Mellizo Wolves (8 page)

“Nothing,” Damon said in a low, calming voice. “My wife and
I learned of the break-in when we came for our scheduled appointment. This is
Madam Nola. She’s the one who called the police.”

Haywood looked down at Madam Nola, his expression
skeptical. “You’re the complainant?”

She stood a little taller and nodded.

He frowned. “Full name?”

“Madam Nola Crow Nobiyah.”

“Okay, Madam Nobiyah. I’ll need your statement.” He gave
Damon a hard look. “We’ll need yours, too. But this is a crime scene. So step
outside with Officer Montoya and give him your information. He’ll have you sign
an incident report.”

“Please, we’d like to stay. We’re friends of Madam Nola.”

“Touching. But wait outside. You can console her after I
take my report and my investigators arrive to comb the place for evidence.”

As Damon hustled Angela out the door, he called over his
shoulder to Madam Nola, “I think we’ll take the girls on home. If you need
anything, let us know. We’ll call for a rescheduling. And let’s talk about
upgrading your security.”

Madam Nola nodded, then with a trembly voice, began telling
Officer Haywood about the break-in, the attack on her, and the slaughter of her
beautiful Cockatoo.

Damon whispered, “I’d like to hear her description of the
assailant.”

“Me, too,” Angela said. “So let’s stay. He can’t order us
around like that.”

Damon kissed her temple. “It’ll serve us better to comply.
I believe in picking my battles—then making them count.”

“You’re right.”
The other advantage to a quick exit
,
she thought,
is to escape the sight of the sickening, acrid-smelling, bloody
massacre.

Outside, Officer Montoya had them fill out and sign an
incident report. Then he let them go.

When they entered the car, her wide-eyed mom asked, “What’s
going on?”

Before Angela could answer, Damon glanced over his shoulder
at her mom and said, “Let’s get away from here to talk.” Prior to starting the
car, he gave Angela a quick hug, no doubt to buoy her strength. He probably
couldn’t tell it by the tremors rippling through her body, but her building
anger was helping to steel her nerves.

After they turned onto Foothill Boulevard, Damon said, “It
was a break-in turned violent, Mother Ward. Angela can fill in the details when
our little girls aren’t around.”

“I’ll call tonight with all the particulars,” Angela said,
feeling a bit stifled.

Mom nodded and hugged the girls tightly. Angela wished she
was in the backseat to hug them, too. She needed to feel her little girls in
her arms and soak up their sweetness, their innocence. “Thanks for keeping the
girls outside. Going in would have given them nightmares for years.”

 
* * * *

After they tucked their girls into bed that night and
retired to the sanctity of their bedroom, Angela couldn’t wait any longer to
speak her mind. “The break-in and the bloody slaughter of that beautiful white
Cockatoo was enough to handle. But that image in the crystal really unnerved
me. That fiery clawed hand plunging into the earth looked pure evil.”

Damon drew her into his arms. His face looked gray, his
eyes worried. “That’s why I set up the lab, Honey. We’ll dig until we have
answers for the weird phenomena and then take action to rectify it.”

Angela nodded. It wouldn’t be that simple, but she admired
his strength and take-charge attitude. “I wish I felt the police were on our
side. By the stern way Officer Haywood looked at you and spoke to you, I think
he’d like to tie you to the break-in.”

“We’ll just have to prove him wrong. I’ll call Madam Nola
tomorrow and get her description of the intruder and anything else she can tell
me about the break-in.”

“And you’ll make another appointment with her?”

His long, piercing look worried Angela. Finally, he said,
“If she feels up to it. Madam Nola went through a rough time today. Now, let me
give you a relaxing back rub and let’s try to forget all this for a while.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“Try,” he said. His dark-lashed, amber-brown eyes glinted
with love. He bent toward her and his ink-black hair came alive with the
blue-sapphire rays from the firelight. “Turn over.” He dug his strong fingers
into the knots in her back and shoulder muscles for several marvelous minutes,
then he strayed lower and massaged her buttocks. She gave a little cry in
response to the conflicting massage that both relaxed her muscles and stirred
her passions. Tense, she waited for him to slid his hand lower and massage
between her legs.

Suddenly he turned her to face him. “Better?”

“Oh, God. You’re not stopping.”

“Not exactly.” He stroked her hair and looked down into her
eyes. Then he lowered his gaze to her lips.

She parted them, then entwined her arms around his neck and
drew him closer, offering what his throbbing erection against her belly proved
he wanted as desperately as she did.

When his lips touched hers, they were firm, his mouth open
and moist.

In a dance of love, passion, they sought and entwined
tongues. Fire flooded her veins. His heat surrounded her until every inch of
her flesh was on fire.
Yes, yes, make me forget.

The air crackling around them seemed alive, dangerous, but
she could only hang onto the passion and ride it to climax.

* * * *

The next day, Madam Nola, showed
up at their door at 2:00 p.m., the time they’d set earlier that morning for the
reading. She wore a turquoise jogging suit, running shoes, and a baseball cap.
Only wisps of curly platinum hair showed.

Angela glanced at the bowling bag the psychic was carrying.
“No crystal ball today?” she said, hoping it was inside, yet shivering at her
memory of the last image she’d seen on it.

Madam Nola gestured with the bag. “It’s right here.”

Angela forced a smile and led her into the den where Damon
waited with both girls giggling on his lap.

“I’ve never worked in someone’s home before,” Madam Nola
said. “Where shall I set up?”

Damon pointed to the card table he’d brought in for her.
“Would you like something to eat or drink before you start?”

“No, thank you. I have an early dinner date when I finish
here.” She wasted no time setting up her paraphernalia in the center of the
table. When the black lace cloth and crystal in its lush burgundy cover were in
place, she walked slowly over to the girls, bent down, and introduced herself.
“I’m Auntie Nola,” she said, drawing two huge, peppermint lollipops from her
bag. “We’re going to be great friends.”

Both girls smiled widely, deepening their dimples and
nodded. Madam Nola handed them the treats and then began an Egyptian chant with
a nursery-rhythm cadence. She withdrew a bottle of bubbles from her belt and
sprayed the fragrant rainbow orbs around until they filled the room. The twins
laughed and tried to catch them with tiny fists. The psychic twirled two times
on her toes and then, with nimble fingers, slowly withdrew the velvet cloth
from the crystal. The orb glowed and a full moon appeared. Suddenly, in the
distance on a rock, posed two small howling wolves, one white as snow, the
second black as onyx.

“Doggies,” the girls cried in delight.

Angela gasped. “Does that mean…” She was unable to say the
words.

Damon hugged the girls tighter and kissed the tops of their
heads. “When?” he asked, his voice husky.

Madam Nola frowned and shook her head. “I see no timetable.
I only know the lingering curse on your beautiful daughters is not of immediate
concern.”

Suddenly, the room filled with a whirling cacophony of
whispers. Madam Nola listened intently, as though she understood the murmurs.
The twins giggled and clapped their hands at the swishy sounds swirling around
them.

Madam Nola put her hand to her right ear and listened
intently. “The whispering spirits warn of a cloud of danger hanging over this
mansion and your girls,” Madam Nola said finally in an ominous tone. “Keep them
very close.”

Angela shuddered as an old familiar feeling rippled through
her—that the walls had ears and the portraits had spying eyes.

* * *
*

Damon, still holding his daughters close, put his arm
around Angela and then they both escorted Madam Nola to the door. When Angela
tried to pull away, he tightened his hold on her. “Take care, Madam Nola, and keep
in touch.”

“You do the same.” Her tone wavered. “This isn’t something
to take lightly.”

Fighting self doubts and growing icy fears, he watched the
psychic enter her purple VW bug and drive away.
Damn, he couldn’t allow his worries to render him impudent
.
He had to remain strong, decisive
. Damon
drew Angela and his girls closer. “Honey, we’ll work this out.”

She looked up at him with liquid, glistening eyes. “How?”

“I’ll start by talking to Lazar. Here, take the girls.”

Before she could demand explanations he didn’t have, he
kissed his wife and girls lightly, then dashed for the lab.

He heard her call out for him to wait, but time was running
out.

He stepped into the lab. The blast of meat-locker coldness
chilled his already icy bones.

Lazar was surrounded by labeled vials in varied sizes and
shapes. Damon detected the smell of blood. “Time is running out, Lazar. I need
something hopeful now on the serum we’re trying to develop.” He had to have it
for his own sanity and to give Angela hope and something positive to cling to.

Lazar looked up and met Damon’s gaze, his piercing,
ice-blue eyes probing. “Only that we’re closer than six months ago. Of course,
success would be more certain if I could use blood from actual lycanthropes.
The procedure is extremely dangerous and requires extracting three drops of
blood from a morphed creature while in their wild form.”

Oh, dear God. One
day, the girls will start morphing and will have the kind of blood Lazar needs.
But Angela would never allow tests on their girls in any form, now or ever.
He winced at the thought, but he’d have to weigh their
suffering from the curse against the suffering required to escape it. “Since we
don’t have any lycanthropes available, what’s our next best option?”

“We might achieve a measure of success on a pre-morphed
individual who carries the cursed gene. Do you know anyone who fits that
category?”

Damon frowned. “What do you think?”

“I think this project is close to your heart. And most
likely, you know someone who is suffering from lycanthropy.”

“My interest in this project is purely profit.” The lie
burned on his tongue. “With the high field expenditures and soaring costs of
running this lab, I must see results.”

“I understand the profit motive well,” Lazar said. “And I
embrace it whole-heartedly. I’m experimenting with drops of wolf blood, herbs,
and minute amounts of the healing properties carefully extracted from the earth
sludge on your property.” A gleam lit up his icy blue eyes. “However, if what I
suspect is true, there may be one more thing I can try.”

“What?”

“Let me think it through and I’ll have an outline of my
plan ready for you within the week.

“Great. Thanks, Lazar. You won’t be sorry. Let’s make this
thing happen.”

Damn it, he’d left without guarantees, but the
determination he’d seen in Lazar’s eyes assured him the man would leave no
stone unturned to find a cure.

* * *
*

Hugo’s mind clicked on like a light bulb when the luminous
angel with muddy wings reached down into the murky depths and took his hand.
“Come with me, Hugo. God has reserved a place for you in heaven.”

He shuddered, recalling the violent way he’d died. While in
the vulnerable state of morphing, his stronger, evil brother, Reeves, leapt at
him, locked sharp fangs onto his throat, and sucked the life out of him. And
for all Hugo knew, Reeves was still out there.

“What happened after I died? Did anyone ever find me?”

The angel smiled. “Your half-brother, Damon, found you. He
was still in his wolf state, so he and Angela’s wolf counterpart buried you in
this cave while her ghostly spirit watched. Their great sadness should comfort
your spirit and make you feel loved and willing to accept your fate.”

“How much time has passed since my murder?”

“Four years.”

He knew the rest, for those years he lay rotting in the ground
until the earthquake shifted and changed the land. Suddenly, broiling, muddy
liquid swirled around his half-morphed body and he felt the hot healing forces
flow into him. He went through the torturous morphing stages and became a man
again. A dead man. But so what? Alive, he hadn’t been much of a man anyway. His
stomach knotted.