what she wanted and only in her own time.
After they settled on the sheepskin, he turned to her, his eyes still blazing. "Lily may not have understood your parable last night, but I understood it fully, and deserved to have been given this information before I went after her."
"Would it have changed your feelings toward her — this woman who killed Tajaya?"
Tony shifted his weight and readjusted his legs. "No, but I would have better understood the purpose of bringing her back alive."
"Yet you did bring her safely back even without that knowledge." Riva rose and went to the table, lit incense in a pot, then brought it back to the sheepskin. "I observed you with Lily last evening, Tony. Your feelings for her are changing."
Breathing in the sweet scent from the burning pot, he slowly shook his head. "I am in her debt for saving Shala, that is all."
Riva's sharp glance told him she knew he was hedging. But if he revealed his turmoil — if he said out loud what he feared was happening between him and Lily. . . . He couldn't speak of it. Even thinking the words dishonored Tajaya.
"I don't understand, Riva. Tajaya was your daughter, yet you still respect her killer. How are you able to do it?"
"Sometimes . . ." She glanced away for an instant. "The absence Tajaya's death left in my heart cannot ever be filled. Sometimes I do hate the wolf woman. But then Quetzalcoatl comes to remind me the world is as he made it. You must also remember that."
He took another whiff of incense.
"Speak to me of your vision quest, Tony."
"White Bear came to me . . ."
"A powerful animal guide. You were greatly honored."
"Yes, but that is of little consequence. His words were—they were harsh, yet heavy with truth."
Tony paused. After leaving Lily's side the night before, he'd lain awake thinking of Riva's parable. As a latecomer, he hadn't grown up listening to tales of White Wolf Woman like the trueborns had, and in his skepticism about the existence of Quakahla, he'd paid them little attention. Not until the previous night had he connected Lily with the legends. If they were true, then Lily was the bridge between the two worlds and they couldn't pass successfully without her.
The urgency of the council's request should have triggered the memory, but it hadn't. Bear's message implied Tony's reasons for hiding the truth from himself went far deeper than revenge. Revealing this to Riva made him feel vulnerable and unworthy of his shaman's title.
But she'd been his teacher for years and had never condemned him when he faltered. He had no reason to believe she'd do so now.
"Bear told me my hatred for Lily comes not from my love of Tajaya," he said, feeling his spirit lighten even as the difficult words left his mouth, "but from my own self-deception."
"What do you think?" Riva probed. "What true reason lies behind your hate?"
"I'm questioning whether I want to remain with The People," he replied, heart aching at the thought of leaving, yet feeling the call of the outside world. "Since . . . since Tajaya died, something has been missing from my life. I can't put my finger on it, but . . .
"Shala begs to visit the mechanical world and tells me she doesn't want to go to Quakahla When I explain how wonderful our new home will be, I feel the falseness in my assurances . . . I miss computers, Riva. I miss the feel of the wind from the back of a horse, automobiles, and . . ." He smiled wanly. "I miss Snickers candy bars."
"But you've decided to come with us anyway?"
"My home's with the Dawn People now. And so is Shala's. She is, after all, your grand
daughter and destined to become a great shaman herself."
"So for her sake, and for mine, you'll go, even though your spirit calls you elsewhere?"
"Yes."
"It is your choice, Tony. I won't stand in your way if you choose otherwise."
"I know that, Riva." He hesitated, reluctant to tell her the rest, yet knowing he must. "There's more."
He told her then of the vision—no, it was more than a vision, it had been realer than many of his conscious encounters—of caressing Lily, joining with her, whispering loving words.
"And I awoke filled with love. Lily seemed like a piece of me then." He glanced away in self-reproach. "So quickly I turned back to hate. When I saw her following the werewolves and Shala, I immediately assumed she was going back to her pack."
He forced himself to meet Riva's eyes, although the horror of the barely averted outcome of his misjudgment almost overwhelmed him, and said in a hushed tone, "If Lily hadn't been there, Shala would have joined her mother."
"As usual, you judge yourself too harshly. You've received the gift of greater self-knowledge. Give thanks for it."
"This is one time where ignorance feels like bliss. I don't feel thankful at all. Another sign I failed in the shaman's way."
"You don't mean that, Tony, and you know it." Riva straightened her back abruptly, indicating she was about to change the subject. "Will you be Lily's advocate before the Tribunal?"
Once again Riva had guessed what was truly on his mind.
"I don't yet know."
"Time is slipping away."
"Do you have another if I refuse?"
"Only myself."
Tony nodded, then climbed to his feet. "I'll let you know by morning."
As he turned toward the door, Riva said, "You had a second shapeshifting experience last night, didn't you?"
Long ago he'd stopped asking Riva how she knew such things, and now he only looked back and nodded. "It happened the same way it did in New York. When I saw what peril Shala was in, I suddenly became the hawk. I still have no control."
"Control will come."
"But not until I resolve my conflict?"
Rising, Riva smiled in agreement, then said, "I'll wait for your decision. Walk in beauty."
She accompanied him down the length of the long-house, stopping beside her loom. As Tony was about to move on, she touched his shoulder.
"All that was foretold is not already done, Tony. The fate of the Dawn People hangs in the balance."
"Yes," he replied somewhat impatiently. "Just as the legends say."
Riva ignored his tone. "You have not heard it all. The final story hasn't yet been fully written. It concerns Lily, and to amend for not telling you of her part in our migration, I will tell you how the story stands now. If, as you say, your feelings for her run no deeper than gratitude, my words will be of little importance."
Tony nodded, waiting with more apprehension than he dared admit. When the words came, he almost staggered under their weight. Of little importance? He only wished they were.
* * *
Lily grabbed at a quivering tree branch, seeking leverage to navigate a particularly steep section of the trail. She'd scraped her hand on the scrub oak during her leap from the catwalk wall, and the rough bark made the cuts hurt all the more. When she finally reached a flatter area, she paused to blow on the abrasion.
Anticipating the colder weather at the top of the ridge, she'd put on her blue jeans and the linen jacket, which were now damp with sweat. Now she wiped her dripping forehead with the hem of the jacket, then looked up at the dark sky. Another monsoon gale was brewing. Pulsing heat lightning brushed the churning thunderheads with silver, and the round moon glowed through streaks of dark clouds. Wind battered the trees clinging to the steep wall of the canyon. Thunder periodically rumbled in the distance.
A fitting night to die.
She resumed her climb, stopping now and again to brush her flapping hair from her eyes. Tiring, she briefly considered alchemizing to speed her journey and heal her cuts. Although the idea tempted her, she resisted and continued on, using the weaving branches for support whenever she could catch one.
Finally, after an interminable climb, she arrived at the top. The moon poured its cold light on the rain-starved grass in the meadow and illuminated the remains of Morgan's charred and crumbling cabin. She shivered, not only from the onslaught of the brisk, cold wind, but from the memories it stirred.
She'd once traveled to this place through the worst snowstorm in recent Arizona history, protected by her thick werewolf coat and impervious to the cold of this higher altitude. She'd been filled with the hunger then and fearful of Sebastian's censure. Her acts had been heartless. And she was doomed to repeat them if she didn't end it now.
She shivered again, this time from apprehension. Would she have the courage to follow through on her decision?
She didn't know. Ducking her head to ward off the chill of the wind, she tightened her lightweight jacket around her body and hurried south toward the Clearing of the Black Hands.
Thunder clapped and the sky lit up with jagged streaks that ripped through the angry clouds, converging as they met the earth.
Lily stopped and stared upward, wondering if the stormy weather was a sign the gods were judging her. How odd that she'd so badly wanted to escape the Tribunal and was now headed to carry out the sentence they would have undoubtedly passed.
Her options had narrowed. She couldn't live as one of them again, and they were only here because she'd lured them. When she was gone, they would leave. The Dawn People would know peace again. Her deepest regret was that she'd never be able to show Shala the wonders of the mechanical world.
Tony couldn't sleep. After spending the day with a team of men rerouting the path through the maze, he should have dropped off immediately. But his pallet felt as hard and unyielding as his desire to punish Lily for Tajaya's murder. Listening to the thunder and the wail of the mounting wind, he tossed and turned, thinking about Riva's request.
Be Lily's advocate? What defense would he use? Shouldn't her life be sacrificed to atone for Tajaya's? Or had saving Shala's been atonement enough?
Tony rolled in his bed again, yanking irritably at his blanket, which had gotten tangled around his legs. By all that was sacred, he didn't want to be part of a legend. And though he'd devoted his entire adult life to the shaman's way, at this moment he wasn't sure he wanted that either.
Surrendering to his restlessness, he got up and fetched his hemp trousers, not sure why he was dressing or what he'd do once he had. Bear's message came back to him, and as he left the wickiup, walking to an unknown destination, he mulled it over. Since Tajaya died, dissatisfaction with the People's life had troubled him.
He'd told himself he missed his wife and his disquiet sprang from grief. But as he placed a hand on the rung of the ladder leading up to the pueblos, barely troubled by the high wind that dogged his every step, he asked himself if his purpose for being in Ebony Canyon had died with his wife.
She'd been his teacher as much as Riva, and though his affection for the High Shaman ran deep, she didn't fill the void Tajaya had left. Was Bear right? Was he truly nourishing his hatred for Lily to hide these doubts from himself?
Yes! That's exactly what he'd been doing. In violation of everything he'd learned from his beloved wife and her equally beloved mother, he'd ignored the teaching, rejected the compassion that was the way of The People, and focused all his self-deception on Lily.
The wind cooled the waves of shame that heated White Hawk's body, and when the waves finally passed, he felt a weight lift. He climbed faster, taking the rungs two at a time, nearing the top where Lily's quarters were, no longer hiding his destination from himself. His answer had come. He would defend her before the Tribunal.
A glowing smile spread over his face, and he practically flew up the remaining rungs of the ladder.
Chapter Twenty
Tony held Lily's note in his hand,
fighting a reflexive desire to crumple it in his fist. In his other hand he clutched the crystal necklace and one of the small plastic bottles. She'd dumped them all on the washing table, atop her hastily scrawled explanation that the gemstone belonged to the tribe and the liquid in the bottles was deadly to werewolves. He was so stunned by her absence—and the message within her message—that his feet felt glued to the floor.
Breaking his paralysis, he spun around and marched out to the walkway. He had no idea where she'd gone. Was she even now surrendering herself to Sebastian in exchange for the Dawn People's safety? Or—
Or what? He refused to think of it.
Staring up at the churning sky, ignoring the wind that threatened to rip his hair from its restraining thong, he struggled to find his center, the place from which his thought-form sprang. Finally he felt energy gather. A few minutes later the white winged shape soared into the air, screeching a warning.
Its vision joined with Tony's and delivered images of Lily clinging to a fragile handhold on the side of the canyon wall. Tony sped toward the catwalk, knowing it was the only path she could have taken.
Although he'd scaled these walls many times, his pace was brutal and by the time the cold blast at the top hit his bare chest, he was both scratched and dripping with sweat. Ignoring his chill, he bent into the fierce wind and broke into a sprint.
The hawk's cries had grown louder and more repetitive, and his keen eyes brought images of Lily racing along the rim. More than a mile behind her, Tony forced his legs to move faster, pumping them almost beyond endurance.
Soon he saw she'd reached the path to the Clearing of the Black Hands. Instead of going down it, she stood at the edge of the cliff, her hair billowing around her face and shoulders. He saw her shudder, saw her lips mouthing words the hawk could not hear. The bird dipped low, passing right before her face. Her eyes widened in alarm, and she moved closer to the precipice.
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