Mistress of the Stone (13 page)

Daltry clamped a hand across her mouth and pressed her close to his body. The bats were hunting, and it wasn’t for a meal.

He kicked dirt over the remains of the smoldering embers then pulled Luísa up and into the shadows of the big trees. He pressed a finger to his lips. “Shh.”

Silently, he grabbed his boots, but didn’t put them on in case he needed to force a change in a hurry.

The way toward the main harbor lay too exposed. They had to go inland and take refuge in the realm of the dead. They had to see his sister.

The keen of wild, high-pitched screams filled the air. The wails traveled down the monkey paths and the trees, each chorus growing louder and more anxious. They were trying to locate her. He pricked his ears, trying to determine direction and distance. He nodded to the trail behind them. “Saint-Sauveur is anxious to retrieve you. He’s already on the beach. We’ll have to go deeper into the jungle if we’re to have a chance.”

“How do you know he’s landed?”

“Because I can hear his minions looking for you. They’ll search day and night and report back to him. We have to go where they dare not look. And I know of just such a place.”

They started for the jungle, and she pointed to his boots. “Don’t you want to put those on?”

“Later, perhaps. They’re still too wet to wear.” He had to lie. If it became necessary to transform without warning, the boots would bind him during the change and tear. He grew tired of ruining his boots.

He took her by the elbow and led her to the dark of the jungle. His sister was going to give him an earful. He had muddled everything. Now it seemed the prophecy was all but delivered. Saint-Sauveur would gather the night stalkers under his banner, and Daltry and his sister would become pariahs, forced to live in exile forever.

The jungle swarmed with the chitter of beasts known only to the night. He didn’t want to scare Luísa, but things were going to get a lot worse if they didn’t make it to Sanctuary soon.

Saint-Sauveur had summoned the nightwings and the werehyenas to his will. His crew might not be able to search the jungle’s depths, but there were other creatures at his disposal, beasts that would chase without conscience or pity.

A soft sucking sound echoed behind them. “Bugger me!” Daltry grunted.

“What is it?”

“We’ve got more company. Saint-Sauveur isn’t the only one who wants you.” He pointed to the trail behind them. The moist mulch wriggled with activity. Night crawlers, snakes and spiders clamored out of their hiding places, lured by the scent of live human flesh.

Luísa backed up and stepped on something crunchy. She jumped out of the way when a loud moan cursed her. She looked down to see a human hand claw its way out of a soft grave.

“
Dios mío
!” She made the sign of the cross. “What in blazes is going on?

The rest of the head emerged next, its flesh half eaten. Moist, rotted limbs forced their way out, clawing at the earth around it until it could pull the rest of itself out.

The walking dead had joined the chase. Only they hunted for a different master, one with even less conscience than Saint-Sauveur.

Daltry reared back and kicked the head, disconnecting it from the body and lobbing it into the verdant scrub.

The hapless ghoul stamped its bony hands all around its shoulders then turned its body to the yelp of its disembodied head.

“Here. In the brush. Find me before the girl gets away!”

Daltry snatched Luísa by the hand. “Time to go.”

Her face paled as she watched the headless body wander into the undergrowth to seek out its head. She clutched his arm, her fingers digging into his flesh. “Where are we going,
Capitán
Daltry?”

“Come now, Luísa,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. “Call me Xander. And we’re going to a safe place. A place where Saint-Sauveur can’t touch you.”

A mounting groan welled up behind them, stopping Luísa in her tracks. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her along. “Don’t look back!”

“What was that?”

“More ghouls.”

“There’s more?” She stopped again.

This time, he was not so gentle and he jerked her along to keep moving.

“Unless you want to join their number, do not stop again. They will not rest and they will not bargain, Luísa. They’re looking for you. Now hurry!”

A long wail echoed behind them and Luísa jumped into his arms. Her clothes were still damp and her hair smelled of seaweed, but the rest of her was all softness and female. This woman had the worst timing.

“
Santo de Dios
! They’re everywhere.”

“This is the home of the undead. What doesn’t chase us above ground follows us below.”

Her smoky eyes grew wide trying to comprehend his words. A willful shriek cracked the wall of droning voices behind them. He grabbed her by the hand and dragged her. They were never going to make it.

Luísa didn’t know what to believe anymore. This tiny island had been a closely guarded secret of the sea, and now she knew why.

The unholy moans and shrieks of whatever pursued them were the stuff of nightmares. It sounded like no lament she’d ever heard before and they were gaining ground. Twice she stumbled and Xander helped her up both times.

The man who had defied every danger with cheeky confidence was in a hurry to evade this one.

Definitely the right idea. Luísa mustered all her strength and picked up the pace. Whatever dismal souls wandered this rainforest meant them ill will.

Her eyes remained downcast, fearful more ghouls would reach out from their graves and carry her below. She struggled to navigate the dark and heavy canopy of the jungle. Every footfall landed on something crunchy or squishy, or worse.

The forest floor writhed with life. Millipedes and fat larval insects rousted from beneath the leaf litter. The slow scraping sound of snakes coiled their way through the vegetation while the flapping of bat wings echoed above her.

The whole vernal mantle had awoken, hungry and malcontent.

She tripped on an exposed root and fell face forward in front of an angry viper. Luísa shut her eyes when it lunged at her, only to find Xander clutching the snake inside a tight fist. She had never known any man with reflexes that fast. Surprisingly, he didn’t kill it, but tossed it far away.

He helped her to her feet. “Are you hurt?”

“I think I twisted my ankle.”

Something rustled through the trees, and they both looked up. “I’ll carry you then.”

“No,” she groaned as she put weight on her foot. “I can walk.”

They had just begun their steady trot again when Daltry grabbed her by the waist and pushed her down on the ground, covering her with his body.

Luísa peered over his shoulder just as the trees howled to life. Black shadows shot through the air, shadows with wings and the pug-nosed faces of giant bats. They keened, short ear-piercing screeches that hit them with the force of clubs.

One beast pulled away from the mob and dove straight at them. Daltry wrapped his arms and legs around Luísa and rolled both of them into the heavy brush.

It was too late, and the beast was too close. It swept down with claws extended and scraped a long red trail along Daltry’s back.

Daltry held back a groan, but he couldn’t mask the grimace on his face. The demon had gained purchase on his flesh.

The tropical jungle lit with the screeches of terrified monkeys and the mounting wail of something yet unseen.

The giant bat creature flapped its webbed wings furiously, lifting a body so monstrous in size it defied the laws of nature. It rose from its perch then dove headlong for another attack.

In the moment it took to blink, Daltry’s jaw lengthened until it looked like a dog’s muzzle. Fur sprouted around his face and arms, and his hands, once tender with her, had transformed into large bony appendages with the claws of an animal.

Luísa screamed, pushing herself from underneath this monster that was once man. Still on the ground, she scuttled backwards until her head hit the base of a tree.

The creature turned and looked at her only for a moment, a look of regret as far as Luísa could tell. But it had other prey in mind. In one revolution his body turned and lunged five feet off the ground to meet his adversary in battle.

Werewolf
. The creature of legend and lore. One moment Daltry was as human as any man, and in the next, contortions twisted his body into that of a beast. Paqua had known the truth of it all along.

Daltry’s breeches had torn in the transformation, and all that was left were white drawers that clung to his hips tightly. His body was covered in fur and muscle. No trace of the man was left, except for remaining upright.

Daltry met the bat creature in midair, colliding with a thunderous blow. He caught the demon, tangling it within his powerful arms and clamping his teeth at the base of its skull. They crashed to the ground and struggled before the black creature keened a death cry and slumped beneath the wolf.

Satisfied, Daltry released the demon, snapping at the bat’s face to be sure it was dead. He turned to Luísa, and took one halting step toward her.

Luísa pulled out her knife, hardly a deterrent to a beast so big, but she had no intention of going down without a fight.

The man-beast stared at her for a long moment, chest heaving from the exertion of battle, its lips ringed with a mixture of drool and blood. Another step and then it stopped, turning its head to a new distraction.

The jungle rose up, a furor of wails and cackles that closed in on them like a wall of sound. This time the attack came from the ground. The werewolf ran at Luísa and scooped her up in his arms.

She tried to scream, but no sound escaped her. It was then she realized this creature had deemed itself her protector. Behind them and closing fast were the monsters of nightmares and madness. Tall, lean men with hyena-like faces and smooth, mottled fur bounded after them, their mouths foaming white with delirious excitement.

Daltry clutched her to his chest and leapt distances inconceivable by human standards. The terrain sloped upwards, making it harder for him to traverse the forest floor. They had evaded nearly all the godless spawn, save for one clever beast that traveled through the trees rather than the ground.

It landed in front of them, knocking Daltry out cold, then wrenched Luísa from his prone form.

The creature’s breath was hot and fetid, and Luísa thought she would vomit when it cleaved her to its body and licked the side of her face. Its breath rattled contentedly inside its chest, and it turned to lope away.

Instead, Luísa was thrown again. Daltry had regained consciousness and lunged at the hyena-faced ghoul. They scrambled on the jungle floor like two angry lions, biting and clawing each other until their bodies were covered in blood.

The ghoul was larger and stronger. Luísa had no doubt it would win in the end.

It wrapped its huge arms around Daltry’s waist and squeezed, crushing him until his resistance diminished. Daltry let out a desperate gasp, no longer able to fight, let alone breathe. His hands pushed against the demon’s grip to no avail.

Luísa watched in horror. She could run and leave these miserable creatures to their fate, but as she watched Daltry’s life force drain away, she knew she couldn’t abandon him. Her fingers clutched the slim dagger that had been hidden inside her boot, and raised it up as high as she could.

Where the courage came from she didn’t know, but she pounced on the hyena’s back and stabbed it at the base of its neck, digging the knife deep where it found a notch between the bones. She twisted the blade with both hands and hung on.

It was too busy killing Daltry to understand the danger riding on its back. Its death must have come as a great surprise when she plunged the dagger, severing neck from spine. Its head jerked up and the mouth opened, but no sound came forth. The wound sizzled like fat on a griddle and tiny plumes of smoke seeped along the fissure of torn flesh.

The creature lolled to one side, then fell face down, death coming so suddenly it didn’t have a chance to gurgle its last.

Right before her eyes, it turned into a red-haired man, a naked giant, with a wound that bled in long rivulets down his back.

Luísa clutched the bloody knife in her hands. She stared at Daltry, who was quickly losing his fur and resuming his human form. He scrambled to his feet, and took one step forward before collapsing on top of the dead man-beast.

“Oh no, you don’t. Don’t you dare die on me!” Luísa slid the knife back into her boot, then grabbed Daltry by the arm. “Get up, Xander. Please. We can’t stay here.”

His body lay wracked with countless wounds, injuries so severe, she knew he’d never make it. But she’d be damned if she left him to these monsters.

“We have to go, Xander. Come on now. A few more steps.”

He clutched her by the arm and pulled her close to his face. “Run, Luísa,” he gasped. “Head for the top of the hill and beyond to a bank of mist.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“You have to.” He was coughing blood. “I can’t make it.”