by Lyn Horner
“How so?”
“Before being renamed Highway 191, it was cursed as Route 666, also called the Devil’s Highway.”
“Ah. Because 666 is supposed to be the sign of the antichrist?”
“Yes, and because of all the accidents and the strange things people see while driving this road, especially at night.”
“What things?”
Leon frowned at her. “I should not have brought it up. The stories will scare you.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said with a laugh. “Nothing can scare me as much as Shafer Canyon Road. Go ahead, tell me.”
He sighed. “Alright, but don’t say I did not warn you.” Shifting in his seat, he began, “One story tells of a trucker who comes barreling down the middle of the road with sparks shooting from his tires and flames pouring out his smokestack. He is said to be going 130 miles an hour or more and means to run over any car that gets in his way.”
“He must have been insane, but surely that does not prove the highway is cursed.”
“No? Even after he has been seen many times?”
Delilah grew uneasy but refused to show fear. “What are the other stories?”
“One is about a girl in white who walks the road alone at night, looking like she needs help. When a driver stops to assist her, she disappears as if she was never there. Again, she has been seen by many.”
“You think she is a ghost?” Delilah asked, unable to suppress a shiver.
Leon shrugged. “Who knows? And then there are the packs of demon dogs with yellow eyes and gnashing teeth. They attack and shred the tires of anyone who foolishly stops along this road at night. Some also claim the dogs will try to smash through a car window. Many accidents are blamed on them.” Pausing, he gave her a dark look. “They are often called Hounds from Hell.”
“Mon Dieu!” Delilah gasped, hugging herself. “Th-they cannot be connected to the vicious Hounds who have tracked us so far. Can they?”
“No, I do not believe they are, but one thing is certain, we will not stop anywhere until we are off this road.”
Delilah nodded, heart fluttering. Gulping down a knot of fear, she stared wide-eyed into the growing darkness, praying for Danu’s protection against any spectral entities, especially demon dogs.
Fortunately for her peace of mind, Leon exited the cursed highway not too long afterward, at a small city. “This is Chinle. We have been on Navajo land for some time,” he said. “From here, we will enter Canyon de Shay – spelled C-h-e-l-l-y – my home.”
“Oh! You did not tell me you live in a canyon.” Her voice shook. “Is it like Shafer Canyon?”
“No, don’t worry, the road is kind of rough but there’s no dangerous trail to descend.”
“Thank goodness. I don’t think my heart could stand another such trip, surely not in the dark.”
Leon chuckled. “I would not care to try that either.” Starting down a dirt road, he added, “Our detour through the park kept us from arriving early enough for you to really see the canyon. Tomorrow, I will show you how beautiful it is, if you like.”
“Of course . . . I would . . . enjoy that,” she said, stumbling over her words as the car jounced across bumpy ground into the canyon mouth.
“For now, we must go to my Hogan, where your friends are waiting for you.”
“It will be wonderful to see them.” And to get out of this car, she thought. Although she said nothing, the dark rock walls rising on both side of them made her feel trapped and very, very small.
Her teeth had nearly been jolted out of her head by the time Leon turned onto a smaller track. Shortly thereafter, he parked outside an odd-looking structure visible in the headlights. “We are here,” he said, turning off the engine. Climbing from the car, he came to her side and gripped her elbow when she got out. He walked her to the dark building, held aside a door and urged her to enter.
Delilah took two steps inside then stopped to glance around the strange interior. Low flames blazed from a fire pit in the dirt floor, positioned in the center of the octagonal-shaped room. Several narrow cots lined the wooden walls.
“Welcome to my hogan, she’at’ééd,” Leon said, standing beside her, his arm circling her waist. “My people have long lived in such lodges.”
“Oh,” she said in a weak voice, not at all certain she could stand to live in such a primitive place, even for him.
He chuckled at her reaction. “Do not worry. Remember I told you I had a modern house built for Yolanda and our family? It connects through there.” Pointing to another doorway across the room from them, he started to lead her in that direction but halted when the door opened. A dark-haired young woman stood framed by light from the room beyond.
“Shizhé'é! You are finally here,” she cried. She rushed toward Leon but pulled up short to stare at him, eyes widening. “Is it really you?”
“It’s me, daughter,” Leon said gruffly, pulling her into a hug. When he released her, she continued to stare at him in obvious shock.
“You cut your hair!” she blurted. “And dyed it! But why?”
“I will explain to everyone inside. First, I want you to meet Delilah,” he said, drawing her close, giving her a loving look. “She’at’ééd, this is Josie, my daughter who I told you about.”
“Hello, Josie, I am most happy to meet you,” Delilah said, offering her hand to the young woman, whose eyes widened in fresh shock at Leon’s endearment.
“N-nice to meet you,” she muttered, shaking hands while glancing back and forth from her father to Delilah.
“Welcome home, Leon,” said a man who stepped out of the other room. Strolling over to Josie, he draped his arm across her shoulders. “Great haircut. It makes you look younger.”
“Thank you, Gabriel. I have heard that before,” Leon replied, winking at Delilah.
She smiled distractedly, eyeing the man she recognized as Gabriel Valdez, a Guardian who hailed from Colombia, South America.
Tall, dark-haired and handsome, he nodded to her. “Hello, Madame Moreau.”
“Bonjour, Gabriel. Please, call me Delilah. We have known each other long enough to be on a first name basis, non?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Certainly, but you did not wish it until now.”
“I know,” she said, clasping her hands tightly, grateful for Leon’s supportive presence. “I have not always shown friendship to you and the others, but much has changed.” She gave Leon a nervous glance, prompting him to squeeze her waist. “From now on you will find me easier to deal with, I promise.”
Gabriel smiled. “I am happy to hear that. But why are we standing here? You both must be exhausted, and the others are anxious to greet you.”
“Yes, let’s go in,” Josie said with a smile, apparently recovered from her shock.
Moments later, Delilah stood in a cozy living room with Leon, being welcomed by two other Guardians – Charlotte Dixon and Nathan Maguire and their respective mates. Leon had told her Lara Flewellen and her cher ami were in Africa, searching for Adam Dvorak, but where were Michaela Peterson and her mate? She did not have long to wonder.
“I do not see Michaela and Dev,” Leon said. “Are they in town?”
“Yes, they are staying at my place,” Josie said. “This gives us more room here and allows them to collect messages left with my friend at the helicopter facility. That’s how we knew to expect you tonight. Dev brought word.”
“Humph. If I had known they were to stay there I would have called them direct.”
Josie shrugged. “Michaela didn’t suggest the idea until you were gone. I’m glad she did. We got your messages more quickly, as well as those from Lara and Conn.”
“Are they alright?” Delilah asked, concerned for the High Guardian’s safety.
“They’re fine. In her message a couple days ago, Lara said they were near the village in Kenya where Adam is working.”
“I’d like to hear about your journey from France,” Nathan Maguire said. “Did you encounter tro
uble?”
“Yes, did you cross paths with any Hellhound?” Charlotte Dixon added.
“Wait,” Josie said, holding up her hand. “Save your questions until my father and Ms. Moreau have a chance to relax and eat.” She beckoned Delilah and Leon. “Come, I kept supper warm for you.”
“Thank you, daughter,” Leon said. “I am sorry we did not get here earlier. We had to take a little detour.” He escorted Delilah into a country style kitchen adjacent to the living room and pulled out a chair for her at the large table.
“Oh yes? I didn’t know there was road work going on,” Josie said, dishing up something that looked like stew from a large kettle on the stove. She handed a filled bowl to Gabriel, who set it before Delilah. It smelled delicious.
“There wasn’t,” Leon replied, “but we were being trailed.”
Josie gave a wordless cry, dropping her serving spoon into the kettle.
“By our enemies?” Gabriel asked in alarm as the others gathered around, having overheard. All of them looked worried, and rightly so.
“I think so. We shook them off in Shafer Canyon.”
“You drove down that terrible road? You’re crazy!” Josie said heatedly.
“That’s what I told him,” Delilah said, sending him a narrow-eyed glance. “But his tactic worked. The men following us could not keep up, and we lost them.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Josie said, bringing a bowl of stew to Leon. “Eat. Then I want to hear what other madness you’ve been up to, and you still need to explain why you cut your hair.”
Leon sighed and shook his head. “You are always bossing me around. A daughter should show more respect to her father.”
Gathering two glasses and a pitcher of what looked like tea from the refrigerator, Josie snorted. “A father should not worry his daughter by acting like a madman. Not to mention scaring his new woman half to death.”
Delilah blushed at Josie’s comment. Hearing laughter from their audience, she ducked her head and concentrated on eating her stew, which really was delicious.
A short while later, everyone sat around the table, drinking coffee and listening intently as she and Leon related the story of their escape from Paris, their race across France to Nice and their flight to America. Their run-ins with the Hellhounds drew angry reactions, including a few colorful swear words, but when they described the disguises they had resorted to, they were rewarded by howls of laughter. Even Josie giggled at the idea of her father dressed like some male bimbo – his words – and she accepted the need for his new hair style.
How they’d come to love one another, neither Leon nor Delilah mentioned, keeping that private by mutual consent. Once finished with their tale, Gabriel posed a most troubling question.
“How far is this Shafer Canyon from here?” he asked, crossing his arms on the table and frowning.
“It’s about two hundred miles north,” Leon said, returning the other man’s frown. “Too close for comfort, I fear.”
Gabriel nodded grimly. “As do I.”
Several others muttered agreement. Delilah sat frozen in the grip of terror. She had finally felt safe in this, Leon’s native land, surrounded by several of her kind and their companions. Now the truth slammed into her.
“We practically led the Hellhounds here,” she said in despair, glancing around the table. “I am so sorry.”
Leon scooted his chair close and wrapped his arm around her. “You did nothing wrong. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine for not noticing sooner that we were being followed.”
On the verge of tears, she bent her head, struggling not to cry. Gently rubbing her back, he said, “We have had a long day. It’s time for us to get some sleep.”
“Of course,” Josie said, sounding choked up. “Your room is ready and waiting, Shizhé'é. Nathan and Talia took the bedroom Michaela and Dev were using.”
“Okay.” Coaxing Delilah from her chair, he said their good-nights and led her down a hall to a bedroom at the back of the house. Soon, she lay curled against him, secure in his arms for tonight. But what of tomorrow?
“Do you think the Hounds will find us here?” she asked.
“I cannot say, querida. We must hope they do not, at least until your leader, Lara, returns. Maybe she has a plan for holding off the evil ones.”
“I pray she does,” she murmured drowsily.
“So do I. For now, just sleep. Things will look brighter in the morning.”
* * *
Leon was right. Although the early March morning was chilly enough for heavy coats, the sun shined bright, lifting Delilah’s spirits and revealing a world of wonder when he drove her around the majestic canyon. She gazed in awe at the rusty-red walls streaked here and there by gray and other colors, the strange twisted formations, and the petroglyphs etched by ancient people – the Old Ones, Leon called them – who had inhabited the canyon many centuries ago.
What fascinated her most were the pueblo ruins built into niches in the stone walls. Leon stopped at one such site he called the White House Ruins. Getting out of the car, Delilah shaded her eyes to study the complex which was comprised of two levels, one on the canyon floor, the other on a rock shelf above, nestled beneath a massive overhang.
“It looks like a village,” she said, her breath visible in the cold air.
“That’s what it is. The Old Ones were pretty good builders, eh?”
“Indeed! I wonder how the villagers reached the upper level.”
“It is said they used ladders. There is also a trail leading down from the canyon rim.” He pointed, leading her gaze upward. “In warm weather, tourists often walk down the trail to explore the ruins. We can try it on a warmer day if you like.”
“Oh, yes, I would love to see the ruins close up.” Buffeted by a gust of frigid wind, she hunched her shoulders, huddling into her coat.
“You are cold. Let’s get back in the car,” Leon said. Once they were seated within, with the heater blowing warm air, he gave her a questioning glance. “There is much more to see, or would you rather go back to the house?”
“Non, non, I am fine. Please, show me more.” She needed a few hours of escape in this magical land before returning to face the reality of their tenuous situation.
Perhaps sensing her need, Leon dazzled her with one fantastic sight after another along the twisting canyon walls and the valley between. Their path wound past farms and orchards not yet in bloom as well as small herds of sheep and cattle belonging to his Navajo neighbors, some of whom were kin.
“At another time, when it is safe, I will introduce you to them.” He paused then added, “If you are still willing to live here with me part of the time.”
Startled by his comment, she turned to stare at him. “If I am willing? How can you doubt it? This place is a marvel. I want to explore every corner, learn all its secrets and come to be a part of your world. I love you, silly man!”
A deep laugh broke from Leon’s throat. Stopping the car, he stretched across the center console, framed her face with his hands and kissed her senseless. Unlocking their lips at last, he pressed his forehead to hers. “That’s all I need to know, she’at’ééd. I love you, too, and I promise we will have a good life here together.”
She smiled dreamily when he released her and settled behind the wheel, but as he drove on she prayed to the Great Goddess, begging her to prevent the Hellhounds from finding them until Lara returned from Africa with Adam Dvorak. For she sensed it would require the power of all seven Guardians to overcome their enemies.
The End . . . For Now
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Now, please continue reading for a glimpse of Romancing the Guardians, Book Seven.
TEMPTING ADAM
Romancing the Guardians, Book Seven
By
Lyn Horner
Coming in early 2018
Preview on next page
CHAPTER ONE
“Push!” Adam Dvorak shouted, grunting as he and his assistant, Ikeno, helped a Kenyan farmer and his teenage son heave a boulder out of a trench they were digging in the dry hillside. Muscling the rock over the bottom lip of the trench, they sent it tumbling down to the base of the hill, then returned to digging, using small shovels to pile smaller stones and red earth above the trench, forming a ridge. When done, they would dig another trench above that ridge, and so on up the hill, forming terraces.
They were employing a traditional East African method called Fanya-juu, meaning to ‘throw it upwards’ in Kiswahili. This primitive technique had increased crop yields in many cases by twenty-five percent or more, but it was new to this area. Adam had been sent here to train farmers to build terraces following the contour of the hilly countryside.
“Let’s take a break,” he told Ikeno a while later, breathing hard.
“Yes, sir.” The tall young Kenyan translated his words for the farmer and his gangly son, who nodded and squatted on the ground next to him.
Joining them, Adam wiped his brow on a red bandana tied loosely around his throat and adjusted his frayed Kentucky Wildcats baseball cap. The morning sun glared down as usual this close to the equator, but at least the air was dry here in the uplands. If they’d been farther east, near the coast of the Indian Ocean, it would feel like working in a sauna.