by Lynde Lakes
Wolf or man, he was an alpha through and through. And his masculine confidence was his most attractive and persuasive quality. She forced herself to breathe. “Only because I want to,” she said in a low purr. But she was at his disposal. The heat of his touch had already turned her body into a malleable handful of clay to stroke and mold to his pleasure. And, happily, to her striving, shuddering climax.
* * * *
When Damon pulled up to the curb outside Madam Nola’s house, Angela looked over her shoulder into the backseat and said, “Thanks again for coming, Mom. Hopefully, between the three of us, if necessary, we can block and divert the girls’ attention. Remember, if anything at all negative appears on the crystal, grab their hands and hustle them back to the car.”
“I don’t feel good about this,” Mom said, her eyes wary. “Let’s not take them in until you make sure Madam Nola has a plan in place to protect my grandbabies from scary images. When you signal that she does, I’ll bring them in.” Mom held up a Little Red Riding Hood picture book. “We’ll be aptly entertained.”
Angela frowned. “A wolf story—good grief, Mom.”
“No worry. I’m making up my own version.”
Damon laughed. “I’d like to hear that account myself.”
Mom chuckled low in her throat. “I’ll bet you would.”
“Mom, you’re incorrigible,” Angela said as she and Damon left the car. They paused and threw kisses to the twins, then headed up the flagstone walkway.
Angela took a few steps and looked back.
Damon grabbed her hand. “It’s going to be okay.”
Angela nodded and tried to get over her uneasiness by admiring the lush green landscaping and quaint architecture. “I wonder if our little darlings will notice that Madam Nola’s home resembles a gingerbread house.”
Damon snorted. “Maybe we should teach them early on that looks can be deceiving.”
She blew out a gust of breath. “With comments like that, you’re not helping me to chill out.” The fact that the front door stood ajar didn’t help either. It was eerily quiet inside. Then she heard the lonely flutter of wings. Her neck prickled. “Hello, anyone there?” She glanced at her watch. “We’re right on time.” Her heart pounded. She called out again—more silence.
“Are you sure she said two?” Damon asked.
“Positive.”
He rang the bell twice. Nothing. “Wait here,” he said. “I’ll check around back.”
Damon had barely disappeared from sight when suddenly Madam Nola appeared, barefoot, with her silver robe ripped at the shoulder. Without her spiked heels, she was barely as tall as a third grader. Her crowns of platinum-blonde curls were frazzled. The ruby and emerald crystals woven into each kinky strand of hair hung by a thread. The wisps that usually coiled around her ears looked damp and limp.
“What happened?” Angela asked.
“Someone broke in and slaughtered my Cockatoo, Ka,” Madam Nola said around a pitiful sob. She was trembling like a Chihuahua pup. She pressed her lips tightly together as if fighting to hold back more tears. Her Egyptian made-up eyes were badly smuged and trails of black ran down her flushed cheeks. After a moment, she wiped away the dampness with the hem of her gown, leaving two black streaks. She lifted her chin. “When I came out of the shower, the attacker jumped me, too. But, with Ba’s help, I fought him off.”
Damon rounded the house. “The slider glass is shattered and it’s off its track,” he said. “And—” He froze, his eyes wide. “My God, what happened?”
Angela glanced toward the Camry and held up her hand in a stop gesture and mouthed, “Stay put.” Her mom nodded that she understood.
Madam Nola repeated her story to Damon then stepped aside and invited them in.
The room was a chaos of feathers and blood. An acrid, metallic odor hung in the room.
“I called the police,” Madam Nola said, her voice high-pitched as though on the verge of hysteria.
Damon nodded, frowning.
Angela glanced at the sole Cockatoo on its perch. Its scowling beady eyes, hooked beak and sharp-looking claws looked ready to attack at their first suspicious move. The empty perch beside it swayed slightly as though the slaughtered parrot’s ghost still remained, clinging to the last vestige of existence. A new rush of tears moistened her eyes. To distract herelf from her breaking heart, she studied the room. The small, round table with a black lace tablecloth had only a velvet cover thrown down on it like a discarded napkin. Oh, God. Where is the crystal ball?
Chapter Four
Angela scanned the rest of the room and sighed in relief when she spied the crystal ball up against the drapes where it must have rolled during the melee. She glanced at Damon and Madam Nola. Neither of them seemed to have noticed it. She bent and lifted it up in both hands and gently placed it in the center of the table.
Suddenly, a scene of the wild, hilly acreage behind the mansion filled the flashing orb. A fiery hand reached into the soupy mud. When it withdrew, it’s flaming fist was covered in ash. It hovered a moment then shot deep into the earth, taking the ash with it.
Then the orb went totally black.
Madam Nola gasped. “That’s never happened before.”
“What?” Damon asked.
“The crystal ball has never come alive without my prompting it.”
“What’s the significance?”
Before Madam Nola could answer, a male voice shouted, “Police!”
Madam Nola called in a trembly voice, “Come in.”
Officer Haywood swaggered into the room followed by his partner, Officer Montoya. Haywood stopped and glared at Damon. “You again,” he said. “What do you know about all this?”
“Nothing,” Damon said in a low, calming voice. “My wife and I learned of the break-in when we came for our scheduled appointment. This is Madam Nola. She’s the one who called the police.”
Haywood looked down at Madam Nola, his expression skeptical. “You’re the complainant?”
She stood a little taller and nodded.
He frowned. “Full name?”
“Madam Nola Crow Nobiyah.”
“Okay, Madam Nobiyah. I’ll need your statement.” He gave Damon a hard look. “We’ll need yours, too. But this is a crime scene. So step outside with Officer Montoya and give him your information. He’ll have you sign an incident report.”
“Please, we’d like to stay. We’re friends of Madam Nola.”
“Touching. But wait outside. You can console her after I take my report and my investigators arrive and comb the place for evidence.”
As Damon hustled Angela out the door, he called over his shoulder to Madam Nola, “I think we’ll take the girls on home. If you need anything, let us know. We’ll call for a rescheduling. And let’s talk about upgrading your security.”
Madam Nola nodded, then with a trembly voice, began telling Officer Haywood about the break-in, the attack on her, and the slaughter of her beautiful Cockatoo.
Damon whispered, “I’d like to hear her description of the assailant.”
“Me, too,” Angela said. “So let’s stay. He can’t order us around like that.”
Damon kissed her temple. “It’ll serve us better to comply. I believe in picking my battles—then make them count.”
“You’re right.” The other advantage to a quick exit, she thought, is to escape the sight of the sickening, acrid-smelling, bloody massacre.
Outside, Officer Montoya had them fill out and sign an incident report. Then he let them go.
When they entered the car, her wide-eyed mom asked, “What’s going on?”
Before Angela could answer, Damon glanced over his shoulder at her mom and said, “Let’s get away from here to talk.” Prior to starting the car, he gave Angela a quick hug, no doubt to buoy her strength. He probably couldn’t tell it by the tremors rippling through her body, but her building anger was helping to steel her nerves.
After they turned onto Foothill Boulevard, Damon sai
d, “It was a break-in turned violent, Mother Ward. Angela can fill in the details when our little girls aren’t around.”
“I’ll call tonight with all the particulars,” Angela said, feeling a bit stifled.
Mom nodded and hugged the girls tightly. Angela wished she was in the backseat to hug them, too. She needed to feel her little girls in her arms and soak up their sweetness, their innocence. “Thanks for keeping the girls outside. Going in would have given them nightmares for years.”
* * * *
After they tucked their girls into bed that night and retired to the sanctity of their bedroom, Angela couldn’t wait any longer to speak her mind. “The break-in and the bloody slaughter of that beautiful white Cockatoo was enough to handle. But that image in the crystal really unnerved me. That fiery hand plunging into the earth looked pure evil.”
Damon drew her into his arms. His face looked gray, his eyes worried. “That’s why I set up the lab, honey. We’ll dig until we have answers for the weird phenomena and then take action to rectify it.”
Angela knew it wouldn’t be that simple, but she admired his strength and take-charge attitude. “I wish I felt that the police were on our side. By the stern way Officer Haywood looked at you and spoke to you, I think he’d like to tie you to the break-in.”
“We’ll just have to prove him wrong. I’ll call Madam Nola tomorrow and get her description of the intruder and anything else she can tell me about the break-in.”
“And you’ll make another appointment with her?”
His long, piercing look worried Angela. Finally, he said, “If she feels up to it. Madam Nola went through a rough time today. Now, let me give you a relaxing back rub and let’s try to forget all this for a while.”
“I’m not sure I can.”
“Try,” he commanded. His dark-lashed, amber-brown eyes glinted with love. He bent toward her and his ink-black hair came alive with the blue-sapphire rays from the firelight. When his lips touched hers, they were firm, his mouth open and moist. In a dance of love, passion, they sought and entwined tongues. Fire flooded her veins. His heat surrounded her until every inch of her flesh was on fire. She drew him closer. Yes, yes, make me forget.
* * * *
The next day, Madam Nola, showed up at their door at 2:00 p.m., the time they’d set earlier that morning for the reading. She wore a turquoise jogging suit, running shoes, and a baseball cap. Only wisps of curly platinum hair showed.
Angela glanced at the bowling bag the psychic was carrying. “No crystal ball today?” she said, hoping it was inside, yet shivering at her memory of the last image she’d seen on it.
Madam Nola gestured with the bag. “It’s right here.”
Angela forced a smile and led her into the den where Damon waited with both girls giggling on his lap.
“I’ve never worked in someone’s home before,” Madam Nola said. “Where shall I set up?”
Damon pointed to the card table he’d brought in for her. “Would you like something to eat or drink before you start?”
“No, thank you. I have an early dinner date when I finish here.” She wasted no time setting up her paraphernalia in the center of the table. When the black lace cloth and crystal in its lush burgundy cover were in place, she walked slowly over to the girls, bent down, and introduced herself. “I’m Auntie Nola,” she said, drawing two huge, peppermint lollipops from her bag. “We’re going to be great friends.”
Both girls smiled widely, deepening their dimples and nodded. Madam Nola handed them the treats and then began an Egyptian chant with a nursey-rhythm cadence. She withdrew a bottle of bubbles from her belt and sprayed the fragrant rainbow orbs around until they filled the room. The twins laughed and tried to catch them with tiny fists. The psychic twirled two times on her toes and then, with nimble fingers, slowly withdrew the velvet cloth from the crystal. The orb glowed and a full moon appeared. Suddenly, in the distance on a rock, posed two small howling wolves, one white as snow, the other black as onyx.
“Doggies,” the girls cried in delight.
Angela gasped. “Does that mean…” She was unable to say the words.
Damon hugged the girls tighter and kissed the tops of their heads. “When?” he asked, his voice husky.
Madam Nola frowned. “I see no timetable. I only know the lingering curse on your beautiful daughters is not of immediate concern.”
Suddenly, the room filled with a whirling cacophony of whispers. Madam Nola listened intently, as though she understood the murmurs. The twins giggled and clapped their hands at the swishy sounds swirling around them.
“The whispering spirits warn of a cloud of danger hanging over this mansion and your girls,” Madam Nola said in an ominous tone. “Keep them very close.”
Angela shuddered as an old familiar feeling rippled through her—that the walls had ears and the portraits had spying eyes.
* * * *
Damon comforted Angela then dashed for the lab. Lazar was surrounded by labeled vials in varied sizes and shapes. Damon detected the smell of blood.
“Time is running out, Lazar. Can you tell me anything hopeful about the serum we’re trying to develop?” He needed to give Angela hope, something positive to cling to.
Lazar looked up and met Damon’s gaze, his piercing, ice-blue eyes probing. “Only that we’re closer than six months ago. Of course, success would be more certain if I could use blood from actual lycanthropes. The procedure is extremely dangerous and requires extracting three drops of blood from a morphed creature while in their wild form.”
Damon didn’t like the sound of that. One day, the girls would start morphing and would have the kind of blood Lazar needed, but Angela would never allow tests on their girls in any form, now or ever. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He’d have to weigh their suffering from the curse against the suffering required to escape it. “Since we don’t have any lycanthropes available, what’s our next best option?”
“We might achieve a measure of success on a pre-morphed individual who carries the cursed gene. Do you know anyone who fits that category?”
Damon frowned. “What do you think?”
“I think this project is close to your heart. And most likely, you know someone who is suffering from lycanthropy.”
“My interest in this project is profit. With the high field expenditures and soaring costs of running this lab, I need to see results.”
“I understand the profit motive well,” Lazar said. “And I embrace it whole-heartedly. I’m experimenting with drops of wolf blood, herbs, and minute amounts of the healing properties carefully extracted from the earth sludge on your property.” A gleam lit up his icy blue eyes. “However, if what I suspect is true, there may be one more thing I can try.”
“Great. Thanks, Lazar. You won’t be sorry. Let’s make this thing happen.”
Damon left without guarantees, but the determination he’d seen in Lazar’s eyes assured him that the man would leave no stone unturned to find a cure.
* * * *
Hugo’s mind clicked on like a light bulb when the luminous angel with muddy wings reached down into the murky depths and took his hand. “Come with me, Hugo. God has reserved a place for you in heaven.”
He shuddered, recalling the violent way he’d died. While in the vulnerable state of morphing, his stronger evil brother, Reeves, leapt at him, locked sharp fangs onto his throat, and sucked the life out of him. And for all Hugo knew, Reeves was still out there.
“What happened after I died? Did anyone ever find me?”
The angel smiled. “Your half-brother, Damon, found you. He was still in his wolf state, so he and Angela’s wolf counterpart buried you doggy-style in this cave while her ghostly spirit watched. Their great sadness should comfort your spirit and make you feel loved and willing to accept your fate.”
“How much time has passed?”
“Four years.”
He knew the rest, for those years he lay rotting in the ground until the earthquake
shifted and changed the land. Suddenly, broiling, muddy liquid swirled around his half-morphed body and he felt the hot healing forces flow into him. He went through the torturous morphing stages and became a man again. A dead man. But so what? Alive, he hadn’t been much of a man anyway. His stomach knotted.
Then this angel touched him and he felt breath flow back into his lungs. “Are you ready?” she asked.
“Please, not yet. I sense that evil forces are closing in on Damon and I vowed to my mother to protect him. My hunched back has kept me from being of much value to him or society so far. If I could just be allowed to achieve this one goal, it will give my birth meaning.”
“Your birth had meaning in God’s eyes. Never doubt that.” The angel looked thoughtful and then said, “But I understand your concern. There is a dark aura around Damon and his little family.”
“Family?” Hugo asked.
“Angela, his wife, bore him twin daughters.”
“Twins? Are they affected by the curse?”
The angel looked at him with sad eyes, but rather than answering his question said, “You have valid reasons to be concerned about your brother and his family. I will leave you on Earth with the understanding that there is no guarantee that God will hold your reservation.”
For a moment, Hugo watched the sunrise paint a metallic radiance across the purple mountain range to the east and then said, “I understand and accept the condition.”
She touched the hump on his back and said, “I heal this afflection in God’s name.” The hump disappeared and, with it, his pain. “Now you will be on equal footing with your brothers. But be careful, you’re still under the power of the family curse and at the mercy of the full moon.”
“I don’t wish to be disrespectful, or ask for more miracles after you’ve given me so many. But if you can make my hump disappear, why can’t you rid me of the curse?”
The angel smiled wistfully. “I can only heal things you can’t heal yourself—it’s in your power to escape the curse.”