Chills & Thrills Paranormal Boxed Set (46 page)

Despite the steaming heat, Lily felt cold. Very cold. And so
alone. She tilted her chin up defiantly, then quickly snatched the backpack
from White Hawk's hand. With a pivot that made her
 
blister scream, she started marching in the
direction from which they'd come.

"You won't find your way out, Lily. You'll end up
starving to death in there."

Or falling into Sebastian's hands, she thought, regretting
the impulsive act. Forcing her chin to remain high, she returned.

"Very well," she said, as if this was all her own idea.
"Wise decision. Let's go on in. And remember the instructions I gave
you."

He turned his back to her and started forward. Lily glared
at him hotly as she followed him through the narrow leafy passage.

The change came abruptly. One second they were surrounded by
foliage, the next moment they entered a clearing that was enclosed by high
cliffs on all sides but the one from which they'd entered. A hawk perched on an
overhead branch, crying out, as if to announce her entrance.

The clearing was dotted with dancing fires and filled with
chanting people. Lined up on the right, lined up on the left, of all shapes,
sizes, and ages, their bodies formed a wide path that ended at the cliffs.
Plump women with round faces stood beside squat men with square jaws and flat
cheeks. Tall slender women with aquiline noses leaned into taller muscled men
with sharp profiles and fierce gazes. Wise old men and wise old women. Children
peering from behind the legs of their elders.

Continuing to chant as Lily followed White Hawk between the
two lines of people, they stared at her as if she were a horse being led into a
show ring . . . or a prisoner going to execution.

Lily planted her hands on her hips and stared back.

 
Each person she
passed quickly turned away. Children shrank deeper into their mother's skirts.
One gawky boy, apparently bolder than the rest, returned her gaze. Lily bared
her teeth. A grandfather swept the boy behind him, glaring back. Lily clicked
her teeth together, gratified to see him flinch.

A bent wizened woman came forward, leaning heavily on a
walking stick, and spit at Lily.

"Frieda, no!" a young woman shouted, bravely
hurling herself between them. Lily merely snarled and kept on walking.

White Hawk glanced over his shoulder and scowled, which Lily
acknowledged with a wolfish smile. His scowl deepened. With the smooth grace of
a predator he dropped behind her and wrapped his arms around her body, then
pushed her hands toward her midsection. Lily struggled, but she was unwilling
to squirm like a snared rabbit in front of this censuring audience, and White
Hawk easily managed to trap her wrists with a leather thong.

Her stride interrupted, Lily faltered, causing White Hawk's
chest to strike her back. His hemp tunic scraped lightly across her bare
sunburned shoulders, but instead of stinging as she'd expected, the touch
soothed the burn. His presence almost seemed to draw the heat from her sticky,
sunbaked flesh, and she realized with a shock that she didn't want him to move
away.

"You can complete this journey like a lady," he
whispered, his breath cool against her skin, "or I can tie your hands
together and force your head down. It's your choice."

More shaken by her reaction to his nearness than his threat,
she nodded her head. He let go of her hands and backed off, taking away the
thong and his soothing touch with it. But he remained behind her, and she felt
his wary gaze piercing into her.

The rest of the short walk was the most interminable journey
of Lily's life. They passed a long log building, where more people were
gathered to watch her pass.

And always they chanted. At times monotonous, then rising to
a sweet crescendo, only to return to monotony.

Finally they reached the cliffs. Lily dared a glance up, and
saw windows and doorways carved into the stone. Crude wooden ladders and narrow
ledges gave the people access to their homes.

White Hawk nudged her. "Climb."

"Are you taking me to my cell?" Lily asked as she
put a foot on the bottom rung.

He waited until she'd climbed several rungs, then he moved
to follow. When they were many feet above the ground, he answered, "If
you're asking if you'll be locked up, no. The desert is a much more unforgiving
jail than we could ever devise."

She didn't doubt him. If she'd found this place inhospitable
as a werewolf, her mortal shell would find it abhorrent. Deadly.

But she glanced down at him anyway, startled to see they
were already about three stories above the ground. The height made her
momentarily dizzy. She paused, clinging to the polished rung, and squeaked,
"How much farther?"

"The next plateau."

"Umm, good." Reluctantly she released one rung,
clutched another, then another. Soon they reached the plateau and she scrambled
off the ladder and waited for White Hawk to join her.

He led her along the walkway—which was much wider than it
had appeared from the ground—until they reached the farthest door.

"These will be your quarters until you face the
Tribunal."

"And then what?"

Hostility flashed in his eyes. “Can’t say."

"Won't, you mean."

"Whatever you choose to think."

She turned from him and went into the pueblo. A clay lantern
hung from the ceiling and held several lit candles that flickered across the
spacious room. Lily had expected a cave of sorts. Instead, she found the room
quite pleasant, almost as comfortable as the den she'd shared with Jorje. A
platform built of reeds and branches, and covered with several layers of
sheepskin, occupied one end. A well-crafted table sat against the adjacent wall
and held a brightly painted basin, a pitcher and a cup. Several cloths hung on
a rail beneath it.

She heard White Hawk drop the backpack and then release the
burdens on his back. A sleeping bag flew over her shoulder, landing on the
platform. Glancing
 
back, she saw him
kneel to remove his few belongings from the pack.

"Take off your boots," he said, standing and
walking toward the platform with the now-familiar packet and bottle in hand.
"I'll tend that blister."

Lily almost groaned. He'd ignored, insulted, and humiliated
her. Now he wanted to be her nursemaid again. Too tired to protest, she did as
he asked. The blister was driving her crazy, and his voodoo medicine did seem
to help.

When she lowered herself onto the bed, sinking into its
incredible softness, she realized how deep her weariness ran. It almost seemed
to take too much effort to bend over and remove her shoes. As if sensing her
fatigue, White Hawk began unlacing the boot on the blistered leg.

"Star Dancer will call for you at dawn," he said,
stripping down her sock. "Rest while you can."

Needing no encouragement, Lily fell back. As her overworked
muscles sighed in relief, White Hawk removed the boot and sock from the other
foot, then began massaging both her arches.

"White Hawk," she said drowsily, her eyelids
feeling like weights. "Why are you being so nice? I know you hate me for
what happened to your wife."

His hands stop moving, and she felt them flex ever so
slightly. "You're weak from your injuries and the difficult journey,"
he finally said. "The Tribunal needs you healthy for the
inquisition."

"Inquisition," she echoed softly. "Oh what a
pleasant thought to carry into my dreams." Then as White Hawk's strong
fingers stroked her aching feet, she fell fast asleep.

     
* * *

"Lady? Lady?"

The tentative feminine voice stirred Lily from her dreamless
sleep. Reluctantly opening her eyes, she saw a young girl peering shyly at her.

"Yes?" Her parched throat made her voice raspy,
and the girl didn't respond immediately, so Lily repeated herself.

"It's dawn time, lady. Star Dancer has sent for
you."

 
Right on schedule,
Lily thought, wondering how these people did it without clocks. She elbowed
herself into a sitting position and a lightweight blanket fell to her waist.

White Hawk must have covered her before he left, she
thought, running her hands through her tangled hair and feeling somewhat like a
calf being pampered for the kill. She glanced over at the girl, who looked
terribly frightened.

"Couldn't your tribe spare a warrior?"

"I don't understand, lady."

"Never mind." Lily climbed off the platform. She
still wore her dust-encrusted clothing and dirt streaked her arms and legs. She
imagined her face didn't look much better.

She turned to the girl, who had her eyes firmly affixed to
the floor, and asked, "Can I wash first?"

"Oh yes. That's why I'm here. To help you dress for the
meeting."

"In a ceremonial robe I suppose."

The girl's brows knitted together, but she still didn't meet
Lily's gaze. "Robe? No, lady. You may wear what you will."

Now that her mind was clearing, Lily realized the poor
frightened child had nothing to do with her misery, and while she wasn't
exactly being cruel, she wasn't being kind either. "My name's Lily,"
she said more gently. "What is yours?"

"I am Shala White Hawk, daughter of Tajaya and
Tony," the child replied in a proud voice, bobbing her head.

Instantly Lily recognized her from the night before.

As the girl spoke, her dark hair bounced around her face,
falling back to form a flawless chin-length cap, and though her face was still
childishly round she had White Hawk's prominent cheekbones.

In her bobbing, Shala's eyes met Lily's for a fraction of a
second. She quickly directed them back at the floor. This gave Lily just enough
time to see their deep blue shade and the lapis-hued striations that made them
seem like cracked glass.

The child has her mother's eyes, Lily thought, suddenly
feeling a little sick.

"Does your father know you're here?" she asked,
certain White Hawk would never want his daughter within miles of her.

Shala chanced another glance. "Star Dancer said I could
come, lady."

"I see." Lily wanted to walk over and give the
girl a pat, maybe a hug, but knew she'd only frighten her, so she simply added,
"Lily, sweetheart, not lady. Call me Lily."

"Yes, Lily. Would you like me to pour water for
washing? Later, after you meet with Star Dancer, we can go to the river for a
real bath."

A nice way to tell me I'm
filthy
, Lily thought. The girl moved to the table and stood on her
tiptoes to reach the pitcher. She solemnly filled the basin, then bent and took
a small painted box from a shelf. Lily watched her precise movement, wondering
how old she was. Six perhaps, eight at the most, and despite her trepidations
she was poised and articulate beyond her years.

Now that the bowl was filled, Shala turned to her, holding
out the box.

"Items for your cleansing." After Lily took the
box the girl pointed to a large pot on the lower shelf. "That's for, well,
other necessities. You may empty it each morning into the pit at the other end
of the walkway."

During the entire explanation, Shala kept her head turned
away, and Lily smiled wryly, knowing the reason.

"I can't enchant you with my eyes, Shala."

"Yes, la—Lily." But she kept her eyes averted
nonetheless.

Supposing reassurances from a werewolf weren't really very
reassuring, Lily opened the box. It held a small mirror, which she took out and
put on the table, not wanting to see herself until she'd washed. Underneath the
mirror was a large-toothed comb and a rectangular bar wrapped in some kind of
polished bark. With a small start, Lily noted the comb was plastic, and when
she removed the bark she discovered a new bar of soap etched with the word
Ivory.

Ivory soap? And there were also a toothbrush and a tube of
Crest.

"I thought the Dawn People never left the canyon,"
she said as she bent to splash the wonderfully cool water on her face.
"Where do you get these things?"

"Oh, some of our warriors, both men and women, go to
the mechanical world. They bring back that which we can use."

Lily slanted a glance at her as she washed her face, and saw
the child dare a quick return look "Have you ever uh, ever seen the Disney
lands?"

"Disneyland. Yes, yes, Shala, I have."

"Are there truly monsters? And high, high rolling carts
that fall down mountains very fast?" Her soft voice quickened and Lily
could see excitement on her face.

"Yes, there are, but they're only make-believe. You're
always safe. It's a fun place to visit."

"Oh, I knew it!" Shala clapped her hands to her
chest. "And are there big longhouses where people watch moving images that
tell stories? And carts that move without horses or donkeys?"

Lily nodded. "How did you learn of these things?"

"We small ones hear the warriors talking." Shala
dipped down, snagged a cloth from beneath the table, and gave it to Lily.

The cloth was soft and absorbent against Lily's sunburned
skin, even more so than the expensive towels she'd used most of her life. When
her face was dry, she placed it back on the table, then began washing her arms.

"Was it a long walk from the top of the canyon?"
Shala asked.

"Very long."

"Too long for a little girl, I bet. And are the Disney
lands far away?"

"Very far," Lily answered gravely, bending over to
tend to her grimy legs. "Especially if you're walking."

"Maybe Papa will take me there. I'd so much like to see
it before we return to Quakahla."

Lily lifted her head questioningly. "What is
Quakahla?"

"When the nights grow longer and the dark moon rises,
The People will pass over into—"