by Jory Strong
The Fellowship took the teachings of Mark 16, starting with the fifteenth verse, literally. For them, signs followed those who believed and were saved, confirming the Word. They could speak in tongues, cast out devils, and lay hands upon the sick. They could drink deadly things and take up the handling of serpents and no harm would come to them.
“I can’t,” Rebekka said. It wasn’t just a matter of not accepting her mother’s faith, but of not being willing to turn her back on the Weres.
The Fellowship would limit the use of her gift to the healing of their livestock and pets. Should she be in Oakland, fulfilling the mission to go out and preach, her talent might be bartered for things the community needed—but it would be used only on animals, not on Weres.
She touched the plain gold circle of her mother’s wedding band. The pressure to remain faithful and uphold God’s laws, along with the long days of working together in groups often segregated by gender, made infidelity rare in the Fellowship. But while women and children weren’t a man’s property, they still came under his authority.
Rebekka looked up from her study of her mother’s hands. There was no gentle way to ask the questions she’d come here to ask. “Tell me how I came to be born.”
Her mother pulled away, flinching from memories of the past. She picked up the toddler, hugging him to her chest as if he were a shield against the pain.
“I knew this day would come. He said it would, when you were an adult. He told me I was to answer your question then, only then, or I would be sorry for breaking our agreement.” Her arms tightened, making the toddler squirm and try to get out of them.
“I’ve dreaded it. Feared it. I’ve prayed it would never happen because if it did, it could only mean he intends to use you for some purpose.”
“He, meaning my father?”
“Yes.”
“What was his name?”
Chloe gave a harsh laugh. “John. They were all named John.”
She set the toddler down among wooden blocks, then crossed to a worktable where handmade patterns were pinned to pieces of dark material. She took up a pair of scissors and began cutting.
Rebekka followed, remaining quiet as the stiffness slowly left her mother’s posture. The scissors were laid down, though Chloe continued to stare at the fabric.
In a quiet voice Chloe said, “I grew up in a poor settlement near Sacramento. There were five children in the family. Two boys and three girls. The land my parents worked would support the boys when they took wives and started families, but not the girls. I was the second girl, not favored as my older sister was. My parents contracted me to a brothel owner in exchange for enough money to provide a dowry for my sister so she could marry well.”
Chloe picked up the scissors. Put them down again.
“The settlement I grew up in was on a caravan route. Four times a year the traveling brothel stopped there. The year you were born, my father came to where we were camped. He didn’t acknowledge me as his daughter. Instead he acted as though I was something dirty, beneath contempt, as if I’d chosen to become a prostitute.”
There was pain in Chloe’s voice, angry bitterness. “He came to offer my younger sister to the brothel master so he could buy livestock as a christening gift for my brother’s first son. We didn’t have room for another prostitute. But another caravan would come. And another, and eventually my sister would be made a whore. She was only two years younger than me, my closest friend when we were growing up. The one person in my family who loved me back.”
Chloe turned then, facing Rebekka. “A man approached me the day after my father came to the campsite. He wanted me to become pregnant with his child. Abortions were mandatory for the prostitutes in the caravan. But he’d made arrangements with the brothel master—the older brother of the one you might remember—so I’d carry to term and be allowed to keep the baby. He offered enough money so my younger sister would be able to pick her own husband and never have to fear for her future.
“I accepted his offer, though he was in no hurry to consummate the deal. He delivered the payment to my sister, even waited until her engagement was announced before leading me away from the caravan.
“He gave me something to drink and impregnated me. I was only with him the one night. Most of what happened is blurry, except afterward, before he took me back to camp. He told me you were to be kept safe and taught to read, and if I failed to protect you while you were in my care, he would learn of it and kill me.”
Her gaze dropped to the place where the mark of a prostitute had been forcibly inked onto Rebekka’s skin. A hard shiver went through her, as if she was still frightened after so many years.
Rebekka thought of the dream-restored memory and the stark terror on her mother’s face after the tattooing. They’d begun living in Oakland shortly after it happened.
She took Chloe’s hands again. Squeezed them in reassurance. “Was he human?”
Wariness entered her mother’s expression. “None of the amulets reacted in his presence. Most of those traveling in the caravan thought he was a gifted human, a sorcerer or a warlock.”
“And you? What did you think?”
Chloe’s shoulders slumped as if to allow a heavy burden to finally slide off them. “When he was on top of me, there was something inhuman in his eyes. It was almost as if he despised doing the very thing he’d paid to do.”
“One last question,” Rebekka said, wanting to free her mother from the torment of the past and not sure how much more she herself could bear knowing. “What did he look like?”
“He reminded me of a bird of prey. Sharp featured. His hair done up in hundreds of braids, each one of them with black and red beads woven in.”
Light-headedness would have dropped Rebekka to her knees except for her grip on her mother’s hands. She’d thought him a Were outcast the day he’d come out of nowhere and saved her from being raped, eviscerating her attackers and painting the alleyway red with their blood before telling her to seek out Dorrit.
Now the image of his fingers ending in deadly talons was overlaid by another, different only in color, a dark hand wrapping around her throat, a razor-sharp claw digging into her flesh, slicing through it with ease. Pulling away so a forked tongue could lap at blood-covered fingers. Your father’s involvement is a surprise. He had no love for humans when I was last among my kind.
“I promise, just one more question,” Rebekka said, her voice a whisper. “The day I was tattooed, did a rabid dog come into camp?”
With the change of topic her mother smiled. “Yes. I thought it would cause more nightmares but instead it seemed to chase them away.”
Rebekka couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Was there a boy there too? With a rat on his shoulder?”
“No. Maybe he was part of the terrifying dreams you’d had the night before. Do you remember having to be drugged because of it?”
“Yes.”
Chloe pulled her hands from Rebekka’s and used them to push Rebekka’s hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ears. “It’s all in the past now. The Lord is a forgiving god. I’ve repented and been saved. His spirit moved on me and brought with it a peace I wouldn’t have believed possible.”
She picked up the crucifix that lay against her chest and pressed it into Rebekka’s hands, holding them to it. When Rebekka didn’t flinch away, relief shone in Chloe’s eyes, as though she’d feared, had secretly guessed, she’d lain with a demon to create a child.
Rebekka wouldn’t tell her otherwise, not when her mother had found happiness and peace.
“Whatever the truth is about your father,” Chloe said, her voice burning with faith, “you’re human in all the ways that count. Stay here with us. Be baptized into the Fellowship.”
Twice in as many days Rebekka had been offered sanctuary. Her answer to her mother was no different than the one she’d given the Iberá patriarch. “I can’t.”
“Think about it,” Chloe said, pressing Rebekka’s hands hard again
st the crucifix. “Regardless of how you came to be born, I love you.”
Frustrated at having been ignored for so long, the toddler threw one of his blocks. It struck the wooden boxes, filling the room with the sound of rattlesnakes issuing a warning.
Chloe stepped away then, taking the sign of her faith with her. “We’d better go help the girls in the garden. They’ll be mad if I keep you all to myself.”
Messenger
THEY made the task easy, Tir thought, studying the Weres. Had they traveled steadily, they could have been deep in Were territory by now, but he could understand Levi lingering, delaying in order to spend time with his brother. Cyrin and the Tiger would be welcomed among the Lions, but for Levi, it would be a glimpse of all that he’d lost followed by expulsion and a forced return to life in the human world.
Cyrin and the Tiger worked on what was left of a carcass. The crunch and gnawing of bone by one was matched by the slurp and tearing of muscle by the other.
Smoke from a small fire and the smell of cooking marked the place where Levi prepared his meal, accentuating the difference between the Lion brothers. One trapped in a beast’s form. The other in a man’s.
Levi turned the slab of meat over and filled the air with the scent and sizzle of fat hitting flames. Tir’s nostrils flared, not in hunger but with the memory of Levi leaving him shackled for the guardsmen to find the last time they were in the woods together.
He understood Levi’s choice. He would have made an identical one. But forgiveness didn’t come easily to Tir.
Enough, already, Araña spoke into his mind, her presence so natural he no longer noticed her arriving and departing. Let it go or I’ll have to punish you.
The warning came with the image of her holding a thin leather belt. He hardened immediately, not at the prospect of feeling it against his skin, but of using it on her, whipping them both into a frenzy of desire. Don’t make threats you can’t back up with action.
She laughed in response. Sent him another image, this one of her sprawled on their bed, naked, ready for him. Hurry. Give Levi the message meant for him and come home.
Despite the husky words and the desire they held, she couldn’t hide her worry over Rebekka’s fate. Araña knew too well what it meant to be tested by the Djinn, and how readily they accepted death as the price of failure.
Tir glanced in the direction Levi would soon head, and where he would cross paths with the Were meant to be the healer’s mate. Addai hadn’t provided the details, though Tir could easily guess the end objective. In a battle for control of the Earth, the Weres would make formidable soldiers.
I’ll be there in a matter of minutes, he sent Araña. Be ready.
Tir stepped from the shelter of the trees, and the Tiger and Cyrin both charged. He watched them bound toward him, a coldness filling his chest along with a willingness to call his sword into existence and slay them even though he’d taken part in freeing them from the maze.
Levi’s shouted no had little effect in slowing either large cat. But at the last moment, both Lion and Tiger swerved, recognizing his scent from the maze, or, if not that, then the danger of carrying through with their attack.
They padded back to the carcass as Levi approached warily. His glance took in Tir’s lack of collar and tattoos, then went to the forest, searching, finally saying, “We saw what the demon did to the maze. What happened to Araña?”
The concern in Levi’s voice eradicated the last of Tir’s ill will. “She is safe and well away from Oakland.”
“Good. Someone is hunting Rebekka.”
Tir’s smile was menacing. “No longer. I took care of it personally. I’ve been told Rebekka shelters with her mother. When you see her next, tell her she no longer has to fear returning home. The Constellation remains in Oakland should there be a need to stay there for any reason. Rimmon’s protection extends only to the boat itself.”
Before Levi could ask questions, Tir retreated into the woods, forging deep enough to maintain the illusion of being human. A thought fed by will and he no longer wore flesh. Another, driven by desire, and he moved through an unseen corridor of reality, re-formed in a different place, black wings and body manifesting to Araña’s welcome of heated kisses and hot flesh.
Ten
OAKLAND loomed in the distance. Tall buildings rising in defiance like human fists lifted in challenge.
Aryck’s lips pulled back in a snarl, answering the symbolic threat, though he was surrounded by far more imminent ones. Silent, running on two legs because a man’s form was better suited for traveling long distances at a faster pace, he was alert to every movement, every scent.
Melina paced at his side, making his snarl deepen. He knew why his father had insisted she accompany him. Koren hoped proximity would lead to a successful coupling, so in the event of Aryck’s death, their line would continue with an unborn child. And in the event Aryck survived this journey to collect the healer, he would return with Melina as his mate.
Aryck’s fingers flexed in frustration. For parts of their trip they’d worn fur, and the scent of a female deeply in heat had very nearly driven him to cover her. He’d resisted only by fierce determination and a concentration of purpose.
The route they traveled was one his father had shared with him mentally. In the time since Koren was an enforcer, the scenery had changed very little.
They were now in territory inhabited primarily by ferals and rogues, those whose human and animal souls had separated, one battling the other for dominance to the extent they could no longer live within pack society or follow pack law.
Ferals ended up wearing fur. Their beast ruled, reverting to animal instincts but drawing on human cunning without also feeling bound to the pack. It made them a danger that had to be driven from Were lands. Rogues shifted back and forth in a continuing fight. Most fled Were lands voluntarily. They left before they broke pack law and ended up being made outcast or killed by their own kind.
The scent of hyenas hit Aryck. There were pure animals and Were, though he couldn’t tell if they were one pack or several.
Among Weres who were prey animals, mixing with herds containing pure animals was like donning camouflage. But among predators, a willingness to pack and mate with beasts was the mark of a feral or rogue.
He’d expected to find a heavy concentration of them here. Like other supernaturals, ferals and rogues were drawn to human settlements and cities, because despite the risk, prey was plentiful.
They were close to what the humans called the Barrens. It was a blackened, burned-out place where the dregs of human society took refuge, the insane and hunted, those so reviled they didn’t dare live in the red zone as the healer he sought did.
Distaste shuddered through Aryck, that she’d make her home among outcast prostitutes. It didn’t surprise him the ancestors knew of the healer’s existence. It was in their power to restore those they’d judged unfavorably, though it happened so rarely he’d never seen evidence of it.
Aryck spared a glance at Melina as the scent of hyena grew heavier. He hated the necessity of it, but knew it would be safer to have the jaguar’s strength.
“We change before going any farther,” he said, stopping and immediately removing his pants and supple moccasins, ensuring the pouch containing payment for the healer, gold coins unearthed in ruins on Jaguar lands, was well secured.
For once Melina stripped and stood naked without the conscious offering of her body. Like Aryck, she quickly rolled her footwear into her clothing, then knotted it to make a loose fabric collar that could be worn while in jaguar form.
Aryck shifted first, the collar of clothing already around his neck. Melina did the same.
Low to the ground the scent was even more intense. It carried not only traces of hyena but wolf and coyote, feral dogs as well as deer and rabbit.
This deep in the forest there was no trace of humans, but that wasn’t surprising. Even with their guns they would be nothing but prey here.
Ar
yck moved on, with Melina traveling farther from his side than before. He was anxious to get to the red zone and find the healer. Willing or not, she would accompany him back to the Jaguar’s summer campsite.
The trees thinned as they neared the Barrens. Rubble and debris turned the path they were on into a winding trail full of blind spots.
Aryck slowed, sensing danger an instant before three spotted hyenas scrambled over hills of vine-covered ruin while two others blocked the path in either direction, creating a vicious cage. Their excited whooping added to the adrenaline spiking through his blood and he lunged, using his weight to his advantage to knock a small male to the ground as it leapt from the piled rubble.
There was no time for finesse. Aryck buried his canines into the animal’s throat, clamped, and ripped, severing the jugular.
Searing agony whipped through his side and flank as his skin was pierced by two attackers. Behind him Melina screamed in fury and pain.
He turned, raking his claws over the animal trying to eviscerate him, blinding it in one eye. It retreated, giving Aryck a chance to spin around and savage the animal whose bite had torn through muscle to crush leg bone.
Fury, pain, the will to survive burned away any vestige of thought. He attacked with teeth and claws, not content just to drive his attacker away.
Aryck killed his opponent, then focused on those circling Melina. She was bleeding from a tear in her side but had held them off.
He launched himself, nearly blacking out as he used his hind leg, but somehow managing to land on his target and bite, severing the spine so the animal went down underneath him.
Melina pounced on a large female. Aryck felt the rip of muscle and tendon, the crack of bone in his other back leg as the beast he’d blinded in one eye overcame its injuries, forgetting them in the frenzy of fighting, and with the whooping calls announcing the rapid approach of another pack. He turned, driving the hyena off him as Melina killed her attacker.
Strength bled out of Aryck with the loss of blood and the severity of his injuries. He knew he was a dead man, the ancestors’ prophecy coming to pass, though not in the way he’d envisioned it.