"Excellent," Star Dancer had replied. "You leave in the morning."
So soon? Lily now thought, as the creeping light of dawn appeared in her window. She dreaded the events the next few days would bring. What frightened her most was knowing Tony would be alone with her while these changes were taking place in her body. He'd assured her more than once that she wasn't becoming a werewolf, but . . .
She reached for a vial of holy water.
Tony had kept his sights on her ever since they returned, and she wouldn't be surprised to find him sleeping at the base of the ladder to prevent her from escaping. She must protect him by learning the truth. Rolling the bottle between her fingers, she eyed the stamp of sanctification as if she'd never seen one before. If Tony was right, this simple test would tell. But if he was wrong . . .
She'd never personally experienced the agonizing effect of holy water, but she'd seen the tortured expressions of those who had.
She alchemized.
The same soft fur blanketed her skin and the glow she'd seen the night before seemed even brighter. So odd, these changes, unlike anything she'd ever seen, but they didn't mean she wasn't a werewolf.
Bracing herself for the pain, she pulled the stopper from the vial, shuddering as she spilled a drop on her palm.
Nothing happened.
She felt fine, okay. More than okay. A peaceful feeling flowed from her palm into her fingertips, up her arm. Soon her whole body sang with well-being. Her heart skipped a beat. This couldn't be true, yet her unscathed palm proved it was.
But if she wasn't a werewolf, what was she?
Failing to find an answer, she replaced the cork in the bottle, averse to risking another precious drop. They'd need the water soon enough. Although the tribespeople had rerouted the maze, if Ravenheart was still alive he'd undoubtedly find a way through. It was only a matter of time.
Returning to human form, she put the bottle back into the pocket of her jacket, then got up. Suddenly her legs gave out. She fell back on the pallet, trembling and shivering, wanting to cry, wanting to laugh. Instinctively, her hand moved to the gemstone between her breasts.
Tears of relief and joy streamed down her face. She wasn't a werewolf! She was alive and mortal, with so much to live for!
And with every reason to survive the Tribunal. She looked up at the ceiling and wondered if she was searching for guidance. Maybe she was. Clearly something or someone was guiding her destiny. What else could explain the bizarre life she'd led?
She got up to get dressed. It was time to meet the Tribunal, and she was as ready as she'd ever be.
* * *
"By Hades," Beryl grumbled to Sebastian, "this wolfling will not live a fortnight. He cannot even alchemize without tearing the ceiling out with his screams."
Arlan Ravenheart shivered on the floor of the filthy cave and tried to get warm by wrapping himself up in a thin, patterned rug that looked so old it must be worthless. Mice droppings and spider webs clung to the faded fabric. He brushed them off with a shudder of revulsion and tried to glare at Sebastian's critical follower.
But he had no strength to glare. The transformation—what the others called alchemization—had drained his vitality to alarmingly low levels. Never had he experienced such pain, not even as a child when old Frieda had yanked out his aching molar.
Sebastian paced the floor in human form, chewing on a gold-plated piece of metal that held a smoldering cigarette. He took it from his mouth, blew out a circle of smoke, and went to a portrait of a man with a red feather in his cap that hung on the sloping stone wall.
"Lily has let this place go to ruin," he complained as he straightened the painting's tarnished frame. Then he glanced at Ravenheart. "The wolfling is young yet. He has not had his first kill. We will introduce him to that pleasure when the sun goes down."
"And how will we do that?" Beryl questioned. "Those people have altered the path. Philippe and I traveled through their maze last night and got hopelessly lost. We almost failed to find our way out." He whirled toward Ravenheart. "Destroy this puny wolfling, Lord. His presence will only hinder us."
Sebastian gave out a low growl. "The Law forbids it!"
Ravenheart's tensing body relaxed at Sebastian's answer. Although the others were now in human form, he didn't have enough strength in this unfamiliar Lupine body to defend himself if they chose to kill him. He didn't understand his misery. Had the Great Wolf deceived him? Had it truly been Coyote, full of his usual trickery? But all true shamans were tested before they attained full power. Clearly this was his test.
Sebastian walked over, stooped, and brushed back Ravenheart's disheveled hair, reminding Ravenheart that he'd lost his own red feather sometime during the limb-wrenching ritual. The rabbit’s foot, too, had long since fallen out.
"This one can lead us through the maze," Sebastian said to Beryl, although his eyes remained on Ravenheart. "Can you not?"
"Yes," Ravenheart croaked, although he wasn't actually sure he could.
"Yes?" Sebastian repeated tartly.
Ravenheart lowered his eyes, hating the need to assume a servile tone. "Yes, Lord."
"Better." Sebastian again regarded Beryl. "See? This young one learns quickly. He, I am certain, would never suggest ignoring the Law."
Taking another leisurely drag of his cigarette, he straightened. "We have three nights yet to perform the Song of Hades. I erred in trying to do it when the astrological aspect was not yet ripe. But the ritual will not fail the next time. We'll reclaim Lily yet. The new wolfling knows the way and will be of great use to us."
Of use to them. No, Ravenheart thought, they would be of use to him. He would take them to the village, lead them to the former she-wolf, to Star Dancer and to Shala. And most of all to White Hawk. He'd let them feed in their beastly manner, then when they'd had their fill he'd let them take the she-wolf wherever they willed.
But he would stay. The Dawn People would turn to him as their rightful leader, respectful, worshipful, as he led them through the gates. Then with the Great Wolf at his side, he would rule the realm of Quakahla forever.
Forever.
It was already done.
With that gratifying thought, he curled back into a ball and stifled another moan.
* * *
"How're your feet?" Tony asked, mindful of the blisters Lily's boots had caused during their original hike to the village.
"So far so good."
She dropped a rock into the blazing pit, then scurried back to avoid sparks. Glancing quickly at the glaring sun, she asked, "When are the others arriving?"
She wore tight shorts and one of those skimpy cotton tops he'd so hastily pulled from her drawers back in New York. An inverted V of perspiration stained the spot between her breasts, revealing the crisp edges of the crystal that rested underneath it. The damp cotton clung to the shallow indentations between her ribs. Her hair was held back by a thong, and a band of bright cotton was wrapped around her forehead to keep sweat from her eyes.
Her appearance reminded him of the comic-book heroines he'd pined over as a boy. Cosmic Woman or some such name. Like them, she hadn't complained about the arduous tasks they were performing.
Without taking food or water, they'd collected the firewood, log by log, twig by twig. Then they started gathering the rocks. As they worked, Tony explained the ritual. When the sun set, they'd transfer the blazing Stone People into a pit inside the sweat lodge and would stay there until Lily had a vision. Apparently, Tony now thought, he'd left out a very important detail.
"You're expecting people?"
Her expression turned quizzical. "Of course, people. What else?"
"Your inquisition is too important to be left to Two Leggeds." He straightened to readjust his loincloth. "The Tribunal consists of spirits and guides who have greater understanding of the Universe's harmony."
"Ghosts?" Her voice rose, partly teasing, partly incredulous. "I'm going to be judged by ghosts?"
"Not ghosts, Lily. Hig
her beings."
She smiled wanly. "When I was small, I believed I had a guardian angel. I'd like to believe that again. Do you think she might show up?"
He pulled her against his naked chest and stroked her damp hair, surprised as always by the slightness of her body. "Call on her and she will come. You must have faith."
"I don't want to die, Tony." Her dark eyes looked up at him longingly. "I have so much to live for now."
Taking her face between his palms, he kissed her, then whispered, "I'll do everything in my power to protect you."
She sighed. "But you can't promise, can you?"
"No. This isn't already done."
"I see." She put her hand over the gemstone. "Then it's up to me. Tell me what to expect while we finish our work."
Tony explained what was to come as they carried rocks to the fire, pausing now and then to catch his breath. He would see her visions as clearly as she would, he told her, and could speak in her behalf, but couldn't advise her how to respond to her accusers. If she appeased their spirits, the vision would end.
"My accusers? You mean the Tribunal."
"No. Your victims."
Goosebumps appeared on her arms. She blinked several times. "And if I don't appease them?"
Hesitant to answer, Tony adjusted his slipping sweatband. When her impatient stare told him he could delay no longer, he continued. "You'll either go completely insane or perish from the heat inside the lodge."
"What will you do with me if I die?" she asked unexpectedly. The slight upward curve of her lips made him think she believed she'd succeed. He returned the smile.
"What would you like me to do?"
"Bury me under a tree by the river, where I'll be cool and can hear the water flowing."
"Lily," he said, broadening his smile as though he thought the subject was silly and irrelevant. "You'll be dead. You won't know."
"Maybe." Her smile faded and she touched his cheek. "But do it anyway, okay?"
"Okay."
Without another word, she bent down and picked up some kindling. They collected wood until the pile overflowed, then gathered more rocks. Lily sometimes nearly staggered from their weight, but she still didn't complain. Finally Tony told her they'd done enough. The sun was heading west, still pouring searing heat on the mesa.
"We'll rest until Mother Earth swallows the sun."
"You don't really think that, do you?"
"Think what?" He picked up a long branch and prodded the fire, driving the stones deeper into the fire. "That Mother Earth swallows the sun."
He grinned. "Of course not. I'm a college grad."
"Then why do you say it?"
He shrugged, watching a burning log split, its pieces falling between the boulders. The heat used to make him recoil, especially during midsummer, but of late he found he enjoyed it.
"It's poetic. Isn't that reason enough?"
"I bet there's more behind it than that."
He moved to her side, and they began the climb down the steep sides of the mesa toward the riverbank. "Metaphors touch people's feeling place. It's a shaman's job to open that place in others so they can access their own inner guidance."
"But I thought shamans healed."
"It seems that way, but it's the patient who does the healing by drawing on their own resources. The shaman merely helps them do it."
She looked down thoughtfully as she made her way over a particularly treacherous spot. "Do you think I'll survive? Be honest, Tony."
He put a hand on her shoulder. "Only you can know what's inside you, which is what will decide your fate. I believe your strong spirit will carry you through. But you have to believe it too."
They'd reached the river, and Lily moved away without comment, settling on the blanket Tony had spread beneath a cottonwood when they'd arrived. Her gaze went to the parched desert beyond the river oasis, to the water-starved scrub oak, the withering chollas, saguaros, jumping cactus, then on to the low, rounded structure of the sweat lodge.
After some time, she leaned over and began unlacing her boots. Tony watched her, amazed that he enjoyed observing her perform these simple tasks. As if she felt his attention, she looked up, smiled, and patted the spot beside her.
"Tell me about your life before you came to Ebony Canyon." She lifted her eyebrows teasingly. "Are you really a college graduate?"
"Absolutely." He lowered himself onto the blanket, reclining beside her with an elbow on the ground and his head supported by his hand, still watching her. "I'm a computer engineer. I was the first member of my family to graduate. I even worked at Microsoft for a couple of years."
"Why did you leave it?"
Tony hesitated, reached out to pluck a blade of grass and started nibbling on it. "Tajaya. I used to hike on the rim when I was a teenager, and I met her there one day. At first I thought she came from one of the surrounding reservations too. We met for several years before she told me the truth. Eventually Tajaya introduced me to Star Dancer. We married . . ."
"Shala told me she was a trueborn and a shaman like you."
"Her father's bloodline went all the way back to Quakahla and she was born in the canyon, but Riva came from the outside, like me."
"Shala told me that, too."
He smiled wryly, not sure if he approved of his daughter's ready sharing of their history. His feelings were so mixed. He was both surprised and a bit dismayed to find that talking about Tajaya hadn't stirred his anger toward Lily. He looked over at her, saw the slender curve of her bare leg. A twig clung to her calf and he leaned to flick it off, expecting the touch to ignite anger. It didn't, but he wasn't sure he wanted to test it any further.
Tony felt a need to stop talking, which Lily must have sensed because she abruptly said, "Tell me one of your legends. I'd like to hear more of White Wolf Woman and Sienna Doe."
"How many have you heard besides the one Star Dancer told?"
"Shala told me a few. The last one was about White Wolf Woman becoming Sienna Doe again."
Glad she'd changed the subject, he sat up, crossed his legs in tailor fashion, then closed his eyes and waited for the spirits to deliver the story. Soon the words came, and he began to talk.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Although White Wolf Woman again lived as Sienna Doe, hatred was in the hearts of the Deer People. When they spoke to her, which was seldom, they vented their rage over the loved ones she had taken. She lived among them, yet not one of them, and as the days passed, her loneliness grew until it was a dense stone inside her heart.
Winter came. A hard winter, with many snows, killing the sweet sprigs that usually sprouted on warmer days. The herd grew painfully leaner—some died of hunger —and as their prey dwindled the wolves became bolder.
A snowstorm sent the deer into the dangerous shelter of a one-way canyon, and had now passed, but when the herd prepared to leave they heard wolves yapping and howling near the canyon mouth.
"Sienna Doe," cried Jeshra, a stag who had lost a mate to her ravenous appetite. "Speak to your brethren the wolves, and ask for safe passage. By this you shall be redeemed."
Of all the Deer People, this stag bore the greatest malice toward her, but Sienna Doe so desired acceptance she bowed her head and backed toward the canyon mouth.
A high alpha wolf waited for her, fangs exposed, flanks tightened to attack. As she approached the wolf, she heard the deer whisper among themselves. "Surely, she shall die, and while the wolves feast on her dead flesh, we shall escape."
Even knowing she'd been sent as sacrifice, White Wolf Woman did not hesitate. Better death at the hands of those who were once her kin, than a life amid those who hated her. Lifting her head proudly, she walked steely-eyed toward the alpha wolf.
She'd returned from her wolf life bigger and stronger than ever before, but she'd never had an opportunity to test her full powers. Now, as the alpha wolf threw himself at her throat, she lifted a foreleg and kicked him, sending him soaring into a tree. Stunned, he gathered him
self and flew at her again. Another wolf leaped at her flanks. She kicked both predators into a snowbank. The second wolf collapsed and died with a whimper, but the alpha wolf climbed to his feet and sprang at her again.
He sank his teeth into her shoulder, tearing flesh. Bleeding badly, she reared her hind legs and struck the wolf's head with her sharp hooves. With a half yelp he somersaulted through the air, then collapsed onto the snow-covered ground. This time, he didn't get up.
Leaderless, the other wolves stared at their fallen relations. One let out a mournful howl, then whirled and fled. The others immediately followed.
Tony stopped and opened his eyes. Why had the spirits sent this tale? As much as Lily tried to hide it, he knew she was frightened and thought the Tribunal was an execution squad. It was a misinterpretation he'd fostered, one all his present assurances hadn't changed.
"Go on," she urged, fluttering her hands to draw the words from him.
"It might be better if I didn't."
"So it doesn't come out well?"
"No," he replied flatly.
"Finish it anyway. We've got nothing better to do until sunset."
Although doubting the wisdom of it, Tony lowered his eyelids and went on.
Jeshra ran to Sienna Doe. "You've saved us from certain death," he declared, nudging her with his great rack of antlers as a sign of tribute. "We honor you."
Her heart soared. Finally her brothers and sisters had found forgiveness. She was about to tell him how happy she was to be back, then Jeshra spoke again.
"We now ask that you go into the forest and slay the rest."
Tony fell silent and opened his eyes again. Lily looked at him, her expression growing impatient.
"Is that it?" she asked sharply. "They send her out to certain death?"
"I'm sorry." Tony touched her arm. "The spirits deliver the tales. When I began, I didn't think of how it would . . ."
She tossed her head, jogging loose a strand of hair.
It fell over her eyes, and she brushed it away crossly, then flopped back on the blanket and stared up at the swaying trees. "It's just a story."
Chills & Thrills Paranormal Boxed Set Page 45