Chills & Thrills Paranormal Boxed Set (30 page)

Considering his attitude, she was taking a wild leap by
asking, but if she could just get him involved with the book maybe he'd read
more. He gave her a wry look, but his pause indicated he might just agree to
what he clearly thought was her insane impulse.

"Please, Zach. It won't take long."

"All right. But keep it short."

They moved to the cliff, leaning against the rock wall, and
Zach put the plate of food between them. Liz tore off a hunk of bread, then
sliced herself a thick piece of cheese before handing Zach the journal. Since
the prayer was written in English, she'd be able to recite while he
double-checked her.

"No," he said after only a few lines, "it's
shine your light, not beam your light."

Liz nibbled on an apple, then on her lower lip. What was
wrong with her? She could remember company stock exchange codes and prices
after a single glance, but this relatively short poem seemed beyond her.

After several similar attempts, Zach gave her back the book.
"Look," he said, running his fingers down the page. "Except for
the last stanza, the lines are almost identical. This prayer is about hate,
fear and pain. Just memorize it once, then repeat it by changing those
words."

She saw he was right, and wondered why she hadn't noticed
herself. It almost seemed as if something was clouding her mind. A grateful smile
crossed her face. "You're pretty smart, know that?"

"It won't work, Liz."

"What won't work?" she asked distractedly, still
absorbed in the lines of the prayer.

"Your charm. You're not getting me back in your
clutches."

"
My clutches?
What bad movies have you been
watching?" She slammed the book shut. "This isn't working. Just
finish your meal. I'll do it myself."

"Fine with me."

Shaking off her irritation with no small effort, Liz worked
hard at the memorization, now and then picking up a chunk of bread or slice of
cheese. The apple was grainy and didn't have much flavor, but she hardly
noticed, and had chewed it nearly to the core when the sprinkles appeared on
the pages of the journal.

Zach let out a stream of curses, then grabbed the lantern
and practically ordered her into the lean-to.

Again ignoring his bad attitude, she chose to get the food
crate before she complied.

The wind picked up, flapping their canvas shelter. The day
grew as dark as dusk, even though it was only noontime. Soon after that a downpour
came, and Zach was visibly upset by the uncooperative weather.

Liz continued studying the poem under the light of the
butane lantern. Thanks to Zach's astute observation she soon committed the
first three stanzas to memory. That left only the final verse.

Power above, Power divine.

Heed my call in my hour of need.

Protect me from evil in this black place.

Power above, Power divine.

Heed my call. Heed my call.

According to her mother's writing, this closing stanza was
used only during the guardian's darkest hour.

Why couldn't it be like the others? When the time came,
she'd probably have a hard enough time just remembering those three. How could
she hope to dredge this one up during a moment of great terror?

Zach dozed while she read, or at least he seemed to, but
once when she looked over she saw him staring at their makeshift ceiling. How
sad and weary he looked. An irregular stubble on his face. New lines appearing
around his eyes and mouth. And he was probably frightened. She loved him so and
wished—

No, she couldn't let herself think about what might have
been. Not now. Not here. Although she hadn't known it before, fate had directed
her life all along. Had she remained in Port Chatre she would probably have
died with her mother, and everything in the book she studied confirmed that her
absence had served a purpose, keeping her safe for the fated battle ahead that
was part of a bigger plan.

At just that moment, Zach caught her eyes. "Might as
well go to sleep," he said. "We're not going anywhere until
morning."

"I still have work to do."

"Why are you so obsessed with that poem?"

"You know. You just refuse to accept it." She felt
the oddest urge to scoot closer to him and stroke the creases from his face,
but she didn't succumb to it. Sometime soon she'd be compelled to march into
hell. Alone. With no defender. She was so scared. If she could make him
understand, then . . .

"You didn't ask for this, Zach," she went on,
speaking softly. "And if I could change things, I would. But, as much as I
wish it weren't so, I am the last guardian. What's more, whatever higher power
is in charge of these events has sent you to defend me. I'm preparing for that
time and you should too."

"Oh Liz," he said. He lifted his hand to stroke
her cheek. "Either you've really gone bonkers, or you're the best damned
conwoman I've ever come across."

With a slow shake of her head, she said,
"Neither."

His expression softened, allowing yearning to enter his
eyes. Slowly, he slid his hand down and closed it over her chin. His lips
parted slightly.

Was he going to kiss her? Oh Lord, it seemed he was. And she
wanted him to, wanted to feel his mouth on hers, his body inside her own.

This might be the last time. Words had not convinced him,
and her night of reckoning was near. No guardian defeated Ankouer without a
defender, and nothing he'd said or done indicated he'd be by her side during
this terrible night. So why couldn't she have just this?

She could. She would.

Leaning into him, she parted her own lips.

A tremble rushed through Zach's body as he gazed at Liz's
face. Her closed eyes, her quickening breath, her slightly parted mouth, all
invited him to kiss her. If he had an ounce of sense, he'd roll over and slam
the door on that invitation. But he hungered for her from the depths of his
soul. He wanted her near him, wanted to feel her smooth luscious skin again.

Even more, he wanted to pretend none of this had happened .
. . was happening. . . . If he kissed her, touched her, entered her, maybe he
could wipe it all away. And yet . . .

He didn't believe she'd gone crazy, no longer even believed
her father was crazy. There was some plan behind all these events, and they
could only come from a scheming mind. Hers? He didn't want to believe so. But
even if she wasn't a mastermind, in the end her father would go to jail, maybe
get the chair if he turned out to be more than a henchman. How could he take
her in his arms with this intent on his mind? Just as important, how could he
consider loving her if there was even a possibility that her actions had
brought about his brother's death?

A soft, eager sound left her lips, and in that instant he
knew he was lost. He lowered his head and brushed her mouth with his, gentle as
the touch of a kitten. A sigh passed between them. When he broke the kiss, he
picked up her hand, put a kiss on her wrist, then took the other and did the
same.

Then, tugging lightly, he led her to lay beside him. This
was Liz, his childhood buddy, his teenage girlfriend, his friend, his lover,
heart of his heart. He loved her, and somewhere he'd find it in himself to
forgive her for whatever she'd done.

Liz sighed again, waiting for what Zach would do next. With
a tenderness she'd never experienced before, he unbuttoned her overalls and
slid them down. Next he slipped off her shirt, bending to kiss her nipples.
Sensations coursed through her body, a bone-melting languidness that made her
feel like she was floating.

He rose to kneel beside her, entwining his fingers through
hers and pinning her hands above her head. His kisses traveled down, stopping
in the valley beneath her breasts, at the slope of her ribs, then down her
belly until they touched the apex of her thighs.

A sharp hiss escaped her lips, and she arched her back.
Everything faded except the exquisite effects on her body.

"I love you, Zach," she whispered.

He stopped abruptly, then jerkily straightened up.

"Damn you!" The flickering lamplight emphasized
his enraged expression as he glared down at her. "You tell me now? Now?
How do you expect me to believe you?"

"I don't," she answered shakily. "But it's
true. I do love you, Zach, I honestly do, and I wanted you to know."

Such beautiful and seductive sentiments and ones he had
forever yearned to hear. Only now they were too hard to accept. Light from the
lantern filled their shelter, bouncing off the rough canvas above, off the
layer of nylon bags below, only to be broken into geometric shapes by the
shadows of their bodies. Zach found himself caught up in the play of light
across Liz's body, caught up by her beauty. Those unruly dark curls, feathering
out to brush her high cheekbones. Those almond-shaped eyes, glittering like
amber. That soft, full mouth waiting for his kisses.

"Zach?" she said . . . soft, questioning.

So much to forgive this woman for. Desertions and lies.
Possibly murder. Yet even as he urged himself to accept this, the deepest part
of him cried out that Liz spoke the truth.
Le fantome noir
waited in
that mountain cave. Ankouer's net was out to drag them in. Nonsense.

Nonsense.

Nonsense. If he believed that, he'd have to believe in Liz's
insanity, and in his own. He wouldn't. He'd protect them by sticking to
reality. He'd protect them from danger, keep them safe by rejecting this
otherworldly threat . . . keep them safe, keep her safe.

With a groan of utter frustration, he leaned forward and
pressed her hard against the bedroll, then slid on top of her.

"God help me," he whispered hoarsely as he drove
himself into her waiting, pliant body. "I love you too, Liz. I love you
too. With all my heart."

Liz felt his agony, felt his need to bury himself inside
her, so she opened completely to his love, to his fiercely hungry thrusting
that was driving her wild.

She fed it, meeting his ferocity thrust for thrust,
tightening her fingers around his until their hands seemed to meld as one. If
never again they came together, they'd at least have this night together. This
night.

This night . . .

For a long time afterward they stayed there, joined as one,
holding each other, listening to the falling rain and the sounds of their own
breathing. Zach stroked her hair, she kissed the smooth skin of his shoulder.
Eventually, she slid from beneath him to snuggle under his arm, and wasn't even
sure when she fell asleep. Sometime during her dreams the voice came.
Tonight,
Guardian
. But Zach was beside her, holding her, keeping her warm. She was
safe, safe with him, as safe as she could possibly be.

She ignored the voice and moved closer to Zach. With him by
her side, nothing could harm her.

* * *

Come forward, Guardian, this is your night of reckoning.
Still half-asleep, Liz sat straight up and stared forward. Ankouer had come for
her.

Outside it was still light, but just barely. So heavy was
the sky with clouds that only the faintest rays of sunlight made it through.
Liz looked over at Zach. Thunder rumbled and the rain made a constant beat on
the roof of the lean-to, but he slept peacefully. She ached to wake him up, to
draw on the comfort she'd so strongly felt in the dreams. Maybe the dream was
an omen, maybe he'd finally believe her.

No, she knew better. More likely he'd try to keep her from
going. And she had to go. This wasn't about Zach, not even about her. So much
more was at stake.
Other-the-wise,
Harris had said,
we all go back to
the dark—man, woman, child, all fall into dark.

She shivered nervously as she fumbled into her clothes,
carefully avoiding bumping Zach. She'd just leaned for her shoes when a hand
came from nowhere and clamped down on her mouth.

"Izzy," a familiar voice said.

She jerked around and met the dark, slanted eyes of Maddie
Catalon.

Slapping the woman's hand away, Liz put her own finger over
her mouth and glanced at Zach. Nodding, Maddie moved back and gave Liz room to
get out.

"Where have you been?" Liz asked in a whisper.

Without answering, Maddie turned toward the trail to the
cave. She appeared agitated, an uncommon occurrence that did little to ease
Liz's own anxiety.

"Wait," Liz said. "We need the lantern."

Maddie shook her head. "Frank give me his flashlight.
Come on now. We must hurry." Maddie pointed toward the cave. "He is
bad off. Very bad. He need his medicine. You got it, don't you?"

"Yes." Liz checked for the vial, then moved on in
search of the
gris-gris
. Its irregular bumps reassured her somewhat, but
her heart still pounded all the way to the cave.

"Hurry," Maddie said, ducking inside as soon as
they got there.

This is it, Liz told herself with a shudder. This was the
time to find every ounce of fortitude she possessed. Already she was drenched
and cold, and thoughts of what faced her chilled her even further.

The clouds scudded off the moon, temporarily bathing the
clearing in paler than pale light. Taking advantage of it, Liz paused to take
out the
gris-gris
and drop the contents into her hand. She had no idea
how to use these items, nor did she even have much faith they'd work. But they
were all she had.

She slipped the packet and stone back into her pocket,
rather than into the bag. The voodoo doll she kept in her hand. Raindrops had
already streaked its black-painted surface, giving it an eerie reflective
quality. Were the moonlight bright enough, she fancied she'd probably see her
own face inside the tiny torso.

Just then, something rustled. She jerked up her head, coming
face-to-face with a powdery white mouth bearing a forked tongue and gleaming
fangs.