Chills & Thrills Paranormal Boxed Set (42 page)

"Quite able."

Although Lily wasn't truly hungry, the prospect of escaping
close quarters with him appealed to her very much. She stood up, waiting
somewhat impatiently as Tony took a belt holding a sheathed knife from the
closet. He buckled the belt around his waist, slipped on a gray wool blazer,
then pulled out Lily's linen jacket and handed it to her.

"Put this on. They keep the cars very cold with their
artificial air, and you'll be susceptible to a chill until your blood
rebuilds."

"How thoughtful," she replied acidly, shrugging
into the jacket as she followed him out the door.

They walked single file through the narrow aisles of the
Pullman car and Lily couldn't help notice how well White Hawk blended into his
surroundings. Not only was he wearing black-dyed denims, a tan shirt of soft
cotton, and the blazer, but he'd knotted his hair at the nape of his neck,
concealing its length.

Anyone encountering them would assume they were a pair of
business people in comfortable traveling attire. In the absence of the leather
leggings and fur cape he'd usually worn in the canyon, she wondered if she
would even have recognized him if they passed in the halls.

But wasn't that the Dawn People's way? To blend with their
environment, much like chameleons. It had made them difficult quarry in Ebony
Canyon, which was why she and Jorje so frequently turned to outside hikers to
feed the hunger.

An oddly distressing shiver shot up her spine. An aftermath
of her injuries, she told herself, deciding to concentrate on the food she
might order for dinner. A Caesar salad, perhaps.

The dining car had muted lights and candles, white
tablecloths, fresh rosebuds in crystal vases. A romantic setting. Unless, of
course, you were with your future executioner.

A livened maitre d' showed them to a window table for two,
and when the waiter appeared shortly after that Lily requested the salad.

"Order something with meat," White Hawk directed.
"Your body needs protein and iron."

Meat? She rarely ate it these days. "Not now. It feels
much too heavy."

Ignoring her protests, he told the waiter she'd have poached
trout. She interrupted defiantly, ordered her own potato and vegetable, and
asked for a fruit bowl on the side, but didn't bother canceling White Hawk's
main-course order.

Now she took an indifferent bite of trout, mainly to keep
White Hawk from pressuring her. It tasted dry and unpalatable, and she poked at
the filet with her fork, then reached for another slice of apple.

"Eat more of the fish," White Hawk directed, never
taking his gaze from the blurred scenery outside the window. The dark glass
reflected like a mirror, and in it Lily saw his golden eyes burning. Slanted
somewhat over his prominent cheekbones, they reminded her of a large cat.

And they simmered with intense hatred.

She couldn't blame him. If not for her, his lovely wife
would still be with him. But since when did a queen pay attention to the
loathing of mere men? She'd been used to the hatred of her prey, as well as the
envy of lower werewolves.

Her reassurances weren't helping her withstand the assault
of his animosity, which further dulled her appetite. Why had he saved her life
just to torment her? Deciding his reason might prove valuable, she reached out
her psyche to probe his thoughts. He'd shielded his mind well, so she expanded
her probe, taking in the entirety of the train.

You cannot escape, Lily.

The mental message came from nearby, and Lily jerked her
head, searching for its source. She saw nothing, although she hadn't expected
to. Sebastian could be anywhere, but one fact was clear. He'd already found her
and was probably on the train.

Just then, White Hawk looked back at her. "Eat your
fish."

"I don't care for it." She reached for a slice of
hot chunky bread.

With one fluid movement, he turned from the window and
stilled her hand. "Eat," he said coldly. "We're not leaving
until you finish."

"You sound like Mrs. Preston . . . but not quite as
mean." She eyed him thoughtfully. Thinking of the blade he wore at his
belt, she lifted a knife that had come with the fruit. Small, but keen and
sharp enough to make a serious gash in the knife arm of a shaman — or the
tender belly of a werewolf.

But escape would not necessarily benefit her with Sebastian
so near. While White Hawk had his own plans for her, he was a less formidable
opponent. And he'd almost as much as assured her safety, at least until they
reached Ebony Mountain.

She'd spent five years roaming the canyon that housed the
Dawn People and had never found her way through the maze that led to their
village. She doubted Sebastian would fare any better. It looked as if the
village was not just her best refuge, it was her only one.

To appease White Hawk, she speared a scrap of fish, pausing
before she put it in her mouth. "Your concern for my well-being touches
me," she said dryly, "but it makes no sense. You could have let me
die and saved yourself the trouble."

His jaws flickered almost imperceptibly, but he remained
silent and took a mouthful of half-raw steak. Lily chewed on her fish and
waited.

"So why didn't you let me die? I know it would have
given you satisfaction."

"You don't know how much," he replied grimly, the
candles casting a dark shadow on his face, emphasizing the hard set of his
mouth. "But it wasn't for me to decide. You must face the Tribunal."

She laughed suddenly. "Let me get this straight. I'm
being pursued by the king of werewolves, who'll surely punish me more than you
could ever dream. Do you think I fear any puny Tribunal your people could put
together?"

Tony stared at her stonily. The thump of wheels on rails and
the low murmurs of the other diners filled the silence. Then his gaze drifted
to a spot behind her. Lily turned to follow it, but saw nothing.

"A female of the genus
homo
lupus
," he suddenly intoned in a radically altered voice,
"shall appear to The People cloaked in silver . . ."

His face seemed to grow more hawklike, sharp and menacing,
and his tone brought back the night in the Clearing of the Black Hands. Dana
Gibbs, robed in white and so obscenely pure. Morgan Wilder, fighting near to
death for his love. Jorje, lying limp and lifeless near a snowy bank. And then
the cries—hawk and dogs—screeching, howling, baying, as her werewolf heritage
drained away. For the first time since being discharged from the hospital she
felt the full horror of it.

"Although her names bespeak purity," he continued,
"her heart is foul, and she shall answer to the Tribunal for her crimes.”

Lily's hands fluttered weakly, but she forced iron into her
voice. "What the hell does that mean?"

White Hawk cocked his head with the same rapid movements of
his namesake. Then his eyes cleared and firmly claimed hers.

"It is not for you to know yet," he said in a
normal tone. "Now finish your meal."

Still somewhat shaken, Lily scooped another piece of fish
onto her fork. "I take it back," she said with forced bravado.
"You're meaner than Mrs. Preston."

"Who's Mrs. Preston?" White Hawk asked, seeming
half surprised the question had left his lips.

She smiled wickedly. "My last nanny. I drove her mad.
After that, no one would take the job."

White Hawk responded with a small sound, then looked back
out the window.

As soon as Lily was certain his attention was on the darkly
fleeing scenery and not on her reflection in the window, she snaked out her
hand and closed a napkin around the fruit knife. After dabbing her mouth
delicately, she lowered the linen to her lap, dropped the knife into the pocket
of her jacket, and felt it settle among the plastic vials.

As she returned to her meal she wondered if she really had
seen a smile tugging at the corners of White Hawk's mouth before he turned
away.

Tony guided Lily onto the debarking platform of the
Flagstaff train station at dawn the next morning, keeping a possessive hand on
her arm.

"You're treating me like baggage!" Lily irritably
shook off his arm, dropped her suitcase, and refused to move until he let go.

"If you're thinking about escape, forget it."

"Never crossed my mind." He saw false sweetness in
her smile, and her dark almond-shaped eyes gleamed like the wolf she'd once
been.

But she was no longer fleet of foot. If she tried to run, he
could easily catch her, so he didn't attempt to reclaim her arm. Picking up her
fallen bag, he scanned the parking lot outside the open-air platform, seeking
the vehicle he'd been promised would be there.

When he saw a squirrel's tail flying from an antenna, he
heaved a relieved sigh. Delmar hadn't let him down.

"This way," he told Lily. "To our car."
She accompanied him without objection, and as they approached the old boatlike
vehicle, Tony saw her take in the seriously crumpled fender, the rust eating at
the edges of the faded white paint.

"Our accommodations grow ever more luxurious."

Startled that her remark brought Dana Gibbs to his mind,
Tony glanced at her sharply. It was not her comment that stirred the
recollection, but her attitude. She wasn't complaining, simply making a rather
accurate observation. Nor did she complain about the cold, although she hugged
her linen jacket tight against the brisk mountain breeze.

He admired her spirit, one warrior for another. Although her
cause was hopeless, she refused to bow to it. From the vantage point of her
terrace railing, he'd seen the coldness inside that richly appointed mausoleum
her parents called home. His heritage held such reverence for family; he could
barely comprehend her uncaring parents or what harm such an upbringing might do
to a child, but even that loveless childhood hadn't broken her spirit.
Recalling her comment about the nanny almost made him smile again.

Then he thought of Tajaya's corpse, and his moment of
sympathy evaporated. True, he found it hard to equate this small woman with the
powerful beast who had taken his wife, but they were one and the same. Someday
he might find forgiveness within his heart, but such was not yet in him and he
wouldn't pretend it was. That wasn't the warrior's way.

At the car, he opened the passenger door. "Sit
here," he said gruffly, wanting her out of his way. "You'll be
warmer."

She gestured at the seat "What would you like me to do
with those?"

Several candy bar wrappers and a partly filled bag of potato
chips were on the seat. A crumpled twelve-pack carton was on the floor. For the
first time since he'd left Ebony Canyon to bring back Lily, Tony actually did
grin. His father, it seemed, had partied long and hard the night before. Some
things always remained the same.

Lily allowed him little time °for fond memories. She stooped
to gather up the rubbish. "Fortunately, the vandal managed to miss your
seat."

Arms filled, she turned toward a nearby trash barrel.
Keeping her in his line of sight, Tony went to the trunk, where Delmar had
promised to leave some supplies. They would descend over eight thousand feet
from the canyon's rim to the floor, where the Dawn People dwelled. There, the
cloying heat of the monsoon season would be at its peak, so he'd taken only
light clothing from Lily's closet. But first they must travel up the mountain
to face night temperatures even colder than in Flagstaff.

As promised, there were two parkas, a pair of sleeping bags,
and a large hard-framed backpack crammed in amid several tire irons and a
blown-out radial. Tony checked the parkas for size, picked up the smaller one,
and turned toward Lily.

She still stood by the trash barrel, looking far into the
distance, head tilted as if she were listening. "Lily!" he called
sharply.

She glanced his way, then came toward him.

"Here." He shoved the thick parka into her hands, trying
not to look at her as he began jostling the items in the trunk to make room for
his satchel and her bags. "Wait in the car."

"Thanks," she said softly, shrugging into the coat
and zippering it against the cold.

He grunted an acknowledgment, and when he finally managed to
crowd the bags into the overstuffed trunk, he slammed the lid and started for
the driver's door.

A short while later, after filling the almost empty gas
tank, Tony parked in front of a drugstore.

"Get out," he said to Lily. "We're going
inside."

She complied without comment, staying by his side as they
walked to the store. Tony had expected her to attempt escape, and even though
she hadn't tried so far he had no intention of relaxing his vigil. When they
went inside, he firmly took her hand in his.

"How tender," she remarked, nodding at a lunch
counter at one end of the store. "Shall we share a soda afterward?"

Tony ignored her and headed for the aisle he knew displayed
the merchandise he needed. This was an old-fashioned drugstore, not one of the
chains, and they stocked items in bulk, carrying medicines and tonics that had
long fallen out of common use.

He found what he needed and picked up two cartons.

"Smelling salts?" Lily asked, arching her
eyebrows. "It's flattering that you consider me so formidable, White Hawk,
but in case you haven't heard, I'm not a werewolf anymore. Or are you planning
to choke me to death with the fumes?"

"Cut the crap, Lily," White Hawk replied sharply.
He'd had about enough of this woman's acid tongue, nor was he pleased that some
of her quips actually amused him. "You think I haven't noticed how you
keep looking around? Your leader's out there somewhere, isn't he?"

Lily shrugged. "I told you he'd come, but you weren't
in a listening mood."