Chills & Thrills Paranormal Boxed Set (61 page)

"I won't try again." She shook her head sadly.
"But we both may come to regret it."

"Then you'll come back with me?"

"White Hawk . I– I–"

"Tony," he said gruffly.

She stared at him blankly.

He drew a finger softly along the curve of her jaw.
"When a woman makes love with a man it gives her the right to use his
first name."

She continued to stare, feeling dazed.

"You're important to me, Lily." He looked away,
but not before she saw the vulnerability in his eyes. "I care for
you."

Now it was her turn to look away. Why had she hoped for
something deeper, more impassioned?

"I don't deserve your caring. You of all people should
know that."

"But you've got it regardless. Don't ask me to explain,
or to vow that a part of my soul doesn't still rail against it, but my feelings
are what they are." He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"Will you come back with me?"

Lily sighed heavily. "Yes, White Hawk, and may God help
us both."

Moonlight glinted off his straight white teeth as he let out
a laugh of pure joy. "Call me Tony, darling. Call me Tony."

"Tony," she echoed, then she tilted back her head
to receive his kiss, trying to convince herself she hadn't hoped he'd say he
loved her.

     
* * *

Lily sat on the pallet in her quarters and clutched the
crystal she'd replaced around her neck, still shaken by the events of the
previous evening. When they'd returned to the village, she'd gone with Tony to
Star Dancer's hogan, where he'd informed the High Shaman he would defend Lily.

"Excellent," Star Dancer had replied. "You
leave in the morning."

So soon? Lily now thought, as the creeping light of dawn
appeared in her window. She dreaded the events the next few days would bring.
What frightened her most was knowing Tony would be alone with her while these
changes were taking place in her body. He'd assured her more than once that she
wasn't becoming a werewolf, but . . .

She reached for a vial of holy water.

Tony had kept his sights on her ever since they returned,
and she wouldn't be surprised to find him sleeping at the base of the ladder to
prevent her from escaping. She must protect him by learning the truth. Rolling
the bottle between her fingers, she eyed the stamp of sanctification as if
she'd never seen one before. If Tony was right, this simple test would tell.
But if he was wrong . . .

She'd never personally experienced the agonizing effect of
holy water, but she'd seen the tortured expressions of those who had.

She alchemized.

The same soft fur blanketed her skin and the glow she'd seen
the night before seemed even brighter. So odd, these changes, unlike anything
she'd ever seen, but they didn't mean she wasn't a werewolf.

Bracing herself for the pain, she pulled the stopper from
the vial, shuddering as she spilled a drop on her palm.

Nothing happened.

She felt fine, okay. More than okay. A peaceful feeling
flowed from her palm into her fingertips, up her arm. Soon her whole body sang
with well-being. Her heart skipped a beat. This couldn't be true, yet her
unscathed palm proved it was.

But if she wasn't a werewolf, what was she?

Failing to find an answer, she replaced the cork in the
bottle, averse to risking another precious drop. They'd need the water soon
enough. Although the tribespeople had rerouted the maze, if Ravenheart was
still alive he'd undoubtedly find a way through. It was only a matter of time.

Returning to human form, she put the bottle back into the
pocket of her jacket, then got up. Suddenly her legs gave out. She fell back on
the pallet, trembling and shivering, wanting to cry, wanting to laugh.
Instinctively, her hand moved to the gemstone between her breasts.

Tears of relief and joy streamed down her face. She wasn't a
werewolf! She was alive and mortal, with so much to live for!

And with every reason to survive the Tribunal. She looked up
at the ceiling and wondered if she was searching for guidance. Maybe she was.
Clearly something or someone was guiding her destiny. What else could explain
the bizarre life she'd led?

She got up to get dressed. It was time to meet the Tribunal,
and she was as ready as she'd ever be.

     
* * *

"By Hades," Beryl grumbled to Sebastian,
"this wolfling will not live a fortnight. He cannot even alchemize without
tearing the ceiling out with his screams."

Arlan Ravenheart shivered on the floor of the filthy cave
and tried to get warm by wrapping himself up in a thin, patterned rug that
looked so old it must be worthless. Mice droppings and spider webs clung to the
faded fabric. He brushed them off with a shudder of revulsion and tried to
glare at Sebastian's critical follower.

But he had no strength to glare. The transformation—what the
others called alchemization—had drained his vitality to alarmingly low levels.
Never had he experienced such pain, not even as a child when old Frieda had
yanked out his aching molar.

Sebastian paced the floor in human form, chewing on a
gold-plated piece of metal that held a smoldering cigarette. He took it from
his mouth, blew out a circle of smoke, and went to a portrait of a man with a
red feather in his cap that hung on the sloping stone wall.

"Lily has let this place go to ruin," he
complained as he straightened the painting's tarnished frame. Then he glanced
at Ravenheart. "The wolfling is young yet. He has not had his first kill.
We will introduce him to that pleasure when the sun goes down."

"And how will we do that?" Beryl questioned.
"Those people have altered the path. Philippe and I traveled through their
maze last night and got hopelessly lost. We almost failed to find our way
out." He whirled toward Ravenheart. "Destroy this puny wolfling,
Lord. His presence will only hinder us."

Sebastian gave out a low growl. "The Law
forbids
it!"

Ravenheart's tensing body relaxed at Sebastian's answer.
Although the others were now in human form, he didn't have enough strength in
this unfamiliar Lupine body to defend himself if they chose to kill him. He
didn't understand his misery. Had the Great Wolf deceived him? Had it truly
been Coyote, full of his usual trickery? But all true shamans were tested
before they attained full power. Clearly this was his test.

Sebastian walked over, stooped, and brushed back
Ravenheart's disheveled hair, reminding Ravenheart that he'd lost his own red
feather sometime during the limb-wrenching ritual. The rabbit’s foot, too, had
long since fallen out.

"This one can lead us through the maze," Sebastian
said to Beryl, although his eyes remained on Ravenheart. "Can you
not?"

"Yes," Ravenheart croaked, although he wasn't
actually sure he could.

"Yes?" Sebastian repeated tartly.

Ravenheart lowered his eyes, hating the need to assume a servile
tone. "Yes, Lord."

"Better." Sebastian again regarded Beryl.
"See? This young one learns quickly. He, I am certain, would never suggest
ignoring the Law."

Taking another leisurely drag of his cigarette, he
straightened. "We have three nights yet to perform the Song of Hades. I
erred in trying to do it when the astrological aspect was not yet ripe. But the
ritual will not fail the next time. We'll reclaim Lily yet. The new wolfling
knows the way and will be of great use to us."

Of use to them
.
 
No, Ravenheart thought, they would be of use to him. He would take them
to the village, lead them to the former she-wolf, to Star Dancer and to Shala.
And most of all to White Hawk. He'd let them feed in their beastly manner, then
when they'd had their fill he'd let them take the she-wolf
 
wherever they willed.

But he would stay. The Dawn People would turn to him as
their rightful leader, respectful, worshipful, as he led them through the
gates. Then with the Great Wolf at his side, he would rule the realm of Quakahla
forever.

Forever.

It was already done.

With that gratifying thought, he curled back into a ball and
stifled another moan.

* * *

"How're your feet?" Tony asked, mindful of the
blisters Lily's boots had caused during their original hike to the village.

"So far so good."

     
She dropped a
rock into the blazing pit, then scurried back to avoid sparks. Glancing quickly
at the glaring sun, she asked, "When are the others arriving?"

She wore tight shorts and one of those skimpy cotton tops
he'd so hastily pulled from her drawers back in New York. An inverted V of
perspiration stained the spot between her breasts, revealing the crisp edges of
the crystal that rested underneath it. The damp cotton clung to the shallow
indentations between her ribs. Her hair was held back by a thong, and a band of
bright cotton was wrapped around her forehead to keep sweat from her eyes.

Her appearance reminded him of the comic-book heroines he'd
pined over as a boy. Cosmic Woman or some such name. Like them, she hadn't
complained about the arduous tasks they were performing.

Without taking food or water, they'd collected the firewood,
log by log, twig by twig. Then they started gathering the rocks. As they
worked, Tony explained the ritual. When the sun set, they'd transfer the blazing
Stone People into a pit inside the sweat lodge and would stay there until Lily
had a vision. Apparently, Tony now thought, he'd left out a very important
detail.

"You're expecting people?"

Her expression turned quizzical. "Of course, people.
What else?"

"Your inquisition is too important to be left to Two
Leggeds." He straightened to readjust his loincloth. "The Tribunal
consists of spirits and guides who have greater understanding of the Universe's
harmony."

"Ghosts?" Her voice rose, partly teasing, partly
incredulous. "I'm going to be judged by ghosts?"

"Not ghosts, Lily. Higher beings."

She smiled wanly. "When I was small, I believed I had a
guardian angel. I'd like to believe that again. Do you think she might show
up?"

He pulled her against his naked chest and stroked her damp
hair, surprised as always by the slightness of her body. "Call on her and
she will come. You must have faith."

"I don't want to die, Tony." Her dark eyes looked
up at him longingly. "I have so much to live for now."

Taking her face between his palms, he kissed her, then
whispered, "I'll do everything in my power to protect you."

She sighed. "But you can't promise, can you?"

"No. This isn't already done."

"I see." She put her hand over the gemstone.
"Then it's up to me. Tell me what to expect while we finish our
work."

Tony explained what was to come as they carried rocks to the
fire, pausing now and then to catch his breath. He would see her visions as
clearly as she would, he told her, and could speak in her behalf, but couldn't advise
her how to respond to her accusers. If she appeased their spirits, the vision
would end.

"My accusers? You mean the Tribunal."

"No. Your victims."

Goosebumps appeared on her arms. She blinked several times.
"And if I don't appease them?"

Hesitant to answer, Tony adjusted his slipping sweatband.
When her impatient stare told him he could delay no longer, he continued.
"You'll either go completely insane or perish from the heat inside the
lodge."

"What will you do with me if I die?" she asked
unexpectedly. The slight upward curve of her lips made him think she believed
she'd succeed. He returned the smile.

"What would you like me to do?"

"Bury me under a tree by the river, where I'll be cool
and can hear the water flowing."

"Lily," he said, broadening his smile as though he
thought the subject was silly and irrelevant. "You'll be dead. You won't
know."

"Maybe." Her smile faded and she touched his
cheek. "But do it anyway, okay?"

"Okay."

Without another word, she bent down and picked up some
kindling. They collected wood until the pile overflowed, then gathered more
rocks. Lily sometimes nearly staggered from their weight, but she still didn't
complain. Finally Tony told her they'd done enough. The sun was heading west,
still pouring searing heat on the mesa.

"We'll rest until Mother Earth swallows the sun."

"You don't really think that, do you?"

"Think what?" He picked up a long branch and
prodded the fire, driving the stones deeper into the fire. "That Mother
Earth swallows the sun."

He grinned. "Of course not. I'm a college grad."

"Then why do you say it?"

He shrugged, watching a burning log split, its pieces
falling between the boulders. The heat used to make him recoil, especially
during midsummer, but of late he found he enjoyed it.

"It's poetic. Isn't that reason enough?"

"I bet there's more behind it than that."

He moved to her side, and they began the climb down the
steep sides of the mesa toward the riverbank. "Metaphors touch people's
feeling place. It's a shaman's job to open that place in others so they can
access their own inner guidance."

"But I thought shamans healed."

"It seems that way, but it's the patient who does the
healing by drawing on their own resources. The shaman merely helps them do
it."

She looked down thoughtfully as she made her way over a
particularly treacherous spot. "Do you think I'll survive? Be honest,
Tony."

He put a hand on her shoulder. "Only you can know
what's inside you, which is what will decide your fate. I believe your strong
spirit will carry you through. But you have to believe it too."

They'd reached the river, and Lily moved away without
comment, settling on the blanket Tony had spread beneath a cottonwood when
they'd arrived. Her gaze went to the parched desert beyond the river oasis, to
the water-starved scrub oak, the withering chollas, saguaros, jumping cactus,
then on to the low, rounded structure of the sweat lodge.