Chills & Thrills Paranormal Boxed Set (64 page)

"There," Jorje said in Lupinese, skidding to a
stop. A meadow lay just beyond the edge of the trees. He crept forward. Lily
followed, eagerly anticipating their first mortal kill in more than a week. A
woman knelt on the ground, humming as she plucked various plants and tossed
them in a basket.

One of those elusive Dawn People, she thought. What
satisfaction this kill would bring. Jorje inched closer, licking his muzzle.

"I'll take the little one," he said.

Little one? Lily's head moved beyond the woman. Not far
away, a small child, barely old enough to walk, toddled after a butterfly.

"No!" she said.

But Jorje sprang from the cover of the trees and darted into
the meadow. The woman raised her head. Her startled blue eyes, streaked with
shades of a lapis, widened in terror and she leaped up to run toward the baby.

"Nooo!" Lily screamed the order this time, tearing
after Jorje. He was almost on the child now. She continued shouting, but so
intent was he on capturing his morsel, he didn't hear.

Lily alchemized to man-wolf shape, and vaulted over the
space separating them. She landed in front of the child just as Jorje prepared
to lunge. The mother was speeding toward them now, her battle cries filling the
air. She had a gleaming knife in her hand, the rage of a mother bear upon her
face.

"Take the mother," Lily commanded. "She is
yours."

She bent down and swept the baby from the ground. A girl,
she realized, noticing the feminine beading on her short hemp smock. A
defenseless, fragile little girl. The child was crying now, distressed by her
mother's whoops, frightened by the hairy creature that held her.

Lily cradled the girl against her chest and whirled toward
the forest. As she entered, she heard the woman's final whoop abruptly end.
Careening through the forest, burning up the ground, she ran down, down, deeper
into the desert terrain she so despised.

The child calmed down, curled her hands into Lily's coat,
hanging on. Soon they reached the brush and trees of the river. The unnavigable
maze was not far ahead. She heard movement inside, still a distance away, but
approaching. The warriors had heard the woman's screams. She waited by the
entrance, rocking the baby in her arms, unwilling to leave her undefended.

A small hand brushed her cheek. Lily looked down and saw the
girl staring at her with eyes identical to her mother's. The child explored
Lily's face, touched her eyes, her short muzzle, then reached for her pointed
ears. She gurgled and her face broke into a smile.

Lily felt a wave of tenderness she'd never known before. She
smiled back. At the sight of fangs, the girl's face twisted and she broke into
a keening wail.

The sound must have reached the warriors' ears.

Lily heard their voices, loud and close and alarmed for the child.
Sadly, she put the crying baby on the ground and turned away.

Returning to wolf form she sped toward the meadow.

She wouldn't punish Jorje. She'd initiated him just recently
so she'd have company on the solitary journey to Ebony Canyon at Sebastian's
command. The wolfling was being true to his new nature. He was slow too, slower
than most; it might take years before he attained even beta status. He'd
undoubtedly forgotten her instructions that they always spared the children.

It wasn't his fault.

She found Jorje among the dandelions and sunflowers, basking
in the sun and licking blood off his muzzle.

It wasn't
his
fault.

Lily shivered; chills ran through her body. Vaguely she
realized no one shivered in the heat. Where was she?

Her eyelids fluttered up, but she lacked the strength to
keep them open, and they closed again. She rolled into a ball, trying to get
warm. Her skin felt hot and dry, and as cold as she was she also felt feverish.

Something wet touched her head. Water trickled into her
hair, streamed down her face, and onto her neck. It should have made her
colder, but it didn't, and she rolled onto her back, welcoming it.

Rain? Again she wondered where she was.

The water was all over now. On the leather dress, running
down her legs, her arms, moistening her hands and feet. Someone lifted her
shoulders and then she was sliding across the leather floor.

Light struck her closed eyes. Heat beat down on her bare
arms and legs. Through her misery she realized they'd been in the lodge all
night. Then a glorious wind caressed her, taking the fever, taking the chills.
Strong arms lifted her from the ground, cradling her against smooth, damp skin.

She lifted her eyelids, squinted at Tony's face, and saw his
worried gaze. She smiled weakly.

"I survived?" Her voice was less than a whisper.

"You survived." He was smiling too, hugging her
fiercely against his bare chest, his breathing ragged. Lily wanted to cry, but
couldn't, so she just inhaled his glorious scent. He straightened up, moved his
legs, and she surmised he was slipping into his moccasins.

A moment later he carried her down the steep side of the
mesa. Then they were at the river, and he waded in. Wordlessly, he splashed
cooling water over her, then let her float, supporting her with one hand as she
turned and dipped, at times submerging herself completely.

Soon she could stand on her own, but she was too tired to
walk. Tony scooped her up again and took her to the blanket under the trees.
After draping a second blanket over her soaked body, he lay down beside her and
took her in his arms.

"Sleep," he said. "We'll rest during sunlight
and start again come dusk."

"It isn't over?"

Flinching at the alarm in her voice, he shook his head.
"You did fine," he said. "Don't think about it now. Just
rest."

She snuggled into the crook of his arms, needing him near,
feeling peaceful despite the horrors she'd just faced.

Just as she was about to drop off, Tony spoke. "Why
didn't you tell me?"

She didn't ask what he meant. "You wouldn't have
believed me."

He brought her close to his heart, then whispered, "I
do now."

As she fell into slumber, she thought he said he loved her
and sadly feared she'd heard him wrong.

* * *

Sebastian was waiting for Arlan Ravenheart when he returned
to the cave just before dawn, the sly smile again on his face, although he was
now in human form.

"So you had your first taste of mortal flesh,
wolfling," he said. "Incomparable, is it not?"

Ravenheart licked his muzzle. The taste still lingered,
tantalizing and fulfilling. "Yes, Lord." Then fearing the King's
anger might emerge, he offered, "I've learned where Lily is . . . "

Sebastian rubbed his hands together in satisfaction.
"Excellent. Where do we find her?"

"She has gone with White Hawk to a sweat lodge in the desert."

"Nearby?"

"Near enough for us. We can be there in an hour."

"And the shaman is with her," Sebastian stroked
his chin. "Good. I have a score to settle with him."

He strode past the mass of sleeping followers, all huddled
together in wolf form on the filthy rug, and crossed to Beryl, who slept as a
human on a mat several feet from the others. He nudged Beryl with his toe.
"Wake up."

Beryl groggily lifted his head and peered up with sleepy
eyes. "W-what is it?"

Sebastian moved back and draped a proud arm over
Ravenheart's shoulder. "This young one has informed me that Lily is with
the shaman at a sweat lodge not far from here. He is a wondrous wolfling, is he
not?"

Ravenheart preened under the werewolf's praise.

At last the recognition he so sorely deserved. Beryl rolled
off the mat and climbed to his feet. He kicked the others and as a group they
sprang awake.

"News from our Lord," Beryl said, his voice heavy
with hostility.

The seven omegas sat up, giving Sebastian their full and
respectful attention.

"Alchemize to man-shape," Sebastian ordered.
Although some of them whimpered, all obeyed.

"Arlan has brought news of Lily's whereabouts. We leave
at dusk to bring her back into our fold. The shaman is fair game and belongs to
the one who reaches him first."

"Will this earn us favor in your eyes, Lord?"
Philippe asked.

Sebastian smiled so broadly his teeth gleamed even in the
dim light inside the cave. "Indeed it shall," he said. "Indeed
it shall."

Still enclosed in Sebastian's approving embrace, Ravenheart couldn't
keep a smirk off his face. The King didn't notice, but Beryl did. As he
returned the envious alpha werewolf's glare, Ravenheart thought not only of the
reward killing White Hawk would earn, but of the pleasure he'd take in feasting
on the shaman's flesh.

     
* * *

Lily's mind surged with every beat of Tony's drum and ebbed
with every chant he uttered. Night had come so soon, too soon, and thunder
rumbled above the roof of the lodge once more. She drifted . . .

Adults of all shapes and ages glowered at her. "My son.
. . ." An old woman wept. "The light of my life."

"You took my husband," cried another.

"My brother was my best friend. You didn't leave enough
of him to bury."

"I couldn't help myself," Lily cried out in
defense. They faded. Children appeared. Hundreds of them, from infancy to
adolescence.

"You took my parents," accused a blond boy. He
looked about Shala's age, young and vulnerable. "My grandparents don't
like me. All I did was get mud on the kitchen floor, and they sent me to my
room for days."

A baby wailed, its thoughts filled with images of lying
abandoned in a crib. A dark-eyed toddler screamed, unable to comprehend why her
parents hadn't returned.

One after another they spilled their tales. Their cries
increased, hammering at Lily's ears. She curled up, pressing her hands to her
head, trying to block out their accusations.

An Hispanic teenager swaggered forth, his eyes dark with
loathing. He wore a battered leather jacket. A gold earring glinted dully from
one ear. "My parents had hopes for me," he spat. "I was an
athlete, an honor student. The first of our family to be accepted to
college." He bent forward until his nose almost touched hers.
"Without them, I was lost. Strangers fed me, but gave me no love. Then I found
friends. They showed me another way."

He turned. The name Crips, emblazoned on the back of his
jacket, was ripped clean through by a gaping, oozing hole. "I was shot
during a war with a rival gang. At fifteen, my life wiped out. Our dreams are
gone . . .”

"Gone . . . gone."

She hadn't realized . . . hadn't even thought . . . The
agony she'd caused went far beyond the ones she'd slain. How could she ever
atone for this? No spirit, no angel, no god, would ever forgive her. She buried
her head in her hands, filled with the remorse she'd scorned for so long.
"I didn't think . . ." She gasped. "I didn't know. I-I-I didn't
. . ."

"Lily, the crystal," she heard someone say from
far away. She was forgetting something—something important that the same voice
had told her so long ago. She was supposed to turn . . . turn . . . turn to . .
.

Then someone started screaming. One of her victims? One of
those small orphaned ones? Who?

When Lily realized they were her screams, she scrambled to
her hands and knees and crawled rapidly toward the door. She couldn't bear this
anymore! She would go mad or die from the weight of her regret!

"No, Lily, don't," cried the disembodied voice.

She gave it no heed and slithered beneath the leather
curtain. Wind yanked at her hair. Fat drops of rain fell on her head, cooling
her burning body. She sprang to her feet, racing down the steep mesa. Rocks and
brambles nicked her feet, but she barely noticed. She was fleeing from all she
had been. Fleeing from the fear it was all she'd ever be.

The sky exploded, dumping bucketfuls of water on the earth.
The wind blew fiercely as if the spirits were trying to hold her back. She
thought she heard someone call her name, but the words got lost in the gale.

"Lily! Lily!" There, the words came again.

She looked back and saw Tony barreling down the slope.
Lightning flashed, and his brown body glistened with raindrops. Already, water
cascaded over the edges of the mesa, forming streams that churned the clay
soil.

Tony slipped in the mud and windmilled his arms for balance.
Regaining his footing, he called her name again.

Lily kept on running.

Then he cried out. She spun on the desert floor and saw him
tumbling down the slope. He crashed into a boulder at the bottom, then fell
heavily at its base.

                  
He
didn't move. Lily waited, but he remained very still. Water gushed around him.

Suddenly Lily's own torment meant nothing. She loved this
man, but even if he'd been a stranger, she now vowed no one would ever again
suffer from her actions, no matter how indirectly.

She sped to him, nearly falling herself as her feet lost
purchase on the rain-slick ground. When she reached his side, she dropped to
her knees.

"Tony . . ." Her heart hammered as she looked down
on his motionless form, then eased when she saw the regular rise and fall of
his chest. Bending over, she ran frantic hands along his limbs, checking for
blood, misshapen bone, calling his name again and again.

His lids fluttered. Lily straightened abruptly and he opened
his eyes. Falling on his stirring form, she dropped kisses everywhere. On his
forehead, his cheeks, his naked shoulders, his mud-splattered chest.

"Whoa . . ." he said weakly, turning his head to
catch her final kiss on his lips.

"Can you get up?" she asked, wanting to make
absolutely certain he was all right.