Healer's Choice g-3

by Jory Strong

  He looked at the place where Rebekka and Aryck stood, the alpha and shaman approaching them. I concede. This victory is yours, Addai. But there are other cities and other game pieces. In the end your efforts will come to nothing. Those living here will be gathered and judged, and I will finally be free of this world.

  A stretching of black wings and Caphriel was gone, leaving parting words whispering through Addai’s mind. Echoing Addai’s own.

  Until we meet again, brother.

  Until we meet again.

  Thirty

  REBEKKA remained in Aryck’s arms when Nahuatl and Koren reached them. His openness about their relationship chased away some of the chill caused by the urchin.

  “We heard the drums last night,” Aryck said.

  For the first time Rebekka saw acceptance in Koren’s expression when he looked at her. “There is no need for you to stand before the ancestors and be judged. They have heard of your deeds and spoken. Jaguar. Wolf. Lion. Coyote. Hyena. Bear. You may move freely in those territories as one who belongs there.”

  She wet her lips, preparing to ask the same question she’d put to Aryck when he spoke of forming his own pack. Aryck beat her to it. “I told Rebekka if she would agree to be my mate, I would see to it those outcasts not condemned by pack law would be allowed to enter our lands. I promised they would be given time and instruction before undergoing the Rite of Trial, a chance to redeem themselves so they would face the ancestors and hope to survive it.”

  “The ancestors spoke on this,” Nahuatl said. “As well as on the subject of the healer becoming your mate.”

  Against her back Rebekka could feel Aryck’s heart speed up to match the quick race of hers. Hope curled in her belly, warm and sweet with the possibility her dream of a husband and children could become a reality. But as Nahuatl’s dark eyes met hers, a chilly tendril of foreboding wound its way through the hope, arriving with the knowledge that nothing came without price.

  “What Aryck has promised you is acceptable to the ancestors,” the shaman said, “as is your becoming his mate. If you remain on Were lands. To return to the human world is to risk the corruption of your soul.”

  Nahuatl turned and walked away. Koren hesitated, as if he would say something; then he too left without a word.

  Aryck’s lips touched Rebekka’s neck, brushed over her ear. “Stay. Be my mate.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut against tears. The fast race of her heart only a moment ago now a slow, painful beat, bringing with it images from her life in Oakland.

  The heavy weight of choice settled on her shoulders. She could have a mate, children, friendships extending beyond a single group of Weres. Safety unlike anything she’d ever known and a life full of love and happiness. But at a cost.

  With the threat posed by the encampment gone, there would be little need of her gift among the pure Were. Most of their injuries could be cured by a shift in form. What little sickness befell them naturally could be treated with remedies.

  To accept this life was to be defined as mate and mother instead of healer. Her heart craved it, yet at the same time, it seemed wrong to abandon those in need, and care only about her own happiness.

  Rebekka turned in Aryck’s arms, looked up into the face of the man she wanted to spend a lifetime with. How could she leave him? But what if staying meant her gift would never deepen so she could heal the Weres trapped between forms? What if staying meant their only hope lay in escaping the red zone and surviving the ancestors’ Rite of Trial?

  What about those who weren’t Jaguar or Lion, Bear or Wolf, Coyote or Hyena? What about Levi, who would die if he stood before the ancestors? And Cyrin and Canino, trapped in their animal form, not outcast but not whole either?

  Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. “I need time alone, to think,” she whispered, touching her lips to Aryck’s in a silent plea for him to understand the struggle keeping her from giving him the answer he wanted.

  He crushed her to him, mouth claiming hers in desperation. She responded with like emotion. Opened for him, her tongue rubbing and tangling with his. Their breaths mingling, bodies pressed tightly together, both of them afraid of what would happen once they separated.

  Rebekka felt torn apart, bereft when he released her and stepped back. Cold replaced the heat of his body, the burden of conscience leaving no room for passion.

  “I’ll meet you back at the Lion dwelling place.”

  His expression became that of a protector. “No Were would dare attack you, but I don’t like leaving you unguarded.”

  She laid her hand on his chest. “If I’m to live in these lands, I have to be able to survive without a personal bodyguard.”

  A muscled twitched in his cheek. Conflict was written in taut muscles and rigid posture.

  Aryck covered her hand where it rested on his chest, pressed as though he wanted to anchor her to him. “Be careful.”

  Rebekka felt the loss with each step away from Aryck. She knew it was nothing compared to the agony she’d experience if she returned to Oakland.

  Why contemplate it at all? a small voice whispered in her mind. Hadn’t she wondered if working in the brothels only perpetuated the misery? Hadn’t she done enough for others?

  Memories of lovemaking contrasted against the loneliness she’d known before. Images of teaching Caius his letters brought fantasies of other children learning to read, small boys who looked like Aryck. Didn’t she deserve happiness, too?

  Arguments and counterarguments chased themselves around in her thoughts as she walked through the woods until, weary of the battle between her heart and her mind, Rebekka sat on a log beside a dry creek bed.

  A male cardinal landed a few feet away from her, a bright splash of color against yellowed grass. Seeing it reminded her of those moments standing in front of the Wainwright house after the dream and the rat in the alley sent her running to them.

  The blood red of the cardinal sitting in a nearby tree had seemed like an omen waiting for interpretation. It seemed like a second omen to have the cardinal appear now, at another crossroad in her life.

  The thought sent uneasiness rushing through Rebekka. She rose to her feet, only to realize the true source of her sudden nervousness.

  A Jaguar watched. It remained crouching just long enough for its fury to reach her, and for Rebekka to recognize Melina before she charged.

  There was no time to scream. No time to react.

  No need to as the cardinal morphed into a tiger and launched itself at Melina, its weight and unexpected appearance giving it the advantage.

  They collided then hit the ground, the tiger landing on top, driving its canines into Melina’s exposed throat and clamping down savagely, cutting off air and sound and delivering a killing bite.

  He turned toward Rebekka, and in her mind’s eye she saw him even before the tiger became the man who’d saved her from rape when she was sixteen and sent her to Dorrit.

  Her mother’s voice rang through her mind. John. They’re all named John.

  Rebekka’s eyes went to his hands, expecting to see wickedly curved black talons. Instead his fingernails were short and clear. Human, not demon.

  His sharp features were the same, as was his hair. He wore it in a hundred braids, all of them with black and red beads woven in—a cardinal’s coloration to go with the image of it on his bare chest.

  She felt foolish for having missed the connection, for not having questioned how often she noticed a bird not commonly seen.

  The fear-spiked adrenaline caused by Melina’s sudden appearance and attack washed away, leaving Rebekka nauseous. Or maybe it was the knowledge that whatever plans her father had for her were about to be revealed.

  She studied him as he studied her, was reminded of the raven outside the Wainwright house who’d sat in the same tree as the cardinal before shifting into a supernatural being so powerful at masking his nature not even Levi could see beyond the human facade, of Zurael, the shamaness Aisling’s mate, who
had the same otherworld feel.

  “What are you?” she asked, hesitating on a breath before acknowledging the relationship between them. “Besides my father.”

  “My race is ancient, existing before the birth of mankind. We ruled here once and will do so again.”

  “Demon.”

  “That name was given to us by our enemy, when the oldest and most powerful of us was twisted into a terrifying shape in an effort to subdue us. Since then we have hidden behind the label and been forgotten by humans even as time and the power of their belief has given birth to a legion of true demons.”

  Dread clawed through her but it didn’t stop her from saying, “Abijah said you had no love for humans. What do you want from me?”

  Not for the first time since the testing began, Torquel felt regret. Were it in his power, he would prevent his daughter from suffering further. He’d found it unbearable to see her bound and gagged, at the mercy of human trash.

  It had been a small transgression on his part to take a mouse’s form and heal her with a quick touch of fur to forehead. A small interference he’d present himself to be punished for should The Prince demand it.

  He wished he could reveal the things she needed to know. Bestow the gifts he could on her. But he was as trapped in these proceedings as she was.

  “What do you want from me?” she asked for a second time, her courage swelling his heart with such pride that he wanted to embrace her, to become a true father to her, a teacher and confidant.

  There wasn’t much time. The enforcer would soon come looking for her.

  Torquel asked, “Do you love the Were?”

  She stiffened, looking for the trap in his question and, after a long moment, springing it closed by answering, “Yes.”

  “Then I’ve come to give you a choice. Remain here and make a life for yourself, or accept my gift and return to Oakland as a healer who can heal not only those Weres caught between forms, but those trapped in only one form.”

  Rebekka knew with absolute certainty he could bestow such a gift on her. Deep down, a part of her had guessed it would come to this the moment Aryck spoke openly about her becoming his mate.

  “And if Aryck is willing to come with me to Oakland?” she asked, churning with uncertainty, wondering if he loved her enough to enter her world, if he would be willing to risk becoming outcast—

  But how could he be trapped between forms if she could heal him?

  “The Jaguar can’t know unless he chooses to accompany you or to follow afterward. It’s one of the conditions. Until you leave Were lands, you can’t reveal the change to your gift, nor can you heal the outcast here. Those coming to these lands must seek out the shamans and survive the Rite of Trial or, if they are in animal form, present themselves in Petitioner’s Rite, as they have always been able to do, and have their penance named.”

  “And the cost to me of making a Were whole?”

  Approval shone in her father’s eyes. “No more than you can bear. Nothing the life you’ve led hasn’t prepared you for. Great gifts always come with great responsibility.

  “The choice is yours to make of your own free will. It will be offered only this once, and your answer required after I’ve told you the last condition associated with it, and that is, you can tell no one about my presence here and what we spoke of.”

  Her gaze slid to Melina’s lifeless body then back to him.

  “The Weres will see no evidence except that left behind by an unknown tiger.”

  “What do I call you?” she asked, putting off the moment of choice.

  He cupped her chin, his hand sun-baked and warm. “One day, daughter, I hope to give you my name. But that day is not this one. Now tell me your answer.”

  Her heart did a slow, painful roll in her chest. There was only one she could give. She couldn’t deny the calling of her gift. “I’ll return to Oakland.”

  “My spirit to yours,” her father said, touching his mouth to hers, his breath passing to her through lips parted in surprise.

  He stepped away and tossed something in the air. Reflexively she caught it, looking down to find the blackened Wainwright token in her hand. A touch to her pocket confirmed it was missing, lost somewhere on Were lands and now returned by her father, perhaps as a renewed sign of alliance with the witches.

  Before she could ask anything further, his shape changed to a tiger’s. He padded over to the dead Jaguar, roaring repeatedly as if to draw attention to his presence, then with a final glance in her direction escaped into the forest.

  ARYCK started running at the sound of a tiger roaring. It wasn’t Canino. The voice was too deep, and he was fairly certain the Tiger and Caius were with the Lions, if not on their way back to Jaguar lands.

  With each step he cursed himself for ever agreeing to allow Rebekka to wander the woods unprotected. He’d been certain no Were would dare risk the wrath of both ancestors and pack, and the purely animal would remain in hiding or leave until things returned to normal in the area.

  He caught Melina’s scent and felt an icy foreboding. A primal scream built inside him, a Jaguar sound of fury and a man’s of fierce denial. It welled up, the emotion like a balloon expanding in his chest, putting pressure on his heart, swelling to squeeze his lungs and make it nearly impossible to breathe.

  His surroundings passed in a blur. He was only barely aware of others crashing through the brush, rushing to confront the intruder without knowing Rebekka was there as well.

  Branches slashed at his arms and face and bare chest as he ran. Inside him the Jaguar was crouched, ready for a swift change of form and a fight to the death if necessary.

  He stepped into the dry creek bed, feet barely touching the smooth stone and cracked soil. Fear gripping him at what he would find ahead.

  Relief and shock whipped through him when he saw Rebekka standing several feet away from Melina and unharmed. He didn’t stop running until she was in his arms, held tight against his body, both of them shaking.

  Aryck pressed kisses to her mouth, her neck, her ear. His hands roamed feverishly as he assured himself she was truly alive and uninjured. Questions assailed him but he couldn’t keep his lips from returning to hers long enough to ask them.

  Wolves and Coyotes, Lions and Jaguars arrived. Some continued on, following the scent of tiger that remained thick in the air. Others lingered, Nahuatl and his father among them.

  What happened here? Koren asked.

  His father’s use of their mental pathway helped force Aryck’s mind back into reasoned thought. He couldn’t bring himself to release Rebekka but he managed to contain his emotions so conversation was possible.

  “What happened?” he asked her.

  Rebekka’s shudder was followed by trembling, the tightening of her arms around him. “It’s Melina, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “She attacked. But before she reached me a tiger came out of nowhere. Not Canino. This one was larger than he is. The fight was over in seconds. There was nothing I could do. He stood over her, roaring, and then he left.”

  Rebekka pressed her face to his chest. Her body continued to shake as tears wet his skin. “I can’t stay here. I have to go back to Oakland.”

  A wave of agony slammed into him with her words, drenching him in failure at the realization she no longer trusted him to keep her safe. He shook it off, or tried to, denying it would end this way.

  “This won’t happen again,” he told her.

  She tilted her head, revealing eyes wet with pain but shimmering with resolve and pleading. The sight of her face was like a slash through his chest, a ripping out of his heart even before she whispered, “Come with me. Please come back to Oakland with me.”

  The pain crashing through him increased as it occurred to him Melina’s attack might only have cemented an earlier decision, might only be an excuse. That Rebekka had already chosen the outcast prostitutes over a future with him.

  He wanted to latch onto the explanation, so it wouldn’t
be his own failure to keep her safe from attack that was responsible for her desire to return to the human world.

  His throat clogged with emotion. She had to know he couldn’t leave Were lands.

  He was an enforcer. He was needed here, now more than ever if he wanted to keep his vision of a far-reaching alliance between Were groups alive.

  Had she forgotten what Nahuatl said only a short time ago? As long as she remained on Were lands, becoming his mate was acceptable. To follow her to the human world and take her as a mate there would be a direct challenge to the ancestors’ will.

  Didn’t she realize she was asking him to become outcast? He would be judged and punished.

  Surely she had to know what the ultimate cost would be, the loss of his jaguar form when she was forced to heal him as she’d done Levi.

  “I can’t,” he said, expecting the Jaguar to separate and add to his pain by raking savage claws through his chest and belly. But his two Earth-bound souls remained fully integrated, united against the idea of living among humans and outcasts. United in their suffering and braced to endure losing her now, especially if her choice to leave had nothing to do with Melina’s attack.

  Yet he couldn’t let her go without one last attempt to make her stay. His mouth covered hers and, regardless of their audience, he poured all his emotion into the kiss.

  It only made things worse.

  She answered with like emotion.

  Pain and desire.

  Longing and hope and loss.

  Love.

  “Stay,” he asked again, eyes burning as he suppressed his tears.

  “Come with me.” Her voice broke. “At least for a little while.”

  “I can’t.”

  It would only prolong the suffering if he did.

  Unlike him, she didn’t try to stop her tears. They coursed down her cheeks. “I understand,” she whispered.