Darlings of Paranormal Romance (Anthology) (53 page)

The weight of all their woes seemed
insurmountable. Wanting desperately to change the subject, Sonja
asked, “Are we really headed to Texas?”

“
To Texas?” The Guardian
searched the trees flanking the roadside. As his eyes narrowed in
the dimming light, his attention returned to Sonja. “Yes, as you
already know, the lieutenant has a ranch there where these men will
be safe. Your change can occur without witness and little danger
will come to you or others.”

He spoke of the fact she’d became a
werewolf at the onset of each full moon like she changed clothes,
without the notion of repercussions or reprisal. “Will I ever be
able to view this as a good thing?” Her question was one she
considered often, but hadn’t spoke of before. Uneasy with her own
insecurity, she dropped her gaze from his. One of the mules balked.
She slapped the animal across the backside with her
whip.

In the guise of a man, the Guardian
appeared so normal, he could have passed as a gentleman of
distingue. No one would have guessed he was overly grotesque, a
hairy monster with bleary eyes and slobbering jowls. “In time
you’ll shimmer from human to werewolf without consideration or
concern. Yes, the change will be as natural as breath. Still I
cannot offer relief with a shift in temper.”

Briann gathered her sister’s slender
hand in hers and squeezed. “The way of things isn’t for us to know.
You’ll see what he means in time, dear.”

She spoke as if an expert. Yet,
frustration filled Sonja. The old witch spoke in nothing but
riddles and vague references. She could ill afford her own sister
doing the same. Unable to fault Briann, she supposed her sister
couldn’t help it. After all, the gift of reading a person’s
thoughts came with drawbacks as well as advantages. Tugging at her
shawl as the night air began to set in, Sonja recalled the many
nights her sister would cry herself to sleep with the pain of being
an outcast in a world of cruel, small-minded fools. Briann’s gift
was a battering ram for their taunts. Being different wasn’t easy
for most to understand and the girls had weathered many a hard time
at the hands of those around them. It was probably the reason she
considered herself a loner.

“
My wish for you is that
you are able to acquire the skills necessary to utilize your gift
to the best of your ability.” Briann gave Sonja a quick sisterly
hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

Startled, Sonja simply stilled for a
moment. The Guardian steered the older of Briann’s children out of
her direct path. “You’re kidding, right? I could be a killer. The
facts still aren’t clear as to what I do when I go into the
werewolf.”

Briann snared her hand once more and
gave her sister a tug. “Don’t be silly. You couldn’t hurt a fly.
However, vampire is a different story.” She released Sonja and
hugged her arms about her chest. “Wouldn’t it be grand if you were
destined as a slayer in werewolf form?”

Sonja huffed out a laugh before she
could stop the sound. “That’s ridiculous. Werewolves don’t set out
to hunt vampires. Lore has werewolves hunted by vampires. I dare
say we should be on the lookout for vampires lurking in the dark
shadows.” She glanced from one side of the road to the other.
Within the dismal gloom beneath the heavy foliage, the demons
waited with baited breath. “What do they wait for?”

The sound behind her wasn’t audible
except those with the sensitivity she possessed. Lightning fast,
she whirled to find Hortence, the witch seated in the covered
wagon.

“
Don’t be concerned over
the wooded glade or the swamps, my pet,” the old witch crooned.
“You’ll have a reprieve from those monsters as long as there’s
powers left in me.” A wrinkled smile creased her ancient
face.

For once, Sonja breathed a sigh of
relief. The old hag had been with her from the start and despite
her coming and going on a whim, her tactless nature, and speaking
in riddles, she’d proved invaluable as a friend and tutor in the
magic arts of warfare.

So they traveled by the dim light of
the sun dappled trail farther and farther away from the vampires
lair.

Chapter 5
Challenges

The rain didn’t show any sign of letting up as the
water came down in buckets. Running in great, rushing rivers under
the wagons pulled hurriedly together in a haphazard semi-circle,
the rain cut deep grooves in an already weathered
landscape.

Darkness had fallen, the only light
being a few forgotten lanterns hanging from hooks on the sides of a
couple of the buckboards, which had quickly huddled together in the
unexpected downpour. The rest of the world loomed around them in
pitch black.

Ty peered down the line of wagons
forming the train from under the protection of his well-worn but
ever-present Stetson. The rain pelted his body in increasingly
wind-blown sheets. If not for the black oil-skinned slicker
covering him from his neck to the tips of his boots, he’d be
drenched.

Moving with purpose, Ty sloshed
through the torrent of water toward the struggle, which caught his
attention.

The petite form of Sonja tugging on a
mule’s reigns. So far, she’d managed to exert enough pressure on
the determined beast as to corral it not a whit.

“
You’re gonna lose a finger
wrapping the line like that.” He snapped the words out with more
irritation than he’d intended as he approached her

Sonja’s slim frame jerked and her
blonde head snapped up with the force of his words.

Ty’s heart skidded to a
halt.

Beneath
the water-logged bonnet, the slight creature wore as protection
against the storm, a set of the most beautiful eyes Ty’d ever seen
stared back at him in the meager light of a forgotten lantern.
Alarm and surprise registered in their depths making the amber glow
almost topaz in the lamp light. His heart stopped as she blinked at
his words.
Probably scared her witless,
you fool.

A distinct tremor shadowed her
movements as she stepped sideways in defense of his curt
observation. Something started to coil inside Ty’s gut. She had no
business out here attempting to tie the team down in the downpour.
If she’d allowed him to travel with her in the same wagon, this
wouldn’t be happening. The rain fell in earnest now as if in
agreement with his statement. He’d liked to have been done with the
job and inside the safety of the cook wagon before things went this
far, but such wasn’t the case. Shoving the concern to the back of
his conscious, Ty took the line from her and deftly maneuvered the
balking mule to the tie-out line alongside the others in the team.
He didn’t see the point of arguing with her tonight.

“
Are you hurt?” Ty glanced
back at Sonja standing ankle deep in water.

“
No.” She lifted her chin a
fraction. “I could have managed fine.”

She had the most amazing eyes Ty’d
ever seen. Even in the meager light, they seemed to glow with a
fiery heat as if from the depths of her soul. Ty touched his
fingers to the brim of his hat and spoke over the rain. “I’ve no
doubt you could’ve, ma’am, but the storm’s setting in good and
proper now. I was simply trying to help.” A grin teased his mouth
when she gave him a stubborn thrust of her delicate chin. Inclining
his head toward her wagon where one thin flicker of light shown
from a lone lantern inside the back entrance, he suggested sternly,
“Best be gettin’ back inside now, before you catch your
death.”

A mixture of calculated temper and
resignation warred behind those violet eyes. He wouldn’t be off in
assuming she weighed the options of berating him further for
believing her incapable of taking care of herself with gratitude
for the assistance. Lucky for him, common sense won out.

With something akin to a nod, she
wheeled, moving smooth as a cat to the wagon’s ladder.

Agilely shimming up the wooden rails,
she presented Ty with a pleasant view of her trim
backside.

She disappeared behind the oil-slicked
cover without as much as a civil thank you.

Ty paused with two fingers to the brim
of his Stetson. “Good night, ma’am.” Since there wasn’t a soul to
hear, he adjusted his Stetson and turned smoothly, coat tails
flapping as he trudged toward his own shelter out of the storm.
Hopefully, Smitty would have saved him something from
supper.

***

Smitty McCready, long-time friend,
Ty’s sergeant, and one hell of a cook waited on him. With a flip of
the tarp, he extended his hand for Ty. “I heard ya coming. The mess
is settin’ in good.”

Ty allowed Smitty to help hoist him
over the wagon’s side.

“
You brought this one with
ya, that's for sure. That’s the truth of that there, Boyo?” The
land of Ireland sounded heavy on his tongue in the jib.

Flinging his wet coat on a nearby peg,
Ty rubbed his cold hands together and hoped for some feeling in his
numb fingers. Pointedly ignoring his friend’s good-natured poke, Ty
removed his hat and hung it alongside the slicker. “Got anything to
eat?”

“
Got some stew I saved for
ya. You’d be wantin’ some now, I’d wager. It’s a bad one, this
storm.”

Ty nodded as he yanked off one boot
and then the other. “She’s a bad one.” He accepted the tin plate
Smitty handed him and couldn’t help the grimace. “Followed me six
or seven miles before barreling in and dumping a deluge on me this
side of Sutter’s pass.” Ty shook water from his head of dark black
hair before spooning up a mouthful of Smitty’s stew. “We should get
six to eight inches out of her easy,” he said between mouthfuls.
“The bridge at Collier’s bluff is out.” Shaking his head in
disgust, Ty glanced up at Smitty. “That’ll delay us by at least two
days. There’s signs of Indian activity in the same direction. I
thought I’d never get back.”

Smitty’s mouth set over the news.
“Mother of God, bless us.” Making the sign of the cross across his
heart, the cook reached for the St. Christopher’s he wore
constantly beneath his flannel shirt. Ty’d saved Smitty’s life in
‘62 and Smitty reciprocated by watching after Ty ever since. The
Irishman shook his head woefully. “Can’t catch a break this time
out.”

Ty grunted in agreement, more
concerned with the stew than further discussion on the matter. Each
campaign landed them both in more hot water than either had ever
dreamed was possible. His friend was the closest thing to a brother
Ty’d had in several years. Long since he’d left home and well after
the war drug on, contact with his family had waned. Communication
was sparse, almost a year had passed since their last missive. The
chunks of potatoes and precious cubes of dried meat tasted so good,
Ty’d tipped back his head and drained the broth from the bottom of
the metal plate. Sonja would have scolded him for his table
manners. The thoughts of her came without warning these days.
Shoving the plate in the cook’s direction, Ty asked, “You got any
more?”

Spooning up more stew, Smitty glanced
at his friend with a quizzical cock to one brow. “Guess you went
through the change out there, huh?

Ty nodded between spoonfuls of meat
and broth. “Yeah, got in some training from the wolf-god.” He wiped
his mouth on his sleeve.

Smitty clutched at the Christopher
again. “He gives me the creeps.”

Ty nodded. “That was my first reaction
too. He’s a God. They can act pretty much any way they want, I
guess.”

Smitty nodded thoughtfully. “He has a
heart, you know.” The Irishman paused as Ty flicked him a
glance.

“
Yeah, I hope so.” Ty
didn’t follow but waited because he was sure Smitty would
explain.

“
There’s nothing but hard
times ahead for us.” Smitty’s frown puzzled Ty. What was his friend
getting at?

“
That a truth we
understand. Why bring it up now, Smitty?” Ty cleaned another plate
and handed it back to the Irishman.

“
The werewolf-god has
compassion.” He paused as if he couldn’t get the words to come. “He
watches over all of us like the sainted Christopher watched over
the church. He’s different. The wariness ebbs when you get to know
him. You could do worse to lead you through this time, Ty.” Smitty
peered intently at his friend before shrugging and settling the
stew plate in a rinse bucket.

“
I know what you mean. It’s
as if he’s able to calm the fears of everyone with his mere
presence. I get the same feeling when he’s around in the man
form.”

Smitty nodded and stuffed another
piece of soda bread in his mouth before finishing with a grunt in
agreement. Leaning back against the side supports of the wagon,
Smitty rubbed his full belly. “Ah, that was tasty, if I do say so
me self.”

He wagged his finger at Ty. “Now, your
woman’s a sassy little thing.” Smitty spooned up another potato
surrounded by the thick broth for Ty as he made the observation.
“Thinks she’s bigger than she is.” Gesturing with his spoon, he
leaned forward. With their faces only a foot apart in the confines
of the wagon, he wagged a finger. “Going to get her in trouble,
that’s for certain.”

Ty flicked a glance at Smitty and only
nodded. The needling concern he’d harbored since beginning this
journey, surfaced again with Smitty’s reminder. He fixed his
attention on his plate instead, focusing on cleaning the metal with
the soda bread in his big hand. “How’s she managing?” His tone grew
intrepid as he eyed Smitty from under the brim of his
hat.