Desert of the Damned (27 page)

When Amy stopped a few feet from Gwyllain’s chair, Valdon gripped her arm and pulled her close. The woman wrapped her hand around Amy’s wrist, stared into her eyes and said, “Kneel for me.”

“Excuse me?”

The woman yanked on her arm. “Kneel. I won’t ask again.”

Amy did as she was told. The woman looked her up and down, then touched her hair, her cheek, her shoulder. Amy jerked away.

Ignoring Amy’s response, Gwyllain stood and held her palms out to her. Without touching her, the woman ran her hands over Amy’s body. “Yes, yes, Dante was right.

She emits a powerful essence. The vibrations traveled through me without having to touch her. And look.” She pointed to the ceiling. “Look how much brighter the sun is now since her arrival.”

“I’m here by mistake,” Amy said, hopeful she could explain the situation although the woman didn’t look like the easiest person to reason with. “I picked up the nebula stone—”

Gwyllain raised her hand to silence her, glaring as if angry that Amy dared to speak aloud. The woman’s eyes changed from deep blue to yellow-green, with an eerie inner light and slitlike pupils, giving her a reptilian-like appearance.

Amy resisted the urge to step back. “I can’t stay here,” she tried again.

“You’ll be staying,” Gwyllain said simply.

She turned her back on Amy and dropped the blue wrap on the floor, then shot Amy a look as if expecting a comment or compliment on her naked body. Momentarily embarrassed, Amy averted her eyes and looked at Valdon, who looked bored rather than turned-on. When Gwyllain got no response from Amy, she spun around and strode toward the pool.

Amy marched after her, hands on hips. “I cannot stay here.”

Stepping into the steamy bath, Gwyllain eased in until the water lapped at her full breasts. Then she sat on an underwater seat. “Valdon will show you what is expected.”

“How long do you plan to keep me?” Amy asked, her jaw tight. “Until Dante does something for you?” Her voice was becoming shrill.

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Gwyllain frowned, her lips pressed firmly together. Her eyes glowed brighter as she waded through the water toward Amy who was standing at the edge. A predator hunting prey or a snake ready to strike. “You’ll call me mistress or Mistress Gwyllain when you address me. Learn some manners.”

Amy bit her lip to stop a sharp response. Manners? What about dragging her to Anartia against her will? But she was in this woman’s domain and best to play by her rules for the moment.

“How long do you intend to keep me here, mistress?” Amy let the last word out with enough sweet sarcasm that all the other servants turned their heads and dropped their jaws.

Gwyllain turned toward the other male. “Wine please, Chay.” He was a few inches shorter than Valdon with wavy brown hair and gray-blue eyes. He too was built like he had been lugging cinder blocks all his life.

“Of course, mistress.” Chay strode over to the edge of the pool. Gwyllain raised her golden goblet and Chay poured. She never stopped glaring at Amy.

After a sip or two, she put her glass down. “Oh yes, you were asking about your stay.”

“Yes, mistress,” Amy said, figuring it was best to go along with the ruse.

“It’s permanent.”

“What?”

Gwyllain cocked her head. “Manners.”

“Excuse me, mistress? What do you mean permanent?” Amy eyed the front door and thought about running out of the temple but even if she managed to escape, where would she go?

“Yes, as in for eternity. Your life force will help maintain Anartia and your appearance suits me. Dante wouldn’t kill you, so I’ve agreed to allow you to live here as my slave.”

“I can’t agree to that,” Amy argued, trying not to show fear.

Gwyllain laughed. “There is no choice. Once Tarik has you merged with Anartia, you will be bound to serve my needs and in exchange you’ll have eternal life.”

Amy swallowed several times, forcing herself not to cry but feeling tears well up in her eyes. Eternal life without Jake, any life without Jake, would be hell. She couldn’t stand the thought of never seeing him again. The ache bore deep. Not only Jake but what would happen when she didn’t return? Her family, Sienna, her house, her job?

Wasn’t there some way out? Her hands in fists, she frantically looked around the room, looking for an alternative plan. But what would she do if she could escape? How would she get home?

Gwyllain probably took Amy’s lack of response as resignation. “I’d like to finish bathing in privacy. Chay, have Sakari show her what is expected of her.”

“Yes, mistress.”

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“And, Amy.” Gwyllain smiled as she sipped her wine. “There is no escape.”

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Chapter Seventeen

The moment Amy and Dante vanished, Jake slipped out of the bearskin and kicked it aside. He strode forward and stared at the exact point where they had disappeared.

Swearing, he roamed the area for an hour in a circular formation, trying to find signs of where they had vanished—an opening between rocks leading to a hidden cavern or crevice. There was no sign that they had ever been here. He thought he caught the whiff of an ocean breeze but it quickly faded. Although his animal senses were still acute, they were of little use. He was fighting otherworldly beings who had supernatural powers far beyond his.

Stunned and disoriented from returning to his human form, his mind raced for the next logical step. He gave a humorless laugh. How could he find logic in this insanity?

How could he possibly help Amy? When he’d thought he could finally use his shapeshifting skills for good, see his heritage as something other than a curse, he ended up causing someone a lot of pain. And he’d put Amy in danger. The curse would forever haunt his life. He’d lost his father because of a hunter, lost his mother because she couldn’t handle the stress, lost Alison because she couldn’t accept who he was and now he’d lost Amy.

He doubted his grandfather or his people had the power or skills needed to help in this situation but Jake couldn’t think of another option. He kicked sand to smother the fire and smoldering mountain lion fur. His fur was destroyed but he would find a way into the Otherworld and find a way to bring Amy back. Picking up the bearskin, he marched toward Amy’s house.

* * * * *

They’d been hiking for three hours and Bill was barely winded.

Jake traversed the steep trail, following behind his grandfather toward the rocky bluff. If he hadn’t been close to Bill, he might have strayed off the overgrown path in the hazy twilight. Stunted pine trees, dried grasses and sage brush obscured most of the trail. Tied to his backpack was the bearskin and a knife—the only objects his grandfather told him he would need. Inside the pack Jake also brought provisions for a few days—clothes, food and water—although he had a feeling he wouldn’t be using any of it during the ceremony.

“Just up ahead.” Bill pointed to a shadowed overhang in the rocks. Jake realized it wasn’t a shadow but the cave entrance. A few cairns or stacked stones, spaced every few feet, marked the last several yards of the treacherous trail.

“What is this place?”

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“An ancient cliff dwelling. Dates back to the third century. Not very impressive looking. Nothing like Montezuma’s Castle. And tough to find without a map.”

“Where’s our map?” Jake asked as the last stretch became steeper and he had to do hand over hand to climb.

“Back at the house, on the front porch. I decided I didn’t need it. Wanted to test my memory.”

Jake gritted his teeth. “Amy’s life is in danger and you wanted to test—”

“Wait ‘til you see the petroglyphs.”

“Petroglyphs?” Jake shook his head. “I don’t care right now about any freaking petroglyphs. All I care about is Amy. Shouldn’t we be going over the details of this ritual now?”

Bill ignored him and continued talking. “The prehistoric cave paintings are in good shape. Do you want to know what kind of animals they are?”

Jake huffed, losing his patience. “Petroglyphs are carved paintings. Pictographs are painted. Are they carved or just painted?”

“These are the carved ones. There’s a bear, a hawk and a deer, or maybe it’s a mountain goat.” Bill glanced back at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Oh, for—” Jake rubbed a hand over his face to stop from swearing, because he understood what his grandfather was doing, trying to distract him from worrying.

“Sounds great, Bill.”

As they reached the top of the bluff and stood outside the entrance to the cave, Jake’s stomach tightened. “Have you done ceremonies here before?”

“Sure, but never one like this.” Bill turned and glanced back at Jake. “Keep focused on your quest. It may save your life.”

A puff of gray smoke coiled out along the cave opening and streamed up like a gray serpent toward the purple sky. The scent of a campfire and copal incense drifted out from the dark hole. Jake heard the faint thumping from a couple of hand drums, men sang a monotone Navajo chant.

“Who’s in there?” Jake removed his pack and gripped it in his hand.

“This ritual is a dandy and needs the power of many shamans.”

“Are you sure this will work?”

Bill’s blank expression gave Jake no reassurance. “Nope.” Bill turned and entered the cave. Jake shrugged and followed him inside.

The flickering light from the fire projected eerie shadows along the stone walls. His anticipation mounted in his gut. “What if I get there and I can’t find her? What if I do find her, how do I find my way back?”

“Come inside,” Bill ordered. “It’s time.”

The warmth and pungent wood fire stung his eyes and burned his throat as Jake entered the main room of the cave. The circular space was about twelve feet in diameter 151

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with a fire pit in the center. Seven other men, bare-chested and wearing long pants, sat around the fire cross-legged. One continued to beat a drum with a padded stick.

Another man poured sand from his hand in a fine stream, creating a design on the ground. As Jake moved closer, he saw the sand painting on the cavern floor. The pattern was of a spiral with concentric circles of alternating colors in black, orange, tan and white sands. Resisting the urge to ask all the questions running through his mind, he sat when his grandfather signaled him to do so. Bill was to Jake’s right and the man doing the sand painting was on his left.

“Thank you for coming,” Jake said.

The men laughed. Jake wasn’t sure what was so funny. Apparently, they weren’t too serious about this ritual, which convinced him even more, that it would never work.

Bill shook his head. “I told you he never took to our ways. Still, he is a brave man and you know of his powers.”

“He’ll need more than bravery to survive this journey,” the one making the sand painting said.

The words sent a chill up Jake’s spine. Did he even have a chance in hell?

“If he returns, he must demonstrate this shapeshifting skill as payment for the ritual.”

“If I return? You don’t sound too hopeful.”

The men exchanged glances but made no comments. The man sitting to Bill’s right who was called an elder said, “We have not done a ritual of this type of quest before but it should work.”

Should work? Perfect. Staring at the opposite wall, Jake noticed the animal petroglyphs in the flickering light. The rough sketches in black did depict a deerlike creature, a bear and a hawk or large bird.

“A person’s destiny is a sacred thing. Always keep your mind and your heart open and search for truth,” the elder said. “While on your journey, it doesn’t hurt to keep your eyes open too. The doorway back may arrive unexpectedly.” He passed an earthen mug to Bill. His grandfather took a sip then passed it to Jake.

Jake sipped the bitter liquid and grimaced.

“Take another drink,” the elder ordered.

Jake did, then handed it to the sand painter. The man took a drink and passed it around.

The shamans began a soft chant, a song Jake didn’t understand but his body quickly felt the effects of the drink. He was relaxed and lightheaded. The room seemed to brighten and expand.

“Watch the animals on the wall,” the elder shaman said. “Soon they will come alive and be your guides to the Otherworld.”

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What? Jake tried to speak but the word didn’t make it from his brain to his mouth.

With his gaze focused first on the elder shaman, then on the wall paintings, Jake blinked as his vision kept blurring.

Bill got up and slipped Jake’s backpack onto Jake’s shoulders with the bearskin still attached. Would he be able to take all these objects with him to this Otherworld, assuming the ritual would work?

“The animals come alive? You mean they’re hallucinations?” Jake finally spoke with slurred words. He rubbed his face with his hand. “How can hallucinations carry me to this Otherworld? I don’t understand.”

With a firm grip, Bill held Jake’s arm, giving him a warning look that said “shut up”. The elder cocked his head toward the sand painting that appeared to be moving like a whirlpool.

Yep, I’m starting to hallucinate.

“This sand painting holds ominous power and magic,” the elder said. “The Great Spirit permits the outward and inward integration in these sacred ceremonies. Through this test you will be initiated into the mysteries and ways of the shaman.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jake thought he saw movement. When he turned and looked at the animals on the wall, the petroglyphs appeared normal. The flickering light from the fire was playing tricks on his eyes. “Why are we wasting time?” he asked, his head spinning.

Bill squeezed his arm to silence him but he had to think of Amy’s life. “I honor and respect your beliefs and my grandfather’s. But Amy’s life is at stake here. The longer we wait…”

“You love her?” one shaman across the fire pit asked.

Jake sighed impatiently. “Yes, I can’t lose her.”