by Jewel Dartt
* * *
He had to find her…had to find her before it was too late and she was lost to him forever. The words reverberated in his head; his heart beat out the rhythm of her name as he ran…searching…always searching.
The forest seemed to grow thicker around him as he ran, massive firs and spruce towered over him, hiding the full moon overhead.
"Miranda," he screamed her name until his throat caught fire. The very trees seemed to swallow up his cries of anguish. Fear for Miranda drove him onward. He had to save her…had to save her. At last, he sank to his knees in despair. He couldn't go on…no strength left.
"Forgive me, Darling," he whispered.
A voice reached out of the darkness…her voice calling his name. Wild exultation ripped through him as he got to his feet. With his heart hammering, and his breath coming in ragged spurts, his gaze fell upon her.
Excitement jittered in his belly as she came toward him, dressed in a long, white gown. Her glorious, riotous hair flowed down her back and shoulders like a silky waterfall.
He stepped forward eagerly to take her into his arms. "I thought I'd lost you," he said, his voice husky with emotion.
"You have," she whispered. "I'm sorry, Hadden."
The clouds overhead shifted, and in the moonlight, he saw the grief in her eyes, and then she changed into the creature before his stunned gaze. He could hear the echo of Drake's laughter all around him, bouncing off the inky shadows.
"No," he shouted. Blackness invaded his soul, sending him into a dark, formless void. A void where he no longer felt the warmth of her residence.
Desperately he tried to get back to her, but walls of blackness pushed him back. He screamed her name into the darkness, and punched frantically at the solid blackness with his fists, but to no avail…she was gone.
He'd lost her.
"Nooo!" He felt as if his very soul had been ripped asunder, and the agony of it was killing him inch by agonizing inch.
"Miranda…" Hadden threw back his head. His thoughts spun outward, flinging them into the desolation that engulfed him until there was nothing left inside him, but one single desperate cry.
"Mir—" He shot upright, his body quaking from the shock of the nightmare. He glanced over at Miranda to reassure himself she was still there. She lay curled up against him, sleeping peacefully.
Thank God.
It was just a dumb dream, he told himself as he tried to shake off his lingering fear. Dread clung to him like a second skin he couldn't shed, clogging his pores until he felt as if he was being smothered by emotion. What the hell was wrong with him? It was the same feeling he'd had when he was ten, and his father had died.
For days, he'd been haunted by a recurring nightmare of being inside a maze and trying to find his father, but every time he came close and spotted his father in the distance, his father would disappear, just as Miranda had done in tonight's dream. Of course he had to admit his father, at least, remained in human form in his nightmares. Otherwise, he'd have lost his mind at the tender age of ten.
At the time, he'd thought the nightmares nothing but a result of his grandfather's scary tales, but that was before his mother got word about his father's heart attack. He keeled over at work, and three days later, he was dead.
At first, Hadden had thought somehow his dream was responsible for killing his father; feeling guilty and miserable, he'd blurted it out to his grandfather. His grandfather had then told him about premonitions and his definition of what they were. The older man had called them windows into the future.
It had been a shocking revelation to a boy who frightened as easily as he did, and he'd immediately clamped down on his imagination, practically willing himself not to have another premonition dream. And surprisingly enough, it had worked.
For years, except for an occasional telling dream, the premonitions had stopped, until now. What did the dream mean? Was he going to lose Miranda to death…or something far worse? He shuddered as a chill walked down his spine.
He was doing it again…letting his imagination run away with him. Stop it, Hadden, he berated himself silently. You're overreacting to something you saw in a dream, for God's sake. It means nothing.
"There is no scientific proof that dreams can predict the future in any way, shape or form," he whispered to the silent room. His hands knotted into fists as he stared off into the darkness. Miranda wasn't going anywhere, and someday, when this nightmare was over, they would live happily ever after, just like in the fairy tales she illustrated.
There was nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. Steven would come through for them, find a way to end this nightmare once and for all. And then this entire bizarre experience would become nothing but a distant memory. He got up and wandered over to the boarded window, peeking through a gap between the boards. Yeah, right. Then why the hell didn't he believe it?
* * *
Drake stared down at the tiny house from his vantage point on the hill.
"I hope you're not contemplating going down there?"
He muttered a curse and spun about to face his unexpected visitor. "How the hell did you find me, Lianne? I told nobody where I was going."
She leaned casually against a birch tree, her long dark hair flying in the night wind. She pushed it back with an impatient hand and gave him a hard stare. "It was easy, big brother. You forget, I can track with the best of them. But never mind what I'm doing here. I want to know why you are stalking Miranda Slate? Don't we have enough trouble without bringing in a half-breed who could be more than either of us bargained for?"
He pushed back the anger he felt at her untimely intrusion. "I don't have to explain my actions to you or anyone else in Damaina."
Lianne stepped forward. "Oh, but you do, big brother. Otherwise, I will have to bring you up before the council. You know the law about half-breeds. They are too unstable to be trusted in our society."
Drake struggled to control himself. Dammit, the last thing he needed was his sister meddling in his affairs. She was going to ruin everything. All his plans would be for naught. "Listen to me, Lianne. Miranda Slate is going to be the means to reunite our pack. She is Cassandra's daughter and can do what Cassandra refused to do."
She gave him a wide-eyed stare. "Drake, please tell me I didn't hear what I thought I heard?"
He stiffened. "If you heard me say that I plan to get Miranda to honor the pact her mother reneged on, then, yes, you heard correctly. And there's nothing you or the council can do about it. I have the right as leader of the pack to choose whomever I please as my mate. Now, I've had enough of your silly games. Leave me."
"You can't be serious," Lianne protested. "Dammit, Drake, there's not one family in Damaina that's going to honor that agreement now. Things have changed over the years, and now the majority of the pack agree with me." She gave him a disdainful look. "You marrying a half-breed is not going to change anything. You're wasting your time, big brother, and putting us all at risk for nothing. We are through killing humans for our needs. You might as well accept it and stop fighting us."
His fingernails cut into the palms of his hands as he fought to retain control over his temper. Otherwise, he wouldn't be able to keep from putting his hands around her slender neck and throttling the life out of her. Somehow, he managed to speak in a voice he hoped revealed none of what he was feeling.
"No matter what you think, little sister, I do believe that when the others see the agreement finally being carried out, it will make them realize how stupid their newfound resolves are, especially when they see that Miranda has no compunction in killing humans despite her own human heritage. Then the fighting between us will end. You and your beliefs have made us weak. We need human flesh and blood to stay healthy. You and yours are bringing us to ruin." He shook his head. "But no matter, we will once again be strong when the pack returns to the old ways. It's only a matter of time."
Lianne held out her hand and gave him a knowing look. "I'm not stupid, brother mine. I know
why you're really doing this. You're not doing it for the pack, Drake. You're doing it for yourself. You would want Miranda Slate no matter what the circumstances. She is very beautiful, if you like the delicate type."
A frown marred his forehead. "Don't be ridiculous, and you're one to talk about delicate types. Do you imagine you're some kind of Amazon?"
She shrugged and grinned. "Hey, it works for me."
Drake chose to ignore her comment. "I told you my reasons for wanting her.
Lianne's dark green eyes narrowed. "You're mad, Drake. You will never convince Miranda to turn on her own kind. And even if you do, how can you be sure she won't turn on you and then on the rest of us?"
A smile played across his sensual mouth. "Miranda is strong. She'll come through the transformations without going mad. I guarantee it."
His little sister's gaze became bleak, her expression guarded. "I hope so, big brother. I hope so…for all our sakes."
Chapter 10
* * *
Miranda stared at both men in disbelief. "Have you both lost your minds? How in the world is a witch going to help me?" She turned her back on Hadden and Steven and stared out the study windows. Outside, in the late afternoon sunlight, a gray squirrel scampered across the leaf littered yard. "What ever happened to science and logic?" She turned back abruptly. "Are we so desperate now, that we must resort to voodoo magic?"
"It's not voodoo," Steven said, steepling his fingers in front of him. "That's another subject entirely."
"Steven," Hadden said in a warning voice.
"Uh…sorry." Steven ducked his head. "I was just trying to help."
Miranda reached up and rubbed her temples. A band of pain tightened around her head. Oh great, a headache, just what I needed, she thought wryly.
The day had gone from worse to disastrous, starting with Bobby Wilson's funeral service, and ending with Allison's collapse at the burial site. Grief and guilt had curled around Miranda's throat, making breathing impossible, as she watched the grief-stricken mother being escorted to the waiting limousine.
Somehow, she had to stop Drake from killing again. She wouldn't…no, couldn't bring any more heartache to this tiny town. She'd bargain with him, promise him anything, if he'd just leave the people of Silver Valley alone.
Hadden touched her arm, startling her out her reverie. "Are you listening, Miranda?"
She shook her head. "No, I'm sorry."
"Steven was telling us about Mary Ellen Campbell."
"The witch?" She didn't try to hide the skepticism in her voice.
Steven sighed and took off his glasses, polishing them with his handkerchief. "I know it sounds unbelievable, but I really think this woman is the genuine article. There are dozens of recorded accounts of her helping people in various ways."
"For instance?" Miranda asked.
"Healing, finding water when no one else can, and forecasting the future, very accurately, I might add. And that's just the cream off the milk," Steven said. "She seems to have a wide range of abilities, from what I gathered," he added. "And over the last five years most of it has been documented by the North Carolina University of Chapel Hill."
"Sounds like a charlatan to me," Hadden said, "but I'm afraid we don't have anything else going for us right now. I think we have to go see this woman, Miranda. Find out if she's authentic or not."
"Where is this woman, Steven?" Miranda asked.
"A couple of hours drive from here, just over the state line." He looked down at the scattered papers on his desk. "A rut in the road called Homineyville."
"Why did she leave Silver Valley?" Miranda asked suspiciously. "Didn't you say she was born and raised right outside town?"
Steven sighed. "Judd Lowell claimed she put a curse on him. He even took it to court, but the judge threw it out for lack of evidence."
"What did she do to him?"
Steven looked uncomfortable. "Well, he claimed she destroyed his love life after he broke off his engagement to her daughter, Elaine."
"That's ridiculous," Hadden put in.
Steven nodded. "That's what the judge thought, but people around here thought differently back then. Remember this happened over forty years ago, and people were a lot more superstitious back then. Several of them started giving her and her daughter a hard time. Finally she just packed up and moved away without leaving a forwarding address."
"How did you find her?" Miranda asked.
"A reporter from the Asheville newspaper did a story on her a few years ago." Steven shrugged. "I just happened to run across it when I was researching at the library. Since Asheville is the closest big city to us, they keep a backlog of newspapers there. Of course, it helped that I remembered reading that particular article, given my interest in anything that smacks of the unusual."
Miranda shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself as a shiver shook her body. "I don't know. I still don't like going to a witch for help. It just sounds so insane."
"What sounds insane, dear?"
All heads turned to the door.
"Is this a private party, or can anyone join?" Linda McNeal asked as she came into the study.
Miranda hid her dismay behind a smile of welcome. "Hello, Mrs. McNeal."
Hadden crossed his arms and frowned. "Mother, what are you doing here?"
The tiny woman shrugged out of her jacket and pulled off her leather gloves, ignoring her son's blunt question. "Hello, Miranda, it's so nice to see you, dear. You really look tired…have you been getting enough sleep lately?"
"Mother, Miranda's fine," Hadden interrupted impatiently. "You didn't answer my question. What are you doing here?"
"Well, if the mountain won't come to me, I decided to come to it. Now, will someone kindly tell me what's going on with you two?"
Linda McNeal was a tiny bundle of energy and determination, and right now the determination was winning out, Miranda thought, watching as Hadden struggled to answer his mother's question.
"There's nothing going on, Mother. As usual your imagination is running full speed ahead."
Mrs. McNeal gave her son a piercing glare. "Do not treat me like a feeble minded old woman, son. Why have you been avoiding me since the wedding?"
"I've been busy, Mother."
Miranda flinched at the reminder of the day she'd broken Hadden's heart, but Mrs. McNeal was so focused on her son, she didn't notice. "Too busy to even give your old, nagging mother a call?"
"Well, no, but…" Hadden glanced at Miranda and Steven who both shrugged helplessly.
Hadden's mother waved her glove in the air with a smile. "How stupid of me. Of course, I know why you've been too busy to call me."
"You do?" Miranda blurted before she could stop herself.
"But of course. Steven is counseling the two of you. I'm delighted you're are trying to work out your, er…problems. You don't know how worried I've been about you both." She let out a relieved sigh and graced all three with a loving look. "I feel so much better now. I have complete confidence in Steven and I'm sure that he will help make things right between you two in no time."
Steven looked slightly bewildered. "Uh…thank you, Mrs. McNeal. I appreciate the vote of confidence."
Mrs. McNeal padded across the room and slipped her arm around Miranda. "Dear, if you need to talk, I'm here for you. You're not the first woman to get cold feet on her wedding day, and I daresay you won't be the last either."
Miranda blinked back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. "Thank you, Mrs. McNeal. You're very kind." She'd never thought that Hadden's mother could possibly be so understanding after the horrible way she'd jilted her son. Miranda had always suspected Linda McNeal ran deeper than most people thought, and now she knew for certain what she'd suspected all along was true.
"Well, I suppose I should be going and letting you people get back to business."
Hadden strolled forward and helped her with her coat, then leaned forward to kiss her cheek. "Thanks for worrying about us, Mothe
r. I'll be in touch."
"You'd better be, son," she scolded, reaching up to touch his chin. "I don't enjoy being kept in the dark, especially when it concerns my only son."
"I know, Mother, I know," Hadden said, his voice reassuring as he steered her out the door and to the foyer.
"She's really something, isn't she?" Steven breathed, pulling out his handkerchief and wiping at his forehead. "For a moment there I thought she'd heard everything."
"I did too, and yes indeed, she really is something," Miranda agreed. "But I can't help wonder how she would react if she knew the truth about me."
Steven shifted uneasily behind his desk. "She would do everything in her power to help, Miranda. You know how much she cares about you."
Miranda gave him a bleak look. "Would she, Steven? I wonder…"
* * *
Miranda watched as Hadden's pick-up truck disappeared around the bend before she turned slowly and went into the house. Hadden had a few things to do at the clinic, and then he would be back and they would be on their way to Homineyville. She was more than a little apprehensive about the trip, but Hadden and Steven had finally convinced her it was the only option they had left.
Miranda let out a tired sigh and trudged reluctantly into the house, stopping in the living room to retrieve her messages from the answering machine. There were two: one from her editor asking about the illustrations, and one from Gram with news of her mother.
She slumped down in the recliner, tears welling up in her eyes as her grandmother told her that her mother had lapsed into a coma.
"Oh, Mom, I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I would give anything to be with you right now."
After she'd dried her tears she wandered into the kitchen. Common sense told her she had to eat, but her stomach rebelled at the images her mind conjured up.