Ghost Moon (25 page)

Once again, he didn’t answer, but when she held the cup to his lips, he swallowed a little.

“That’s good. Drink a little more. We’re going to cure you.” Or she hoped so. She still didn’t know what Pamina would ask of her. But she would do it! She had to.

Her total focus was on Caleb. She was laboriously giving him the herb-laced water when she heard a noise in the underbrushand looked around. The wagon couldn’t be here this quickly. Could it?

Two men in rough tunics stepped out of the shadows, one coming from the left and one from the right. With her back against the wall, that left no escape route.

“We’d better get you out of here,” the taller one said, “beforethat other guy comes back. That horse will come in handy, too.”

She looked at them warily. Both had long straggly hair and a month’s growth of beard. Neither was the kind of man she’d want to meet out here in the badlands.

“Who are you?”

The man who had spoken laughed. “A friend.”

“Oh, sure.”

He gave her an assessing look. “You’re in good shape. I’d say you haven’t missed many meals. You’ll fetch a good price. But we’ll leave the man here. He’s too sick to be worth anything.”

Quinn set the cup down. Her hand dropped to the fanny pack hidden by Caleb’s shoulders. Quietly pulling back the zipper, she eased the gun out, thankful that Steph had given it back to her. Odds were, these men had never seen a gun.

“Best get away from me,” she said. “Before you get hurt.”

“You can’t take the two of us.”

“No more warnings.” She raised the pistol, and aimed for the speaker’s chest, then fired.

He looked astonished as he went down.

Caleb’s eyes blinked open, and a look of horror crossed his features as he struggled to sit up, the ropes preventing him from using his hands.

“Jesus! We’re under attack.”

When he got in her line of fire, Quinn tried to push him aside. “Caleb, down,” she cried.

He lunged toward the weapon, and she was forced to smack his hand away.

The other man saw her problem. With a snarl, he leaped toward her.

Quinn’s only choice was to rear up so she could raise her arm over Caleb and fire.

But the position was so awkward that the first shot went wild. And the slaver was almost on top of her when she pulled the trigger again and hit him in the shoulder. He screamed, his face a mask of fury as he reached for her throat with both hands. And now Caleb was in the way of her getting off another shot.

Still encumbered, she tried to shove the attacker away, just as a horse galloped toward the house.

She cringed back, but it was Steph. He slid out of the saddleand ran toward her, a knife in his hand. With a quick jab, he stabbed the slaver in the back, then pulled him off Quinn and threw him to the side.

Caleb had quieted again.

Quinn watched Steph walk to the first man she had shot and inspect the wound.

“Carfolian Hell,” he muttered. “You used that weapon on him?”

“Yes.”

“It is powerful.”

“I told you it was lucky you didn’t hit anyone. And it’s lucky for me you returned it.”

He laughed. “Yeah. I came back when I heard the explosion.”

“It’s a good thing you did.”

She leaned back against the wall, tempted to close her eyes.

“I should stay and guard you.”

“You have to tell the wagon where we are.”

His expression darkened. “Yes. But I hate to leave you again. It’s dangerous out here.”

“Do it! The sooner you go, the faster you’ll get back here. I’ll lay Caleb on the ground and keep the gun in my hand.”

Steph looked unhappy, but really, there was no alternative.He dragged first one man then the other away to the far side of the wall where Quinn couldn’t see them. Then he helped her put a heavy shirt on Caleb to keep him warm.

“I’d better hurry. This isn’t a good place to be after dark.”

Quinn looked up at the sky, seeing she didn’t have many hours of daylight left.

“I’ll be all right,” she answered, hoping it was true. She looked down at the spilled water. Caleb hadn’t gotten much of it before the men had come out of the woods. Could she give him more?

She mixed more of the herbs into the water. But this time when she tried to get him to drink, he wouldn’t cooperate.

Mother, was he getting sicker?

Exhausted and frustrated, she closed her eyes, then snapped them open again when she realized that dropping her guard was dangerous.

So she leaned back against the wall, resting and praying that the wagon would arrive soon.

Luckily, it had traveled faster than she’d expected, and the sun was still a yellow ball in the western sky when the soldiers loaded Caleb into the wagon.

She sat in the back with him, trying and failing to get him to drink any of the medicine.

By the time they arrived at Griffin’s house, Caleb was pale as death, and she wondered how long he could hang on.

Griffin greeted them, then directed the soldiers to carry Caleb inside to the ground floor of the family quarters—to a small, candlelit room where Pamina was waiting. After they’d laid Caleb on a comfortable bed in the center of the room, Griffin said, “I’ll leave you alone.”

The way he said it made her wonder what Pamina had told him.

“Yes. Thank you for doing this.”

“Close the door,” the older woman said.

Quinn did as she was told. When she turned back, Pamina was beside Caleb, one hand on his chest and one on his forehead.Her eyes were closed, but she asked, “Did he drink any of the herbs?”

“Only a little.”

“Then we must hurry.”

Quinn’s stomach clenched. “What are you going to do?”

“You’ll see in a moment.” The old woman stepped away, and Quinn saw she had brought a piece of equipment with her. It was a wooden box with a crank on the side and a long funnel-like tube sticking up at one end. The box was decoratedwith faded gold scrollwork.

She reached into her bag and took out what looked like a can of food from Logan’s world. But it wasn’t metal, and when she opened it, she took out a cylinder, which she fitted into a slot in the machine.

“This machine was invented by a man named Thomas Edison,” she murmured.

“A record player? I’ve heard of it.” In fact, Logan had told her about Thomas Edison, and she realized he must have existedin both universes before her world had changed.

“This uses a wax cylinder.”

She turned a crank on the machine, and low, haunting music filled the room.

“What does that do?” Quinn whispered.

“Gives him auditory stimulation. He needs as much stimulationas possible. Incentive to come back to this body.”

“What else?”

“Physical sensations. And enticements. We must lure him with the things we know he wanted. Things he cannot have unless he returns to this body.”

“He wanted revenge,” Quinn said.

“That may not be his strongest need. Each case is different.If he were a child, I would make him want to nurse again at his mother’s breast. That is a primal need for the young. But he is not a child. We must use other channels. What does he like to eat?”

“Meat, and bread with jam,” she answered, wishing they had shared more than one meal so she could give a better answer.

Pamina went to the door and called for a servant. In less than two minutes, she had bread and jam sitting on a small table and a piece of meat roasting on the fire. The aroma filled the little room.

Turning back to Quinn, she said, “Smear some jam on his lips so he can taste it.”

She did, smelling the aroma of strawberries. When he licked his lip, she felt a little spurt of hope.

“Help me undress him. His shirt first.”

Quinn unbuttoned the shirt Steph had given her. Standing on either side of the bed, she and Pamina pulled Caleb’s arms out of his sleeves, then she lifted him up a little so the other woman could slip the shirt over his head. When they had laid his head back on the pillow, they worked on his sweatpants.

His body lay absolutely still—pale and naked on the bed.

Pamina brought a basin and a sponge. “Wash him,” she said. “So he can feel that sensation.”

Quinn dipped the sponge into the water and washed the front of him. As she did, the other woman unfolded a fan, waving it over his damp body, making him shiver.

“The body is responding,” she murmured.

“Yes. But is that enough?”

“Not nearly enough. Dry him off.”

Pamina’s gaze was like the blade of a sword as she peered at Quinn over the naked man who lay between them. “Somethingyou neglected to tell me in your account. Did you make love with him?” she asked.

Quinn flushed. “Yes.”

“Very good. Then you have a connection to his body. That will help bring him back. If he wants to come back.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“You must use your wiles. You must pull him back to this world.” She took the top off a small jar and handed it to Quinn. “Rub this on him.”

Quinn looked inside and sniffed at the top of the jar. The container held an orange-colored salve with a pungent odor that made her cough.

“What is it?”

“An irritant.”

“Oh.”

“Use your fingers. Start with his face, then work your way downward.”

She dipped her fingers in. The stuff made her skin tingle and she wanted to wipe it off. Instead she began to rub the salve on his face, then down his body, across his chest.

He coughed and turned his head away.

“He doesn’t like it.”

“But he feels it and he smells it and it brings him back to this reality.”

She moved to his belly, then did his thighs, his legs, and his feet.

“You skipped something,” the old woman said. “Put it on his penis, too.”

"But ...”

“Do it.”

Keeping her head bent so Pamina couldn’t see her face, she did as she was told. When she started to pull away, her guide said, “Circle his cock with your fist. Hold him there.”

Quinn’s hand jumped. “Why?”

“I think you can guess. But you don’t want to say it. We’re hoping that he wants to come back and make love with you. But you must remind him of how it was between you. Was it good?”

“Yes,” Quinn choked out.

“Then connect with him that way again.”

Quinn made a small sound in her throat as she took his penis in her fist. Holding on to him. Despite the strange circumstances,she felt a tug of sexual arousal, and she hoped Pamina couldn’t tell. Or maybe that was part of the process,her own arousal fueling Caleb’s, but she didn’t want to ask.

The healer bent over him.

“Who are you?”

His lips moved and he spoke for the first time in hours. “Caleb Marshall.”

“Caleb!” Quinn cried.

His body jerked. “No—Wyatt Reynolds.”

Quinn shook her head. “Is that the other man, the one who owned the body?”

“He is dead. They killed him. The bastards,” he spat out.

“But you have some of his memories inside your head?” Pamina asked.

His shoulders rose off the bed. Pamina pushed him back, and Quinn started to take her hand away.

“Stay as you are,” the healer ordered. Maybe she was givingthe order to both of them.

Caleb was speaking again. “I was spying . . . have to . . . to stop them . . .”

“From what?”

“An attack . . .” His voice trailed off.

“An attack on what?” Quinn gasped out.

“Shush!” the old woman ordered. “That’s not important now.”

Quinn snapped her mouth shut.

Pamina leaned toward him. “You made love with Quinn. You feel her hand on you now. Do you want to come back and make love with her now?”

“God, yes.”

“Caress him,” Pamina ordered.

Never in a million years could Quinn have imagined this scene. Doing this in front of another person. And if she hadn’t wanted Caleb back so badly she would have leaped up and run out of the room. But she wanted him—heart, soul, and body. So she fought off her embarrassment and did as the woman told her, stroking Caleb, feeling him harden in her hand. And when she looked down, the sight of him made her breath catch. His penis had grown as hard and stiff as a tree limb.

He was aroused. She was making him feel the connection to her. Making him want her. Making him come back to her—she hoped.

“Return to this body, and you can make love with Quinn again,” the old woman said, her words staccato bursts.

He made a gasping sound. “I want to.”

“You have to bridge the gap.”

“But I am . . . damaged. . . . I cannot change to wolf form . . . what good am I?” he said in a broken voice.

Quinn’s heart squeezed.

“I am less . . .” Caleb turned his face away from Pamina.

“No. Do not think that way. Think of Quinn. Your body making sweet love with hers.”

“My love. My life mate.” He moaned.

“Yes!” Quinn gasped. “I am your mate—for life.”

“It’s not enough,” he answered.

Quinn heard a sob rise in her throat.

“Be strong,” the old woman ordered, then switched tactics, going back to something else Caleb clearly wanted. “Then think of the men who killed Wyatt Reynolds. You want revengeon them.”

“I want revenge on Aden Marshall.”

“No!” Quinn breathed. “He’s dead. Long ago.”

Pamina gave her a warning look, and Quinn closed her mouth again.

“You want revenge on those men,” the old woman said. “The ones who buried you alive. That was a horrible thing to do. Who were they?”

“Colonel Bowie’s men.”

“Colonel Bowie?” Quinn asked.

Caleb’s eyes were closed. “I have to report what they’re doing. They’re going to attack . . .” His voice trailed off.