Chills & Thrills Paranormal Boxed Set (43 page)

She seemed calm enough, which puzzled Tony. "I'd think
he'd be the last person you'd want to see, Lily. He tried to kill you.”

Lily hesitated, her sarcastic expression fading. She shook
her head. "The holy water made him clumsy and he accidentally scraped my
skin. Human skin is fragile, you know–"

"No, I don't know," he replied harshly, "but
I'm sure you do."

She regarded him a moment. "You see us as such evil
creatures, don't you?"

"Evil is too soft a word."

"Ah," she murmured. "We're merely hunters,
like you. I wonder how the cow would treat you should you suddenly become a
member of its herd? Much as you're treating me, I imagine."

Jarred by her logic, which too closely paralleled Riva's
teachings, Tony stared into her large dark eyes. Still shadowed underneath by
her recent loss of blood, they gazed back intelligently, implacably, waiting
for his answer.

"We've a long journey ahead," he finally said.
"Let's pay for these and get on with it."

Still holding her hand, he dragged her none too gently to
the cash register, and didn't let go of her until he deposited her back inside
the cane knowing grin covered her face the entire time.

Trying his best to ignore it, Tony pulled onto the highway
and headed east. They had several hours of rough roads ahead and another couple
of hours of hiking before they reached the canyon's rim. Putting a heavy foot
on the gas pedal, he kept his eyes straight ahead.

He wondered if Lily was up to the hike. Although her wounds
were healing, she'd lost considerable blood and the prospect of carrying her
down to the canyon floor didn't please him. Bad enough he'd been sent on this
unholy mission, but to hold the wolf woman against his heart for hours on end .
. . it didn't bear thinking about.

For the most part, Lily looked out the window. Once she let
out a small gasp as he took a particularly sharp turn, and now and then she
glanced over her shoulder out the rear window. He wondered what she expected to
find? Was her werewolf king already in pursuit? Despite her defense of him,
Tony doubted she'd welcome Sebastian's appearance, which would explain why she
hadn't tried to escape.

It amused him darkly to think she might consider him her
protector. Less amusing, he realized, was that he actually was. He'd saved her
from a certain and well-deserved death, and was treating her more like a small
ward than the evil creature he knew her to be. This thought fed his bitterness,
and he nourished it, unwilling to betray Tajaya's memory in the smallest way.

Lily shifted suddenly in her seat, interrupting his thoughts.
They'd left the highway and were careening faster than White Hawk knew was safe
toward Ebony Mountain. The morning sun streamed through the windshield,
providing only marginal warmth, and an icy wind billowed through the open
passenger window.

Pulling up the hood of her parka, Lily reached for the
window's handle and turned it. Nothing happened. She gave it a hard yank, then
another. The handle came off in her hand.

"Throw it in the backseat," White Hawk offered,
and she heard him choke back a laugh.

She gave the handle a cavalier toss over her shoulder. It
landed with a thud. "Finally I've discovered your scheme. Death by
freezing."

"It's an easy death they say," he replied, his
amusement fading as quickly as it had come. "Better than you
deserve."

"Do you really believe I'll let you kill me?" Lily
asked softly, not really caring about his answer, just wanting to hear a voice.
She'd grown weary of the silence.

"It is already done."

Already done
.
 
Those words did not come lightly from a
shaman, and they sparked the same tremor Lily had felt in the dining car. They
weren't so different, really, the Dawn People and the Lupines. While Western
civilization worshiped timetables and science, both their kind followed a
primal connection to the seasons, the tides, the moons. Signs and visions
signaled coming events, which, thus indicated, could not be reversed.

Refusing to let him see her fear, she said, "Don't rely
on your superstitions to protect you."

"I rely on nothing. This act is Star Dancer's decision
and you're alive only by her mercy."

"Who, pray tell, is this person with the whimsical
name?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

"How soon is that?"

"We'll reach the rim of the canyon a short while before
the sun reaches the top of the heavens."

"Why don't you just say around eleven o'clock?"
Lily suddenly felt cross. What did she care about this peasant shaman's
convictions, or of whether or not he spoke to her? "You obviously
understand clocks well enough to abide by a railroad timetable."

"There are no clocks in Ebony Canyon." He glanced
over at her scornfully. "You of all people should know that."

Yes, Lily thought, but she'd already forgotten. How odd that
she'd retained some abilities, yet not others. Even now, if she tuned in, she
could discern squirrels chattering softly in the thick fir trees. A wren
alighted in the dark branches overhead. Somewhere, not far away, a brook rushed
over a stony bed, gurgling softly. And though White Hawk kept his thoughts
carefully guarded, she could feel his loathing so acutely it seemed like a
physical force.

But she no longer retained the rhythm of the wild. The
scents and sounds around her seemed alien, making her almost long for exhaust
fumes and honking horns. That she'd survived — no, thrived — for years in this
raw country seemed suddenly incomprehensible.

Tony made a sharp turn that sent her lurching toward him.
Quickly righting herself, she saw they'd turned onto a rutted road lined with
towering pines. Her seat was bathed in shadow, stealing away her only heat. Her
teeth began chattering, and even the thick parka couldn't keep her from
shivering.

Tony looked over at her. "You'll find blankets in the
back."

She'd have preferred to deliver a sarcastic retort, but was
too cold to expend the energy. Scrambling to her knees, she reached over the
seat for a rough wool blanket, refraining from comment even when dried grass
and stones tumbled out. Draping the blanket over her head and shoulders, she
settled back into the seat, tired of the battle and weary of the cold.

Tony tapped the accelerator, which forced her deeper into
the warming covers. "Sleep," he instructed. "We'll be there soon
and you'll need your strength for the journey."

* * *

The sun was heading for its apex when they reached the
canyon rim.

"We'll stop here to eat," Tony told Lily as they
skirted the skeleton of Morgan Wilder's burned-out cabin.

Lily would have preferred not to sit in the shadow that
reminded her of her folly, but they'd hiked countless miles since parking the
car and she needed rest. She let White Hawk remove the steel-framed backpack
from her shoulders, then sank gratefully to the ground.

The dense forest surrounding the clearing mercifully
restrained the wind, and the sun felt blessedly warm. Lily untied the bindings
of her parka as White Hawk removed his own burdens.

At his insistence, she'd put on heavy socks and hiking
boots. They pinched miserably, so she bent to loosen the laces. When she was
more comfortable, she swiveled around to look toward the canyon, wanting to
avoid the memories revived by seeing Morgan's cabin.

Although she'd often tried, she hadn't forgotten this place,
and knew very well what she'd find if she roamed the western rim. If she went
deep inside the forest several miles to the south, she'd come across her old
den. Were her tapestries and lush rugs still there, she wondered, or had they
been taken by hikers or eaten by rodents? She preferred occupying her mind with
this question to remembering that visiting her den would require passing the
Clearing of the Black Hands. The site of the Indians' ancient rituals, it was
also the place where she'd lost her powers, and the memory made her shiver. To
avoid her distasteful feelings, she turned her attention to the rim.

Not far to their north was a path leading to the bottom of
Ebony Canyon, which she assumed was the one they'd take. Less than two miles
down, eight thousand feet at the most. A short distance really, especially
compared to the hike they'd undertaken to get to the top. On flat land such a
trek could be easily completed in about an hour. But the floor of the canyon
was almost straight down, and the twists and turns would make the descent so
arduous she doubted they'd get to the bottom much before dark.

When she first came to Arizona the contrast between the cool
green mountain peaks and the hot shallow desert valleys amazed her. It wasn't
uncommon to find people in one part of the state shoveling snow while those in
lower elevations sunbathed, and here in Ebony Canyon the contrast was extreme.

A gust of wind swept up a cluster of fallen leaves,
spiraling them in the air not far from where Lily sat, as if reminding her that
winter was coming to the rim. She hugged her parka closer, knowing it would
soon become a burden. The temperature would rise at least five degrees for
every thousand feet they descended. At the bottom they'd find the tail end of
summer. Ninety degrees — if they were lucky — but possibly warmer.

"How are you feeling?"

Lily jerked her head in White Hawk's direction and felt an
unpleasant crick in the cold stiff muscles of her neck. "Are you asking
from curiosity, or do you really want to know?"

"It's still a long hike down," he replied evenly.
"Your injuries were severe. I don't relish the idea of having to carry
you."

"Nor do I. Don't concern yourself. I'm fine."

Drawn to the charred skeleton that had once housed her
former lover, Lily barely registered his curt nod.

"What happened to the cabin?"

"I burned it at Morgan's request."

"You were friends then, you and he?"

"Yes . . ." He paused, and she felt him adding
fuel to his hatred. "And Dana was also my friend."

"I see."

Her eyes were still riveted on the cabin and she pried them
away in time to see White Hawk walking toward her. He handed her a leaf-wrapped
loaf and several dark sticks of dried meat along with a small leather flask.

"More of the tonic," he informed her. "Drink
it."

"I'm not taking another drop of that vile stuff."

"Drink it," he repeated in a gentler tone. "I
have a pear in my sack that will wash away the aftertaste."

She fixed him with an obstinate look.

"I promise."

Lily met his gaze. Although the gash on her leg hadn't hurt
through the difficult hike upward, and her wrist didn't pain her, she felt
light-headed. From the altitude, she'd told herself, unwilling to believe her
once invulnerable body felt any after effects from Sebastian's attack. But even
sitting wasn't restoring her energy the way it should. The medicine had helped
before . . .

"One more dose can't hurt." She downed it swiftly.

White Hawk promptly produced the pear, and she bit into it
eagerly, mildly surprised to learn he'd been telling the truth. She found she
was hungrier than she'd thought, and she gobbled up the fruit, then began
unwrapping the loaf.

Giving it a suspicious look, she tore off a small piece and
popped it into her mouth. Grainy with cornmeal, it had a slightly sweet flavor
that was delicious. Soon it was gone. All that remained were the slices of meat
jerky.

She lifted one to her lips, feeling a wave of revulsion. She
didn't understand it, but meat did this to her every time. Lowering the slice,
she placed it beside the others. Some animal would eat them later. Better it
than her.

White Hawk hadn't noticed. He'd arranged his satchel into a
roll under his head and now reclined on the ground, basking in the afternoon
sun.

The silence felt oppressive. Occasionally a jay cawed from
the forest, and if she cared to pay attention Lily knew she'd hear the
scurrying of mice in the drying grasses surrounding the remains of Morgan's
cabin. Rain had not graced these lands in quite some time, she realized, and
the very dryness made the hulk of the blackened building all the more ominous.

Yealanay cawfanay
nayfanay may.

Yealanay cawfanay
nayfanay may.

The opening words of the Shadow of Venus came unbidden to
Lily's mind, bringing a chill. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to
banish the refrain. But it continued, and she tore her eyes from the burned-out
structure, believing it had stirred the memory.

The act didn't help.

Yealanay cawfanay
nayfanay may.

Yealanay cawfanay
nayfanay may.

Again without willing it, she translated the words into
English: Spirits of light, hear our plea. How could such a ceremony have worked
its magic on her? Sebastian taught that one never pleaded with the spirits, one
commanded them. Yet Dana Gibb's words, meant for Morgan Wilder, not for her,
had somehow stripped her of the werewolf gift.

She lowered her head to her knees, willing her mind to be
still. Finally the repetitive verse ceased, but her soul still felt battered.
For Morgan's sake, she'd been robbed of her superhuman powers. For Morgan's
sake, she'd killed Jorje and violated Lupine Law.

Sebastian's angry face appeared in her mind as it had just
days before in her luxurious bathroom. By his order, she'd followed Morgan to
this canyon. She'd begged Sebastian not to make her go, but he had remained
immovable in his demands.

Now he blamed her for Jorje's death. The wolfling had been
about to break the Law himself! If he hadn't tried to kill Morgan, he'd be
alive today. How dare Sebastian put this all on her head?