Shadow on the Moon (31 page)

"Your victims shall become
your oppressors," White Hawk forewarned, then disappeared into the brush
as the man wearing glasses came through a copse of trees.

The woman nearly fell into
Rutherford's arms, which he instinctively wrapped around her. She pawed and
snapped at him, spewed out angry-sounding foreign words.

"What the hell!" he
sputtered, fending off her blows the best he could. "Hey, hey, hey. We're
here to help."

"My God, she must be
freezing!" someone cried.

Someone else shoved a blanket at
him, and Rutherford tried to wrap it around the shivering, fighting woman. She
resisted at first, but then warmth fell on her flailing arms. She stopped
screaming and clutched the blanket's edge. With frantic, jerky movements she
pulled it around her body, held it at her neck, and pressed into the crook of
his arm.

"Let's get her into the
helicopter," said the sergeant.

With a nod, Rutherford picked her
up, mildly surprised when she meekly settled against his chest. Seeking his
heat, he supposed. As they started back, the others fell in behind him and
talked among themselves.

"Wonder what she saw,"
asked a bull of a man, who carried one of the weapons.

"Stark naked," said
another. "Where are her clothes?"

"She's acting nuts, if you ask
me," said the female officer.

To enter the clearing, they had to
pass the body, which hadn't yet been covered. Again the woman came alive. With
a powerful twist Rutherford wouldn't have thought possible for someone so
small, she flew from his arms and fell on the corpse.

Her blanket dropped away. The
blazing morning sun revealed deep scratches on her mud-caked back and legs;
white tear marks streaked her dirty face.

"Jorje!" she wailed,
running frenzied hands across the man's limp shoulders, apparently unaware she
was wallowing knee-deep in snow. When the man didn't respond, she patted his
cheeks briskly, like someone trying to revive a patient from a faint. His neck
flopped lifelessly back and forth. She whimpered, bent over his head.

When she began licking his tawny
face, still murmuring something that sounded like a name, Rutherford stared in
astonishment. Then he joined the others in trying to pull her away. She fought
them for a time like the wild thing she appeared to be, her screams almost
drowning out the instructions they called to one another.

Finally, the bull of a man yanked
her up and shoved her into Rutherford's arms. She shuddered there a second,
then threw back her head and let out a keen.

"S-spooky," said the
breathless sergeant, who was now standing at Rutherford's elbow.

"Absolutely," he replied,
staring in bewilderment at the tiny madwoman howling like a wolf inside the
shelter of his arms. "Absofuckinglutely."

Later, when they finally loaded the
trembling woman into the helicopter to be evacuated, and Rutherford stared up
at the retreating speck, he wondered exactly what madness they were unleashing
on society.

* *
*

Tony White Hawk had a way of
turning up when needed, and that morning wasn't any different.

"Thanks." Dana said,
taking the miscreant in hand.

"Don't pet her Dana,"
Morgan said, staring sternly down at Aphrodite, who didn't yet know the wrath
her earlier escape had caused. Still, Dana suspected Morgan would go easy on
her, considering she was pretty battle worn.

"Where did you find her?"
she said to Tony.

"Down at . . ." Tony turned
his head away. "In the Clearing of the Black Hands. I also found
this."

He held out a small bottle, which
he put in Dana's hand. "Keep it always. Its return is a good omen."

With a smile, Dana took it and
rolled it between her fingers. It was still half-full of holy water. Maybe she
and Morgan would use it to christen their children. "Always the cryptic
one, aren't you?"

White Hawk laughed, then bent to
stroke Fenris, running his finger along the dog's tattered ear. "Your
brave pet is faring well."

"He'd do better if he'd stop
chewing on his splint," Morgan grumbled.

"Leave him alone," Dana
shot back. "Besides, we'll take him to a vet as soon as we get out of
here."

Fenris scampered off and joined the
other dogs. For a short time, they all stood and watched the dogs play in the
sodden meadow, enjoying themselves despite their angry red wounds and missing
patches of fur.

"The runt does well on three
legs," White Hawk said.

"He should. Any dog with heart
enough to attack Lily ." Dana let her words drift off. Already, the ritual
was becoming a dimly remembered nightmare, and it seemed incredible it all
happened only the night before last. Her face darkened, and she turned toward
the porch of the cabin where they'd left the backpacks they'd be carrying down.

She heard the men following. When
she cleared the top step, she turned and looked at Tony. "We can't thank
you enough for all you've done."

He put up his hands. "No
need."

"There is," said Morgan.
"If you hadn't helped Dana get me out of the clearing . . . She could
never have done it without you."

Dana moved forward and gave White
Hawk a hug. "I hope we see you again," she said thickly. She stepped
back, and Morgan watched her gaze around as if seeing the mesa for the first
time. Suddenly, a startled expression crossed her face, and she asked a
question, speaking in a horrified whisper. "What about Lily?"

"You didn't know?"

White Hawk's voice contained
surprise, something Morgan had never heard from him before. He felt a rush of
alarm.

"Know what?" he asked.

"Just as Venus transformed
you, my friend, so she transformed Lily."

"You mean she's not a werewolf
anymore?" Dana's voice held a host of emotions.

Morgan didn't understand why White
Hawk sounded so solemn. This was cause for celebration. Finally, he was free.
Lily would never come after him again. "How do you know?"

"I saw her before the
officials took her away."

"I wish you could have killed
her," Dana said. "She's evil. She . . . deserves to die."

"I felt the temptation. Were
it not for the children . . ." White Hawk turned his face away, but not
before Morgan saw pain in his eyes.

"Children?" Morgan
echoed.

"Lily never killed the
children."

"That explains it," Dana
remarked. "I became intrigued about the wolf slaughters in the first place
because they'd passed over a child. It wasn't typical wolf behavior."

This stirred Morgan's memory of
Lily saying she always spared the children. But he still didn't understand. "Does
that suddenly make her a saint?" he asked harshly.

"Not in my book," White
Hawk replied. "But some think it makes room for mercy. Regardless, this
wasn't for me to act upon. The tribunal will decide."

Then he slipped his hood onto his
head. "Don't do that creepy stuff, Tony," Dana protested.

But already the hawk's eyes peered
at them. Morgan awaited the prophecy he knew would issue from the beak.

"Out of the skies will come a
warrior. With neither weapon nor shield, he will rein in the white beast and
take her to face her victims. Naked and ashamed, she shall gaze upon their
anguished faces and quail from the agony in their cries and know what she has
done . . ."

Dana moved closer to Morgan. He
reached out. The dogs stopped playing on the mesa and turned toward them.

White Hawk dropped his hood.

"Whoa!" he said.
"That was pretty creepy."

Dana and Morgan chuckled uneasily,
then she picked up her backpack. White Hawk secured it for her, and when that
was done, he helped Morgan into his.

"So, you're on your way?"

Morgan and Dana nodded
simultaneously. "You sure you don't want the cabin?" Morgan asked.

"It's a kind offer, but the
People are simple and we prefer our pueblos." He looked off into the
distance. "Besides, your chimney draws the attention of civilized man, and
he is already encroaching far too rapidly."

"Then burn it to the ground.
Unless, of course, that will draw attention, too." Morgan laughed
bitterly. "After what happened, I suspect the legend of Ebony Canyon will
keep folks away for a long time."

"No. They will come. The
curiosity-seekers, the hunters." Again Morgan thought he looked solemn,
but in the next instant he shook it off and smiled. "Not for some time,
though."

"There you go again,"
Dana responded. "Talking in riddles."

They all laughed. Soon they said
good-bye, with Dana giving White Hawk another hug. He remained in the meadow
while Morgan and Dana collected the dogs, then stood there watching them as
they started down the mountain. After a few turns in the wooded road, they
could no longer see him.

A long, cold, muddy hike later,
Dana and Morgan arrived at the Ranger. A sticker on the windshield instructed
the Forest Service to tow it, and Dana gave a sigh of relief that they hadn't
gotten around to it yet. Thankfully, the keys were also still in the ignition.

An enormous weight was lifted off
her shoulders. They were really leaving Ebony Canyon. She turned to Morgan,
smiling. He looked so wonderfully human as he drew his colorful parka around
his beardless jaw.

The previous morning had been the
end of the nightmare. Tony had come out of nowhere just as the helicopter closed
in. Jorje's body lay in a sun-streaked snow cluster by the trees. Lily was
nowhere in sight, and the dogs had gathered around Fenris, whimpering. Dana had
been holding Morgan's naked body in her lap, unable to rouse him, terrified,
and knowing she had no way of explaining the scene to the highway patrol.

Murmuring encouragement, Tony had helped
Dana get Morgan up the path to the sled, then returned for the fallen dog. The
sled was barely big enough for both large forms, and the remaining dogs, tired
and hurt, strained to pull it. Tony trotted alongside the entire time, urging
the dogs on, soothing Dana.

At the cabin, he put Morgan on the
daybed—Dana couldn't face the thought of returning to his dark room—and she'd
climbed in beside him, huddled next to his chilled body, and prayed he would
wake up.

What if the ritual had been too
much? She'd seen the pain he'd endured. Maybe he wouldn't survive. Exhausted
and distraught, she eventually fell asleep.

Morgan finally awoke and climbed
out of bed in a frenzy. He gathered all his drab clothing, took it to a trash
heap near the smokehouse, and burned it. Then he'd insisted that Dana shave his
beard.

Now, as she gazed at him in the
bright blue parka he'd kept in the rear of the wardrobe but had never worn, she
reached up and touched his smooth, handsome face. "I love you."

He moved forward, put his arms
around her. "Not nearly as much as I love you."

"Oh, my love would be hard to
beat." She rubbed her cheek against his jaw. "Mmm," she purred.

"Nice." He rubbed back.
"I swear I'll never have a beard or wear gray again."

"What a colorful idea, "
Dana joked.

She wanted to stay there forever,
but the dogs were milling around.

"They all need a vet's
attention," she said with a sigh.

Morgan sighed, too, released her,
and called for them. Then he opened the back of the Ranger and told them to
pile in.

As Morgan helped Fenris, who was
having a hard time due to his injured leg, Dana's eyes drifted to her vehicle.
Red. It was red. A memory stirred.

A giant woman shall emerge from
the storm on a red steed and tame the wild beast
.

Could a four-by-four be considered
a steed? Her eyes drifted to the top of the mountain where they'd last seen
Tony.

"Morgan!" Dana cried.

Morgan had been buried in the back,
trying to rearrange cargo to make more room for the dogs, and when Dana cried
out, he jerked up in alarm.

"Ouch!" He rubbed his
head.

"Look!" Dana was pointing
to the sky, but the tall trees above the Ranger blocked his view.

"What's so important? You
shook me up so bad I hit my head."

"You'll live." Dana
wagged her finger urgently. "Look!"

Morgan smiled as he hurried over.
This was the woman who'd chanted the Shadow of Venus through the night, the
woman he would marry, the woman who would drive him nuts. God, was he a lucky
man.

When he reached her side, he put an
arm over her shoulder and looked to where she was pointing. His heart skipped a
beat.

"What do you think?" he
asked.

"Tony burned the cabin."

A huge cloud of smoke covered the
northern sky. Dark, thick, swirling, taking the stains on his soul to heaven,
or so Morgan felt, leaving him whole and pure and free.

"That's what I think,
too." He tightened his embrace and smiled with absolute joy. "Now
we'll never have to come back."

Dana didn't say anything, but he
knew she understood. She snuggled closer, wrapped her arms around his waist,
kissed his cheek. They stood there for a long time, watching the symbol of
their horror go up in smoke.

Finally, Dana said, "Let's hit
the road."

They headed for the Ranger arm in
arm, ready to leave Ebony Canyon forever.

And above, behind their backs,
glided a white bird of prey, wings spread wide against the blackened sky.

It cried shrilly, then soared away.

A Note From Connie

Connie Flynn, a bestselling and
award-winning author of ten novels and several short stories, also teaches
writing and is currently an adjunct professor at Phoenix and Mesa Community
Colleges in Arizona. She is a co-founder of Bootcamp for Novelists Online, an
internet school with a unique, focused approach to teaching novel writing. She
is currently working on a fantasy novel, the first in a proposed five-book
series.