“I don’t trust her. She wanted me to mate with Eli.”
“I don’t trust her either. Reuben agreed to watch her mix and measure everything. Eli and I are getting the same dose.”
“Is Eli going with us?”
“No, it’s just a precaution to be certain Shula doesn’t try to knock me off. It was my idea.”
River smiled for the first time in days. “That was clever.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am.”
Jonathan growled quietly and rolled on top of River. He nipped her neck but didn’t break the skin. “Show a little respect, woman.”
River knew Jonathan was trying to lighten the mood. Her heart remained heavy but she smiled for him. “Woman?”
“I’m practicing my role as the legendary son of Ephraim.”
“If you believe it’s only a role, you’ll never survive.”
“I’m a trained soldier.”
“Have you ever led an army?”
“No, but—”
“How’re your archery skills?”
“Stop it. I need you to believe in me.”
“You need to believe in yourself. You need to know that you truly are the son of Ephraim.”
“Then tell me the big secret about merging. Reuben said once that happens, I’ll be converted.”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
River’s wolf squeezed her throat shut every time she thought of telling Jonathan about shifting. “It’s frustrating me, too.”
“Yeah, right.”
River cupped Jonathan’s cheeks in her hands. “I don’t want to waste one second of our remaining time arguing.”
Jonathan smirked at her. “How do you want to waste our remaining time?”
“You could teach me a little more about the different bases of mating.”
River smiled when Jonathan’s heart skipped a beat. She loved the benefits of her enhanced hearing.
Jonathan
BY THE THIRD DAY, JONATHAN was no longer able to crawl to the bathroom. If it weren’t the only one in the house, he would have just slept on the floor in front of the drain under the sink. He hugged the wooden bucket to his chest and dry heaved for what felt like the thousandth time.
Shula squatted down next to his bed. She slipped her arm behind his neck and pressed the lip of a glass bottle to his mouth. “This will stop the vomiting.”
Jonathan took a tiny sip. His nausea improved immediately.
“You need to drink it all to neutralize the emetic.”
After three days of vomiting, he’d do anything to make it stop. When he finished the potion, Shula slid her arm out from behind his neck then leaned over and kissed his forehead. A hot tear splashed onto his cheek. It wasn’t his.
Why is Shula crying?
“Where’s Eli?” Jonathan’s words slurred together as if he were drunk. The room spun. His vision blurred. This isn’t right. Eli was supposed to take the same potions. Reuben was supposed to watch. In his desperation to stop vomiting, Jonathan had deviated from the plan. “I’m not going to wake up, am I?”
“I’m so sorry, Jonathan. But I won’t let another woman’s son steal Eli’s place in history.”
Jonathan stuck his fingers down his throat. His gag reflex was completely gone.
River
WHEN RIVER WOKE UP IN her own bed, she knew something was horribly wrong. She tried to sit up, but her body refused to cooperate. She couldn’t even lift her hands. Her mouth was so dry she could barely speak. “Jonathan?”
Gabriel’s head seemed to appear from nowhere. “River?”
“Where’s Jonathan?”
Gabriel buried his face in River’s pillow and sobbed. The hair on the top of his head brushed her cheek. It took a tremendous effort, but she managed to roll her head to the other side, away from him. She refused to think about why she was in her own room or why Gabriel was crying or why Jonathan wasn’t lying next to her.
“I’m so sorry.” Gabriel brushed the hair off River’s brow.
“Don’t touch me.” She knew he was only trying to comfort her, but it should be Jonathan’s fingers on her face. Jonathan’s scent in her nose. Jonathan’s voice in her ears. Not Gabriel’s. “Where is he?”
“I have to tell Shula you’re awake.”
“No.” River barely had time to blink before Shula arrived with a mug of broth.
“Go away.”
“Stop acting like you’re the only one that’s ever lost a mate.”
Shula’s words attacked the fragile shield of denial River held in front of her heart. Jonathan was lost. But that didn’t mean he was dead. River clung to that tiny shard of hope even though its jagged edge sliced her to the core. “What happened?”
“He didn’t make it.”
“What do you mean he didn’t make it?”
“He died.”
“NO!” She pressed her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. But her sense of hearing was too acute to block out the words.
“He must have had some underlying weakness. He started vomiting blood on the third day. There was nothing I could do.”
“You’re lying! You killed him.”
“You need to drink this.” Shula slid her hand behind River’s neck and brought the steaming mug of broth to her mouth.
River used what little energy she had and shoved the mug away, sloshing the hot broth onto Shula’s hand.
She hissed in pain then stomped out of the room. She returned a few minutes later with a green bottle in her hand.
“I’m not drinking any more of your poison.” River clamped her jaw shut.
“If you insist on acting like a spoiled child, I’ll treat you like one.” Shula climbed into bed behind River and clamped her knees around her head like a vice. She held the bottle in one hand and pinched River’s nose shut with the other.
River’s lungs screamed for air. Her heart raced in a futile effort to deliver increasingly lower levels of oxygen to her starving cells. But she refused to open her mouth. Her vision blurred then went grey around the edges before she passed out.
River’s traitorous lungs only managed to gulp one mouthful of air before Shula poured her wicked brew down River’s throat and clamped her jaw shut. She choked, gagged and spewed a good portion of it out her nose, but in the end she had to swallow.
“You’re just making it harder on yourself. You might as well cooperate, since I’m not going to stop until I’m sure you’ve taken the full dose.” River continued to fight until she couldn’t remember what she was fighting for. Whatever Shula had given her addled her brain.
“Are you ready to drink some broth now?”
River could barely keep her eyes open. Her mind was in a fog but she knew she didn’t want any damn broth.
“What are you doing, Shula?” Reuben sounded angry. River hoped he wasn’t mad at her. “I told you, no drugs.”
“She purged for three days. Add the two days she’s been asleep…do the math, Reuben. If she doesn’t at least drink something soon, she’ll die.”
“Get out.”
Shula slammed the door as she left.
Reuben sat on the edge of River’s bed and stared at his hands. He looked broken. That, more than anything else, confirmed her worst fears. “It’s true?”
Reuben nodded.
How could this happen? What about the prophecy? Was none of it true?
“Will you drink a little broth? For me?”
River would fight Shula all day and all night but she couldn’t deny Reuben’s gentle request. She pressed both hands against her heart and drew her knees to her chest. “It hurts so much.”
Reuben scooped her up and carried her to the kitchen. He held her in his lap like an infant and spoon fed her half a cup of broth.
“I can’t take any more. I’ll get sick.”
“It’s alright. You did good.” Reuben stood up with River still in his arms. But instead of taking her back to her ow
n bed; he carried her to Gabriel and Jonathan’s room.
River buried her face in Reuben’s shoulder. She couldn’t bear the sight of Jonathan’s pristine bed. The omegas had already purified this room. His scent was completely obliterated. “No, Reuben. I can’t.”
Reuben laid her next to Gabriel, who wept, even as he slept.
“He lost his best friend. Maybe you can comfort each other.”
Jonathan
JONATHAN WOKE UP WITH THE worst hangover of his life. He recognized the smell and the sounds immediately. It was more intense than he remembered. Hospital.
He opened his eyes. The room was dim; but what light there was shot through his brain like an icepick. Jonathan covered his eyes with his left forearm and stretched out his hand, searching for River.
A pair of thin, dry hands enveloped Jonathan’s. “You’re alright, son.”
“Dad?” Jonathan lifted his forearm and blinked, forcing his eyelids open, just a crack. He barely recognized the fragile old man. Franklin’s death had been hard on everyone, but it took a visible toll on Dad, aging him ten years. Turning his charcoal hair to salt and pepper grey. Deepening the lines around his eyes and mouth. Rounding his shoulders.
Jonathan had only been gone a few months, but Dad had aged at least twenty years.
His hair was now completely white, all salt, no pepper. Skin hung from his face and neck in loose folds. Purple bags drooped below his bloodshot eyes.
Dad rocked forward and pressed Jonathan’s hand against his tear-stained cheek. “I can’t believe it’s you.”
Jonathan struggled to sit up, but he was too weak. His voice cracked. “I missed you.”
“I never gave up.” Dad smiled through his tears. “Somehow, I always knew I’d see you again.”
The squeak of rubber-soled shoes on linoleum was the only warning Jonathan got before a doctor and two nurses descended on him and kicked Dad out of the room.
Anxiety dampened Jonathan’s joy. “I came with three other people: a fifteen-year-old boy, a four-year-old boy and a girl, River. Have you seen them?”
The doc shook his head. “I met the young man that rescued you, but he was at least twenty. And there was no one else with him.”
“They have to be here.”
“No other poisoning victims were admitted.”
“Poison?”
“Apparently you ate some poisonous berries. The young man that dropped you off said he’d forced you to vomit then treated you with a concoction of burned, crushed animal bones mixed with water. Not my first choice for an antidote, but it probably saved your life.
The image of Shula leaning over him flashed into Jonathan’s mind. His heart raced. The monitor next to his bed beeped faster. He didn’t want a sedative. “My heart rate’s up because I’m worried about my friends and my girlfriend.”
“Mm-hmm.” The doctor continued his examination while the nurses checked the various machines attached to Jonathan’s body.
As soon as they all left, Dad pulled a folded envelope out of his front pocket. “Eli said to give this to you when you woke up.”
Eli? A cold sweat broke out across Jonathan’s brow as he pinned the envelope against his stomach with his left wrist and tore it open. Reuben was supposed to take them through the mines and bring them to Red Cliff, not Eli.
A note and a check fell out of the envelope when Jonathan shook it. The check was for fifty-thousand dollars; signed by Charles McKnight and made out to Eli Smith. Jonathan handed the check to Dad then unfolded the note.
Don’t tell anyone and don’t come back. I spared you this time. It won’t happen again.
Jonathan crushed the note in his fist. His heart monitor beeped faster until it topped out into a high-pitched alarm.
He dropped the note in his lap and grabbed Dad’s wrist. “I want out of here.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, son.”
“How long have I been here?”
“Four days.”
“Shit!” Jonathan gripped the IV needle between his teeth, but before he could yank it out, Dad grabbed his hand and the back of his head.
“At least let the nurse remove it so you don’t get an infection. You won’t do your mate any good if you’re dead.”
Jonathan released the needle. “Mate?”
“That’s what River is to you, right? Your mate?”
“How did you know?”
Dad sighed, but a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Do you remember the photograph you found in the basement?”
“The one that pissed off Mom?” The one Dad claimed was his first wife.
Dad nodded as he pulled a laminated photo out of his wallet.
“Holy shit. That’s Shula.” All the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.
Dad’s eyes filled with tears as a grin spread across his face. “You met her?”
Jonathan didn’t want to break Dad’s heart and tell him the love of his life tried to murder his only living son. “Shit, shit, shit!”
“Jonathan, please.”
“Eli’s my brother.”
PROPHETIC LULLABY
EPHRAIM’S SONG (PROPHECY)
LOOK TO the East in your darkest hour
For a humble man to rise to power.
Heavy of heart and body broken,
He carries his grief in a crystal token.
When the white wolf answers the call of fate,
And merges with the son of Ephraim’s mate,
Let all good men know the time is nigh,
And with courage and honor, heed the battle cry.
Many shall suffer because of a few
‘Till Ephraim’s line once more is renewed.
The son of Ephraim unaware of his fate,
Must find and bind his one true mate.
Evil hearts shall tremble with fear
During the Great and Dreadful Year.
But courage and hope fills the righteous heart
When the son of Ephraim’s rein doth start.
Other Books in The Sanctuary Series
FULL LENGTH NOVELS AVAILABLE ON Amazon:
River’s Remorse
River’s Revenge
Gabriel’s Gift
Short Story (Included in this anthology):
Down the Rabbit Hole
A SWEET, PRE-JOSH, short story about Channie’s relationship with Hunter.
Channie bolted upright, smacking her forehead against the pine log above her bed. She groaned and ran her fingers over the wet, sticky lump already forming over her eyebrow. Blood. Yuck. She considered using a healing spell, but with her luck, she’d wind up with more bumps than a hedge-apple.
What time was it, anyway?
Moonlight streamed in through the window, casting long shadows across the braided rug on the floor — which meant it had to be well past midnight. What had startled her awake?
The triplets were cuddled up against Abby’s side like a litter of pups, sound asleep.
The pine tree outside their window swayed back and forth as if rocked by a storm. Something was in that tree. Plink, plink-plink. And something was tossing pinecones into the loft.
Channie’s heart stopped. She reached out with her magic and felt the presence of another mage. Confident that Momma’s keep-away spells would protect her, Channie probed a little deeper to read his energy field.
He raised his shield and blocked her, but not before Channie sensed his strongest emotions. He was excited and … hopeful? Not exactly what she’d expect from an intruder. And no thief would announce his presence by chucking pine cones through the window. Whoever he was; he wanted to wake her up.
Or maybe he wanted to wake up Abby. He could even be the trips’ daddy. The thought spread a grin across Channie’s face. If she could discover that little secret, she’d never have to do dishes again. Only an idiot would pass up such a perfect opportunity for blackmail.
Channie kept to the shadows as she made her way to the window. She had to see his face be
fore he saw hers. The low angle of the moon striped the landscape with bands of light and shadow — perfect cover for lurking.
Fog swirled over the ground and flowed down the hollow like a river of milk. Channie strained her ears but didn’t hear so much as a single cricket. Well, two can play at this game. She picked a pine cone up off the floor and threw it at the tree.
Branches shifted and swayed, but Channie couldn’t see a darn thing.
A dull thud drew her gaze to the ground. Whatever had been hiding in the tree was now in the back of Daddy’s old Chevy truck.
That vehicle had been propped up on cement blocks since before Channie was old enough to crawl under it for afternoon naps. All sorts of critters had nested in it over the years, but that was no varmint creeping onto the truck’s cab. Channie craned her neck to get a better look, but all she could see was a vague shape … until he sprang straight at her.
An instinctive burst of defensive magic shot out of Channie’s power-well, surrounding her with a protective wall of energy.
She covered her mouth with both hands to stifle a scream then recognized Hunter Feenie’s mop of honey-blond hair, shining silver-blue in the moonlight. She slid her hands to the base of her throat and lowered her shield.
Hunter grabbed the splintered windowsill, dug his toes into the chinks between the logs and clung to the side of the cabin like a tick on a dog. “Gimme a hand.”
Channie leaned out the window and grabbed the straps of Hunter’s overalls while he adjusted his grip. The scent of pine sap clung to his skin. How long had he been hiding in that tree? Had he been spying on her? Watching her sleep? As soon as Channie was sure he wouldn’t fall into Momma’s protection spells, she let go.
Hunter poked his head inside the loft and flashed a crooked grin at her — as if climbing through her window in the middle of the night was the most natural thing in the world.
“Hey, girl.”
Channie folded her arms across her chest. “How the heck did you get past Momma’s protection spells?”
Believe: The Complete Channie Series Page 135