Chills & Thrills Paranormal Boxed Set (45 page)

A long-fingered hand touched his shoulder and he felt the
bite of claws. His limbs grew stiff with terror, but he forced himself to
remain still. The sign had come at last; he would not quail before it.

"You shall have your rightful place," the voice
continued. "And we ask little in return. Meet my eyes, brother. I am the
guide you sought."

Ravenheart did as the creature asked. The mist had settled,
revealing a monumental figure of such magnificence he scrambled to his knees
and bowed.

"White Wolf Woman," he murmured. "You have
come to aid me."

A brutal laugh rose from the wolf's sleek throat. "Do
not confuse me with that one. I am Walking Wolf, teacher of those with claims
to power. You are such a one, are you not?"

"Yes, yes." Ravenheart raised his arms
beseechingly. "You have seen. I knew you would."

The blue eyes gleamed approvingly. "Yes, Brother, I
have seen. Again I say to you, we ask little in return for bestowing your
rightful place. Are you prepared to hear my request?"

Warnings flashed through Ravenheart's heat-baked mind.
Animal guides never requested gifts from those they served. But he quickly
dismissed the warning and nodded eagerly.

"A woman shall come. Though she appears frail, evil is
her path, and she shall bring much harm upon your people. Seek her out,
Ravenheart, and deliver her to me. In return, you shall rule forever.”

Forever. The long-awaited promise rang sweetly in
Ravenheart's ears. But again a warning came. Mornings spent with other young
followers of the warrior's way at Star Dancer's knee: A guide who lured a seeker
with pledges of power was a false guide. Turn away, the teachings advised, turn
away now and seek a higher guide.

"Forever," Walking Wolf
 
repeated.

"Yes. Yes, Lord." Ravenheart stretched up, clawing
toward heaven, pierced by the ecstasy of his certain triumph, barely aware he'd
addressed as Lord the one who should have been his servant. "I will
deliver her. I swear it."

"Go now and do that which you have sworn."

Instantly, Ravenheart sank into the clouds, falling,
falling, faster and faster toward the sweat lodge. Before he smashed against
the baked earth floor, his awareness splintered into a million fragments.

When he awoke, the rocks in the corner pit were dull, devoid
of heat. As he rolled shakily to his feet, feeling weaker than ever before, he
tried to forget that the dying of the Stone People before a vision quest ended
was a bad omen.

Although sweat trickled down Lily's neck, she woke up
shivering, a cold, malicious presence creeping through her mind. Sebastian was
already behind them. She never doubted he would come or that he'd bring others.
She expanded her psyche to explore the extent of his entourage, being careful
to shield her mind from a return probe. There were eight with him, among them
the envious Beryl, who must even now be crowing over taking her place beside
Sebastian as his prince. She also found Philippe, a young French wolfling. The
rest she didn't know.

Sebastian had come prepared, she thought, smiling grimly.
Seven wolves for the ceremony of the Song of Hades, and one in reserve for
emergency. How like him to provide for all contingencies.

She sat up and looked around. While the chirp of crickets
grated on her ears, at least the scorching sun was leaving. The last rays
shimmered off the leaves of chaparral and dying grasses and, behind the lip of
the canyon, clouds rolled by, kissed with crimson and gold, flamingo pink and
dusty orange.

She glanced over at the shaman, who appeared to still be
sleeping. Should she warn him? Although his hatred of her simmered constantly
between them, he'd refrained from brutality. She knew his heart had been
pierced by the death of his wife, and she supposed she owed him a small favor
before she escaped.

Remembering his scornful reply when she'd tried to warn him
on the train, she decided against it. He'd learn of Sebastian's presence soon
enough, and the Dawn People had their hidden village to protect them.

A laugh bubbled in her throat, and she choked it back. She
hadn't thought far enough ahead. The hidden village would protect her too, but
only for a time. She'd have to escape before they scheduled her execution. But
escape to what? Sebastian's waiting arms.

She could work that out later. For the moment, a more
immediate threat loomed. She could hear faint quarrels among Sebastian's
underlings and grumbles about traveling in daylight, acts unheard of in her
time with him. They hadn't reached the rim of the canyon yet, but if he should
catch scent of them or somehow connect with Lily's thoughts, Sebastian would
quicken the pace. Their safety depended on reaching the village before that
happened. They must hurry.

"It's getting dark," she called to White Hawk.
"Shouldn't we start now?"

Apparently wide awake, White Hawk rolled to a sitting
position, then stood up. "Your eagerness surprises me."

"Anything's preferable to sleeping on this bug-infested
ground," she groused.

Bending to roll up his bedroll, White Hawk told her to put
on her boots and tend to her sleeping bag. Lily chose to wear the sandals and
she slipped her feet into them, then kicked her bedding into a haphazard square
pile. What did a person do with these things, she wondered, when finished
sleeping in them?

White Hawk came to her side with a small square of lamb's
wool. "Use this to protect the blister. The sandals are more comfortable,
but you'll have better luck with the jumping cactus if your feet are
covered." He chuckled darkly as he turned away. "The scorpions
too."

"Scorpions," Lily repeated dully. She scanned the
darkening landscape. Nebulous shapes crept among stands of eucalyptus.
Somewhere far away, a coyote cried. A burro brayed. Behind them came Sebastian
with his twisted schemes and obedient followers.

She'd never cared for the sterile canyon floor, and had
usually managed to avoid it. Scaly things abounded here, creeping and
slithering creatures that caught one unaware. A faint tremor of distaste
trilled through her body. She saw White Hawk regarding her, his golden eyes
reflecting the soft hues of the sunset.

Lily returned his look with a haughty glance. "You
aren't scaring me, if that's what you think."

"Of course not," he said insincerely, stepping
into his own boots.

Not caring for his tone, she busied herself by kicking off
the sandals and donning her boots, giving the area around the blister a generous
padding of lamb's wool. Then she knelt to roll up her bedding. After a
struggle, she managed to crush it into a lopsided ball, fumbling for the cords,
which barely met and left no room for tying. Rocking back on her heels, she
tugged at the ties with all her might. One of them slipped out of her hand.

She toppled backward, landing on her behind with a jarring
thud. An annoyed grunt left her mouth, followed by another sound that hadn't
come from her. She shot a startled glance over her shoulder to see White Hawk
with his head thrown back, laughing insufferably.

She wanted to leap up and pummel him until he stopped. Then
she looked down at herself. With her legs spread awkwardly, her hands splayed
to hold her bottom off the rocky ground, and the sleeping bag slowly unrolling,
she truly was a comical sight. A giggle bubbled in her throat.

Just as quickly as it began, White Hawk's laughter ended. He
came over and hoisted her to her feet.

"You're not good for much, are you?" he asked
gruffly, picking up the sleeping bag. "I'll take care of this."

The sharp stab in Lily's stomach startled her. How many
unkind things had he already said with little effect? Yet this one struck too
close to home. What was she good for? Pampered as a child, then transformed to
a life of ease and invulnerability, she'd never had to lift a finger. Not cook
a meal, wash a dish, or clean a room. And certainly not roll up ragged,
sleepworn bedding.

"If you have business to attend to, do it now."
White Hawk ordered. "It will be well past middle night before we reach the
village and we must travel hard."

Orders and more orders. Insults and jibes. She walked
regally away, telling herself she wasn't running from his scorn. This peasant
was unworthy of her attention and she'd given him far too much already.

She returned to find him arranging the bedrolls and
provisions on his back. While he was thus occupied, she went to the backpack
which was outside his line of sight and rummaged for her linen jacket. When she
found it, she flinched, realizing it was rumpled beyond repair. But the bottles
in the pocket were what counted. As she reached for one, she sensed White
Hawk's eyes on her. Turning away, she scrambled toward her sandals. "Just
putting these away," she explained, lifting them up. "Is there anything
else left to go in?"

He lobbed over his moccasins, which she stuffed inside the
pack along with the sandals, pausing only to palm a bottle of water. Then she
turned to face him, concealing the vial as she slipped her arms through the
straps of the backpack. "Buckle them for me?" she asked.

With a puzzled frown she attributed to surprise at her
unusual meekness, he walked behind her. By the time he'd finished securing the
pack, she'd slipped the bottle into the pocket of her shorts.

"Come on," he said, moving toward the rough trail.
"It's a long hike and the tribe waits for us."

Lily fell in behind him, watching the rhythmic sway of his
shoulders as he swiftly covered the ground before them. Moving at night was
easier, especially since her keen eyesight let her see the treacherous spots.
Soon she adjusted to his pace, only occasionally patting the bottle in her
pocket. If Sebastian showed up, she had her protection. And the shaman? Well,
he could take care of himself.

 
* * *

White Hawk hadn't deceived her. It was a long hike, and
after the first ten miles or so Lily slipped into a daze, stumbling
occasionally from lack of paying attention. She wondered how White Hawk did it.
Although he lacked her sensitive sight, never once had he faltered.

So far she hadn't felt Sebastian's presence again. Perhaps
he'd taken pity on his squabbling pack and allowed them to rest. But, just in
case, Lily checked the bottle in her pocket for the hundredth time.

They descended from the harsh desert terrain into an area of
lush growth. From somewhere nearby she heard gently flowing water, and the
trail soon twisted beneath huge cottonwoods and sycamores that were so thick
with leaves they sometimes blocked out the moon. At these times White Hawk
would give her directions to turn this way or that, but otherwise he never
spoke.

After what seemed like endless hours of silent hiking,
broken only by the scuttles and chitters of nighttime desert dwellers, Lily
heard a frog chirrup. Something splashed, the frog quieted, then sang again.

"Stop here," White Hawk commanded.

Ahead of them Lily saw an oasis. More cottonwoods, and
ancient sycamore too, their curving trunks showing mottled gleams of white in
the faint illumination of the moon. Chaparral and mesquite clustered tightly
together. Scrub oak, shrubs, and waist-high grasses filled every space between
them.

"Papa!" A child's voice called out from the dense
vegetation. White Hawk's face broke into a delighted smile.

A small girl flew forward, slim brown legs whirring, and
threw herself at White Hawk. "Papa! Papa! Papa!"

With a whoop, he swept her off the ground, buried his chin
in her neck, and made funny little growls.

"I missed you," she cried, peppering his cheek
with kisses. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too, little one."

Lily watched, feeling an odd tickle in her throat. A few
minutes later White Hawk told her they were moving on. He shifted his
daughter's weight to let her rest in the crook of his arm, then resumed
walking. As Lily started to follow she heard the girl whisper a question.

"Who's that?"

White Hawk didn't bother to whisper. "No one you want
to know."

Again, his remark slithered through her defenses, pricking
briefly, but sharply. Lily paused. Despite the poultice and padding, her
blister pained her every step. But that wasn't what made her lag behind.

The Dawn People kept a close eye on their children. If White
Hawk's daughter was running free, the village must be near. Safety lay just
ahead. So why did she want to droop and let her feet shuffle wearily across the
ground?

Fatigue, perhaps. Surely she didn't fear the contempt of
these simple people? Of course not. Forcing steel into her spine, she lifted
her aching legs briskly and held her chin up high.

They continued through a mazelike trail. She remembered trying
to wind her way through this area once, finally howling in frustration over the
many dead ends and giving up entirely. But White Hawk obviously knew where they
were going.

Suddenly he was no longer in front of her. For an instant,
Lily felt a surge of panic. Dear God, she'd been unable to traverse this maze
even as a werewolf. How would she cope if he left her?

"Lily!"

Stifling the relieved cry that wanted to escape her mouth,
she squared her shoulders and walked forward, finding White Hawk standing near
an almost invisible split in the undergrowth. The girl was no longer with him.

He stared at her darkly, then removed the backpack from her
shoulders. "The tribe awaits your arrival, so listen carefully. When we go
through the village, you must walk behind me. Keep your head bowed, your hands
clasped in front of you. Don't look at anyone."

Lily stared back just as darkly. "Are your people
afraid of my evil eye?"

"That has nothing to do with it. You're merely unworthy
to gaze upon their faces."