Wolf Tales 12 (19 page)

We’ll do our best. Right now, though, I’m more concerned about Anton and Lily.

Stef nodded and sent a quick thought to Xandi. Keisha was holding on, barely. First Lily, now Anton. As always, Keisha was the one left to hold down the fort and keep it all together while Anton went off to save the world. If he didn’t love Anton Cheval so much, Stef figured he probably would have murdered the bastard long ago.

Did Anton have any idea how hard it was on those who loved him when he put himself at risk?

Stef answered his own question. Of course he did, because Anton didn’t take risks without a very good reason. A six-year-old child lost on the astral certainly fit that description.

It took every bit of self-control he could muster to hang on to the threads of his temper. Anton stared at Eve, at the fear in her eyes, and wished he were the one she feared.

He wasn’t scaring her at all. No, she was worried sick about Lily. “How’d this happen, Eve? You promised me she’d be safe. You said they would protect her. You didn’t tell me they’d send a six-year-old girl on a journey to Goddess—knows—where by herself.”

She wrung her hands, but she didn’t look away. He’d give her credit for that. “Oh, Anton . . . I wish I had answers. I’ve asked the Mother. She merely tells me to have patience. I’ve asked the Ancient Ones and they look at me as if I’m crazy to wonder where their princess has gone.”

She bowed her head and her shoulders were shaking. That sign of vulnerability was Anton’s undoing. He shed his anger, even some of his fear, and wrapped his arms around the woman who had once been a member of his pack, the one who had helped care for the children, who’d been mated to Adam.

A woman who was now a goddess. The one he’d charged with protecting his daughter. She’d failed him. Dear Goddess, how she’d failed him, but she came into his arms and laid her cheek against his chest. She was warm and alive and, like Anton, worried sick over Lily’s disappearance.

“What can we do to search for her? Do you have any idea where to look?” He rested his chin on top of her head.

After a moment she pulled out of his embrace and took a deep breath. “I’ve asked the elements—the wind, the trees, the creatures that inhabit this time and place. None have seen her. The Mother tells me not to worry, but I can’t help myself. I do worry, and I hate that I’ve failed you.”

“I want to go to Tibet. Speak to the Ancient Ones. Even if they won’t tell me where she’s gone, we might be able to get some clues from what they say. Will you take me there?”

Eve stared at him for a moment. Her eyes swirled in that mesmerizing shift from green to gray to brilliant amber that he always found so unsettling. Finally she nodded. “The Mother will allow it. Come.”

The Mother? She’s involving herself in this?
He found himself glancing over his shoulder, watching for Her presence, some sense that the One Over All had suddenly appeared.

But there was nothing beyond the pristine meadow, the blue, blue sky, and the perfect forest. The pond bubbled with its natural effervescence. The air maintained a perfect temperature.

If he hadn’t known better, Anton would think that all was well in paradise. But it wasn’t. His daughter was missing, and the Goddess who was supposed to keep her safe had failed miserably at her job.

Once again, the one watching over the Chanku had proved to have feet of clay.

With that thought in mind, Anton followed Eve through a shimmering doorway that opened with the wave of her hand. Together they stepped out of the perfect meadow onto a rocky promontory high on a mountainside in the rugged Himalayas.

The air was bitter cold, whistling around the high cliffs and sending dirt and dust into the air. Anton remembered this place, the cold and bitter land, the narrow trail cut into the side of the cliff. He’d walked this way with Oliver, so many years ago. They’d come here searching for answers to questions neither of them knew to ask.

This time was different. This time he searched for his daughter, and he’d be damned if he’d leave without her.

“We’re almost a mile from the monastery, if I remember correctly.” He glanced at Eve’s flowing gown, at the way the layers of sheer fabric wrapped around her legs and clung to her arms. “You’re not dressed for this kind of cold weather. Will you be okay?”

She nodded. He held out a hand to help her along the trail. Her sandals were thin, lightweight things. Definitely not designed for such rocky ground. At least he’d been dressed as he usually was around the compound—jeans, a flannel shirt, and work boots.

“I don’t feel the cold. Not the heat, not any of the discomforts of the living.” She smiled sadly at him and his heart almost stopped in his chest. It was so easy to forget her reality when he held her warm, vital hand in his.

“I am, after all, dead,” she reminded him. “At least as far as the world of the living is concerned.”

Eve would always be alive to him. Even more so, now that she was their Goddess. She’d taken a more active role with the pack after her mortal death than she ever had when she lived among them. Then she’d been quiet and unassuming, appearing to take pleasure as Adam’s mate but rarely doing anything to make herself stand out in the group.

“I find that hard to believe,” he said, squeezing her fingers. “You still look pretty lifelike to me.” He helped her over an area where the trail had crumbled, leaving little more than a narrow ledge.

He couldn’t help himself and made the mistake of glancing down. The valley far, far below was lost in the swirling mists. His stomach lurched. “Holy crap. Probably shouldn’t have done that.” He leaned against the face of the cliff, pressing his back to the solid stone until the vertigo passed.

“Come.” Eve tugged his hand and he realized she’d somehow moved ahead of him. “You’ve done this before, when you traveled this way with Oliver.”

Anton shook his head, cleared his mind and nodded. “I was a lot younger then.” Following carefully behind her, he wondered how Eve could know what he and Oliver had done. She’d not been here then.

“I have Liana’s memories.” She smiled at him. “Know that your thoughts are always open to me, Anton. Even your anger with me, your disappointment in my abilities. Your knowledge of my failure is not an easy burden to bear, but it’s one I will carry. You’re right. I have failed you badly. I bear the weight of the memories and the guilt of Liana’s failings as well. I am she, for all intents and purposes. When I took her memories and her knowledge, I took her guilt as well.”

Carefully, Anton placed one foot in front of the other along the slippery, narrow path. “Sounds like a pretty good deal for Liana. She got your man, she got your life, you got the guilt. What’s in this for you?”

Eve’s laughter surprised him. “You have no idea, Anton Cheval. No idea at all. I would not trade this existence for anything, and you, a man who treasures knowledge above all else, should be the first to understand.”

He didn’t answer her. There was no need, not if she could read his mind. But Anton knew there was something he treasured even more than knowledge. Something—some
ones
—who meant more than anything else. More, even, than his life.

His mate. His children, and the daughter he searched for now. Without them, there was nothing. Even knowledge couldn’t compare.

Eve’s grasp on his hand tightened. A small gesture of reassurance, but one he would hold on to.

“We’re here,” she said.

He’d lost track of time, which wasn’t all that unusual on the astral, though he’d thought he was physically on the Tibetan steppe. Maybe not? No matter . . . yet he had somehow traversed the narrow path and now stood on a broad trail that ended in front of the familiar gates of the monastery. The dirt beneath his feet was red, the mountains loomed high above, and the desolation of the rugged steppe stretched as far as the eye could see.

He’d stood in this same place with Oliver so many years ago, and as the huge gates slowly swung opened, he experienced an overwhelming sense of déjà vu.

A monk wearing a robe the same deep red as the dirt and the stone walls around them gestured for Anton and Eve to follow. Was this man perhaps one of the Ancient Ones? He wondered again if they were still on the astral or if this place existed in the real world.

“We’re in a place between,” Eve said, which made absolutely no sense to him at all. They followed the silent monk down a long tunnel leading beneath the monastery. “Here and yet not,” she added. “These men are not of the earth. They’re the last of the original Chanku, the ones who made the journey here from a dying world eons ago. Too long ago to have lived so long in the mortal world. They’ve chosen existence here, where time moves at a different pace.”

“Why?” Anton gazed about at the unadorned cold stone walls as they wound deeper into the ground. “Why would anyone choose to live such an ascetic life?”

Eve paused and turned to stare at him. Her eyes spun more quickly than ever before. “For knowledge, Anton. This is what happens when the desire for knowledge outweighs the need for emotion, for the connection that humanity offers. When the mind overpowers the body’s need for love, this is what is left.”

He studied those swirling eyes while the monk stood silently by, waiting on them. Was this a reproach? His constant search for knowledge had often gotten him in trouble. He’d made some foolish and selfish choices over the years. Choices that, in the long run, had worked out, but they’d put his life and his pack at risk.

He gazed at the silent monk and caught the man looking at him. He’d not noticed before that the man’s eyes were darkest amber. Eve had said he was Chanku. Did that mean he was a shapeshifter? Did they still run as wolves or snow leopards?

Slowly, the monk shook his head and sighed. Images blossomed in Anton’s mind. Images of a life the monk had lived millennia ago beneath a brilliant teal blue sky surrounded by unusual plants and brighter-than-life colors. Surrounded by a loving family, by children. A woman’s image filled Anton’s mind. A beautiful woman with a look of utter sadness in her eyes. Of desperation.

A huge flash in the night sky—a sun gone nova? A world destroyed in the blink of an eye.

Was this the world this Ancient One had escaped? Had that woman, those children survived? Or were they lost in the rubble, the detritus and dust of history?

The man slowly nodded and turned away. Anton was left with a sense of desolation, of grief so powerful he fought the rush of tears that threatened to spill.

Knowledge spilled into his mind—knowledge he’d not thought to seek, information he wasn’t certain how to use or understand. This monk and the others like him had stayed on in this desolate place, clinging to the remnants of life and sanity in the hope they might one day pass their knowledge on to their descendants.

This small handful of survivors had stayed in the hope that their history—their beginnings and their knowledge of that life so long ago—would not be lost.

Lily was the key to their final rest. His darling Lily was the one who would carry their past into the future.

She alone was becoming the repository. And once she held the secrets of their past, only then could this small group of survivors move on. Only then could they rejoin the ones they’d lost so long ago.

Stunned, Anton followed Eve, followed the silent monk into the bowels of the earth. Deeper, walking the same path he’d walked with Oliver so long ago.

Then he’d come in search of knowledge. This time, he felt as if he knew too much, when all he wanted was his beautiful, brilliant, amazing little girl.

Chapter 14

Bay adjusted Sunny’s slight weight in his arms. She’d been thoroughly checked by a doctor the night before, and her medical records had all been e-mailed to Doc Logan. Her paralysis was unusual—her limbs and speech were affected and her growth had been badly stunted, yet she was able to breathe on her own without a problem. Her records showed she’d had very little therapy over the years.

Unfortunately, the foster care system hadn’t dealt with anything beyond her most basic needs from the time she was little. Bay wondered how many of her disabilities were due to lack of therapy more than the actual injuries she’d suffered.

They’d know soon, once Adam and Logan had a chance to examine her, but he had to consciously bottle up his anger as he started up the steps to the private jet Stefan had sent for them. This poor kid hadn’t had a chance. Not from the very beginning. With any luck, that would change as soon as they got her to Montana.

Thank goodness Nick had been able to communicate with her, or they might never have known Sunny was Chanku. For that matter, thank goodness she and all the other kids who’d been in that room were still alive. Nick’s actions had truly been heroic.

Baylor glanced over his shoulder at Nick and Beth.

“You guys going to be okay?”

Nick laughed as he grabbed hold of the railing. “I’m fine, other than feeling like I got run over by a truck. Shit, I didn’t hurt this bad yesterday when my ears were still ringing.”

“Watch your language.” Beth grinned at Sunny, who smiled brightly. “There’s a lady present.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Nick flashed a quick smile at Sunny, too. “Beth means you, Sunny. She’s not referring to herself.”

“Excuse me?” Beth pretended to kick him. “You are most definitely asking for trouble. You want to carry your own bags?” Beth raised one dark eyebrow and glared at him. She’d looped one heavy bag over her shoulder and had another big carry-on clasped tightly in her hand.

“I’m injured. Can’t you tell?” Limping dramatically, Nick followed Bay up the steps with both hands free.

Grumbling with just as much drama, Beth followed.

Bay could feel Sunny’s silent laughter as she watched Nick and Beth teasing each other. It amazed him she still had a sense of humor, but it was obvious she was enjoying herself immensely.

Manda’d gone on first, carrying baby Donovan in her arms and helping Keegan maneuver the few steep steps. Baylor ducked his head and turned sideways to get through the door with Sunny.