Read Chills & Thrills Paranormal Boxed Set Online
Authors: Connie Flynn
Just as she'd stepped back to appreciate her preparations,
she heard a car coming up the gravel driveway. She pressed her hand gently
against her stomach, then raced to the door.
"Hi," he said, "I missed you." He
trotted up the veranda stairs, taking them two at a time, thinking Liz had
never seemed more beautiful. Her cheeks glowed with color, and her dark hair
curled in soft waves to her shoulders.
"I missed you, too." She threw herself into his
arms with considerably more enthusiasm than usual, which was not all that easy,
and kissed him fervently.
He took his time savoring her lips, and when he finally
wrapped an arm around her shoulders to lead her back into the delicious
smelling house, he asked, "What's up?"
"Oh, nothing," she said breezily, a cryptic expression
on her face. "Just glad you're home. Hungry?"
"Starved."
She gestured toward a chair at the head of the table.
"Take a seat, and I'll put the shrimp on to boil." Then she dimmed
the lights, lit the candles, and headed for the kitchen.
When she came back, she carried two flutes of a sparkling
beverage, placed one in front of him, and settled in the chair next to his.
"What is this?" he asked, drinking deeply of the
carbonated apple juice. He hadn't swallowed a drop of hard stuff since he'd
thrown his flask away, and though he sometimes yearned for a stiff one, it was
getting easier every day. "A celebration?"
"Just of your return. You were gone a long time."
He smiled, but felt a small guilty pang. "Is that a
complaint?"
She laughed, and leaned forward, curling her fingers
gracefully around the stem of the flute. "Your absence was keenly felt, my
darling, but your happiness means more to me, and it's obvious you're enjoying
your work."
"That's the truth. Want to hear about it?"
She nodded, and he went on to tell her about his problems
installing surveillance equipment and hiring undercover men. One man came
dangerously close to getting his cover blown, but they'd finally discovered the
spy. "Still, it shouldn't have taken three weeks," he said ruefully.
"After all, industrial espionage isn't the same as cracking a drug
ring."
"But it's a whole lot safer." She gave the tip of
his nose a butterfly kiss. "You don't really miss the dangerous work, do
you?"
He paused reflectively, and Liz hoped he wasn't concerned
that the truth would upset her. It would, of course, but if his choice was to
return to hard investigation, she'd accept it.
"No," he finally said. "Not since . . ."
The words hung between them. Quadray Island. Ankouer. Never
spoken and seldom thought of, but part of their shared history nonetheless.
They had broken their pact only once. On their honeymoon, Zach haltingly
confessed his cowardice the night he'd seen the phantom kill her grandmother.
Liz comforted him and gave him solace, she hoped, by reminding him his fear had
let him live long enough for the final battle. They talked late into the night,
sharing tales of the specters who'd come to taunt and the loved ones who'd come
to aid. But after that, they never mentioned that night or the battle on
Quadray Island again.
She looked away a second. "I was in Tricou's Grocery
Store this morning, and Mrs. Tricou told me Richard Cormier put his house on
the market."
To an outsider, her comment would have sounded like a non
sequitur, but Zach knew its importance. "He hasn't been the same since he
lost the store and the marina."
Make a deal with the devil and . . .
Liz kept the
thought to herself.
"You thinking we might want to buy it?" Zach
asked.
"What? No! Why would we want a replica of a Creole house
when we have the real thing?"
"That's what I think. So what else is new?"
She laughed softly. "You know what Papa told me the
other day?"
"No, but it's got to be good."
"It is. He thinks it's time he moved into the twenty-first
century and bought sonar fishing equipment devices for the tour boats. I swear
he isn't the same man since he took over Richard's marina."
Zach's laugh warmed her heart. So carefree and rich, with
none of the cynical edge it once had. A timer buzzed in the kitchen, and she
got up. "Dinner is served, my love."
Afterward, as they lingered at the table, Zach took Liz's
hand. "So are you finally going to tell me your secret?"
She returned his question with a sphinxlike look. "What
secret?"
"The one you've been dying to tell since I got home."
"Dying to tell? Oh, yes. Yes I have." She
tightened her fingers around his. "It's finally happened. We're going to
have a baby, Zach."
His eyes widened. "A baby? A baby! Really, Liz? A
baby?"
He leaped to his feet, dragging Liz with him, and whirled
her around the room. "A baby, a baby!" he exclaimed repeatedly.
Finally he stopped and just held her close.
He sighed. "Things couldn't get any more
perfect."
"My thoughts exactly."
Then she felt him stiffen slightly. "Is it a boy or a
girl?"
"It's too early to tell."
"Oh, yeah, of course. But if it's a girl . . ."
His blue eyes darkened as she gazed into them, comprehending
the enormity of his fear.
Inheritor to the guardian's throne . .
.
Not a fate one willingly passed on.
"She'll be just fine," she said reassuringly,
believing every word. "Boy or girl, our baby will be just fine."
Zach held Liz at arm's length for a long time, searching her
eyes for any sign of doubt. When he saw none, he exhaled in relief and pulled
her close again.
"You're right
, cher
. She'll be just fine,"
he whispered. "We saw to that . . . we saw to that."
"Yes, and there's our proof."
She directed his gaze toward her mother's sideboard. Encased
under glass, in the spot once occupied by the fire opal, sat the spotted
orchid.
Still in bloom.
# # #
The Fire Opal
Copyright 1998, 2012 by Connie
Flynn
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or
reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including
photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system
without the written permission of the author/publisher except in the case of
brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
To Karen, who, alas,
will always be younger than me
no matter how often I lie.
FOREWORD
Ebony Canyon, Quakahla, the Dawn People, and White Wolf Woman
are totally the product of my admittedly quirky imagination. Students of Native
American spirituality may notice discrepancies in my depiction of the Dawn
People. I've given the Toltec/Aztec king Quetzalcoatl a much larger role than
he actually played in any reference I found of him. Nor have I attempted to
remain faithful to the traditions of specific tribes or even Native American
beliefs in general. I've mingled them all, thrown in some Wiccan lore, and even
a sprinkling of Eastern philosophy for good measure.
The pronunciation of Quetzalcoatl is
"ket-sal-kwat-el." Quakahla is pronounced "kay-kal-la."
Sienna Doe Becomes
White Wolf Woman
Sienna Doe wept inside the wild forest and after a time her
sobs reached the ears of Quetzalcoatl. Appearing in the guise of a feathered
serpent, he coiled in front of her and asked, "Daughter, why are you so
unhappy?"
Sienna Doe regarded him with sad brown eyes. "A wolf
has eaten my mate, Great One."
"And this is why your heart is heavy?"
"It is so unfair! The deer have no defense against the
sharp-teethed ones." As she spoke, Sienna Doe's tears began to fade. A
glimmer of hope brightened her eyes. "Oh, Great One, I implore you . .
.
Turn me into a wolf so I might protect
my relations and keep others from suffering as I am."
"All creatures are your relations, Sienna Doe."
The deer shook her lovely head. "Squirrel and Turtle,
Hare and Mouse, these are my brethren. But not the flesh-eaters with their
sharp claws and cruel fangs."
"And you believe you can be true to your deer spirit
though you dwell in the body of a wolf?"
"I do, Great One."
"Then you shall have your wish."
With a flick of his serpent tongue, he changed her into a
large she-wolf.
Several months later, Quetzalcoatl returned to the wild
forest and came across Sienna Doe, who was bent over a fallen creature.
"Sienna Doe," he called. "Why do you eat your
brethren? Was it not your purpose to protect them?"
Sienna Doe lifted her great white head, her muzzle dripping
with the blood of her kill, and gave a wolfish grin. "Would you have me do
otherwise, Great One? Am I not now White Wolf Woman, just as you made me? I am
hungry, and the deer is my natural prey."
"It is ever so," replied Quetzalcoatl. With
another flick of his tongue, he vanished into a part of the kingdom that did
indeed require his help.
A legend of
The People
Lily Angelica DeLaVega woke up screaming. Blood! Blood!
Smeared on her hands. Spattered on the dolls and stuffed animals crammed into
the shelves lining her darkened bedroom. Streaming down the damask-papered
walls, dripping from the lace canopy of her four-poster bed. A warm, coppery
tang filled her mouth, a once-thrilling taste that now repulsed her.
She shot upright and clutched her blankets to her chest, barely
able to breathe. Just a dream. A familiar dream that visited almost every time
she slept . . .
So why was she still screaming?
Smothering her cries, she doubled over, heart pounding. Not
that it mattered if her screams carried. No one would hear or come rushing to
check on her welfare. Her bedroom was located next to the long-vacated nursery
which her parents had deliberately placed far from their suite to make certain
no outraged wail or delighted shriek of the child she'd once been would disturb
their sleep.
Although they often disturbed hers. Even this far away, she
could hear their thoughts. Doris, her thin, almost emaciated mother was
dreaming about chocolate and cream sauces again, indulgences long ago foregone
by day, but which still haunted her by night.
Beside her, Lily's father slept deeply as usual, unaware of
his spouse's nocturnal binge. Vincent, a partner in a prestigious brokerage
firm, seldom dreamed. When he did, it was of bar charts and price/earnings
ratios, with the occasional nightmare about being prosecuted for insider
trading.
Now he snored loudly and fell deeper into slumber. As his
noise escalated, Doris gobbled yet another calorie-free truffle.
The foray into her parents' minds eased the aftermath of
Lily's nightmare, and she found herself breathing more freely. Soon her pulse
returned to normal. She knew she wouldn't sleep again even though day was only
beginning.
Central Park at dawn. If anything could ease her disquiet
that was it. The New York City sidewalks would still be empty, the air not yet
fouled by exhaust fumes or the discord of honking horns and neighing horses.
She got up and went to the French doors that led to a balcony off her room,
opening the fractionally parted shutters wider.
Was the bird still there? For three days now it had perched
on the railing, watching her with quick golden eyes. The last time she'd
stepped out, it had given a banshee's shriek, then circled above her like a
buzzard waiting for its prey's final gasp.
She shook her head impatiently. Although unusually large, it
was still only a bird. Since when did a Lupine queen allow an animal to decide
what she would do?