The Hunter's Moon (The Secret Warrior Series) (11 page)

“Fine,” she muttered.

He gave her an unflinching stare.

Oh crap
.
He knew
.

“The bow defeats you, does it not?”

She pursed her lips, then opened them. “You want me to admit I’m terrible? Very well. I suck at archery.”

“She wants a long scarf with pebbles sewn into the end. For a weapon,” Jimmy offered.

Morgan cringed. She’d be the laughing stock of the entire clan. Word probably spread through them like wildfire.

A faint smile flickered in the aged warrior’s lined face. “No doubt Miriam will fashion this for her.”

“Gladly,” the motherly woman agreed, without a trace of the amusement dancing in Hawthorne’s eyes.

At least, the teasing youth didn’t double over with mirth and slide to the floor. Okema’s presence kept Hawthorne in line. Willow maintained her composure, and Buck coughed politely behind his hand. Stoic Peter was unmoved. Jackson looked like one bracing for a gale.

He was right. The momentary humor in Okema’s expression passed, displaced by firmness. “Morgan Daniel.”

She swallowed hard at his summons. “Yes, Okema?”

“You may have the scarf, and any other
silent
weapon you wish, but do not abandon the bow. Are you not the seventh Morcant woman?”

She nodded.

“More power lies in you than you begin to realize.”

He allowed her a moment to absorb his assertion, then reached over and laid his hand on her head. Energy streamed from his touch and a near electric surge coursed through her. His eyes pierced her soul. He could have fried her if he’d chosen to.

“Hear me well. Your life is spared, and that of your brother, if you fight with all your strength for our people.”

Was he bargaining with her?

“I am offering you a way,” he said, as if gauging her thoughts.

More afraid of what she might do to Jimmy than surviving the upcoming change, she needed hardcore assurance. “You will guarantee Jimmy’s safety?”

“My eye is on him. He shall not suffer at your hand, nor any Wapicoli’s.”

“You will guard him from my bite?”

“I will. Never before have I done this for a Morcant. Only for you, if you do as I ask.”

Relief welled in her. “Then I shall give my all.”

A slight nod, and he withdrew his palm from her head, taking the current with him.

Jimmy raised his hand as if he were in school. “I’ll also fight for you.”

“Good. You have much talent, Morcant boy.” Okema turned his gaze on Jackson. “You are the seventh Wapicoli male, descendent of the Star People, destined to be chief after me. You also have far more power than you know, or desire. I see the reluctance in your eyes.”

Jackson made no denial. “I never wished for such power.”

“Yet, this is your birthright. One you must embrace.” Again, Morgan came under Okema’s scrutiny. “My grandson told you his Shawnee name. Do you understand the meaning?”

“No. It’s gibberish to me.”

“Kitch Wabi Ayapia is The Great White Wolf.”

“But he was brown and gray when we saw him,” Jimmy interjected. “You are the white wolf.”

“Yes, small one. I am.” Okema’s eyes took on the sheen of the stars. “But I will not always be here. One day, Jackson shall take my place. I will join those on the other side. In that moment, he will become Kitch Wabi Ayapia.”

Comprehension rippled through Morgan. Goosebumps scattered from her prickling scalp to her tingling toes. “Is it in the prophecy?”

Okema inclined his white head. “This, and more, is decreed for you both.”

“Tell us,” she pleaded.

“You shall learn. In time.” His lips crimped in an unrelenting line.

He’d say nothing else this evening; maybe ever again. Okema was maddening and impossible to predict. And—gone.

She stared at the empty chair where he’d been sitting. He came and went like a ghost. The depth of his powers were beyond her reckoning, but she’d experienced a little of the energy flowing through him, as though he’d tapped into the cosmos. With this realization came the reminder that a small part of him resided in her, through the original bite.

Returning her attention to Jackson, she saw sober awareness in his dark gaze and the tight corners of his mouth. Not only Okema’s pronouncement regarding her, but the knowledge that he was destined to take the chief’s place. What form that power would take, she couldn’t fathom. Jackson wouldn’t abuse his advantage over others, she was certain. Come what may, she longed to be by his side.

Would he want her, though, after her inner self was revealed? She wasn’t good. Another certainty.

Okema had called her to stand with the Wapicoli and fight for them. She was determined to honor their agreement. Jimmy’s life depended on it. But the ice queen
would resist his summons every step of the way. Somehow, she must overcame the inner beast.

The full moon was three days away. Like sand sifting through an hourglass, her time dwindled. Soon, only moments would remain until—what, exactly?

Chapter Eleven

High in the Lofty Branches

“Wow,” Morgan breathed out, huddled beside Jackson in the tree house. “We could be in the crow’s nest at the top of a clipper ship sailing the high seas. The trees are the ocean and the ridges roll like waves.”

He smiled. “Poetic.”

She flushed with pleasure. “Well, I am an artist.”

“With words, as well as canvas. But you’re better off painting this than swinging back and forth on a ship’s mast. You won’t get seasick up here.”

“True. I got a little queasy just riding the ferry in the Chesapeake Bay.” She ran her gaze over the riot of color. Apricot, yellow, and crimson, every possible shade of autumn, spread before her in a vibrant tide. “The view’s amazing from up here. This could be our summer home.”

“
Ours
?”

Warmth flooded her cheeks. “If you’d care to join me.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice. I might need to knock up walls and a roof, though.”

“And the height’s a little unnerving,” she admitted.

Wooden rails ringed the sturdy platform to prevent an unexpected tumble over the side, but the tree house was intended as a watch tower, not a dwelling, so lacked proper walls and a ceiling. The open space allowed for maximum visibility. Pale blue sky showed through the yellow leaves above, and she gazed out beyond the branches in every direction.

The forest floor was a long, long, way down from where she kept watch with Jackson. Not that he needed her help to look out for the thunderbird. Not remotely. And she couldn’t shoot the great raptor if she did sight it. But being alone together was rare, and she’d jumped at the opportunity.

A finger to his lips, he whispered. “Listen.”

“I don’t hear anything. It’s gone quiet.” She nestled closer to him in the growing chill.

He waved a hand at the silent woods. “Exactly. Everything has taken cover.”

“How do they know the bird’s coming?” No piercing cry or whipping wings announced the ominous predator’s arrival yet.

“They don’t, but it’ll be dusk soon.” He gestured at the golden wheel of sunlight sinking below the ridges burnt orange in the fiery glow. “Thunderbirds hunt at twilight, as no forest creature dares forget to their peril. They also circle the sky during thunder storms, but that is not the case now.”

“No. Anything but.”

The wind rocking the boughs during Morgan’s latest botched archery lesson had diminished. No clouds obscured the burnished horizon washed with lavender and rose. All was still, eerily so. Although, to the unwary, it would seem peaceful.

“I only caught a glimpse of the thunderbird our first evening here. They’re kind of like dragons, aren’t they?”

Jackson scanned the blue sky above them, arching to heaven. “The American version. They don’t breathe fire or have scales. You should’ve stayed in the lodge with the others. Safer there.”

She tilted her face at him. “I feel safe with you.”

A wry smile curved his lips. “Better hope I don’t miss. This particular male is persistent.”

“Wonder why. Is it mating season?”

“No. He’s staking his claim in advance. We’re in the way.”

“It’s a wide area to claim.”

“Yes. And they don’t share,” Jackson added.

She glanced back at the ground. “Must make a colossal crash when one falls, if your arrow hits the mark.”

“Sure does. I don’t like to kill these birds if frightening them away will work. But after yesterday, we can’t take the risk.”

“Right. That was way too close.”

They’d returned to the lodge this afternoon to the horrific account of Jackson’s six-year-old cousin, Simeon, who’d been snatched the evening before and carried fifteen feet into the air before his cries alerted his father, Roan. The arrow Roan shot at the winged terror had startled it into releasing the boy. Thank goodness he’d had the presence of mind to throw out his arms and catch the tumbling child. But, of course he did. Roan was a Wapicoli, and Jackson’s third cousin, or some such kin. She hadn’t yet met the rest of the clan.

Apart from the talon marks dug into Simeon’s shoulders, the boy was safe and would recover in his mother’s care. But he’d been snatched right outside the family’s cabin, about four or five miles away from the lodge. This menace must be stopped. All the Wapicoli were threatened, not to mention unwary hikers and campers who’d wind up on
Monster Quest
with wild accounts few would believe—or worse. Disappear altogether, and never be heard from again.

After a sustaining bowl of meaty stew, bread, and more of Miriam’s coffee that Buck termed, ‘strong enough to walk’, Jackson and Morgan headed to the tree house.

He had an arrow on the string in readiness. “The hit or miss ratio with this bird had better be one hundred percent in our favor. I may not get a second shot.”

“True. Fear of the giant raptor isn’t uppermost in my mind, though.”

He dropped his gaze and eyed her quizzically. “What else?”

You
, she wanted to say. Instead, she replied with another truth. “These mountains, the hidden valley, my whole future,
everything
, seems filled with peril.”

Sympathy crossed his expression. “Understandable. But I am here for you, Morgan.”

She prayed so. He dominated her thoughts. Sensations swelled within her and colors burst, more brilliant than the leaves. Words were pale things; totally inadequate to express her feelings where he was concerned.

Did he share them? He seemed to, but she didn’t really know. He’d hardly had a chance to say.

The ice queen would resent his very existence. At least, at first. For now, Morgan savored their time together, even if they had to spend it on guard duty.

“I know you’d do anything to help me,” she assured him, “and I prefer to be here with you, despite the danger.”

He smiled and returned his focus to the empty horizon. “And I, you.”

Normally, Hawthorne and Jimmy accompanied them everywhere they went, making a private exchange impossible. Not this evening. Since Jackson was the superior archer, he’d been chosen for this mission. There wasn’t room up here for more than her if they were being stealthy, the point of this venture. Consequently, their sidekicks had remained in the lodge playing games, or hacking Wi-Fi.

Okema had suggested she accompany Jackson. A little odd, she supposed, but you could never tell with him, and she hadn’t resisted his prompting. If she intended to speak with Jackson, that hour was now.

But how?

Sneaking glances at him, she admired the contours of his face. Unlike her capped head, his was bare. Stray lengths of black hair brushed his cheeks. In many ways, he seemed older than seventeen. Having to shoulder such responsibility, coupled with the great expectations placed on him regarding the prophecy, must’ve forced him to mature earlier.

She’d also had to grow up faster than intended. Did she seem older, too? She surely felt ages beyond her years.

“Jackson. This is a little off the subject, but, do you think, maybe, we—” She hesitated, her voice a breathy whisper.

He turned his head, brows arched, and his eyes searching hers. “Yes?”

She took the plunge. “Have we any chance to be together?”

“You mean, as a couple?”

Fiddling with the scarf at her neck, she nodded. “Yes.”

His lips twitched. “Are you asking me out, Morgan?”

“I think this is as
out
as we’re gonna get.”

“You mean,
up
.” He grinned. “There’s a pickup truck at the lodge. I could take you for ice cream.”

Her cheeks heated. “That would be super.”

“The best date of your life. Uncle Ray sells some at his hardware store. And hotdogs.”

“The uncle who was banished for breaking Wapicoli law?”

“That’s him. He’d be tickled to meet you.”

“Sure. But seriously, about us…” she trailed off, suddenly feeling shy. Jackson wasn’t making this easy for her.