"Ye want me as I want ye," he whispered against her lips.
"No, I-I don't," she lied. "I want to go home."
His mouth quit hers to begin a sensual trail of burning kisses down her throat. It might as well have been a hot poker searing her skin. Sheer torture and immoral delight rolled into one washed over her with the power of a typhoon. Shuddering thrills wracked her flaccid limbs. If she didn't stop this, soon she'd be on her back beneath him, rolling down the leather pants, begging him to take her in front of God and all the horrible beasts he warned her about.
Relief and disappointment flooded her at the sound of Jarlock's voice. "Balion, where are ye, man?"
Dazed, she rolled from him, but not before his hand came out to brush over her cheek. "One day ye will come to me, and when ye do, I will make ye mine forever."
With nimble grace, he came to his feet, pulling her with him and none too soon. Jarlock stepped into the clearing. If he had seen or heard anything, much to his credit, he said nothing.
Pride edged Balion’s features. "Kira is learning the use of a spear."
Kira. Kira. Her name from his lips took on the cadence of a sonata playing in her head.
"If ye plan to make it home by the morrow," Jarlock reminded him, "we best leave now, my Light-Prince. As for the spear, is it not foolish to give a weapon to one who wishes to splay ye open?"
"Aye," Balion said. "Yet more foolish to leave her defenseless whilst the Pantherinae searches for her."
The word whilst wasn't lost on Kira. With trembling hand, she plucked the weapon from the ground, tucked it under her arm, and followed the warriors from the clearing.
* * *
Under a foggy mist, they broke camp the following morning and set out. The guards shifted in their saddles at every snap of a twig, every sharp trill from the birds. Sandwiched again between Balion and Jarlock, Kira allowed her mind to wander. She wondered how many times Mrs. Pettigrew had rifled through her belongings, and what her parents were doing this very minute. Did they believe she was dead? Had there been a funeral? She imagined her high school picture resting atop the closed casket, nestled among white gardenias and lavender orchids―her mother's favorites. She'd never liked that picture, hoped they'd chosen the one she sent from Jamaica of her on the beach—the one where she looked tan and healthy and her hair was streaked with sunlight.
Her parents would be weeping, her father doing his best to comfort her mother. The hardest thing for them to come to terms with would be the lack of a body. No, it would be the desolation of losing an only child. I'm still here. I haven't left the world yet. Well, in essence she had left her world as she knew it.
Familiar scenery came into view. She remembered passing through this part of the terrain yesterday, or was it the day before? Soon they would break onto the open plain, and beyond the towering cliffs lay Locke Cress. An hour later, relief found her the moment the lead guard brought them to a halt. They would rest, Jarlock said, take care of their needs, feed the horses, and be on their way again. It couldn't have come at a better time. With every step the mare took, Kira's full bladder ached. A fragile truce existed between her and the beast as long as Kira offered the mare total freedom. Annie Oakley she wasn't, and when this journey ended, she had no intention of climbing onto a horse's back again.
She dismounted on her own and clutched the spear in her hand. "I must see to my―"
Placing a feedbag over his mount's snout, Jarlock smiled down on her. "There, lass," he said, pointing.
Kira blinked. He didn't mean that dense crop of vegetation? Here, the trees with all their gnarly branches reminded her of a deep, dark forest. .
"Keep to the underbrush with an eye open," he added, giving her further pause.
The foreign surroundings frightened her, but the need to relieve her discomfort propelled her into the twisted labyrinth of trees. Lips pinched, nose lifted, she searched for the perfect spot. Some might call her finicky, but one never knew what they'd encounter dropping their bare bottom to a cesspool of mire. Poison sumac, oak or ivy? The possibilities were endless.
There must be a small patch of earth, minus the slithering thingies and crawling insects. She pushed back a thick stem near her hand and looked at the ground. The earth crawled with an army of grub worms and armored beetles. To her left, lichens the size of leeches clung to the tree bark. Something resembling a turtle scampered by her feet, all beady eyes and wizened sin. Kira's eyes stung as pungent aromas of decay and rotting animal flesh blew up her nose. Dancing a little jig, a shiver coursed through her, but she pressed onward.
She didn't know how far she'd walked, and she'd lost track of time, caught up in searching for one minuscule spot minus the dense vegetation. At last she found a circle of dirt to accommodate her. She entered the clearing with the cunning of a trespasser, mindful of the dark shadows around her, aware of the serpents winding around the trees like thick, black coils of rope.
The snorts came faintly at first and grew louder with every step she took. The need to empty her bladder paramount, she rolled her pants down and shook with relief as the urine soaked the ground beneath her. Right about now her mother would tell her to laugh. In fact, her exact words would be, "Let's have a belly-laugh, dear. If life kicks you in the butt, laughter is the best remedy." In Kira's opinion, she couldn't think of one thing that would summon a belly-laugh from the moment she'd landed here. But laugh she did at the absurdity of it all.
In the next instant, her heart hammered in her chest. Instinct warned her something was near, a beast of some sort. The creature walked from the underbrush, its fat snout sniffing the air. It resembled a pig, an enormous, plump pig, with tusks the size of calves. It emitted an outraged shriek as if it had more to lose by the encounter than her. Even her mother wouldn't advise laughter under this circumstance.
"This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home," she said to the air, pulling up the leather pants with one hand, searching for the spear with the other.
Kira's stomach gnawed at itself. She had to get out of here and fast. But which way should she go? More importantly, from where had she come? She backed away from the beast, one measured step at a time. The creature reared its head, emitting three quick grunts that sounded akin to I-found-her-she's-over-here. Kira turned and fled for her life, deciding she had nothing in common with Porky's friends.
Thorny bushes scratched at her arms and face as she sprinted through the forest, her mind teeming with one thought―to put as much distance between her and the hideous creature as possible. In her haste, she tripped and smashed her face into the hard ground. Scrambling to her feet and wiping her bloody nose at the same time, she continued running. Ahead, a clearing and several flat stones came into view. Maybe if she reached them, she could climb on top and form some type of defense. The pig closed in, its wild shrieks echoed by a chorus from his comrades.
Armed with the spear and a false air of bravado, Kira scrambled atop a smooth, flat stone and turned to face her invaders. They came at her in a rush, the one she'd seen in the forest flanked by eight cousins, massive, lethal and howling like banshees. Kira clutched the spear, prayed for strength and cleared her mind of every horrific thought. In that terrifying moment, she declared war on her invaders and braced for battle. She'd had enough. Enough of The Scarlet Angel, enough of the spotted cat, enough of paralyzing thoughts about The Story Mage and the evil Umargo. Tired of being a pawn, weary of being caught in the middle of a war between people she'd never heard of, rage exploded in her throat.
The spear took on a life of its own as she lunged and stabbed, taking out a ferocious looking hog large enough to feed an entire village for a week. It screamed in pain and twisted and writhed on the ground as Kira yanked the spear from its neck. Blood arced and streamed through the air and the breath left the hog's body in a quiet rush. More came, faster than she could count, surrounding her, their massive jaws of death snapping at her legs. She parried and lunged again, stabbed and twisted the
spear with every ounce of strength she possessed. Another fell and another as she killed them with deadly speed. Power pumped through her veins, along with a sick sense of victory.
So caught up in her newfound prowess, she didn't realize one had sneaked up behind her to sink a razor-sharp tusk into her thigh. Her scream hung suspended in the air. Blood, warm and sticky, seeped through her pants and soaked her moccasins. The scent incited them, launched them into frenzied motion of a full-throttle attack. Yellow eyes glowed and demonic howls split the air.
Seething with pain and fury, she rallied. "Come on you bastards, you want a piece of this?"
She parried and feinted without conscious thought, twisting at the waist to take one out behind her, whipping around to stab at another lunging at her feet. She took out an eye, punctured a lung and still the horrific screams echoed around her louder than phantoms rising from the grave. The loss of blood had sapped her strength. Her breaths labored, her movements sluggish, she fought with dwindling awareness.
The hogs seemed stunned when another human jumped into the fray. Where had he come from? Moving in with the subtlety of an invisible spirit the Light-Prince took a rigid stance beside her. Kira's heart sang with relief and joy. His broadsword sliced through the air and cleaved a massive head in two. Brought up high, it hummed again and severed another frothing beast at the neck.
Balion fought like an avenging wraith, dispatching the wild boars like stalks of wheat. His skill with the weapon left her breathless. He cleared the perimeter around them, taking them out one at a time effortlessly. The hogs backed off, scrutinizing him with wary respect, their dreams of a feast dissipating before their eyes. Two remained, their long snouts sniffing their dead comrades. Moments later, the survivors turned and ran for cover in the surrounding woods.
Balion caught her before she fell, and dropping his sword, lifted her into his arms. He sprinted through the forest as though she weighed no more than goose down. The adrenaline receding, a sharp pain set in, shooting up Kira's leg with the potency of a hot branding iron. Blood ran in a steady stream from her wound, leaving a trail in their wake. She tried to keep her eyes open, but they had other plans.
Balion's voice came to her from a far off place. "Hold on, Kira, we're almost there."
The Prince had the speed of a jaguar. Something in Kira's semiconscious state told her she was in serious trouble. It was just a puncture wound for heaven's sake. Jarlock would stitch it up and apply one of his magic poultices. Soon she'd be as good as new.
"Slow down, please. It hurts."
"It will pain ye a lot more, lass, if I don't get ye to Jarlock. The poison…."
It grew dark. Her arms flailed through the air. She hated the dark. Good, God, had he mumbled the word poison? Hail Mary full of grace, the Lord is with thee.
Everything grew hazy. People rushed about camp, yet seemed to be in slow motion. Jarlock's face loomed in and faded as Kira clung to fleeting reality. In the distance, the guards scrounged through the woods and clawed at the earth. Were they looking for an antidote? Undiluted panic rose in Balion's voice from somewhere near her head. Panic? Adonis never panics. Something was wrong. Oh, God, I'm going to die, out here in a foreign land and no one will even know I'm gone.
The giant sliced her pants open from hip to ankle as the sweet, lyrical chanting from a woman enveloped her.
Sirene, she thought and then surrendered to the darkness.
Chapter 8
Kira visited a place many of the human race called heaven. Incandescent pearl with an overlay of salmon canvassed paradise, reminding her of a pink conch shell she found scuba diving in Costa Rica. Flowers flowed from the trees in a profusion of brilliant hues, and aquamarine water cascaded over rocks before saturating the coral beaches. Trumpets sounded around her and angelic choruses harmonized; every note perfect. She wanted to stay here forever.
People milled about, perfect people without flaws or blemishes. Although strangers, they smiled at her. She never knew what a warm welcome meant until she arrived here. Wandering through the throng, she hoped to recognize someone. She saw her at the end of a long line and would recognize that face anywhere. Gran's picture sat atop the mantel at home and Kira had spent hours gazing upon it as a child.
"Hello, dear." Gran took a bold step forward.
"Gran?"
"Yes, child, it's me."
Her eyes, a replica of her mother's and hers, reminded Kira of a horizon flushed in soft shades of dusky purple.
Drawn to her like a hummingbird seeking the sweet nectar of a snapdragon, Kira walked toward her. "But you're dead, aren't you? So this must be…."
"It is, dear. Isn't it a lovely place to visit?" Gran took her hand. "Come, let's walk."
A butterfly took flight from somewhere near their feet, then another. Sunlight flooded the pristine beaches. In fact, there wasn't a speck of darkness in sight. Everywhere Kira looked the landscape had been swathed in translucent hues of iced ivory. Water trickled over stones, a prelude to an endless stream of rose arbors shrouded in twisted vines of golden honeysuckle and blue-fringed clematis. Mounds of swollen blossoms in every color imaginable cascaded down limestone outcroppings and overlooked a massive pool of cerulean water. Kira lost pace with time and everything tangible.
They came to a stone bench and Gran pulled her down to sit beside her. "You said it's a lovely place to visit." Kira said. "But don't you live here now?"
"Oh, yes, child, I do. I meant you."
In an odd voice she asked, "Don't I live here now too?"
Gran shook her head. "No, it is too soon for you to call this home."
She felt her brow furrow. "Why am I here then?"
"Oh, that. A close call, a very close call. Those dastardly wild hogs have to be one of God's mistakes, although He seldom makes them." The lavender eyes crinkled. "In any event, I've just been informed you won't be staying, and I'm so relieved. There is much for you to do down there yet."
"Down there? Yes, I must ask you about that. Where am I down there? I mean, I've been transported to another time, a distant galaxy or some godforsaken―"
Gran flattened a finger on Kira's lips. "Mind where you are, child. There isn't any forsaken place in His kingdom, not as far as He's concerned."
"Sorry." Kira ducked her shoulders. "I forgot where I am."
"Forgiven, dear. Now, you must go back."
"But it's so lovely here."
"Yes, it is." Gran paused. "But think what you have to look forward to."
Kira swallowed the lump in her throat. "So I'm not supposed to be here? This is a mistake too?"
"Not a mistake, but some felt it a mite premature, including me. I want you to get married, have children, and lead a long, productive life."
"In Locke Cress?"
"Time will tell, darling, time will tell."
Kira gave an ironic chuckle. "Why does everyone say that? Time will tell."
"If we knew what was to come in life, what would be the point?"
"But, I'm frightened."
Gran closed her eyes and caressed Kira's face, making it impossible for her to guess what particular emotions the woman felt. "No need to be scared, dear," she said, opening them. "Be courageous and strong. Follow your heart and it will not lead you astray."
"Will I see you again?"
Her lips brushed Kira's forehead. "As sure as the moon rules the heavens, yes."
The bright light faded. "Wait, don't leave me; I have questions."
"Speak, child."
"Do my parents–do Mom and Dad believe I'm dead?"
"I think not, child, although they are worried."
A semblance of peace settled over her. "Will I see them again?" Before Gran had a chance to answer, Kira said, "Please don't say time will tell again."
"You must have faith, Kira. Spiritual maneuverings and intriguing plots are underfoot, none meant to harm you, but instituted out of necessity."
"But why do they involve me?"
Gran lifted a b
row. "If your father went back, it would have conjured up a cauldron of problems, no witchery intended. He'd never be content to live out his life without your mother, whether in Locke Cress or not." She rose from the bench and stood before her. "When that nasty man attacked you with the knife…." She stopped for a moment and chewed on her lip. "Kira, sometimes you make rash decisions, tracking a killer into an abandoned warehouse was foolish."
"Agreed." A blush rose in her cheeks. "I wanted him put away for Emma's and Paula's sake. Oh goodness, are they here, Gran, Emma, Paula and the others?"
"Yes, dear, they're here and having quite the good time. Now, I was saying, Sirene came up with the perfect solution to the problem."
"Solution?"
"The medallion had to be returned to Locke Cress or an entire civilization would be wiped out, and I've already told you, your father could no longer transport it, so―"
"I was chosen?"
She nodded. "Because you placed your mortal life in danger. It was the perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, or so Sirene said."
"I need to know about Sirene."
"You must trust her."
"Which brings me to the next question. Do you know her, Grandmother?"
A blissful smile lit her face. "Quite well, and I can think of no one I'd rather have watch over you. Take care, Kira and remember I love you."
Quicker than a light going out, Gran disappeared and so did heaven. Kira floated through another abyss, far removed from the one that delivered her to Locke Cress. Bottomless and boundless, she had never seen anything more beautiful. Encompassed by a deep, reverent peace, her fear dissipated.
* * *
Balion crept to the bed and stood behind Jarlock while the man tended Kira. "What think ye, man, will she live?"
"It is for the Gods to decide, but take comfort she has not passed over yet."
His deep inhalation came out in a rush. "See how she struggles for breath."
Paranormal Magic (Shades of Prey Book 1) Page 48