Never Look Back

by Sheri WhiteFeather

Damn. Allie hadn't thought of that. Once her great-grandmother's magic was free, she was capable of just about anything. "I'm more interested in Grandma Sorrel."

  "Are you? Now why is that?"

  "Because when she was a child, she helped Zinna curse a man, and I'm trying to locate the amulet Sorrel took from him."

  Yvonne pursed her lips. "What for?"

  "I want to learn more about my Chiricahua side, and that necklace is a valuable piece of the past."

  "Well, aren't you the clever one, coming up with a lie like that." Her mother laughed. "But you don't fool me. You want that amulet so you can use it against Zinna."

  Allie moved closer to the barrier. "So what if I do? Who's going to stop me? You?"

  "No. But I have a friend who can. Someone who's already looking for the necklace."

  "A friend?" Her heart bumped her chest. "You mean a pen pal?"

  Yvonne smiled. No doubt she was enjoying herself. "Maybe. I get hundreds of letters."

  "What good is the amulet to you?" Allie asked, pushing her mother for answers, for as much information as she could con out of her. "Or to your pen pal? What can either of you do with it?"

  "Once the hundred years of the curse is complete, the amulet can be used to increase Zinna's powers. That was part of the reason the curse was enacted for so long. To make the side effects more potent."

  Allie refused to react, at least outwardly. Inside, her organs were twisting into knots. "There's a binding spell on Zinna."

  "That's not going to last. Either my friend will break it or it will wear off on its own."

  Another knot formed. So Derek was right. Someone was trying to break the spell. "If the amulet can give Zinna more power after all these years, then why did Sorrel lose it or get rid of it? Why isn't it with our family belongings?"

  "What makes you think it isn't?"

  "Because you would already have your grimy hands on it." Allie resisted the urge to white knuckle the phone, to grip the plastic harder than she already was. "Sorrel was your mother. If she'd kept the amulet, she would have passed it on to you."

  "That's true. Poor Mama. Someone stole it from her."

  "Who?"

  "I don't know."

  "When did it happen?"

  "Ages ago when Mama was still a girl."

  Then someone at Fort Sill had taken it, Allie thought. Maybe even someone who was trying to protect Raven. She looked at Yvonne. Their time was almost up. "I should go."

  "Will you come back and visit me again?"

  "What for?"

  "So we can talk about our progress. So we can create our own little mother-daughter game." A self-serving smile lit up Yvonne's face. "A race to see who gets the amulet first."

  * * *

  Allie left the prison and drove to Kyle and Joyce's house, an ancient structure in the high desert that was in the process of being renovated. Originally it had been Kyle's junk-dealer bachelor pad.

  Allie sat in the spotless living room, sipping lemonade. At one time, the house had been crawling with grease, grunge and Kyle's old clothes. But Joyce had hired a cleanup crew to sanitize every nook and cranny. Allie pictured a biohazard team in full gear tromping through the place, treating Kyle's mess like the aftermath of a crime scene.

  She looked at him and then at Joyce. They sat side by side on a vintage sofa. He was half Apache, with six foot four inches of raw, rugged muscle. She was a strong-boned blonde with bright blue eyes. Alone, they were filled with fire. Together, they were explosive. The baby in Joyce's womb would probably rule the world.

  "So?" Kyle turned to Allie. "How'd it go?"

  She knew he was asking about her visit with her mom. She repeated the conversation, telling him and Joyce everything that had been said.

  The lady cop went into her detective mode. "Let's think about this for a minute. If Raven's amulet can increase Zinna's powers, then maybe it can reduce them, too. Maybe that's what Yvonne meant by you using the necklace against Zinna."

  Allie contemplated Joyce's theory. "It seems probable. The side effects could go in both directions."

  "Why don't we think on an even bigger scale," Kyle said. "What if breaking the curse will destroy Zinna? What if it strips her powers for good?"

  The glass in Allie's hand sweated against her palm. "My mother didn't appear to be concerned about something that catastrophic."

  "Yeah, but I doubt Yvonne knows that you've located Raven. That he's with you. She probably thinks that breaking the curse is next to impossible."

  "But it isn't. Not if I can find the amulet first." She shifted her gaze to Joyce. "Is it possible to trace my mother's mail? To get a list of the people who've written to her?"

  The detective nodded. "Yes, but narrowing down the groupie isn't going to be easy."

  "Why not? Isn't prison mail screened?"

  "Incoming and outgoing mail is x-rayed, then opened and scanned. If it's approved, it's sent on. If it contains a threat, it's given to the investigative unit." Joyce tucked her hair behind her ears. "But I doubt that letters containing information about a missing necklace would have been perceived as a threat. Yvonne would have been careful with her words. The groupie, too."

  "Then I'll have to investigate all of Mom's pen pals on my own?"

  "Kyle and I are going to help."

  "Thank you." She breathed a sigh of relief. She only had a month to find the amulet and break the curse. The clock was ticking.

  "We should look into marriage proposals." Joyce reached for the corn chips and guacamole dip she'd placed on the coffee table earlier. "It's common for serial killers to correspond with people who dream of marrying them. If our groupie is a man, he might have proposed to Yvonne."

  "I didn't consider that." Allie went after the chips and dip, too. It was almost noon, and she hadn't eaten anything yet. No breakfast. No lunch.

  "What's the appeal?" Allie asked. "Why would someone want to marry a serial killer?"

  "Sometimes the women believe the inmates are innocent. But some of the women attracted to these men know they're guilty. It's the danger that draws them in. Even the fact that they can't have sex is exciting. Some of them think it's erotic to gaze at the man they love under the supervision of an armed guard." She made a grand gesture. "And then there's the notoriety. Fame can be an aphrodisiac."

  "It's sick," Allie said. "Sometimes I can't believe that I'm in this situation. That my mother is a killer. Or that she has groupies interested in her."

  "It's not as common for men to chase women on death row," Joyce responded. "The 'friend' Yvonne told you about could be another woman. Someone who admires Yvonne in a goddess-type sense."

  "Or maybe it's someone who just wants the amulet," Kyle put in. "Have either of you stopped to consider that Raven's necklace might be a valued artifact? That there could be collectors clamoring to own it?"

  "But my mother's 'friend' is a witch."

  "So maybe it's a collector who practices black magic. Who wants to test its powers. Maybe this 'friend' is using Yvonne to obtain the amulet for his or her own purpose."

  Joyce put her hand on her husband's knee. "That's a good point and certainly something we should investigate."

  Allie blew out a breath. "I don't even know where to start. I don't know anything about researching artifacts."

  Kyle had a ready answer. "Daniel can help you. He knows how to locate lost cultural objects. He's damn good at it. He used to retrieve antiquities for our Warrior Society. Steal them from museums, universities or private collectors, then return them to the tribe or family affiliated with them."

  "You did that, too. Before you married Joyce."

  "Yeah, but if things get sticky, if you need someone to…" He glanced at his wife and she left the room purposely and went into the kitchen, deciding it was time to refill the lemonade pitcher, to not hear what her husband was about to say. Once she was gone, he continued. "Daniel is the only member of the Society who isn't concerned about me being married to a cop, who's still will
ing to steal."

  "I wondered about that."

  "Well, now you know."

  "I guess I should pay Daniel another visit." Having a thief on her side might come in handy.

  "He'll be glad to hear from you. He thinks you're hot."

  And she thought he was a big, sweet, goofy nerd. Maybe too sweet, she thought. "Are you sure I can trust him? Derek told me to be careful."

  "Of course you can trust him. I've known him since we were teenagers. He's part of my brotherhood. Besides, you didn't sense any of that witchy stuff when you were around him, did you?"

  "No. But I wasn't focused on it, either."

  Kyle continued to defend his friend. "The guy goes to Mass every Sunday."

  "Why? To confess his sins? That doesn't make him a saint."

  "It doesn't make him evil, either. And doesn't holy water burn witches or something?"

  She rolled her eyes. "That's vampires. But I've heard that holy water can be used as protection from a black magic attack."

  "Then there you go. Daniel dips into it every Sunday. The man knows his holy water."

  "Fine. I'll get in touch with him. But first I need to go home and check on Raven."

  To be sure he was safe.

  * * *

  Allie walked in the door and Samantha ran up to her, meowing at her feet. She knelt to say hello to the cat, to stroke her sleek black fur.

  "Where's Raven?" Allie asked her pet. He normally greeted her, too.

  Sam meowed even louder.

  Concerned, Allie glanced around. The loft was much cleaner than she'd left it. Who'd tidied up her house? Who'd gathered the odds and ends that had been strewn about? The mess the cat and bird had made?

  Was Olivia home? And if she was, had she assumed Raven was a regular raven that had gotten trapped in the loft without Allie knowing it? Had Olivia opened a window and let him out?

  Oh, God. She called her sister's name.

  There was no answer.

  She dashed down the hall and sped into Olivia's room.

  It was empty. No sign of life.

  Suddenly Samantha came skidding around the corner with a fake mouse in her mouth. Allie frowned at her. "This isn't the time to play. I'm worried about Raven."

  Sam made the mouse squeak.

  "That's not funny."

  Another squeak.

  Allie looked at Sam's kill. The toy was made of pink wool with black ears and a matching tail. Sam took off, then disappeared into the studio. A second later, the cat returned without the toy.

  Allie waited in the hallway to see what would happen next. The mouse flew out of the studio, and Sam snatched it. Allie relaxed. Apparently Raven was in there. She'd seen him toss all sorts of things in his bill, playing games with the cat. Of course that didn't explain who'd cleaned the house.

  Not unless…

  She inched her way to the studio door. And then she saw him. He was crouched down, picking up remnants of meat she'd left for him this morning. Food she'd bought specifically for the bird.

  But he wasn't a bird anymore. While she'd been gone, he'd shape-shifted into a man. No wings, no feathers.

  He was human.

  He cleaned up the meat, then caught sight of her. They gazed at each other. Silent. Emotional.

  When he stood up, she wanted to dash into his arms, to put her hands all over him, to feel his skin beneath her fingers.

  "It just happened on its own," he said.

  "When?" she asked. She could barely breathe.

  "A few hours ago. I felt a struggle inside me, like my body was battling two types of power. Yours and someone else's. That is what happened on the night of the storm, too." He glanced at the painting of himself, the image she'd altered three days ago. "But this time, your power won."

  She stood like a statue. "For how long?"

  "I don't know." He placed his hand against his chest, where his shirt was unbuttoned. He wore the same tattered clothes he'd had on before, when he'd appeared to her like an angel. "I think the struggle is still there."

  "It must be from the witch who's helping my mom, and his or her power is interfering with mine. That must be why my magic took so long to work." And Raven was trapped in the middle, shape-shifting into different forms.

  But for now, he was human.

  Something neither of them had expected.

  She took a chance and moved closer. He moved closer, too. And suddenly all the flirting they'd done, the mischief he'd created as a raven, floated between them.

  Her heart went haywire. She gave in and touched him. And within an instant, she was locked in his arms, her body warm against his.

  "I remember seeing you naked," he said.

  "I knew you would." She looked into his eyes and saw his need, his hunger. The desperation of who and what he was.

  A man who'd lived as a raven.

  A man who hadn't been with a woman in nearly a hundred years.

  Chapter 6

  He kissed her, his mouth hot and rough.

  Their tongues collided, and Allie latched on to him, eager for the hardest, most desperate, most carnal sex imaginable.

  He smelled like the wind, like the earth, like the warrior he was. She traced the scars on his chest, running her fingers over them, despising Zinna for what she'd done to him.

  He deepened the kiss, and she slid her hands lower, brushing the waistband of his pants. His stomach muscles jumped in anticipation. When she bumped the ridge beneath his fly, his entire body shivered.

  But then he tore his mouth from hers. "Tell me to stop. Tell me this is wrong."

  Was he crazy? "Why?"

  He stepped back, his eyes haunted, his voice splintered. "Because I'm married."

  Allie took a ragged breath. "You're a widower."

  He dragged his hair away from his face. The studio lights were bright, making the anguished expression on his face stand out. "Vanessa was alive when I left her."

  "This isn't an affair, Raven. She's gone."

  "I know. But I feel guilty for wanting you."

  Suddenly she remembered a sentence from Poe's poem.

  Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

  It made her ache for him. For Vanessa. Those words seemed fitting, somehow.

  "Can we go outside?" he asked. "I need some air."

  Allie nodded, wishing sex would ease his sorrow. She didn't have anything else to give him. She couldn't bring Vanessa back. She couldn't reunite him with his wife. "I think you should change your clothes first. Put on something more modern." She led him to Olivia's room. "West keeps some of his things here."

  "West is your sister's lover?"

  "Yes." She went through the dresser and found a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. From the closet, she came up with cowboy boots. "See if any of this works."

  She left the room, giving him privacy. She missed the raven side of him, the flirtatious trickster, the mischief-maker. As a man, he was overly cautious, overly devoted to his dead wife.

  He emerged in West's clothes. She couldn't help but smile. He looked shiny and new, except for his feet. He was wearing his ancient farm boots.

  "The other boots didn't fit?" she asked.

  "No. But the pants and shirt are fine."

  "Very fine." The denims hugged his butt. His front, too. She knew it wouldn't take much to get him aroused again. His heart was guilty for wanting her. But his penis had a mind of its own.

  Samantha came running and dropped the wool mouse in front of him. He picked it up, tossing it down the hall. The cat didn't seem to mind if he was a raven or a man. She'd gotten attached to him both ways.

  "Are you ready?" Allie gestured to the door, and they left the loft, taking the stairs that led to the street.

  The Fashion District was booming with business, crowded with vendors and shoppers and cars with no place to park.

  Allie and Raven didn't go far. She suggested a café table at the gourmet coffee bar that was located right below the loft. The aroma of fresh-baked pastries took t
he sting out of the polluted air.

  They both ordered cappuccinos and banana bread. He'd never had a cappuccino before. He acquired an immediate taste for the mocha-flavored drink, practically inhaling the whipped cream on top.

  She suspected he was a voracious lover. If only he would give her the chance to find out. If only he wasn't so attached to his dead wife.

  "Will you tell me about the night you proposed to Vanessa?" she asked. "The dance at Fort Sill."

  "I was nervous," he admitted. "It was the first social gathering I'd attended since I'd completed my boarding-school studies and moved to the reservation."

  "How old were you?"

  "I'd just turned nineteen, and I was uncomfortable about who I'd become."

  She sipped her coffee. "What do you mean?"

  "I'd tried to hold on to my heritage. I'd fought for it. But the influence of the school had taken its toll, and I feared that I'd allowed myself to become less Apache." He glanced at the road, at the vehicles stopped at a red light. "As I got older, I didn't hate everything about school. I enjoyed some of my studies, and I played football the last two years I was there."

  "Really?" She hadn't envisioned him involved in team sports. "Did you play against other Indian schools?"

  "No. We competed against institutions like the University of Pennsylvania and Yale."

  Allie tried not to gape. She was sorely lacking in Native history. "How did you do?"

  "The media was impressed. They said we had the best tacklers of any team." He smiled a little. "We played hard, as aggressively as we could."

  "And later you had to adjust to living on a reservation? To remember Apache traditions?"

  He nodded. "At school, the students had been taught to behave like white men. But we weren't white. We were Indian, from all different nations. And when we went home to our tribes, we struggled to fit in."

  "And that's why you were so nervous at the dance?"

  "Vanessa was, too. It was her debut, a ceremony that announced that she was ready for marriage, that it was the proper time for a warrior to seek her hand."

  Allie suspected that Raven's wife had come from a highly traditional family. "I can imagine how important it was."

  "Very. Other young women were available, as well. During the lover's dance, which comes near the end of the ceremony, any warrior who is dancing with a maiden can propose. And if she accepts, he consults her father soon afterward and bargains for her."