Stealing Thunder

by Patricia Rosemoor

  Flushing, she moved her arm away from him. “What about your uncle?” she asked. “Did he believe you?”

  Returning his attention to the story, he murmured, “Nah-nah, he simply blamed himself, said it was the prophecy that killed his Megan and he should have known better than to take up with the woman he loved. He never got over it, all his life said it was his fault. He was right, Ella. There is no room for love in a McKenna’s life, not for anyone descended from Donal McKenna, that is.”

  “Are you saying you’ve given up on life?” Ella’s forehead was furrowed and she tightened her grip on his hand.

  “What would you have me do?”

  He met her gaze and shut out the soft emotions she exuded for him. How had this happened? He’d meant to drive her away, not pull her closer.

  “Fight for what’s important to you, McKenna. Do whatever you have to do to get what you want!”

  “Is that what you’re willing to do, then, Thunder?” he returned. “To find the man responsible for your da’s death?” He challenged her with the one thing he knew would put her back up. It was time that he called in that chip. “You could find the villain if only you would call up the powers your da shared with you.”

  “No!” Obviously upset, Ella flew to her feet. “And it’s not the same thing.”

  “It doesn’t seem so very different to me. The intent, that is.” Tiernan rose, as well, and faced down the woman who had the power to make him momentarily forget himself. “You’ve already lost your da but fear to use the powers you inherited to get justice, which is what you want. I fear to love a woman because I can’t condemn her.” No matter how much he wanted Ella. “The evil has already happened in your life—your da is dead—so what do you have to lose?”

  Her expression stricken, she gasped. “Myself!”

  Swallowing, he touched her cheek and for a fleeting moment felt a stronger, deeper, more intense connection than he’d ever had with anyone.

  Fighting it, he said, “Fearing being burned as a sorceress is understandable—”

  Ella pushed away his hand. “That’s not what I mean. I don’t want to die, of course, but there are different kinds of deaths. If I try to follow in Father’s footsteps, I don’t know who I will be, what using those powers will make me.”

  “A whole person?” he challenged.

  “What, you think I’m not whole now?” Her voice rose. “You think I’m wasting my life?”

  She turned from him, but he grasped her by the shoulders. “I think the real you is hiding, waiting for release. I would see that…”

  Her hands were on his chest now, pushing, as if trying to put him from her. But the secret, unspoken things her hands told him were exactly opposite. In reading her, he felt an arousal of things he, too, was trying to push away. A wanting as frenetic as what he read from her.

  Suddenly Ella was in his arms, and Tiernan wasn’t certain if he pulled her there or if she threw herself against him. All he knew was the rightness of the close contact—of the certainty that this was meant to be. That he was meant to hold her. Kiss her.

  And then he was.

  Her lips were soft and dewy and flush with emotion. A cry deep in her throat signaled her need and, without thinking, he responded, deepening the kiss until he tasted her soul. Mouths linked, bodies pressed together, he imagined them joined as one, unfettered by anything but pure emotion and raw desire.

  He spread his fingers wide and smoothed the bare flesh of her back. His hands wandered lower, cupped the fullness of her hips and then of her derriere.

  As his desire grew in intensity, so did his doubts. He fought them, tried to make his mind go blank.

  …sorrow in love…act on their feelings…put their loved ones in mortal danger…

  So ingrained was Sheelin O’Keefe’s prophecy in his soul, that, unbidden, it entered Tiernan’s thoughts and then spread like a cancer until it crowded out all else and shattered the moment.

  Breaking the kiss, he pushed Ella away from him. “I’m sorry. I never should have—”

  “You’re sorry you kissed me?” she choked out. Blinking as if trying to get her thoughts together, she then shook her head and backed off. “Well, don’t worry about it, McKenna. It was only a kiss, after all. It didn’t mean a thing.”

  With that, Ella turned and marched away.

  And Tiernan, who had spent half a lifetime avoiding such a moment, felt as if he’d been brought to his knees.

  WHEN TIERNAN HAD caught up to her after saying he never should have kissed her, he’d appeared apologetic, but no words of apology actually crossed his lips. They’d both kept up a polite facade with each other for the rest of the evening, but Ella had been relieved when they’d arrived back at refuge headquarters and she could close her door on him and hide what she was really thinking—that she had feelings for Tiernan and was certain he did for her.

  Only this prophecy he’d spoken of was so very real to him, they would never work it out.

  The bedroom was suddenly claustrophobic, but if she left it, she wouldn’t be able to avoid him, not unless she actually left the house. Quickly, she put on a light sweater. After waiting to hear Tiernan enter the bathroom, she cracked open the bedroom door and slipped out and through the reception area, then into the still night.

  She’d always loved to be alone with the Black Hills after dark, and as a kid had often sneaked out to take solitary walks, so this was like old times. The dark sky still sparkled with diamondlike stars. The balmy air exuded a familiar spiced scent—the resinous odors of the evergreens. The hills continued to spew sparkling rivulets of clear, icy water tumbling down from the sides of the mountain.

  Not that she was going to go far enough to find the streams she used to wade in or drink from. Content with feeling the night air gently lave her, Ella walked only as far as the closest pasture, then quietly wound herself into the board fence for a ringside seat.

  The moon shone over a small band of mustangs gathered nearby. They grew restless with her presence, one whickering softly, another answering in kind, but as she remained silent and became one with the night, they settled down and dozed.

  Seeing them reminded her of the not-so-sick horses. Had someone really cast a spell over them? Or had something in their food made them sick for a short time? She doubted the lab had checked for anything beyond the obvious virus or bacteria. What if those horses had ingested some plant or drug that made them seem sick? Was such a result even possible?

  Or was someone with dark powers really at work?

  It was all too much for her to deal with alone, and at the moment that seemed to be the case. She needed guidance. In the past, she’d been able to find it by communicating with the elements, making them sing and sway and whirl in return.

  The People incorporated nature into their belief systems, honoring it with multiple annual dances to ensure not only rain and plentiful food, but fertility in the clans. All things animate and inanimate—like the earth and rock of the surrounding mountains—had a place in the cosmos. Life must be harmonious, and the mind must be free of evil thoughts.

  But apparently at least one member of the tribe was going against the beliefs he was raised to respect, and in doing so, had brought the tribe fear.

  Searching the heavens, wishing if she tried hard enough, she would find her father in the stars, Ella thought she saw his face for a few seconds, but as quickly as she imagined it, he was gone.

  Are you there, Father? I need your help.

  In order to find that help, she would have to journey, that was clear. Even though her father had begun her education at a very young age, the very thought of executing that knowledge now made her stomach knot. If she never tried, never gave it her best effort, she would never know if she could do it. Perhaps now was good. No one to see her fail.

  Not that Ella was really prepared—she had nothing but herself, no tools of magic—yet she knew it was possible if more difficult to manage.

  Closing her eyes, Ella fre
ed herself and opened her mind. Though she tried expanding her reality, tried breaching the place where her father’s spirit dwelled, she felt empty inside, just as she had for the last fifteen years. The few times they’d connected, it had been an unconscious thing. Or it simply had been her imagination.

  A nearby howl sent the flesh along her spine crawling and Ella dashed open her eyes and looked around wildly. She seemed to be the only one affected—the mustangs hadn’t moved. Had she really heard the sound or was her imagination at play?

  Calming herself by focusing and taking slow, even breaths, she tried again.

  With eyes closed once more, she sought to explore the elements—she could feel the pulse of the earth, could hear the whispers along the wind, could visualize the sky expanding around her. Imagining taking flight, she raced, her feet cushioned by clouds, and moved through star-strewn fields slowly at first, then faster and faster, all the while searching.

  Father, find me…speak to me…tell me what to do….

  The laugh that echoed back at her in answer wasn’t at all familiar.

  Wasn’t Father.

  Heart thudding, she stopped short.

  Who is it? Who’s there?

  No voice answered, but she felt a presence…no, a force. She wanted to believe this could be her father, trying to get through to her, but she knew otherwise.

  What then, was she to do?

  A confused Ella didn’t know.

  The force grew stronger…darker…and she grew more aware and more afraid. Her pulse jagged in warning and she sensed that just beyond some invisible barrier, the man who’d set up her father awaited her.

  Ella waited, too, to see if he would show himself. Her throat tightened, her mouth went dry, her eyes burned as she stared out at the abyss before her.

  Though she saw nothing, she felt sharp edges poke at her, try to get inside her…try to invade her mind….

  Ella mentally backed away from the presence. She tried to get away, but it followed. Surrounded her. Threatened to smother her.

  “No!”

  Eyes whipping open, Ella tried to orient herself. The moon had gone under a cloud and the night was as black as could be. The mustangs squealed and she heard their hooves dig into the earth as they wheeled away from her, trying to escape whatever was out there, stalking them all.

  The low, spine-tingling roar of a mountain lion sent her scrambling from the pasture fence.

  Ella ran, headed back toward the house, moved as fast as her legs would carry her. The earth trembled with every step, and the presence seemed to surround her.

  Someone or something was following her…after her…

  She pushed herself until her limbs flew and her muscles screamed from the strain. She didn’t stop until she reached the front door, still open a crack, the people inside unaware, probably sleeping.

  Thinking of screaming for Tiernan and Kate—surely they could do something with their McKenna abilities—Ella couldn’t get enough breath to make a sound.

  She practically fell into the reception area where she firmly closed the door against her unseen stalker. Just as quickly as he’d presented himself, he was gone.

  Shaking now, Ella stumbled to the kitchen. Instead of taking refuge in her bedroom, she went directly to the porch door where soft snores told her that Tiernan was fast asleep.

  There she sank to the floor, her back against the wall, and waited for the sun to rise.

  TIERNAN WOKE WITH a start. Something was wrong—he could feel it. But when he sat up and looked around he was alone, nothing amiss.

  The house was silent. He was the first up. As such, he put on a pot of coffee, then while it dripped, wandered into the reception area and found himself at the computer. He sat before it and used Google to search for “Joseph Thunder.”

  There were few references to Ella’s father, nothing significant. An article in the Custer County Examiner reported how Joseph worked with the sick and the poor on Bitter Creek Reservation. It was accompanied by a photo of the man with tribal elders, including Bear Heart, whom he’d met on the set.

  Hearing footfalls on the stairs, Tiernan printed the article, then quickly folded it and slipped it into his pocket. He would read it later, maybe get some information that would help with the investigation.

  Perhaps his being able to prove who the killer was would ease his own past just a little.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ella threw herself into her work the next morning in hopes of putting Tiernan—and whoever was trying to get into her head—out of mind. With only three hours of sleep to her credit—half on the porch floor, the other half in Tiernan’s bed—she was running on empty.

  “What do you think?” Jane asked, her words staccato. She seemed unusually uptight this morning.

  “Everything looks good.” Though Ella was having a difficult time focusing on the details, she forced herself back into the moment. “Just make sure you instruct the dancers they’re not to cross the eastern line of the circle.”

  “What are you talking about now!”

  Startled by Jane’s prickliness, Ella took a big breath and forced a smile. “According to Lakota beliefs, all energy enters the Sacred Circle through the east. Therefore, the east must not be breached by the dancers.”

  “No one watching this movie is going to know that…or which direction is east, for that matter!”

  “But the Lakota dancers will. If you have them go against their beliefs, they will be insulted. Ceremonies are meant to be performed in a specific way.” Not wanting to say some of the dancers might walk off the set if the Ghost Dance wasn’t done according to that tradition, Ella said instead, “I can’t predict what they will or won’t do.”

  “Oh, good grief, is there no end of the problems I have to deal with today?”

  What in the world was wrong with the producer? Ella wondered. Jane was usually so laid back, so accommodating. It was as if she’d become a stranger overnight.

  Then she spotted Doug Holloway. The first assistant director stalked toward them, stopped before Jane and punched at his glasses.

  “We got a problem and Max said to field it to you. Little Fawn hasn’t reported to makeup and we’re scheduled to start shooting within the hour. Calling her cell takes me directly to voice mail.”

  “What?” Jane cried. “Have someone go get her!”

  “I can do that,” Ella quickly offered, knowing they meant Marisala Saldana. And she could use a little downtime away from Jane Grant this morning. Everyone seemed to be off today, herself included. “I know where she lives.”

  “Fine. Call me as soon as you find her. Then get her here as soon as you can!”

  “Sure,” Ella said, already running for the parking lot, her calf-length skirt swirling around her legs.

  Not that she could know whether Marisala was home—remembering the request for the love potion, Ella thought the young woman might be with her mystery lover.

  Still, it was worth a shot, so she drove back to the rez, all the while keeping an eye out for trouble. But whoever had been after her the other night seemed to be lying low. Because he thought she and Tiernan had been frightened into giving up their investigation?

  Perhaps they had.

  That is, perhaps Tiernan had.

  Odd since it seemed that this was a sacred mission to him, a way for him to make up for the past. How horrible that a seven-year-old had felt responsible for a death, even more so since he hadn’t been able to get anyone to believe the poor woman had been murdered. She wondered what would happen if they were able to get justice for Harold and her father.

  Would Tiernan feel as if he’d made up for what he couldn’t do for his aunt?

  Not that he’d mentioned anything about looking further into the deaths since the kiss….

  Ella hadn’t told him about what had happened to her the night before. She’d dozed a bit and then awakened before sunrise and sought her own bed. Even if she’d wanted to tell Tiernan, there hadn’t been the oppor
tunity. Over breakfast, he’d avoided talking about their investigation.

  Ella couldn’t stop thinking about it, though, couldn’t stop wondering what exactly had triggered someone to kill them. Had she and Tiernan gotten too close? Questioned the wrong person? Leonard Hawkins?

  She might be on her own now, but Ella wasn’t ready to let go of the past until it was resolved. Staring at the road ahead, she felt her head go a bit light.

  What do I need to do?

  You know what to do. You are my daughter. It is time.

  Her father’s voice—he came to her unbidden yet again. Ella’s heart thumped and her mouth went dry. She gripped the steering wheel as she crossed the narrow expanse between refuge and rez where she’d almost been forced off the road the other night.

  I’m not like you, Father.

  You are more like me than you will ever know. I am proud of you, Ella. Fear is good, but do not let it stop you from facing your destiny.

  Starting, Ella realized she’d entered rez land. Fear tore through her like a bullet because it seemed she couldn’t help but face her destiny.

  If she tried and failed…

  Shoving the possibility—and the potential consequences—out of mind, she looked for a gravel road and turned onto it. Grandmother had told her Marisala lived alone in a trailer a half mile north. What she hadn’t done was describe the trailer—a fancy double-wide with an awning, surrounded by a neat picket fence and a flower garden.

  Marisala had claimed to have enough money to pay for the love potion. Apparently so. She lived alone and better than most on the rez. Once more, Ella wondered where the money came from. Ella hoped Marisala hadn’t been doing anything illegal to afford the pretty place.

  A convertible was parked outside the gate, so someone must be home. Ella pulled up next to it and hopped out. Thinking surely Marisala heard her, she wondered why the young woman didn’t come to the door. A knock got no response. She tried again and wondered if Marisala had gone off with her lover in his vehicle.