Chills & Thrills Paranormal Boxed Set (66 page)

Tony let his head drop. His body throbbed from the aftermath
of the battle, but he didn't care. Lily was safely in the woods. He hoped the
driving rain and wind would soon conceal her from her pursuers, but failing
that, he hoped the crystal would protect her.

A few yards down the trail Sebastian and the others seemed
like apparitions in the heavy downpour. They had their eyes on him, he knew,
gauging him, assessing their chances, but eventually they departed in the
opposite direction.

Tony sank to the ground. Bear's wounds were deep, and he
shared every one of them. He needed to shapeshift soon, before it was too late.

He wasn't sure he could.

Her journey had taken eons, it seemed. Sebastian, of course,
had sent others after her. Lily knew their keen ears could catch her slightest
move, but she was running downwind, so they couldn't smell her. A few times she
was sure they'd lost her trail, but then she heard them again. They got
dangerously close at one point, and she hid in the bushes, doing her best not
to fidget as branches scratched her face and water spilled fat, cold drops on
her head.

She heard Philippe grumbling to another in Lupinese, saying
Sebastian should forget about her. The second one told him not to blaspheme,
but Philippe was obviously too disgruntled about creeping through the forest to
stop complaining.

Lily almost smiled. Philippe had always been a city lover,
preferring sidewalk cafes over these more primitive haunts. She'd shared his
preference . . . but that had been another life.

Soon the pair drifted off and when Lily was sure they
weren't coming back, she crept from her hiding place and edged back to the
riverside trail. Years of flooding had covered it with fine silt that sopped up
the rain and cushioned her footfalls, which was easier on her battered bare
feet.

As she sped along, she finally gave thought to the bear.
Where had it come from? Arizona did have them—black ones, an occasional brown,
all small-bodied berry eaters. But a giant grizzly, pure white in color? Such
creatures didn't exist in this part of the world.

Lightning flashed, silhouetting the dome of the sweat lodge,
and Lily pulled one last burst of speed from her legs until she reached the
base of the mesa.

Digging her bare toes into its slick sides, she climbed
toward the lodge. Her body was a mass of scratches and bruises from the
careless claws of werewolves, the battering from the wind-tossed branches. The
perilous climb was made more so by the ferocity of the storm. But she would
have crawled through the mud if that's what it took. Tony was inside, well and
safe. She knew he was and wouldn't let herself think otherwise.

She just wished the hawk hadn't vanished when the bear
arrived. Refusing to dwell on that, she told herself there was an explanation.
Soon her faith would be rewarded. Very soon. She was almost at the top.

Then her feet hit firmer soil and she dashed for the lodge.

"Tony! Tony!" She ripped the curtain open. A
distressed cry immediately left her lips.

Heartsick, Lily fell to her knees on the threshold and
buried her face in her hands. Rain beat on her back. The curtain flopped against
the outside wall, making a sick noise reminiscent of a death knell.

Could she go on without him? Not just with the inquisition,
but with the remainder of her life? She'd never known tenderness before, and
now that she had, could she live without it?

A wind gust blew the heavy curtain through the door, which
struck her shoulders and sent her tumbling to the floor. Hot tears stung her
eyes, and she angrily rocked to a sitting position and yanked the curtain
closed. It throbbed like a bellows from the force of the wind, but stayed in
place. Having tamed the wind, she looked around. The drum, the tobacco, the
wand of sage were all in place. The Stone People glowed at her from their home
in the east corner.

For once, she welcomed their warmth. Alone and staring at a
fiery doorway that called forth the spirits, a sob stirred in Lily's chest. She
choked it back, determined not to cry. Tony was out there somewhere, alive.

But with Sebastian's pack on the prowl he was in deadly
danger. And she was to blame. Her impulsive, cowardly flight from the
inquisition had put him at risk.

Shala had already lost a mother because of her. Had she now
cost the girl her father too? Could Shala even endure this second loss or would
that bubbly enthusiasm leave her big blue eyes for good?

This stirred memories of the children who'd come in her
vision — the mother and fatherless ones, the orphans. She gazed into the coals,
realizing it was time to face the Tribunal again. The belligerent boy who'd
lost his life to crime had not finished his accusation.

Leaning forward, she scooped water from the clay bowl and
dropped it on the stones. Steam rose. She dipped out another ladleful, then
another.

Soon the lodge filled with mist. She felt light-headed once
more. . . .

CRIPS —
 
large block letters,
dripping with blood against a field of black. Slowly the field revolved. A dark
angry gaze came into view.

Could she survive this without Tony's help?

With a fearful sigh she stretched out beside the pit,
knowing she was about to find out.

"What do you say to me, monster?" Lily gazed into
the boy's agonized eyes and took in the small scar beneath his shaved-off hair,
the colorful scarf around his neck. What could she say? She'd taken everything
from this child without a second thought.

"I'm sorry . . ." Weak, pitiful, no excuse, but it
was all she had to offer.

The boy smiled, his teeth bright and even. His jacket
dissolved, replaced by an oversized polo shirt. His hair turned thick and
black. Then he was gone.

Lily drifted in a fog until a voice brought her back.
"You created me!" it accused.

"Jorje?" Lifting her head, Lily met the wolfling's
recriminating stare.

"He whom you made, you destroyed? How could you,
Lily?"

You were about to kill Morgan. . . . But she didn't say it.
She knew better now. Had she not been so overwrought over the success of Dana's
ceremony, had she not feared Sebastian's wrath, she could have saved Morgan
without slaying her companion.

"You served me well, dear one, and I repaid you
poorly."

"Poorly? You killed me!" Jorje stood up, an act
rendered impossible by the low ceiling, Lily dimly realized, but he did so
nonetheless. Then she gave it no further thought. Jorje had bared his fangs,
raised his clawed hands, and was poised to strike.

How dare he, that puny wolfling?

"Yes. Yes, yes. I did it," she snarled.
"Killing was natural to me!" Her voice gained volume, bringing back
the feeling of the power she'd once known. She was filled with it, relished it.
"I loved it. Loved the blood, the smell of fear. Even as your neck broke
in my hand I was filled with glory. Should I
atone
for that?"

Jorje dropped his arms and backed away. Instantly, Lily's
perspective changed. She lowered her face to her hands. "But I'm not that
creature anymore . . . and I wish, oh how I wish I'd never done it." She
looked back at him, knew her eyes were dark with pleading. "I loved you
like a child. Can you forgive me?"

"In time," he said. Then, like the boy in the
black leather jacket he was gone.

Suddenly remorseful tears she'd never before allowed to flow
rushed to Lily's eyes. They stung like acid, spilled over and streaked down her
face. Her shoulders heaved with the force of her sobs, which came in gulping
waves she couldn't fight. After a while she stopped trying. The mist enclosed
her again, filled with her torment and guilt, weighing her heart down until she
knew it would split in two.

She could never atone for her acts. If she spent the rest of
her life serving mankind, it could not make up for them. Jorje was right in
wanting to kill her. He should have done it . . . should have done it. . . .

He should have . . .

"Arise, child of the Universe."

The words sounded like beautiful music, and Lily rolled to
her side, wondering where they had come from. Her sobs were now just intermittent
hiccups, but the pressure on her heart remained.

No one was there. The mist had cleared. She sat up leadenly
and dropped another scoop of water on the rocks. Steam rose, spiraling toward
the ceiling.

Then the lodge was filled with intense light. On the edges
of the field she saw white feathers—on a wingspan ten times that of the hawk's.
Then a being emerged. Long golden hair, eyes the color of the bluest sky, a
robe so white it shimmered like polished silver. Man or woman she could not
say.

"Wipe away your tears, Lily Angelica DeLaVega,"
the being said. "We have much to talk about."

* * *

He was lying in a pool of blood red water, battered by rain
and wind. Mud clung to his ragged coat. The sound of thunder was growing
distant. He barely noticed the lightning anymore.

The runoff was nearly to his nose. Tony weakly lifted his
head and managed to move to higher ground before his thick neck gave out. His
surroundings began to fade.

He wasn't going to make it, he realized. Bear would die of
his wounds here in the rain-soaked forest, and he would perish with him. His
lids fell shut over his round dark eyes. Filled with regret, he resigned
himself to his fate. It would be easier, he thought, if he knew Lily was safe,
that Shala would grow up all right without him. It would be so much easier.

Soon he'd lose consciousness, and knowing this, he tried one
last time to change form. He thought again of Lily—how much he loved her . . .
needed her. How much she needed him. Suddenly a shift occurred within his body.
His eyes snapped open. He lifted his weary head. Something rose, taking the
numbing pain away.

"Call on me again, Brother," he heard Bear say.

Then he was above the earth, white wings straining against
the fierce air current. He let out a shrill cry of exaltation, caught an
updraft that lifted him high above the leafy canopy. Another time he would have
celebrated this success, but now he dipped earthward again, searching for Lily.
Although she'd sworn Sebastian wouldn't hurt her, he didn't share her certainty,
and each time he saw a shape on the forest floor his heart clutched in terror.
But when he descended to investigate, he found only fallen trees or cringing
animals caught in the fierce storm and seeking shelter as they could. Finally,
convinced she wasn't there, he headed for the lodge.

Except for the wails of the rainstorm and the flap of the
billowing curtain hanging over the door, all was quiet as he approached. He
dropped to the ground several feet from the lodge, bereft over not finding
Lily, and resumed human form. Where could he go from here? Nowhere, at least
not in the driving rain.

He would crawl into the lodge for warmth and rest and search
again come sunrise. As he neared the opening he heard voices. Flattening
himself against the curved rail wall of the lodge, he cautiously lifted a
corner of the curtain.

Lily sat cross-legged beside the pit, facing the center of
the lodge. The ceiling appeared to have disappeared, and the sky above was a
balmy blue, dotted with pure white cotton puffs. Beings of all types lined the
walls—a fox and a bear, a small white wolf, a dark raven with intelligent eyes,
even Coyote the Trickster. Quetzalcoatl was there, coiled in his feathered
serpent form. Buffalo Woman, Grandfather Sky, representatives of the Stone and
Standing People.

In front of the Native American deities was a chorus of
angels dressed in pure white, their wings folded against their backs, forming a
semicircle behind a taller angel.

The Tribunal.

All wore expressions of intense interest as they listened to
Lily.

"I am guilty," she said without equivocation. The
Tribunal nodded their heads. "Hundreds I killed, affecting thousands I
never met like ripples in a pond. I loved no one and was loved by none. But my
greatest sin was I didn't care. I reveled in my werewolf ways, relished the
wildness, the invincibility, the fear I caused, the blood I spilled."

Again, the listeners nodded.

"Only now do I see the harm I've done. The children . .
. the families—" Lily lifted her chin, dark eyes gleaming with tears of
remorse. "I confess my crimes to you. Nothing I do or say can make amends.
Do with me as you will. I am yours."

A murmur filled the lodge.

Tony scooted through the door. None gave him any attention
except Lily, who looked at him with a tremulous smile. Ask for my help, Tony
mentally cried. Ask.

But she turned back to the Tribunal. "What is my
punishment?"

The beings broke their formation to talk among themselves.

"Loved no one, loved by none," several murmured.
"Thousands suffered from her acts," several more intoned.

"Banishment to the Himalayas," said Raven.

"Return her to the One Mind," said a small angel.
"She is a danger while she walks this earth."

"Seven lifetimes of abject service," cried the
wolf. Ask me! Tony wanted to scream. But he didn't. Lily must turn to him of
her own free will.

As though she'd heard his mental cry, Lily glanced his way,
eyes filled with despair.
 
"Tony . .
." She spoke his name as though she hadn't seen him before. Her attention
returned to the discussion, then back to him, looking like she was trying very
hard to remember something. Then a light of recollection replaced the despair
in her eyes.

"Help me, Tony. Please help me."

He got up and walked over and stood beside her.
"Tribunal," he said. "I wish to be heard."

The discussion ended and all eyes turned to him. Tony
hesitated, unsure what to say. His own words would be inadequate. Only the
Great Spirit could move these beings. Putting a hand on Lily's shoulder, he
tilted back his head and allowed his eyelids to drift closed.