Chills & Thrills Paranormal Boxed Set (53 page)

Her eyes misted. She lifted her arm. Her fingers hovered
just above Shala's shining hair.

"Did you kill my mama, Lily?"

Lily dropped her arm.

"Is that what your father told you?"

”Yes.”

"Then you must believe him."

Shala turned her head and stared up, unshed tears covering
her blue eyes. Her mother's eyes, Lily thought again, just as she had the day
they'd met. Because of me, this wonderful child will never know she has her
mother's eyes. Unable to stop herself, she reached for Shala's entwined hands.

"I'm sorry, Shala," she said quietly. "It
happened a long time ago, and I would change it if I could."

"The past is gone," Shala replied sagely, letting
the fingers of one hand curl around Lily's palm.

"That's right." She stared earnestly into Shala's
solemn face. "But I can promise you this. I'll never hurt you, your
father, or any of your people again. Do you believe me?"

"You lied to me once, Lily. The word of a liar . .
."

Lily looked away. "I was . . . I was afraid you'd stop
liking me."

"Star Dancer said you might say that."

"And what do you say?"

"I say–" Shala's face twisted and she shook her
head rapidly. "I don't know what to say."

She pulled her hands from Lily's and whirled away. "I'm
going back to the village now. Maybe we'll talk again."

Then she broke into a run. Lily watched until Shala
disappeared among the trees, her chest aching so badly she wanted to double
over. For the first time in her life she truly loved another human being, and
also truly regretted who and what she'd been.

Which was another first.

* * *

Something nudged Tony's face. Slowly he opened his eyes. The
logical computer scientist side of his mind recoiled as he stared into round,
dark eyes surrounded by a field of white. Impossible, he told himself, white
bears didn't exist in the southwest. But his shaman nature reminded him that
anything was possible during a vision quest.

The lodge was filled with mist. He vaguely remembered
splashing chaparral water over the blazing Stone People, but that seemed so
long ago. He had no idea how much time had passed, or whether he was even
conscious.

"What brings you here, Brother Bear?" he asked
weakly, not sure if he'd actually spoken the words or if they came from his
mind.

"Wolf shall be your mate." The bear rocked back on
its haunches, crossing one hind leg over the other as a man might do, and
stroked its chin thoughtfully.

Although noticing the incongruous gestures, Tony was more
occupied with the words. He should be repulsed by the very idea, for he knew of
whom the bear spoke. But he felt only delicious anticipation.

"This is not right," he said, unwilling to accept
his true feelings.

"She will nourish your offspring in ways you cannot and
awaken a love in you that now seems impossible."

"Impossible," Tony repeated with a short derisive
laugh. "She murdered my wife."

"Hatred hardens your heart. You think you keep it to
honor your wife, Warrior, but you deceive yourself. It serves only to conceal
your doubts about your life among the Dawn People. If you do not face these
doubts, monstrous events will occur."

"These forces are already in motion. Turn to her,
Warrior. Her valiant spirit will support you in this task. Remember, the fish
that insists on swimming upstream becomes dinner for the bear. Relax into the
current and all will be well."

The mist swirled around the bear's great head. It inhaled
sharply, forming great smoke rings on its exhaled breath. Tony stared up with
glazed eyes, feeling the rings tugging at his spirit.

The bear chucked him under the chin. "We wait to see
the glory of your surrender.”

Then its form began to fade.

"Wait," Tony cried. "I . . . I have questions
. . ."

Paler and paler it got, until nothing remained but a button
nose and two large brown eyes.

"Call on me, brother, in the hour of your greatest
need."

Then it vanished, leaving only the rising rings in its wake.
Their tug on Tony's spirit increased, pulling his awareness up and beyond. The
heat of the sweat lodge disappeared, the roof no longer existed.

A star-studded sky enclosed him, yet he felt a brewing
storm. His weary neck gave out and his head fell back. His eyes fluttered
closed. Soon he felt something sweetly hot and soothing against his skin. He
opened his eyes and found himself looking down at a woman's face.

Eyes dark as Apache tears and shadowed with sexual hunger
stared up at him. A sheet of pure silky white hair framed her high, prominent
cheekbones, accentuating the narrow chin and full, round lips. Her strong
long-fingered hands stroked the taut muscles of his back. Her thighs were
sweetly parted, allowing him to press the fire between his legs against the
beckoning moistness that promised to calm the flames.

"Tony." She sighed, her voice husky with need.

Tony kissed the curve of her jaw, filled with overwhelming
tenderness, irresistible need. She shuddered deliciously. Her hand movements
quickened to a frenzy, driving him wild. He lifted his head abruptly and
claimed her mouth in a violent kiss. She returned it just as violently, bucking
beneath him.

Slick she was, and hot, so, so hot, meeting and fanning the
fire in his belly. Their tongues danced and their teeth clashed. He cried out
as he claimed her, sliding his engorged self inside her.

The sky exploded with lightning. Thunder roared, and the
night grew bright as day. She sighed and gasped beneath him, her cries mingling
with the sky sounds. His convulsion came as suddenly and intensely as the
lightning, and bordered on pain. But with such sweet and tender pain he found
himself begging for more. Begging, begging . . .

"Lily," he groaned huskily. "Oh, my sweet
Lily. How I love you."

Lily shot upright in her bed, wide awake and shivering
violently. She heard thunder rumbling outside, the sound of wind rattling the
roofs of the hogans and wickiups below. Flashes of lightning came through the
window, and the air felt thick and heavy, and very warm. She shouldn't be
shivering, she realized, clutching her light summer blanket to ward off the
cold.

Something felt wrong, very wrong. Although the chill
weakened her ability, she extended her hearing to take in the entire village. A
sheep gave out a forlorn bleat. Some of the pigs grunted anxiously in their
pens. People snored in their beds.

A spasmodic shudder raced through Lily's body. Springing
from the bed, she raced through the curtained door to the edge of the walkway
beyond. Holding back her whipping hair, she surveyed the village. From the
churning sky, a three-quarter moon beamed a misty light onto the village.
Banked fires glowed dully inside their pits. No one stirred around them or on
the lower walkways. Apparently the sound of the animals hadn't disturbed anyone
but her. She sniffed the air and caught a faint but distinctive odor.

They were out there. How they found their way through the
maze, she didn't know, but they had.

A man came out of the shadow of the cliffs, walking through
the village with his back to her. Suddenly how the werewolves got in wasn't
important. The man was in terrible danger! Lily squinted, listened intently,
drawing on all the powers she'd retained. Brush stirred at the entrance to the
maze, moving against the wind, and in its shadows she heard the low rumblings
of the Lupine language.

"Watch out!" she shouted, but too late. The man
disappeared into the foliage. Lily held her breath, waiting for a scream,
sickened that she'd brought this curse to the Dawn People. Lightning ripped
through the clouds above, wind whistled, thunder echoed off the canyon walls, but
the scream didn't come.

Then the man reappeared to stand by the maze entrance,
looking back. Seconds later, two werewolves joined him. Their faces were shaded
by the towering trees, but Lily recognized the taller wolf as Beryl. The
subservient actions of the other told her it was an omega.

But who was the man hidden in the shadows, and why hadn't
Beryl and his companion killed him? Then the man pointed to a hogan near the
longhouse, and
 

Lily's hand flew to her mouth. He was pointing at Star
Dancer's hogan!

Pivoting back and forth, momentarily paralyzed by fear, Lily
finally got hold of herself and ran into her room. Her linen jacket hung on a
peg, unworn and almost forgotten. She ripped it from the wall, shrugging into
it as she slipped on her sandals. After patting the pocket to make sure the
bottles and knife were still there, she made a dash for the ladder.

Just as she swung a leg over the edge, she saw Beryl enter
the heart of the village.

"Shala," he crooned seductively. "Shaal-laa.
Come to me. Come to me."

"No!" Lily scrambled onto the ladder as fast as
she could. "Leave her alone, Beryl!"

At one time her order would have sent him scuttling back.
The Queen had spoken. Now he lifted triumphant eyes toward her, showing his
fangs in a wolfish smile.

Do not interfere, he warned telepathically.

Lily considered screaming for help. Drawing on her own
psychic powers she entered the minds of the tribespeople. Beryl had enchanted
their dreams, essentially drugging them into deep sleep. It was for the best,
she decided. If she called on them, more would die in their attempts to subdue
the werewolves.

The ground seemed even farther away than she remembered, and
she quickened her descent. Thunder clapped again. Several fat raindrops fell on
her head. About halfway down, her feet slipped. For a terrifying moment she
hung several stories above the ground, supported only by her grasping hands.
Finally she found a rung.

"Shala, Shala," Beryl continued calling "Come
to me, Shala."

Moving cautiously for fear of again losing footing, Lily
dared a glance at the village. The door to Star Dancer's hogan opened. A small
hand emerged. Shala's dreamy face appeared, and she stepped across the
threshold.

"Shala, come . . . come to me, Shala."

Angry streaks of lightning tore through the night,
illuminating Beryl and Shala like a spotlight. The girl's eyes looked vacant,
unaware of anything but Beryl's voice. His eyes shone with satisfaction. The
high winds whipped the surrounding trees, sent the kettles swaying on their
spits. Flames spurted from the banked fires.

Dark hair billowing, Shala continued moving like a
sleepwalker in response to Beryl's seductive call.

The ladder rattled and trembled. Although the rain had
stopped as quickly as it had come, the rungs were now slippery. Lily could
barely keep her hold, and the going was excruciatingly slow. By the time she
reached solid ground, Shala was within a few feet of Beryl. Lily grabbed a
bottle from her pocket and broke into a run.

The gusting wind slowed her down. Beryl laughed uproariously,
then gave a great leap, landing beside Shala. He scooped her into his arms, and
with another leap disappeared into the maze.

Lily dashed after him, racing along the twisting trail,
ignoring the twigs and brambles snagging at her skin. Her exposed toes struck
rocks and fallen branches with painful regularity, her lungs were aching from
lack of oxygen, and the fierce wind pounded at her body.

Branches cracked and brush snapped as Beryl covered ground
in front of her, audible even above the sounds of the storm, and before Long
Lily realized he was moving at a pace well below his capability. A couple of
times she took a wrong turn into one of the maze's dead ends and heard him
pause, waiting until she found her way back. He was luring her. Using Shala as
bait. Clearly, Sebastian had learned of her affection for the girl. But how?

Soon she recognized a rock formation alongside the trail and
noted that the temperature was falling. They were heading south and upward,
clinging to the canyon rim. The saguaro and chaparral were thinning, replaced
by scrub oak and grasses. If they continued on this path, the oaks would grow
taller and be joined by pines and ash.

Shala began singing in the Dawn People's language, still
enchanted and unaware of the danger. Beryl made no attempt to hush her,
confirming Lily's conclusion that she was walking into a trap.

A loud clap of thunder drowned out the song, and when the
echoes subsided, and Lily again heard Shala's voice, the full horror of their
situation crashed down on her. She'd been pushing it back while she raced after
Beryl, but now she recognized the fiendish perfection of Sebastian's scheme.

He knew of her weakness for children. They'd quarreled about
it once. He'd been hungrily eyeing a boy who couldn't have been more than two,
and she'd stepped between him and the toddler. He joked that he wanted an
appetizer, which had sickened Lily, and she sarcastically accused him of
demeaning himself by preying on such defenseless ones.

He called her "unnatural," and they'd quarreled
bitterly, but eventually he had just laughed and indulged her sensibilities.

Since that day, Lily had protected hundreds of children she
hadn't even known, but the child in Beryl's arms meant more to her than any
person on earth. Sebastian somehow knew that and was using it against her.

And he wasn't feeling indulgent anymore.

* * *

Tony regained awareness filled with the glowing aftermath of
lovemaking. He rose and poured one last scoop of water on the smoldering Stone
People, offered thanks for his vision, then left the sweat lodge. He headed
down the hill, suffused with so much energy that by the time he reached the
river there was a bounce in his step.

The rainless storm he'd expected had appeared, but he
ignored the danger of the lightning and waded into the river, where he dipped
his head and drank his fill. Then leaning back to float, he allowed the water
to rinse the grime from his hair, combing the tangles free with his fingers. He
felt cleansed, renewed, filled with oneness and having no need to analyze what
he'd been told. The Great Spirit had answered his prayers. He could ruminate
deeper meanings later.