Raining Kisses (The Opeth Pack Saga Book 2) (21 page)

* * *

“
W
hat’s your name
, child? Are you hurt?” An older man with white hair and a wrinkled face touched her shoulder gingerly. The voice a little ragged and his breathing labored.

Coming to full consciousness, she looked up through thick red strands of hair.

A soft, worn hand brushed her hair back from her face, giving her a view of the man that stirred her.

She looked around, saw tall grass, smelled the air and picked up the putrid stench of exhaust. Oil stained the concrete beneath her.

Vehicles sped past her, oblivious to her existence.

The dull pounding in her head throbbed louder, and then a cool washcloth brushed across her forehead.

“Here.” He offered her a black jacket. “Relax, child. I’m here to help you. Can you remember your name?”

She shrugged off the coat and met the face of a kind, older man. Eyes worn, smile lines, and worry, etched into his face, but his concern for her seemed genuine.

“I don’t…” she shook her head, put a hand on her temple.” I have no idea.”

Vision faded in and out, her stomach lurched. She sat up, and quickly doubled over.

The man put a hand on her back, making sure to keep his touch light, yet heavy enough to remind her of his presence. “Do you have any identification?”

She brushed strands of reddish brown hair behind her ears. Examined herself.

No other obvious pains.

“You don’t look injured but maybe you have a concussion. We should get you medical help immediately.”

“No.” She put a hand out, touched his chest. “No help. I’m,” she forced herself to stand, finding her knees unsteady. “I need…”

She didn’t know. She stared into the face of this man and for some reason, waited.

His dull, dark skin had the appearance of working in the sun for many years. Nothing seemed extraordinary about him other than his eyes.

They sparkled purple and bright green and seemed penetrating.

She swore for a moment she saw wolves, smelled the heavy lupine muskiness associated with the beast but that thought seemed ridiculous.

Looking around, she had to guess she was in a modern city, no wolves would exist here.

She drew her legs to her chest when she realized she was completely naked.

For a second time, the older man handed her his jacket. “I have a blanket in the car, though you should know it’d just be easier to drop your human magic.”

She pulled the jacket tighter around her. “What?”

He wiped his brow with a hand kerchief he’d pulled from his shirt pocket, folded it neatly then put it back where he’d retrieved it from. “Drop your human magic. Do you not remember anything?”

She shook her head. Closing her eyes, she thought hard, but couldn’t recall anything. No memories surfaced, no visions appeared. “I don’t know anything. I’m sorry.” She blinked. “Why are there wolves here?”

“Oh, those aren’t live wolves.”

“Thank goddess.”

“They’re the spirits of the dead, guardians of a sort sent to watch over the church.”

She nearly choked when she swallowed. “Excuse me?”

“Oh dear.” He sighed slowly. “I can give you shelter in the church for a few days while we try to figure this out. Would that be okay?”

The woman shook her head again. Her stomach rumbled loudly.

“Father Gregori, at your service.” The Priest extended his hand to her. “Again, are you hurt? Can you walk on your own?”

She made the attempt to stand again, this time her legs didn’t falter nearly as much, though the priest’s hand on her elbow helped her tremendously.

The man handed her a blanket from his vehicle. “I’m glad I found you. Hayward isn’t too fond of wolves roaming the town. Cover up child and we’ll get you back on your feet in a few days. Okay?”

What did he just say? “I’m sorry but I’m not following.”

“Once we feed you and get you cleaned up, clothed, and in a better mindset, we can talk about your lupine side, my dear. Come along.”

* * *

S
he’d remembered her name
. Éva.

Such a pretty Hungarian name, the priest remarked once.

She ignored the comment but realized the name just clicked. It, like a few pieces of memories she couldn’t place, came to her in dreams.

Out of the first few days since her arrival, lucid dreams beckoned her to inquire about things she had no rhyme or reason to know.

Wolves flooded her dreams, barking, chasing her, never harmfully. But the dreams were vocal enough, feeling almost real enough that when she woke for the day, she found herself more exhausted than when she went to bed.

“Tis prophecy, I’m certain,” the priest merely mused.

She ignored him. Questions on her mind had no place in her new world. Well, if it could be called new at any rate.

Éva stayed another week, taking advantage of the church’s kindness while helping out with chores and some of the culinary duties. Father Gregori continued to tell her she had no need, her kind wasn’t the type to do mundane chores but when she asked about his statements, he started doddering off like a crazy old man.

“You’re a very special one,” he’d say.

Then, smile, turn his head to the side and walk away.

After a few more days, blissful sleep had returned and that’s when it became apparent she needed to leave the shelter and make her way back into the regular world.

“You’re not for the humans, but you’ll protect them,” she heard him mutter beneath his breath one day.

She decided it best not to question him. Religious folk had their own ways, that’s all she needed to understand. Besides, had it not been for him, she may have ended up dead, or worse. She shuddered at the thought.

She gathered her meager belongings, consisting of two dresses, some under garments and toiletries, stuffing them into a knapsack Father Gregori gave her.

She heard his soft footfalls on the stone concrete before he’d entered the room. She looked up, and saw him filling the doorway, a sad smile on his face. For some reason, the scent in the room changed.

She swore she saw tears in his eyes.

“What will you do once you leave, child?”

The reticence to ask the question made her curious. “I hear there are job openings downtown. I figure I can find a wage, a place and make my mark on the world.”

“Spoken like a true wolf. Are you Opeth Pack?”

Before she could rebuke the craziness of his statement, she stopped and blinked. The words seemed akin to something she…

No. She shook off the incoherent dreamlike memory. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Father. Why do you keep asking if I’m a wolf? They don’t exist in this part of the world anymore.”

“Mystery is always something the pious tend to study, Éva. We may learn how God performs His duties but that never stops us from asking for more information. You should take this advice to heart.”

“Why?”

He rubbed his chin, appearing to study her closer now. “I wonder if you are the missing sister of their current witch.”

Éva smirked. “I’d certainly remember something like that, wouldn’t you think?”

He shrugged.

“I’m still confused, Father.”

He sighed, the kind of heavy release of air that said she’d better sit down.

She did, patting a space on the scratchy comforter before taking her seat.

“This world is not what it seems, dear child. Éva are you at all remembering anything from your past? Who you were before I found you? What your abilities were? Where you fit in with the world?”

The questions shocked her. Anger rose in her gut but not because he’d asked the questions. She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t want to seem ungrateful so I’ll ask this basic question. What are you saying?”

“Have you studied our tomes?”

“I have looked through them but like most things they were over my head and in languages I could not understand.”

“Did they not seem in the least bit familiar?”

She gasped. Trying to gather her composure, Éva stood, slung the knapsack over her shoulder and started toward the door.

“Just asking, as is our way, child.”

She glowered, exhaled, inhaled, then repeated the process one more time before her nerves settled. “The worst thing is, I can’t remember why these questions upset me. I don’t know what’s wrong or why a total stranger’s pressing concern seems to set me off. But I’d rather not deal with any of this. My idea of normalcy just returned.” She realized she sounded desperate and in truth, she was. The nightmares, vivid dreams, the weirdness around her had finally settled and let her have peaceful sleep.

She didn’t hurt anymore.

“I suppose it’s only natural to wonder about the myriad who come through here and then pick at them out of curiosity all while forgetting our manners. Forgive me child.”

“I can understand that, I suppose. People of all kinds must come through here.”

“Be on your way then and come back should you need the Lord’s help. He gives it freely to those who ask.”

Éva slung the sack over her shoulder, adjusting the weight for comfort, then hugged the Father one last time.

“There are places you can rent for inexpensive prices, though the neighborhoods are less than perfect.”

“I came into this world poor…”

“Very well. Trust in yourself, Éva and may you prosper in the eyes of the Lord.”

She left, struggled for a week, spending it on the street, and then came back to the church, unsure of what she could ask for. She’d already taken so much from them.

Of course Father Gregori let her back into her old room, gave her food and lodgings while the two created a new plan of attack for her return to normal life.

He’d found a house and helped her acquire a job, though it wasn’t one he would approve of. It would pay the bills.

Éva had a feeling she needed to get used to doing things not everyone would approve of. The ends justified the means, in this case. Bartending brought with it great income for good bartenders and she’d proven her people skills on her first night.

Hired instantly, she’d moved into the house he’d chosen for her.

Occasionally, Éva heard a voice in the back of her mind calling her back to Hungary. That was another country, thousands of miles away. Why would she go there? Certainly she’d like to see the world someday and maybe even regain her former memories but until then, she had to set up her new life.

Traffic was light today. The year was 1981 and it was June. Éva wondered how she would fit into a mostly Hispanic community, but nobody seemed to pay her any mind. A bus ran down the street, stopping just a few feet away.

Éva pulled out change from her pocket and started to board when she caught sight of a large dog limping toward her. “Wait,” she told the bus driver.

“Can’t ma’am. On a schedule. There’ll be another bus in fifteen minutes.”

“Guess I’ll have to get the next one. This dog needs help.” Éva put her change away and cautiously approached the wounded dog.

A closer glance at him made her breath hitch.

A real, living, breathing wolf.

His head lifted slightly, whimpered, pawed the ground. Then fell forward. His disheveled fur looked like it needed a bath, a brush and probably flea treatment if she had to judge.

For some reason, she continued approaching cautiously, aware of her unnatural lack of fear.

She’d made it to him, gravel crunching beneath her worn boots. She took a closer look and saw the protrusions from his thigh. Needles, large ones.

Someone had been trying to kill him.

He’d only been defending himself before they attacked.

Bite marks marred his neck and torso. Blood, both dried and fresh, clung to his matted fur.

Help me.

It spoke to her? Was she losing her mind? Animals couldn’t talk.

He whimpered again.
Help me, please. You’re…you know what to do.

A closer glance revealed blood dripping down his right front leg. Teeth marks and angry slashes marked his flesh.

He whimpered louder.

Éva knelt by the wolf’s side. “Do you have a name?”

János. I…
He fell on the ground with a thud and a scream.

“Oh shit!” Éva placed her hand on his chest and felt the very slow beat of his heart. Blood from his fur stuck to her hand. She had to act now or he’d die.

No vet would treat him. They weren’t equipped to deal with wolves in the city.

Father Gregori taught her basic human care but lupine medical attention was beyond her.

Éva closed her eyes and thought hard for a solution.

The next thing she knew, she was in front of a house with a for sale sign in the front yard. Boarded windows, chipped paint and a collapsing roof were all signs the house was vacant. Still, transients liked to take up residence to shelter themselves for free from the elements.

The grass had grown to waist height.

In an instant, Éva wished the house was in better condition.

And then it was. The grass had been cut; some of the boards had been replaced by nicer windows. The paint still looked chipped on the garage and some of the wood was rotted, but the house definitely looked more habitable.