Skin Deep (35 page)

A sound echoed toward me. I was in a tunnel. A tunnel carved out of solid black rock. The shuffling sound drew closer and then something slammed into me, tossing me on my stomach, a sharp instrument piercing my neck. I was so getting tired of people sticking things into my neck all the time. My sight was now fully restored and in the dimness I could make out the dirty black soil right in front of my face.

I was now royally pissed off. Whoever they were they had three seconds to get off me. I lifted my arm and was about to hit backward with my armored arm when I heard a sharp gasp. My strike went amiss, my attacker shifted their weight and I was hauled up by the collar of my jacket.

In a move so quick and easy to miss, my attacker pulled the high neck of my polo down and in the same motion pulled me back and slammed me against the wall. It was impossible to move. I could see the hooded figure in front of me. A glimpse of a pale cheek - a woman. Only her strength defied her female curves.

"What the hell are you doing here?" The words were hushed yet filled with a ferocity I was unprepared for.

I was so stunned I was unable to respond with much more than a gulp.

"What are you doing here? How did you get here?" She paused, then grabbed my arm and lifted it to the dim light scowling at the seal. "And how did you get this?"

"Grams gave it to me." I said, pulling my hand away and tucking the seal into my bag.

"Ivy. I'm going to kill her." Strange; those words were uttered in anger and yet a tinge of affection simmered within the dire threat. "You had better get out of here. You've gotten yourself in enough trouble already."

She turned to leave, and almost disappeared into the shadows before I came to my senses. Although she attacked me she'd left me very much alive. She was the only 'ally' I had here. I caught her sleeve with my fingers, intent on halting her departure. What my action did was to pull the cloak open as she continued to walk away. She turned to me, to pull the fabric out of my fingers. A movement which tipped the hood of her cloak back and revealed her face.

The pale cheeks and ebony hair were still as perfect as I remembered. Even those
granite eyes glittered with the same intensity from my long faded memories.

"Mom?" I heard my voice quiver, on the edge of tears.

My mother tried to keep her features hard and controlled. But the slight sheen to her eyes was my real undoing and I would’ve burst into tears—if it hadn't been for the memory of all the hurt and pain I felt since she'd left me. All the long years of loneliness and silent tears shed into pillows, for a mother who hadn't loved me enough to stay by my side. The memories staunched my tears and dried my eyes.

The rush of footsteps on hard ground reverberating up the passage, pulled me out of memory lane. The sound echoed and I was both afraid and unbalanced again. Two figures approached; most likely guards. Unless we had the ability to blend into the rock surrounding us, we had absolutely nowhere to go.

I centered my weight and tugged my sleeve. This time I was prepared for a fight. Tara had honed hollow needles as fine as threads, which she'd filled with the poison. She'd refused to tell me what the liquid was. Just that it was fatal to a Wraith. I’d thought of gift horses and asked no more questions. I'd slipped the hair-thin needles along the seams and cuffs of my clothing.

Anywhere I was sure I wouldn't be pricked myself. Although Tara had reassured me the poison was not deadly to Walkers, I preferred not to take the chance.

Now I slipped a needle into each hand and waited as two Wraiths approached. Their faces were shadowed by their cloaks and I'd rather not see what would be revealed beneath those dark hoods. I moved slightly ahead of my mother, sure of my weapons power to take the two suckers down. They advanced fast.

Some part of my mind had always expected these Wraiths to be made up of bits of smoke. From what I’d seen in my experiences of killing them, they turned quickly into black smoke and disappeared through the Veil. It had never occurred to me they would be corporeal.

Even when I’d been constructing the tools to kill them, I must have unconsciously expected them to be spirits. Probably why when they attacked I was, for a brief moment, disoriented when I was body-slammed by the one nearest me and I ended up on my butt in black dirt. He came at me with one booted foot and his cloak shifted to reveal some sort of protective armor beneath.

Above the foot now digging into the soft flesh of my upper arm, was a muscled thigh and calf covered in a black, scale-like amour which moved as he did, and molded to his body. Some technology. Beneath the pain I made a note to take some of the amour back with me. Perhaps Tara could learn from it to create armor for me.

I swung my protected fore-arm across my body and connected with the side of his knee. Enough power injected into the strike to disable him temporarily, if not break bones. If he had bones in his knee. He stumbled forward. I grabbed him by his upper arms and pulled him toward me. Using the momentum of his fall I tossed him over my head. He landed in a crumpled, grunting heap. Slowly he got to his feet.

Damn he was almost invincible. With the Panther power in each move, any normal man would’ve been out like a light by now - Human or Walker. But this soul-sucking parasite kept on getting back on his feet. He was covered in amour. Until I found a vulnerable place to get the dart through. It was time to bring out the big guns.

I had to resort to getting down and dirty. I curved my torso and jumped back up onto my feet. The constant hum of energy which lived beneath my skin rose to the surface. I let my claws, ears, eyes and teeth transform. Let my Panther nature fill me up. Then I gave it control. I dropped to a knee, the rest of my body still in Human form but now filled to the brim with raw, bristling feline energy. I could smell his fear. See his movements before he even made them.

Talk about the upper hand. He never knew what hit him. I pounced from my low position. A stance which gave him the impression he would have plenty of time to avoid me. I let out a snarl as I flew through the air, claws spread, nostrils flared. My Panther nature hungered for blood and I hoped desperately that I wouldn't give in. Especially not while my mother watched; my mother who had never seen her children in their feline forms.

The sound of scuffling and a muffled, male grunt confirmed my Mom was holding her own against the other soul-sucker. A second whoosh of breath confirmed she had a mean left hook. I hit my attacker again, focusing the energy of the blow in the claws. I aimed at the neck, and I hit my mark. An oily, glistening black substance spilled onto the Wraith's cloak, and onto the dark floor. He looked at me, confused and surprised.

My claws came away soaked in the icky blackness. It took me a few seconds to accept it was blood. Dang. Wraiths bled black blood. I thought it was sort of cool, and quite appropriate. Black souls, black hearts, black blood. I turned and studied my handiwork. The Wraith lay spread-eagled on the ground, arms out flung.

The passage was silent and I felt a quiver of fear in the pit of my stomach. Mom. But when I turned she was fine. Staring at me, but physically uninjured. Her face was awash with emotion. Perhaps it was the sight of my partially transformed body which repulsed her. So I began to transform back to my full Human form.

"No." She took a step toward me, hand outstretched to halt my actions. "Don't change back. Not yet."

My surprise at her request had instinctively stopped the Change so I stood there, listening for the next round of footsteps sure to come. My mother stepped close and laid her hand on my cheek. I wanted to jerk back, away from her warmth. I had craved her touch for so many years that the simple warmth of her skin called tears from my eyes. She cradled my face, marveling at the change my jaw and eyes took on when partly transformed. My eyes were deeper, larger, greener. My jaw was longer. She could see the feline in me.

"Was it hard, baby?" I knew she meant the Change.

"I guess, but everyone goes through the same thing." Her question reminded me she hadn't been around for me through those years, and rekindled my anger.

"Not everyone. The Change is worse for Alphas and you know it.
"

I couldn't deny it. Iain had warned me it would hurt but I'd been so blasé about it. When it struck with its omnipotent agony, I was still taken by surprise. Never made a joke about it again.

My mother's eyes filled with tears, but I didn’t want to get emotional. I had questions. "What are you doing here?

"
I’m doing my job." I raised an eyebrow and waited. "I’m a hunter, just like you. And right now I’m on a delicate mission."

"
How long have you been here?"

"
A few hours."

"Have you seen Greer?" I asked, glad I could change the subject, although the new subject was no less emotionally taxing.

"What? No. Why?" All tenderness was now obliterated and replaced with pure suspicion. "What happened?"

"
A Wraith brought her here with Niko."

"Dear God." The fear
running though her face was a tangible thing. I felt it pulse right through my gut. She knew something I didn't, something horrible enough to freeze her in her tracks in spite of the imminent danger. My eyes thinned in suspicion. What was she keeping from me?

"What do the Wraiths want? Why are they doing this?" I asked.

"The Wraiths have been possessing Humans for decades even though it's been forbidden for centuries." Mom paused. "Can you describe him?"

"Er … he was using my friend Anjelo's body. And he had a bronze medallion around his neck."

"That's Widd'en."

"
Freaky name. So he's the reason there have been more possessions recently?"

"Yes. Widd'en is a rebel. He led a small fanatical group who believed Humans are just soul-fodder for the Wraiths. He's been spear-heading a revolution in Wrythiin and some of that has overflowed into the Human world." She nodded.
"Come, we shouldn't waste any more time. I think I know where we might find them." She paused, stared at my face, then headed off down the passage with me keeping pace.

There was s
omething about the way she looked at me, or perhaps the tears in her eyes. And the fact we stood in another dimension, fighting the same evil blood-suckers.

I'd been a toddler when she abandoned us, I knew her more from photographs and videos than memory. The subject of Mom had been treated as if she had died all those years ago. And her departure had hurt my father so deeply. So much that he had completely withdrawn from his children.

"I should be saying I'm sorry I left you. But I'm not." She shook her head, as if a thought had come to her and she was refusing to listen. I relished a brief burst of pure anger and hurt before I digested the words and its meaning, "At least you were safe. Until now."

Her face tightened with anger as we hurried through the tunnels. Seemed she now remembered exactly where we were and what we were doing, and she was back to being angry again.

"What are you so angry about?" I'd disappointed her somehow and it hurt to see the anger so bright on her beautiful face. Besides, she had no right being angry with me. No right at all. "What did I do wrong?"

"I tried to protect you from this." Her gesture encompassed more than the gleaming black tunnel. "He was supposed to protect you."

"Who? Dad?"

"Iain."

Hurt, anger, confusion. I wasn't sure which emotion was strongest, but at this point anger won. "Iain knows? He knew why you left us? That you were back and alive and well?" My voice raised to a feverish heat. Blood pounded in my veins and I fisted my hands, as if the simple action would staunch the tears which filled my eyes.

"Not for a long time." Her eyes were somewhere else as she delved in her memories. "About a year ago, I contacted him. To see how you were going
...you and Greer."

"Why?" A year was exactly how long I'd been
hunting the Wraiths.

"Someone was hunting in the city. And I needed to make sure it wasn't either of you girls. Iain was pretty sure you were busy with your counseling." She stopped and faced me, her eyes narrowed as she studied me. "Obviously he
was mistaken."

"Nobody knows. Not even Dad." I tacked that on and was satisfied with the pain I saw in her
gray eyes. What she'd done to him was unforgivable. Gone sixteen years without so much as a goodbye. She'd ruined his life and only when I watched her grief did I realize she'd gone through the very same agony she'd put us through. "Why did you do it? Why did you leave us? Was it something we did? Someone else in your life besides Dad?"

She drew away from the barrage of questions. But, with the stone wall at her back, she had nowhere to go. The passage was still silent for a moment before she started to walk again.

"You owe me an explanation," I said. She nodded and it surprised me. I'd been prepared for resistance or denial and her agreement was unbalancing.

"You do need to know. Now more than ever."

I waited for her to continue, still amazed the woman whom I'd dreamed and imagined and wished for was standing right in front of me. I was torn between the desire for my Mom to hold me close, and the infinitely more powerful need to hurt her right back, for all the pain she'd caused me over these years. What a baby I was.