Never Look Back

by Sheri WhiteFeather

"Until I'm gone."

  Gone? Her heart squeezed. He meant dead.

  He frowned at her. "You returned Daniel's affection. You looked at him, too." His frown deepened. "If a woman could have two husbands, you would want both of us."

  "And what about you?" she challenged, a knot of anger forming. "You're still in love with Vanessa."

  "Apache men are permitted to have more than one wife."

  "Not anymore. And since when were you offering to make me your wife? You feel guilty about being with me."

  "And you're getting close to Daniel."

  "Because I'm afraid of losing you."

  "I think it's more than that." He tugged her down, intent on kissing her, on finishing what he'd started when she'd come in the door.

  She was still angry, but she returned his kiss, letting him consume her. The last time they'd made love, he'd told her not to get attached.

  And now…

  He popped the rest of the buttons on her blouse, and she yanked on his jeans, pulling them down. Her skirt came next, then her bra. There was no order, nothing but hungry chaos.

  Once they were naked, they rolled over the floor. The linoleum was hard and cold, but she didn't care.

  "Don't think about him when I'm inside you," he said, pushing her thighs apart.

  "Then don't think about her," she fired back.

  After that, they both went mad, biting and cursing and drawing blood. He thrust into her, and she wrapped her legs around him, dragging him deeper.

  Heaven help them.

  He moaned against her ear, and she turned her head and captured his tongue, sucking like a vampire. That gave him a rakish idea.

  He withdrew and went down on her, using his mouth between her legs. She climaxed on contact.

  He reentered her and pushed toward his own release. She dug her nails into his back and held on to him, keeping him as close as humanly possible.

  He came strong and fast, spilling into her.

  Five minutes later that was all she had left of him, the only physical evidence of what they'd just shared.

  The raven returned, batting his wings and leaving her longing for more.

  * * *

  The following afternoon, Allie sat on a rattan sofa in Fallon's apartment near the university the other woman attended. For now, Fallon was in the tiny kitchen, pouring chamomile tea and arranging store-bought cookies on a plate.

  From the moment she'd walked in the door, Allie had sensed that Fallon was a witch, but the college student wasn't keeping her lifestyle a secret. She'd admitted that she was "dabbling" in eclectic witchcraft, learning various traditions instead of following any single sect or denomination.

  Her apartment reflected her varied taste with metaphysical and cultural objects. She favored houseplants and potted herbs, too. Her home was bright and sunny, decorated in a collection of colors and candles.

  She came into the living room, carrying a tray with the tea and cookies. She set it on the coffee table, making a pretty presentation. The mismatched teacups were delicately painted, and the cookies came in a variety of flavors.

  "They're organic," she told Allie. "I got them at a health-food store. Yvonne told me that you were a vegetarian."

  Red flag alert. "You've been conversing with my mother?"

  "Yes. But she makes me nervous."

  "Then why are you doing it?"

  "To find The Vanessa. Yvonne knows more about it than anyone." Fallon handed Allie her tea, and went back to the cookies, pointing out each one. "These are cinnamon snicker doodles, and these are lemon poppy seed. Oh, and these are chocolate-chip pecan. They're made with dairy-free chocolate chips."

  Allie was a vegetarian, but she wasn't a vegan. She ate dairy products. But Fallon seemed intent on pleasing her, so she let it slide.

  Fallon, whose last name was Caedmon, was as mysterious as Rory, as difficult to gauge.

  "Why are you looking for The Vanessa?" Allie asked, reaching for a lemon cookie and a napkin.

  "Because it's going to be my thesis project. I'm majoring in anthropology, with a focus on archeology." She lifted her tea and took a sip. "I learned about The Vanessa from Rory, and I discussed using it as my thesis with him. He was very supportive." She paused, made a troubled face. "At first."

  "He changed his mind?"

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  Fallon set her cup on the table, then smoothed her dress, a gauzy print with silver stitching.

  "Why?" Allie asked again.

  "Because I believe the curse is real. And I asked Rory if he would let me have access to The Vanessa, once he finds it, so I could try to break the curse."

  Truth or lies? Allie had no idea. "How could you possibly break it?"

  "By communicating with Vanessa. I think she has the power to set her husband free, wherever he is." Fallon twined a strand of her hair. She wore it loose and layered. "Vanessa is the key to all of this."

  Allie's mind was spinning, turning like a pinwheel. She had so many questions, so many concerns. Was Fallon as noble as she seemed? Or was she the witch who worshipped Yvonne? "Have you tried to summon Vanessa's ghost?"

  The other woman nodded. "I've been using a spirit board. She hasn't answered any of my questions, but sometimes I smell this earthy, sort of herbal fragrance." She twisted her hair again, making a corkscrew around her finger. "I'm sure it's Vanessa." She released the corkscrew and it went straight. "You believe me, don't you?"

  "Yes." That much Allie believed. She took a chance and admitted her connection to Raven's wife. "I've smelled it, too."

  "Really?" Fallon lurched forward and nearly knocked over the cookies. "Do you want to see the data I've collected on Thomas and Vanessa?" She righted the plate. "Or Raven and Vanessa. Your mother said that's the name he preferred. She told Rory that, too. But Rory goes by the official records, not by what Yvonne says."

  Allie's mind was doing pinwheels again. "I'd love to see whatever you have."

  Fallon headed for the narrow hallway, then stopped. "Yvonne said that you and your sister helped convict her."

  "That's right."

  "Are you searching for The Vanessa so you can stop Zinna from using it to gain more power?" Fallon asked. "I hope so. Because that's why I gave you that note. Why I wanted to talk to you."

  "My great-grandmother is a dangerous witch," Allie said, keeping her response vague.

  "I know." Fallon leaned against the wall. "Yvonne is trying to lure me onto their side."

  "She is? How?"

  "She asked me to do the same thing she asked Rory to do. To use the amulet to help Zinna."

  "I assume you refused." Allie finally finished the cookie. It was dry as a bone and tasted like lemon-flavored mulch. "The way Rory did."

  "Yes, but I think Yvonne is trying harder with me. She said I could be Zinna's granddaughter. That Zinna would adopt me."

  "Really? That's quite an offer." She paused, stared down the other woman. "Especially for a witch."

  "You're suspicious of me?"

  "I'm cautious." Allie drank her tea, washing down the cookie. She'd only eaten the damn thing to be polite. Which, she realized, wasn't a very cautious thing to do. What if it were poisoned? Drugged?

  "I understand how you feel," the blonde said. "That's why I'm being so honest with you, telling you everything I know. Everything that's happened." She was still leaning against the wall. "You know the ironic part? My name, Fallon, means grandchild of the ruler. And Yvonne keeps saying that Zinna is the ruler."

  A shiver crawled up Allie's spine, moving like a mud-cold worm, making her itch. "What's the origin of your name?"

  Fallon lifted her wrists, showing off her bracelets. "Celtic." She lowered her arms. "The first form of witchcraft I looked into was Celtic Wicca. It's a tradition based on Celtic and Druid deities with an emphasis on the healing powers of plants, minerals, gnomes and fairies."

  "I wonder why Yvonne would think that a Wiccan would be willing to be adopted by an Apache witch. F
rom what I understand, Wiccans don't comply with negative or evil forces."

  Fallon had a ready answer. "I guess Yvonne thinks I'm eclectic enough to be intrigued by Zinna's magic."

  "But why?" Allie pressed. She sensed there was more to this.

  "I'm pursuing a major in anthropology, but my minor is in Native American studies. Maybe Yvonne thinks that makes me an Indian wanna-be."

  Or a groupie, Allie thought.

  Fallon moved away from the wall. "I would never let a dangerous witch like Zinna adopt me."

  Wouldn't she? It was impossible to tell.

  "Is Rory a witch?" Allie asked, digging for information about the museum curator. Between him and Fallon, anything was possible.

  "He's eclectic, like me. And solitary. Neither of us works with a coven."

  "Do you think he would try to help Zinna?"

  "I can't imagine why. He doesn't even think the curse is real. That's why I'm searching for it on my own. If Rory gets ahold of it first and puts it in the museum before the curse is broken, something terrible could happen. Who knows how many witches your mother involved in this?"

  That much was true. That much Allie agreed on. Rory and Fallon could both be innocent. "Does Rory know you're trying to find The Vanessa on your own?"

  "Yes, and I promised to donate it to the museum if I locate it first. But not until the curse is broken."

  Allie didn't comment, not on breaking the curse. "Why don't you show me your data now?"

  "Oh. Right." The blonde laughed a little. "We got off track, didn't we?" She walked down the hall, her footsteps echoing lightly.

  While Fallon was gone, Allie decided that she hadn't been poisoned or drugged. She didn't feel any ill effects from the lousy-tasting cookie.

  The university student returned with a file box that labored her arms. "This is nearly two months worth of research." She placed it on the coffee table and opened the lid. Next, she reached for a stack of papers, dropping them beside Allie on the couch. "I think you and I should work together on this. On finding the amulet, I mean. Not on my thesis."

  "Why should we work together?"

  "Because if we don't, Rory will probably find The Vanessa first. And if it's displayed in the museum before the curse is broken, then Zinna could use her powers to retrieve it."

  "There's a binding spell on Zinna."

  "I know, but Yvonne says that isn't going to last."

  Fallon had answers for everything. Logical answers. But she referred to Yvonne quite a bit, as though she'd worked out this spiel with her.

  Then again, Rory could have done the same thing.

  Allie looked through Fallon's data. Most of it was about Fort Sill during the time Raven and Vanessa had lived there. She noticed a file about their boarding school, too. But she didn't see anything pertinent to the amulet or where it might be.

  Was the other woman holding out on her?

  "Do you want to see a picture of Vanessa?" Fallon asked.

  Allie nearly dropped the papers in her hand. "You have one?"

  "I found it on the Internet, when I was researching the boarding school. I'm not positive it's her, but the timeline fits. It was taken the last year of her studies."

  She handed Allie a printout that depicted a group of young women posing for the camera. They were all dressed alike, wearing long dresses that cinched at the waist and flared at the hip. Their hair was neatly styled. None of them were smiling.

  The year the photograph was taken and the name of the institution was printed below it, but the students' names weren't listed.

  Fallon pointed. "I think she's Vanessa."

  Allie wished she had a magnifying glass. The young woman in question was petite and pretty, but the picture was too small to see every detail. And she wanted to get a better look, to try to figure out if she was Raven's wife. "What makes you think this is her?"

  "Because the girl next to her, the one at the end, is Zinna. Your mother told me what she looks like."

  Good God. Allie hadn't even noticed her great-grandmother. But even at this distance, she recognized the silver streaks in her hair. "You're right. But that doesn't mean this is Vanessa."

  "Don't you think Zinna would crowd her like that? Look at the way your great-grandmother is pressed against her shoulder."

  Allie glanced up. "Do you know why Vanessa killed herself?"

  "No. But that's something I'm trying to find out. Do you want to come over the next time I try to reach her through the spirit board?"

  "I don't trust those things." And conjuring Vanessa's ghost with someone who could be Yvonne's lackey wasn't a good idea.

  "But you've already smelled her fragrance," Fallon persisted. "We both have."

  "I know, but I'm still skeptical."

  Yet even so, when Allie went home, she thought long and hard about it. Then decided to call Daniel.

  And plan a séance of their own.

  Chapter 11

  There was safety in numbers. Or so Allie hoped. Along with herself and Daniel, she'd arranged for two other people—Kyle and Derek—to participate in the séance. But three had shown up. The extra person, Joyce, had insisted on attending. Allie had tried to protect the pregnant lady, but the tenacious cop refused to stay away. She was in for the count.

  So here they sat, all five of them at Allie's kitchen table, going on a ghost hunt with a Ouija board Daniel had purchased at a toy store, even though the glow-in-the-dark device wasn't a game.

  "A cabinetmaker invented the Ouija board," Allie said. "He was a coffin maker, too."

  "Really?" Joyce seemed fascinated. "How do you know that?"

  "Olivia told me the last time we did this." When they'd mistakenly conjured Zinna. "He didn't market it, though. He sold it to a friend, and that man went mainstream with it."

  "What happened to him?" Joyce asked.

  "I'll bet he got rich," Kyle put in.

  "Really rich," Daniel added.

  "Tell them, Allie," Derek, the witch of the bunch, said. "Tell them what happened to him."

  Apparently Derek knew the answer. She studied the board. Yes and No was printed in each corner, with letters and numbers in the middle. "He committed suicide. Like my father. Like Raven's father." She paused, felt her pulse trip. "Like Vanessa."

  Suddenly everyone fell silent.

  A reverent hush.

  Daniel looked as though he were saying a small prayer in his mind. Allie noticed he was wearing a crucifix around his neck.

  Derek shattered the quiet. "Let's get started."

  Allie glanced at Daniel's necklace again. She wished she had one, too.

  Derek turned toward her, sensing her apprehension. "If you're so wary, why are we doing this?"

  "Because I don't want Fallon to beat us to the punch. To summon Vanessa first. To see her, to talk to her." She scooted closer to the glass-topped table. "I don't know if Fallon can be trusted, and Vanessa might be confused enough to reach out to anyone. Fallon has been smelling the herbal fragrance, too."

  The pretty corpse scent.

  Allie looked across the table at Daniel. He was fingering the crucifix. He glanced up and caught her gaze.

  And then they stared at each other.

  Silence once again.

  Another hush.

  Derek bumped the Ouija board. "What's going on with you two?"

  Allie broke eye contact first. "Nothing."

  Daniel shifted in his chair, but he didn't say anything.

  "Where's Raven?" Kyle asked, all too aware of the tension.

  "Locked in the studio," Allie responded. "I don't want him to know what's going on. To find out about Vanessa's suicide this way."

  Daniel finally spoke. "He hasn't shape-shifted, has he? He's still a raven, right?"

  "Yes. But it's been happening more sporadically." Like yesterday, when they'd made vicious love. When he'd talked about polygamy.

  And accused her of wanting Daniel.

  The memory still burned in her mind. The heat. T
he passion. The confusion.

  "We really should get started," Derek said.

  Allie agreed, and everyone placed his or her fingers on the message indicator.

  They sat very still, making the loft seem like a mausoleum. The lights were low, and several candles burned. Samantha was perched on a nearby counter, like a statue, watching them with her emerald eyes.

  Did cats really have nine lives? Allie hoped they all did. The candles were white, a color that was meant to protect them.

  Suddenly the indicator moved. A heavy motion.

  Kyle burst out with a chuckle, and his wife jabbed him with her elbow. Apparently he was moving it purposely.

  "Can't a guy have a little fun?" he asked, defending himself from the exasperated looks he received. "You're all so damn stiff. I'm just trying to help everyone relax."

  "He's right." Derek moved it, too. "It's a good way to get warmed up. We should all do it."

  They took his advice and rolled the indicator around, getting a feel for it. Then they sat quietly again.

  Derek looked at Joyce. "Maybe you should write the questions and answers down instead of participating this way."

  She scowled at him. "Why? I'm not doing anything wrong."

  "I know, but we should have someone keeping track of what's being spelled out. Sometimes it happens quickly."

  "Fine," Joyce conceded, placing a hand on her slightly swollen tummy. She was only four months along. "I'll stay away from the ghost." She got up, retrieved a pen and paper and came back to the table. "Just in case it's the wrong ghost."

  Derek started the session, trying to prevent that from happening, announcing that negative energies weren't welcome, letting the spirits know that they'd better behave.

  Allie took a deep breath and asked the first question. Everyone had agreed that she should be the medium.

  "Vanessa," she said. "Will you talk to us?"

  Nothing happened.

  She waited, then repeated the question.

  The indicator moved. Lightly. Just a smidgen.

  "I'm not doing it this time," Kyle whispered.

  The indicator stopped, and a pounding sound hit the roof. Everyone, including Allie, flinched. She glanced at Daniel. His crucifix was shimmering.

  She could see it, catching shadows from the burning candles, from flames that had begun to dance.