Chills & Thrills Paranormal Boxed Set (56 page)

A look of pure shock crossed his face. He tucked Shala
against him, then reached for Lily's hand, spinning and pulling her toward the
forest.

"No!" she cried, yanking free. "I have
unfinished business here."

White Hawk hesitated, glancing first at her, then at the
protection of the forest. Shala let out an ugly cough. "Go!" Lily
screamed.

He nodded, ripped the scarf from his face and handed it to
Lily, then broke into a sprint and quickly vanished amid the thick pines.

Lily tied the yellow scarf around her face. The clearing
still reeked of ammonia. White Hawk must have dropped every damned capsule he
owned, and thank God for it too. She then shimmied into her jacket and reached
for the knife. To her relief, it was still there. Small, but keenly edged and
sufficient for her needs.

She carefully wove through the yipping and whimpering
werewolves, who were as a unit writhing on the ground. Sebastian had sunk to
his knees beside the fire pit, still shifting between man-wolf and human shape.
He fixed her with a stare as she approached.

"So," he groaned defiantly, eyeing the knife in
her hand, "you hope to slay a king."

"I will slay a king."

He laughed harshly. "You do not have the stomach for
it."

Holding the knife with both hands in front of her, Lily
moved closer.

Sebastian sighed heavily and fell onto his side. "Much
like Zeus dethroning Kronos, is it not, my dear?"

"If I recall correctly, Kronos swallowed his
children," Lily replied, continuing to move forward. "Just as
werewolves swallow mortals. I believe this is a fitting end to your
infamy."

"You judge me quite harshly for one who shares in my
crimes."

Lily was so close now she could see the irregular rise and
fall of his soft underbelly, the werewolf's Achilles' heel. Although her knife
was small, its deadly point could inflict a fatal blow. Even alchemizing to
human form would not save him from such a wound.

She crouched, knife poised and aimed at his stomach, then
hesitated. The ammonia stench was waning and, unlike the others, Sebastian
wasn't completely immobilized. He'd tricked her once that evening with his
slyly worded promise to free Shala, so it wouldn't surprise her if he possessed
more strength than he was demonstrating.

Yet she'd never have a better chance. She coiled like a
leopard and prepared to jump.

"Ah, the coup de grace," Sebastian whispered.

Thunder clapped, followed by a flash of lightning that
illuminated the clearing. In that brief instant Lily took in Sebastian's
disheveled appearance. His stylish tuxedo was covered in dust, one ragged lapel
hanging limply on his chest. His top hat lay crushed on the ground beside him,
and he clutched his natty pocket handkerchief. His face was etched with lines
of pain.

Her gaze finally came to rest on his eyes, taking in the way
the azure shade had dimmed to lackluster gray. She'd been his constant
companion for years and knew him well. Knew his habits, the subtle variations
of his moods. The pain she saw didn't come from the effects of the smelling
salts. It was the signpost of a soul in agony.

An unwelcome wave of sympathy swept over her, stirring the
deep love she'd once felt for him. She darted a panicky glance at the blade in
her hand, saw firelight reflected in the shiny steel. A single downward sweep
of her arm. That's all it would take to be free of him forever. Now! her soul
screamed. Now!

Wild-eyed with inner conflict, Lily lunged, arching the
knife toward her target. In that same second, Sebastian twisted. A hand closed
around her ankle, sending her sprawling to the ground. In the space of his
enraged bellow, she found herself soaring through the air, then landing inside
the ceremonial ring on top of Ravenheart's prone body. Recoiling, she rolled
off, rocked upright, and stared lividly at Sebastian.

Sebastian grinned mockingly, levering himself up until he
leaned against the wall of the fire pit. He raised his arms.

 
"
Yeafanay,
cawfanay, naylanay, may
," he cried thinly. "
Yeafanay, cawfanay,
naylanay, may.
A she-wolf is born this day."

The last line of the Song of Hades! Sebastian had completed
the ceremony! A reddish haze filled Lily's eyes, blinding her. Her joints
creaked and groaned. No! No! She mustn't let this happen!

"
Yealanay cawfanay nayfanay may
," she
murmured, barely able to speak. "The power of love . . . triumphs this . .
. day." She'd once hated these words from the Shadow of Venus, but now . .
. now she clung to them as her only...

. . . hope. "The power of love . . . the power of love
. . . triumphs this . . . day."

The pain ceased. Her vision cleared. She looked down,
horrified to see a thick covering of fine white hairs on her arms. Sebastian
had collapsed against the fire pit, his head lolling onto his stained white shirtfront,
his hair dancing in the wind. His slitted eyes stared at her, almost blindly.

She scrambled to her feet, horrified by this change in her
body, wanting to rip off the covering on her skin, hair by hair. But though he
looked dazed beyond awareness, she knew Sebastian saw her, realized she'd been
given another chance to kill him.

Looking frantically around for her fallen knife, she moaned
when she saw it lying many yards from the circle. The bodies of the other
werewolves were slumped together in clusters, most appearing unconscious from
the effects of her litany, but they would stir soon, as would Sebastian.

No she wouldn't kill him. Not this time, she realized with
deep regret. Not this time.

She bolted for the path leading through the pines, but as she
reached the trees she looked back over her shoulder. Sebastian's ice blue eyes
were open now, taking her in. A sly smile covered his ravaged face.

Lily stopped and addressed him in a deadly cold voice.
"Don't ever touch that girl again, Sebastian. If you do, I will kill you.
I swear it."

Then she whirled to run through the forest, knowing her
words hadn't scared him off, knowing her smooth human skin was covered with
wolfish fur, knowing she'd become an outcast, unloved, belonging nowhere.

Across the needle-covered carpet of the forest floor, over
the rugged desert, onto the path along the river, heedless of the needles,
twigs, and rocks slicing her exposed toes, of the windswept branches scratching
her face and snagging her hair, she ran. From Sebastian. From herself. From the
hellish fate that had brought her to this point.

She didn't stop until she ran straight into White Hawk's
arms.

Chest heaving, Lily let out a gasp and backed out of Tony's
arms. The wind tore at her hair, and her wide dark eyes darted in all
directions. Clearly she was terrified.

“Lily,” Tony said gently. "It's okay. It's only
me."

Looking down at her hands, she brought them up and stared if
she'd never seen them before. Then she ran her fingers quickly over her arms as
if checking for something. Finally, she met his eyes. "Sebastian . . . I
thought–" Her voice choked. "But I'm all right, aren't I?"

"Yes, Lily. You're all right. Just fine in fact."

"What are you doing here?" she asked in panic.
"You shouldn't have left Shala. The ceremony almost killed her."

"She's with Riva, Lily, and she's recovered. But she
wouldn't settle down until I agreed to come after you."

Not that he needed his daughter's urgent pleas. He'd only
left Lily behind for Shala's sake, and because he'd seen how intent she was on
carrying out her purpose. Nothing he could have done would have persuaded her
to leave.

"Sebastian?"

"He's still alive." She looked defeated. "I
should have—" She shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Tony put his hands on her shoulders and
forced her to look at him. "Lily, you saved Shala's life. What do you have
to be sorry for?"

"Are you being kind to me?" she asked
suspiciously. Tony laughed.

"Was that funny?"

"Not funny, but– Lily, I'm so filled with gratitude . .
. You can't imagine."

Swaying trees admitted streaks of moonlight that shone on
Lily's face. Gone was her usual haughty expression. In its place was a
vulnerability Tony had never seen there before. She looked away uneasily, and
he reached out to touch her cheek. "You're hurt."

"It's only a scratch." She brought her own hand
up. It trembled as it brushed against his.

Involuntarily, Tony closed his hand around hers. She
clutched at him for a moment like a frightened child, then let go and dropped her
arm. Strangely unnerved, Tony stepped back. Twigs and leaves were tangled in
her windswept hair and in the shifting moonlight they almost resembled a halo.
Her eyes possessed an unusually brilliant sheen.

Tony cleared his throat. "Let's get out of here before
the werewolves show up again."

Lily shook her head. "They won't recover until morning.
How many of those capsules did you throw anyway? I've never seen such violent
reactions."

Tony grinned. "Several dozen."

"Then you still have plenty left. Good, we'll need
them."

He shook his head. "Star Dancer issued a warning for no
one to leave the village."

"It won't help. Ravenheart led Beryl through the maze.
I think he died from the ceremony, but it doesn't matter. They now know how to
find us."

Us. Although Tony understood the importance of her
information, that word us stuck in his mind. Lily didn't think of herself as a
werewolf now.

"Did you hear me, White Hawk?"

"I heard. I was just taking it in." He inclined
his head toward the village, then started walking. Lily moved slowly forward,
and he reduced his pace, thinking she was still winded. "I don't
understand why Ravenheart betrayed us," he said after she caught up.

Lily gave him a sideways glance. "Jealousy. He wants to
outdo you." She paused, obviously considering her next words. "He
asked me to initiate him as a werewolf."

"What?" Tony looked at her sharply. "Why
didn't you tell someone?"

Lily laughed bitterly.

"You thought no one would listen."

She nodded, then immediately let out a soft moan and stumbled.

"Good Lord, Lily. You're only wearing sandals."

"I didn't have time to pull on boots, White Hawk,"
she said testily, lifting a foot and rubbing it cautiously.

Tony stared down. A deep gash on the side of her big toe
oozed blood. A sliver of a pine needle protruded from a spot just above the
small toe. He bent and touched her instep, which was bruised and beginning to
swell. Righting himself, he untied his yellow scarf from her neck, which had
long ago slipped off her face.

"Here, let me." He bent again, lifted her foot,
and tied the scarf around the worst of the cuts.

"I'm all right," she said curtly, planting her
foot sharply on the ground the minute he let go. Stifling a gasp at the abrupt
movement, she started forward, stumbling after just a few steps. Her
independence drew Tony's admiration, but he knew much of it stemmed from lack
of trust. Could he blame her? He'd essentially kidnapped her, then brought her
to the village where she'd been shunned and left to contemplate the outcome of
her inquisition by the Tribunal.

"I'll carry you."

"I can–”

"I'll carry you," he repeated. Moving forward, he
swung her into his arms.

He expected a struggle, but the minute he settled her
against his bare chest, she shuddered. He felt her fatigue as acutely as if it
were his own and knew that, relieved of its own weight, her body had finally
succumbed to it.

Tony broke into an easy lope. Lily was feather light in his
arms, and no burden at all. After a short while, she sighed and let her head
fall on his shoulder.

"Thank you," she murmured. "My feet hurt so
much."

"It's my honor."

How could he say otherwise? Although Lily had killed Tajaya,
her courageous acts had saved Shala's life. But as he jogged along the river
toward the village, he wondered just how much of the tenderness filling his
heart was caused by gratitude.

Star Dancer and White Hawk had bathed Lily's battered feet,
their faces mildly troubled. Now Shala held her hand, as the High Shaman gently
probed the area around an imbedded pine needle.

"It's very deep," she said. "Get me the
mineral mud, Shala, if you will."

Shala let go of Lily's hand, went to a low bench along one
wall of White Hawk's wickiup, and picked up a wooden bowl. She brought it to
Star Dancer, who dipped her fingers inside for a handful, then handed the bowl
to White Hawk. Singing softly in the Dawn People's language, Star Dancer
slathered mud over Lily's foot. White Hawk did the same with the other foot.

She was the center of their attention and efforts. She
hadn't been touched with so much tenderness since her nanny Gwen's traumatic
departure heralded the arrival of the militant Mrs. Preston. A lump formed in
her throat and her chest began to ache.

"This might hurt," Star Dancer warned, then gave a
quick tug on the pine needle.

The pain was brief and minuscule compared to the merciless
ache in Lily's heart, but it sent her over the edge. She jerked into a sitting
position and doubled over.

"Lily," Shala cried, falling to her knees beside
the sleeping platform and putting a hand on Lily's back.

White Hawk moved to stand behind Shala and put one hand on
Lily's forehead, the other at the base of the skull. "Be at peace,"
he said. Star Dancer gently took her injured feet, murmuring identical words.

Lily's eyes drifted shut as, a sweet wave of calming peace
flowed from their hands into her tense and battered body. Her turbulent mind
slowed down. White Hawk began singing in the tribal language, his rich baritone
filling the room. Soon he was joined by Star Dancer's lovely contralto and the
sweet high notes of Shala's soprano. The unbearable ache in Lily's chest
subsided. She felt light, in body and in soul. She felt joyous, she felt
peaceful, she felt . . .