Realm of the Wolf Book I: Wolf Dance (24 page)

mother and grandmother?" her words came out a mixture of

sobs and gasps.

A strange looked passed between the two men, and was

followed by a long, drawn out silence.

In the end, Busby shook his head in defeat. "I had hoped

that you would never learn of this, but there is no helping it

now."

Busby leaned back in his chair, running his age-worn

fingers though his thin-gray hair.

Laura waited, feeling as if she was in some kind of bizarre

limbo. Her eyes rested on Kenny, and she knew that he had

always known what her grandfather was about to tell her.

"Rosa was your older sister. Your mother and father didn't

die in an accident...." Busby paused, searching for the

strength to force the dreaded words from his lips.

"You see ... I loved your grandmother very deeply, but as I

have told you before, she was half Spanish and had a very

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strict Catholic upbringing. This alone was a bad enough

conflict."

Laura waited while Busby drew in a deep breath.

"I think your grandmother had a lot to do with why your

mother married a
Belagana
. It pleased your grandmother

when her daughter married a Christian. Your grandmother's

ways and mine were constantly in conflict." He closed his

eyes, summoning the painful images.

"Years after our marriage, your grandmother discovered

that I was a practitioner of something which the white man

might call ... witchcraft. I believe it may have driven her

mad." He waited for Laura's reaction—it was not long in

coming.

Laura paled and was unable to keep her bottom lip from

trembling. "A Skinwalker! My grandfather is a Skinwalker!"

She took an involuntary step back. All the time she had spent

in the white man's world hadn't etched away enough of her

beliefs to calm her turmoil.

Laura's eyes sought Kenny. "If you know about this, then

you must be one too," she observed.

He turned away without a word in his own defense.

"No!" Laura refused to believe what they were saying.

"How could you have kept this from me all these years?"

"As you must know, the information could be dangerous if

it were known. I wanted to protect you from this. I didn't

want you to turn on me as your grandmother did," Busby

tried to explain.

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Laura closed her eyes, attempting to gain control of the

turbulent emotions that stormed through her. "What

happened to them?"

"The year that it happened, Isabelle began having strange

nightmares. She said a jaguar haunted her dreams. She was

convinced it was a saint in disguise. At first I didn't take it

seriously, not until she began talking of how the saint was

telling her that her family was evil. It was then that I began

to worry for her sanity. I thought that my ways must have

finally broken her."

Busby's eyes were filled with painful memories. "When

your parents brought you girls to visit that summer ... I

watched her closely. Whenever she looked at you children, it

was with hate. I told my daughter and her husband of

Isabelle's behavior and dreams. Your father thought the best

thing to do ... would be to admit her to the hospital for a

psychiatric evaluation. I could not do this to my Isabelle."

His hands shook, as violent emotions threatened to escape

his firm grip. "I now wish I'd listened."

Laura watched him, unable to comprehend the terrible

nightmare her grandfather was reliving.

"It was a Friday night, two days before your parents were

to return to Colorado. You were not much more than a baby,

maybe three years old. I could deny you nothing . . . even

then.

"I had to go to Glass Mountain to get some milk for the

next morning, and you begged to come with me. When I

picked you up to take you out to the truck, Isabelle tried to

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stop me. She said it was not good to have you out in the

night air,"

Busby shivered as if a chill had just settled over him. "I

was glad when your mother stepped in to say it was okay if

you went. I had a very bad feeling all of a sudden ... but I left

anyway. That was the last time I saw them alive. When we

returned...." Busby had to stop— struggled to keep control of

his overwhelming grief.

"What I saw when I walked back into my home was

something that will never leave me. I ran you back out to the

truck as soon as I understood. Your parents were on the

couch, both shot in the head. Rosa had also been shot. Her

body I found in the kitchen. That was a different trailer than

this one. I wouldn't live in it after that."

Laura felt lightheaded, like she was entering a dream. The

scene that her grandfather described unfolded before her

eyes. Busby was one of the gentlest people she knew, and

she was sure that the horror of his discovery must have

devastated him.

Losing his battle for control, Busby let the tears stream

down his face. "I found Isabelle in the bedroom. She had

turned the gun on herself."

A thought struck Laura. "Something like this would be

legend around here, why have I never heard of it?"

"The investigating officers agreed to keep quiet for the

family's sake." Kenny finished the story for her grandfather.

"The official story was that they died in a car accident. Those

that did know the truth agreed that it would be best if you

never knew what happened that night."

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"In her mind, she believed that evil power had been

passed to her daughter and grandchildren. She thought it

would be used for some bad purpose. I think she thought that

if she killed you all ... she would stop the eventual

consequence of evil, but the part of her that was still sane

could not live with what she had done. If we hadn't left that

night, I'm sure we would have both been dead, too," Busby

finished in a voice so low that Laura had to strain to hear it.

Going to the fridge, Laura took out a bottle of tomato

juice, something that she had developed an intense craving

for the past few weeks. Her hands trembled so badly that

when she poured the juice into a glass, some of it spilled onto

the floor. Laura looked down to the splattered red liquid and

wondered if it was symbolic.

She drained the glass and poured some more.

"I'm sorry, but I didn't tell you any of this because I had

hoped that there would never be a need for it to darken your

life." Riddled with guilt, Busby could not even find it in him to

look at his granddaughter.

"I know, Grandpa, and I might never have known, except

for one thing...."

Laura stopped and at the sink and splashed cold water on

her face. "Since going to Wyoming, I have been having visits

from my grandmother's ghost, and twice from a little girl,

whom I just discovered today, is my sister."

Busby's features twisted with fear.

"I wonder if they were trying to warn you of the

Sungmanitu
?" Kenny voiced his thoughts.

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"I thought the same thing ... at first, but now I think it's a

lot more complicated than that. This jaguar that she dreamed

of—I think it has to have something to do with what

happened in Wyoming. I saw Rosa again today, at the

cemetery, and she said that they were after my child and she

warned me—she said that I should leave here."

"Who ... what child?" Busby was confused.

"I have the impression that she isn't speaking of Justin's

people," Laura explained.

"But what child?" Busby asked again.

"The child that I am going to have," Laura told them in a

steady, determined voice.

Both men appeared as if they could have been knocked

over with a feather.

"And it is his?" Kenny's voice was so low—he could not

hide his hurt.

Laura nodded.

"When will you have the child?" Busby asked.

"Probably sometime in February."

The heavy silence that prevailed spoke of their fears, and

doubts. What were the ghostly visions telling her and what

would this child be like?

* * * *

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Surrounded by thick, inky darkness, her body radiated

shades of red. She was on fire—burning for his touch in the

most intimate of places.

The scent of pine was prevalent as she lay back in her bed

of grass. Sensations of the gliding wet tongue on her inner

thigh scorched her to blazing passion. Her eyes strained to

cut through the darkness, seeking the source of her pleasure,

but there was only burning eyes.

The slick heat traveled to the root of her womanhood and

she was flooded by wave after wave of ecstatic release, dying

to embers only to flame into an inferno.

Shivering and suddenly cold, Laura woke to find her

nightgown damp and sticking to her sweat-slick body. Traces

of tears still clung to her lashes. She knew that it had been

Justin who came to her in her dreams.

Laura was gripped with the feeling of being closed in,

smothered. Leaving the sofa, she found her robe and slippers.

Outside, the night air was cool and she was finally able to

breathe. The perfume of the desert lent her some comfort.

Looking to the night sky, she admired the millions of tiny

stars inlaid in black velvet.

Laura walked through the darkness with no conscious

thought of where she was going. She followed a path that she

had traveled at least a thousand times before. It led to a Kiva

left there many yeas ago, perhaps by some Anasazi people.

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The junipers thinned as she neared the Kiva. Stopping, she

looked up at the moon that seemed so close, it was almost

like she could reach out and touch it. Falling to her knees, she

cried, "Justin! How could you have left me?" Her voice carried

through desert hills.

"Why did you have to let it happen like this?" Laura's cries

were answered by the howl of a lone wolf. She imagined it

wandering and alone—out there in the darkness.

Laura's tears were like drops of blood, escaping from her

wounded heart. Something scratched at the edge of her grief,

a sound—pulling her back to the desert night.

There was movement, just beyond her vision. She heard

voices—hundreds of them—voices that spoke so softly, as to

be almost inaudible. Gradually they became clear and more

distinguishable, but still no more than ghostly whispers.

"You belong to us."

Laura jumped to her feet and ran—mindless of the sting of

cactus against her legs. The voices followed her, taunting,

and demanding.

Once safely behind the aluminum door, she breathed

deeply, hoping to calm her nerves. Doubting her own sanity,

Laura peered into the darkness from the kitchen window.

Nothing stirred in the shadows beyond the confines of the

trailer. She knew there would be no more sleep for her on this

night.

The sun had already made its majestic appearance in the

eastern sky when her grandfather stumbled from the

bedroom.

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Laura smiled at him, "Well ... old man, it looks like you are

getting slower with age. The sun beat you to rising."

"It's been like that for a while now. You would know that if

you got up early a little more often. These old bones just

don't like to move anymore," he added.

Laura's voice grew serious as she related to him what had

happened at the Kiva. "I think what I need to do is find the

Sungmanitu
. I believe that is the only way my child will be

safe."

Busby said nothing as he contemplated Laura's problem.

"Even if there are other Shape-shifters, like your young man

said, what would they want with you and your child?" Busby

shook his head, the answer eluding him.

"But you are right." He looked at her. "I cannot keep you

safe from this enemy. Maybe the Wolf People can. In any

case, the baby is one of them and maybe it belongs to them."

"The baby is mine—mine and Justin's." Laura frowned.

"I'm going to Glass Mountain to see if I can contact

someone in Wyoming who can get a message to the

Sungmanitu,
" she informed him.

"And I'll pack," he told her.

Laura shot him a disapproving glance, but knew it would

be no use in trying to talk him out of going. He was

determined not to let any harm come to the only

granddaughter he had left.