Already the changes were coming, and he bit his lips to keep from crying out. When Frieda reached the tree, she looked up trustingly, then gasped. Ravenheart felt a brief regret as his fangs closed around her stringy neck. He felt her scream, although it never left her lips. She collapsed against him, limp and lifeless. Sweeping her into his arms, he broke into a lope, his only aim to get far enough from the warriors and werewolves to feed alone on his bony kill.
* * *
Tony ladled water on the stones. Steam filled the lodge so densely Lily couldn't see. She felt weak and nauseous and unable to sit. Moaning softly, she fell to her side. Compared to the heat above, the leather felt cool against her cheek, and she pressed closer to it, seeking relief.
The voices came.
"I had three children who grew up without me," a young woman cried.
"My wife and sons were forced to live on the streets," a man accused.
"Because I was not there to heal them, half of my village died from a plague."
Lily looked up. The woman was barely past her teenaged years. The man was tall and strong. The middle-aged woman wore a peasant's shift. A medallion signifying she was a white witch hung around her neck.
"No, no," Lily moaned, clutching the crystal at her breasts and curling into a ball. "Go away. None of you are real."
Suddenly she was in a field, running on the four legs of a wolf. The man ahead of her glanced back in terror, his feet trampling the crops in his attempt to elude her. She narrowed the space between them and his face contorted in fear. She lunged. . . . The scene changed. A woman wearing black hugged two small boys who wept over an open grave. Two children clung to the legs of a grief-stricken man. He held a wailing baby in his arms. A mass of quaintly clothed people mourned their recent dead.
The steam swirled, then Morgan stood before her. "You ripped my life away," he said, "and cursed me with a living hell."
"You would have squashed me like a beetle," Dana Gibbs cried.
Lily's head spun, and another vision arose. Jorje at her side, racing through the pines toward the enticing scent of live human flesh. Dusk was falling. They were in wolf shape, and she savored the feel of the ground beneath her paws, the wind ruffling her silver coat.
"There," Jorje said in Lupinese, skidding to a stop. A meadow lay just beyond the edge of the trees. He crept forward. Lily followed, eagerly anticipating their first mortal kill in more than a week. A woman knelt on the ground, humming as she plucked various plants and tossed them in a basket.
One of those elusive Dawn People, she thought. What satisfaction this kill would bring. Jorje inched closer, licking his muzzle.
"I'll take the little one," he said.
Little one? Lily's head moved beyond the woman. Not far away, a small child, barely old enough to walk, toddled after a butterfly.
"No!" she said.
But Jorje sprang from the cover of the trees and darted into the meadow. The woman raised her head. Her startled blue eyes, streaked with shades of a lapis, widened in terror and she leaped up to run toward the baby.
"Nooo!" Lily screamed the order this time, tearing after Jorje. He was almost on the child now. She continued shouting, but so intent was he on capturing his morsel, he didn't hear.
Lily alchemized to man-wolf shape, and vaulted over the space separating them. She landed in front of the child just as Jorje prepared to lunge. The mother was speeding toward them now, her battle cries filling the air. She had a gleaming knife in her hand, the rage of a mother bear upon her face.
"Take the mother," Lily commanded. "She is yours."
She bent down and swept the baby from the ground. A girl, she realized, noticing the feminine beading on her short hemp smock. A defenseless, fragile little girl. The child was crying now, distressed by her mother's whoops, frightened by the hairy creature that held her.
Lily cradled the girl against her chest and whirled toward the forest. As she entered, she heard the woman's final whoop abruptly end. Careening through the forest, burning up the ground, she ran down, down, deeper into the desert terrain she so despised.
The child calmed down, curled her hands into Lily's coat, hanging on. Soon they reached the brush and trees of the river. The unnavigable maze was not far ahead. She heard movement inside, still a distance away, but approaching. The warriors had heard the woman's screams. She waited by the entrance, rocking the baby in her arms, unwilling to leave her undefended.
A small hand brushed her cheek. Lily looked down and saw the girl staring at her with eyes identical to her mother's. The child explored Lily's face, touched her eyes, her short muzzle, then reached for her pointed ears. She gurgled and her face broke into a smile.
Lily felt a wave of tenderness she'd never known before. She smiled back. At the sight of fangs, the girl's face twisted and she broke into a keening wail.
The sound must have reached the warriors' ears.
Lily heard their voices, loud and close and alarmed for the child. Sadly, she put the crying baby on the ground and turned away.
Returning to wolf form she sped toward the meadow.
She wouldn't punish Jorje. She'd initiated him just recently so she'd have company on the solitary journey to Ebony Canyon at Sebastian's command. The wolfling was being true to his new nature. He was slow too, slower than most; it might take years before he attained even beta status. He'd undoubtedly forgotten her instructions that they always spared the children.
It wasn't his fault.
She found Jorje among the dandelions and sunflowers, basking in the sun and licking blood off his muzzle.
It wasn't his fault.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lily shivered; chills ran through her body. Vaguely she realized no one shivered in the heat. Where was she?
Her eyelids fluttered up, but she lacked the strength to keep them open, and they closed again. She rolled into a ball, trying to get warm. Her skin felt hot and dry, and as cold as she was she also felt feverish.
Something wet touched her head. Water trickled into her hair, streamed down her face, and onto her neck. It should have made her colder, but it didn't, and she rolled onto her back, welcoming it.
Rain? Again she wondered where she was.
The water was all over now. On the leather dress, running down her legs, her arms, moistening her hands and feet. Someone lifted her shoulders and then she was sliding across the leather floor.
Light struck her closed eyes. Heat beat down on her bare arms and legs. Through her misery she realized they'd been in the lodge all night. Then a glorious wind caressed her, taking the fever, taking the chills. Strong arms lifted her from the ground, cradling her against smooth, damp skin.
She lifted her eyelids, squinted at Tony's face, and saw his worried gaze. She smiled weakly.
"I survived?" Her voice was less than a whisper.
"You survived." He was smiling too, hugging her fiercely against his bare chest, his breathing ragged. Lily wanted to cry, but couldn't, so she just inhaled his glorious scent. He straightened up, moved his legs, and she surmised he was slipping into his moccasins.
A moment later he carried her down the steep side of the mesa. Then they were at the river, and he waded in. Wordlessly, he splashed cooling water over her, then let her float, supporting her with one hand as she turned and dipped, at times submerging herself completely.
Soon she could stand on her own, but she was too tired to walk. Tony scooped her up again and took her to the blanket under the trees. After draping a second blanket over her soaked body, he lay down beside her and took her in his arms.
"Sleep," he said. "We'll rest during sunlight and start again come dusk."
"It isn't over?"
Flinching at the alarm in her voice, he shook his head. "You did fine," he said. "Don't think about it now. Just rest."
She snuggled into the crook of his arms, needing him near, feeling peaceful despite the horrors she'd just faced.
Just as she was about to drop off, To
ny spoke. "Why didn't you tell me?"
She didn't ask what he meant. "You wouldn't have believed me."
He brought her close to his heart, then whispered, "I do now."
As she fell into slumber, she thought he said he loved her and sadly feared she'd heard him wrong.
* * *
Sebastian was waiting for Arlan Ravenheart when he returned to the cave just before dawn, the sly smile again on his face, although he was now in human form.
"So you had your first taste of mortal flesh, wolfling," he said. "Incomparable, is it not?"
Ravenheart licked his muzzle. The taste still lingered, tantalizing and fulfilling. "Yes, Lord." Then fearing the King's anger might emerge, he offered, "I've learned where Lily is . . . "
Sebastian rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. "Excellent. Where do we find her?"
"She has gone with White Hawk to a sweat lodge in the desert."
"Nearby?"
"Near enough for us. We can be there in an hour."
"And the shaman is with her," Sebastian stroked his chin. "Good. I have a score to settle with him."
He strode past the mass of sleeping followers, all huddled together in wolf form on the filthy rug, and crossed to Beryl, who slept as a human on a mat several feet from the others. He nudged Beryl with his toe. "Wake up."
Beryl groggily lifted his head and peered up with sleepy eyes. "W-what is it?"
Sebastian moved back and draped a proud arm over Ravenheart's shoulder. "This young one has informed me that Lily is with the shaman at a sweat lodge not far from here. He is a wondrous wolfling, is he not?"
Ravenheart preened under the werewolf's praise.
At last the recognition he so sorely deserved. Beryl rolled off the mat and climbed to his feet. He kicked the others and as a group they sprang awake.
"News from our Lord," Beryl said, his voice heavy with hostility.
The seven omegas sat up, giving Sebastian their full and respectful attention.
"Alchemize to man-shape," Sebastian ordered. Although some of them whimpered, all obeyed.
"Arlan has brought news of Lily's whereabouts. We leave at dusk to bring her back into our fold. The shaman is fair game and belongs to the one who reaches him first."
"Will this earn us favor in your eyes, Lord?" Philippe asked.
Sebastian smiled so broadly his teeth gleamed even in the dim light inside the cave. "Indeed it shall," he said. "Indeed it shall."
Still enclosed in Sebastian's approving embrace, Ravenheart couldn't keep a smirk off his face. The King didn't notice, but Beryl did. As he returned the envious alpha werewolf's glare, Ravenheart thought not only of the reward killing White Hawk would earn, but of the pleasure he'd take in feasting on the shaman's flesh.
* * *
Lily's mind surged with every beat of Tony's drum and ebbed with every chant he uttered. Night had come so soon, too soon, and thunder rumbled above the roof of the lodge once more. She drifted . . .
Adults of all shapes and ages glowered at her. "My son. . . ." An old woman wept. "The light of my life."
"You took my husband," cried another.
"My brother was my best friend. You didn't leave enough of him to bury."
"I couldn't help myself," Lily cried out in defense. They faded. Children appeared. Hundreds of them, from infancy to adolescence.
"You took my parents," accused a blond boy. He looked about Shala's age, young and vulnerable. "My grandparents don't like me. All I did was get mud on the kitchen floor, and they sent me to my room for days."
A baby wailed, its thoughts filled with images of lying abandoned in a crib. A dark-eyed toddler screamed, unable to comprehend why her parents hadn't returned.
One after another they spilled their tales. Their cries increased, hammering at Lily's ears. She curled up, pressing her hands to her head, trying to block out their accusations.
An Hispanic teenager swaggered forth, his eyes dark with loathing. He wore a battered leather jacket. A gold earring glinted dully from one ear. "My parents had hopes for me," he spat. "I was an athlete, an honor student. The first of our family to be accepted to college." He bent forward until his nose almost touched hers. "Without them, I was lost. Strangers fed me, but gave me no love. Then I found friends. They showed me another way."
He turned. The name Crips, emblazoned on the back of his jacket, was ripped clean through by a gaping, oozing hole. "I was shot during a war with a rival gang. At fifteen, my life wiped out. Our dreams are gone . . .”
"Gone . . . gone."
She hadn't realized . . . hadn't even thought . . . The agony she'd caused went far beyond the ones she'd slain. How could she ever atone for this? No spirit, no angel, no god, would ever forgive her. She buried her head in her hands, filled with the remorse she'd scorned for so long. "I didn't think . . ." She gasped. "I didn't know. I-I-I didn't . . ."
"Lily, the crystal," she heard someone say from far away. She was forgetting something—something important that the same voice had told her so long ago. She was supposed to turn . . . turn . . . turn to . . .
Then someone started screaming. One of her victims? One of those small orphaned ones? Who?
When Lily realized they were her screams, she scrambled to her hands and knees and crawled rapidly toward the door. She couldn't bear this anymore! She would go mad or die from the weight of her regret!
"No, Lily, don't," cried the disembodied voice.
She gave it no heed and slithered beneath the leather curtain. Wind yanked at her hair. Fat drops of rain fell on her head, cooling her burning body. She sprang to her feet, racing down the steep mesa. Rocks and brambles nicked her feet, but she barely noticed. She was fleeing from all she had been. Fleeing from the fear it was all she'd ever be.
The sky exploded, dumping bucketfuls of water on the earth. The wind blew fiercely as if the spirits were trying to hold her back. She thought she heard someone call her name, but the words got lost in the gale.
"Lily! Lily!" There, the words came again.
She looked back and saw Tony barreling down the slope. Lightning flashed, and his brown body glistened with raindrops. Already, water cascaded over the edges of the mesa, forming streams that churned the clay soil.
Tony slipped in the mud and windmilled his arms for balance. Regaining his footing, he called her name again.
Lily kept on running.
Then he cried out. She spun on the desert floor and saw him tumbling down the slope. He crashed into a boulder at the bottom, then fell heavily at its base.
He didn't move. Lily waited, but he remained very still. Water gushed around him.
Suddenly Lily's own torment meant nothing. She loved this man, but even if he'd been a stranger, she now vowed no one would ever again suffer from her actions, no matter how indirectly.
She sped to him, nearly falling herself as her feet lost purchase on the rain-slick ground. When she reached his side, she dropped to her knees.
"Tony . . ." Her heart hammered as she looked down on his motionless form, then eased when she saw the regular rise and fall of his chest. Bending over, she ran frantic hands along his limbs, checking for blood, misshapen bone, calling his name again and again.
His lids fluttered. Lily straightened abruptly and he opened his eyes. Falling on his stirring form, she dropped kisses everywhere. On his forehead, his cheeks, his naked shoulders, his mud-splattered chest.
"Whoa . . ." he said weakly, turning his head to catch her final kiss on his lips.
"Can you get up?" she asked, wanting to make absolutely certain he was all right.
"I, uh . . . I'm not sure . . ." He sat up and gingerly stretched his limbs, grunting from the effort. Touching a spot on his ribs, he winced. "Hurts. But nothing seems broken. Must've just had the breath knocked out of me."
He gave his body a double-check, then looked at her. "You came back for me?"
"Yes."
Using the boulder as support, Tony levered himself to his feet. He t
ook his time getting his balance before letting go and standing straight
"We must go back," he said gravely.
Lily's eyes darted involuntarily to the lodge. Sitting high on the mesa, it seemed under assault by the intensity of the storm. It wasn't too late. She could still run. But Tony was staring at her imploringly, waiting for her answer. When she'd looked down at his motionless body she'd thought he was gone, lost to her forever. It had been more than she could bear.
"Yes," she repeated softly.
He took her arm and they started the treacherous climb back to the lodge, one or the other of them losing balance several times. As Lily righted herself once again, the fine hairs on her body bristled. She paused, turning to look at the riverbank.
"What is it?" Tony asked.
A howl rose above the cacophony of the storm. Another followed. Soon the sounds joined with the thunder and lightning in unholy discord.
"Sebastian's here!"
Tony turned from the howls and mentally measured the distance to the lodge. "We've left sacred ground," he told Lily. "We have no protection."
He was more familiar with the treachery of a desert storm, so he took her arm, supporting her, forcing her to practically leap up the slick mud slope. Soon his ribs throbbed. He almost lost her, and when he twisted to keep her from falling, he grunted and doubled over. Lily bent and ran her hands along his ribs and asked him if he could go on.
Then the wolves were at the base of the mesa, hunkering on all fours. Forcing himself beyond his pain, Tony took Lily's hand and began the last leg of their slippery climb.
Suddenly Sebastian was ahead of them in man-wolf form. He ripped Lily away from Tony, scooping her into his arms, then whirled and sped down the slope. Lily kicked and screamed, but couldn't break free. Not wasting a single breath on words, Tony projected the hawk into the air to follow Lily, then turned to pursue.
From the base of the mesa, eight pairs of hungry eyes glinted red in the lightning flashes. Crouching, they slunk forward. Tony wrenched his knife from its sheath and began cautiously backing up the slope. The lodge was only feet away, but judging by the swiftness with which Sebastian took the hill, the four legged ones would be on him in an instant.
Chills & Thrills Paranormal Boxed Set Page 47