White Wolf 2: The Call of a Soul

by Jianne Carlo

  They walked in silence for a few yards. “Do you think Shuman or Waquini killed your father?”

  Gray halted. “Waquini was killed in the mill fire.”

  Mike stopped dead. Shook his head. “I have the names of all the people killed in the fire. There was no Waquini.”

  “He went by the name Sam Millar.”

  “Damn. I’d hoped that this could all be tied back to him.” Another dead end.

  “Now, what are you going to do about Melanie?”

  “I’d marry her tomorrow if she’d agree, but so far she’s not too keen on the idea.” Mike heaved a sigh. “How does your mother feel about me?”

  “I don’t know. We try not to talk about the Dorlands in front of her. I suspect she knows about Melanie’s crush on you. She wants grandbabies. If I were you, I’d get my sister knocked up and then talk marriage.”

  Mike couldn’t stop the wide grin breaking across his lips. He backslapped Gray. “Precisely my thinking.”

  “What about your mother? It’s a known fact that she hates us.”

  “Grandbabies, Gray. My mom wants ’em too.” Mike hesitated only for a nanosecond. “How long has Melanie had her birth-control implant?”

  Gray drew back. “Implant?”

  Mike crossed his eyes. “Surely you know what it is?”

  “’Course I do. And you have to go to a doctor to get one.”

  The boy needed to learn to speak clearly. “So?”

  “I can’t remember the last time any of us saw a doctor. And definitely not that new doctor that took old Dr. Longshorn’s place. Hell, that must’ve been at least eight years back.”

  She’d lied to him, the little witch. Mike’s smile went feral. Now all he had to do was wait for her to come into heat.

  Chapter Twelve

  Melanie just about lost her dinner when she opened the door and found, not only Gray, but Mike standing there. Praying her mother hadn’t noticed him, she half shut the door and whispered, “Go away.”

  “Melanie, please ask Mr. Dorland to come in.” Mama spoke in a calm voice, and somehow that had Melanie’s heart banging like a cymbal.

  “I’m guessing coffee’s in order. Have you eaten, Mike? There’s chicken potpie left, and no one makes it quite like my mama.” Susie, the traitor, nudged Melanie out of the way, turned her around, and swatted her behind. “Go make coffee and stop catching flies.”

  “It’s too cold for any flies to still be alive,” Melanie muttered and ran the few yards to the stove, putting the kitchen cabinets between her and Mike. Her fingers wouldn’t firm around the coffee can on the shelf.

  “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. White.”

  Were they shaking hands? What was Mama thinking?

  “I wish I could say the same, Mr. Dorland.”

  Melanie dropped the can. The lid flew off, and coffee grounds, all brownish black and thick, sprayed the wooden floor, spreading and settling into the grooves in the planks. Fear had her rooted like a potted plant; she couldn’t budge, and her mind went into a mushed, blurred shutdown.

  “I’ve dreaded this meeting for a very long time, though I knew I would one day have to face you, your brother, and your mother. I wish there was some way I could atone for the accident that caused your family so much pain and eventually killed your father.”

  Susie came into the kitchen and pulled her back to the living room. She squeezed Melanie’s hand.

  “Please call me Mike, Mrs. White. And please sit down, ma’am; you’re very pale.”

  When Melanie finally lifted her gaze from the floor, she had to hug Susie to stay standing. For Mike had his arm around her mother, and he was gently helping her to sit on the sofa.

  “I’ll make the coffee, since your brains seem to have taken a vacation. Exactly the reason I want none of this mate stuff. Gray, come and help me. Melanie, do you think you could manage to close your mouth?” Susie fisted her hands on her hips and shook her head. “Why don’t I make this a bit easier on all of us? Melanie’s been in love with Mike since she first saw him. I believe Mike feels the same way about Melanie. Do you?”

  Melanie fried Susie with a sizzle-and-evaporate stare. Noonday desert sun was what she needed now. “Susan Elizabeth White. How dare you? Go into your room and don’t come out until I say so.”

  “Melanie’s his mate, Mama, and if that hickey on her neck’s anything to go by, he’s claimed her already.” Gray crossed his arms, leaned back, and nodded to Melanie. “I’m the alpha in the family. Mike, I believe you have a question to ask.”

  “Mrs. White, I’m in love with your daughter. I want to marry her as soon as we can arrange it. Your blessing on our union would mean everything to both of us.” Mike reached over, captured Melanie’s wrist, and tugged her to sit next to him on the sofa.

  “My name is Kitchi, Mike.” Mama touched her fingers to Mike’s hand and then looked at Melanie. “Is he what you want, child?”

  Someone had pulled all her vocal chords tight. Melanie couldn’t force a word from her strangled throat, so she nodded.

  Her mother’s smile could’ve lit a dozen galaxies and then some. “Then you both have my blessing.”

  Mike twined their fingers together. “Thank you, Kitchi. I promise you I’ll do everything in my power to keep your daughter happy.”

  Gray cleared his throat. “What happened with Pincer and Shuman, Mama?”

  Melanie half listened to Mama’s explanation, her mind too numb to believe her mother had so easily accepted Mike as her future son-in-law. The many obstacles still to be hurdled had her stomach quaking like the Frisco fault line.

  “Melanie.” Mike gave her a little shake.

  “What?”

  “I suggested to your mother that it might be best if we moved the four of you out of town tonight. There’s a resort in the next county that has cottage rentals. Drake knows the owner well.”

  “Susie has community college and track practice. Gray—”

  “I agree with Mike. Pincer’s been dogging my footsteps. He was at the stadium yesterday and today. And at the supercenter when I went for a sub. And later on when I visited a friend, he was parked right across the road.” Gray fixed Melanie with a hard stare. “I’m responsible for all of you. It’ll be easier if we all took the day off tomorrow.”

  “You know, there’s only so much alpha-ing a body can handle.” Susie snapped her fingers. “You two say jump and we answer—how high? Alpha me not, thank you. In case you’ve forgotten, tomorrow’s Saturday and there’s no school.”

  Melanie shifted away from Mike. She needed to think, and all that musk and testosterone so close had her hormones zinging.

  “I’ll be expected at the casino by ten. And we were going to do the credit union in the morning. That paycheck needs to be deposited.” Mama angled her head at the envelope still lying on the table.

  “You can do it from the casino bank branch.” Gray pointed out. “And the credit union has a branch in the next county. Mike’s right about this.”

  Mama had roses in her cheeks, and she seemed pleased about Mike and Gray taking charge. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad move. Laying low for a couple of days. She didn’t want Mama catching a glimpse of Jack Daniels and being tempted if Shuman decided not to give the final approval to Mama replacing Geraldine.

  “I think Mike and Gray are right. Mama, I’ll call you in sick tomorrow. Shuman would expect you to not feel well after Pincer’s visit. There’s no need for me to call in sick, since my boss is right here and it’s his idea.” Melanie crossed her arms, and the stream of bubbling euphoria fizzled as her anger about the news of the Caboose’s ownership returned with a vengeance.

  “What?” Susie swept them both a narrow-eyed look.

  “Drake and Mike have half ownership in the diner.” Melanie gave him her best don’t-even-think-you-can-get-out-of-this-one glower. “Care to tell me just how long I’ve been working for you?”

  Mike’s gaze strayed to the ceiling. “Virgil has ma
jority ownership still. And he may not retire.”

  “Did you arrange my job with Doc G. too?” She tapped a foot on the floor.

  “No. We’re all agreed, then? The resort for tonight and we all stick together until after the hearing at the tribe’s headquarters.” Mike may have worded the command as a question, but he wasn’t fooling anyone.

  “Want me to pack your stuff for you, Melanie? You and Mike can catch up.” Cheeky as ever, Susie winked at her over Mama’s head and made a kissy face.

  “Thank you.” Melanie yearned to swat Susie hard, but she did want a few moments alone with Mike.

  As soon as the room cleared, she studied her fingernails for a few seconds, sighed, and looked up to find Mike smiling at her with that surprised boyish happiness in his eyes. All the anger she used to buttress the rocks around her heart crumbled.

  “Thank you.” He traced her throat with a finger and rubbed his thumb over her mouth.

  She blinked. “For what?”

  “For saying yes to what must be the lousiest proposal in the world. For being my happiness. For not reaming me because of the Caboose.” He caressed her cheek. “Just so you know, we’ll be renting two separate cabins. I never intend to go to sleep or wake up without you again.”

  “You’re not getting your way that easy, Michael David Dorland. I’ll have you know I never said yes to you. I told my Mama I wanted you. Not the same thing. I expect a flashy proposal and a ring twice as big as Valérie’s.” She set her hand on top of his. “And maybe earrings to match.”

  “Go help your sister. I can’t wait to have you to myself.”

  Melanie grinned, and the euphoria stream grew into a waterfall. She hugged herself all the way to her room. A pile of clothes lay on Susie’s bed, but she was nowhere in sight.

  Humming, she took out her uniform, a couple pairs of jeans, socks, and underwear. Where had they stashed the lone suitcase between the three of them? The shed. Susie must have gone to get it. She tucked the cell charger into her purse and glimpsed the worn cover of the journal. With all that had happened in the last little while, she’d clean forgotten about the tome. Once they settled in at the resort, she intended to devour the rest of the book. Still so many unanswered questions.

  Maybe Mrs. Dorland would surprise them as much as Mama had.

  Maybe, just maybe, she could have her cake and eat it too.

  She opened a drawer, and the blackness hit without warning.

  Sucked at her like a smoke- and grit-filled whirlwind, blinding her vision and snatching a terror-filled scream from her throat. Melanie clung to the wall and stumbled the few steps to her mother’s room.

  “Melanie, honey, what’s wrong? What is it? Child.” Mama grabbed Melanie’s hands between her palms.

  She couldn’t speak. Clutched her mother’s hand tight to her chest, closed her eyes, and let the images stream. Her knees buckled. She sank to the floor. Saw the unseeable. The terror rocked her. She hit her head on the bed board. The sharp pain dulled the scenes flashing by. Blessed darkness formed at the corners. Dense, inky brushes smudged the faces. A welcome midnight coolness pooled around her.

  “Melanie.”

  The word came from far away, bouncing around, echoing. Sleep, sleep. Blessed sleep. Why were they making her walk? She tried to open her eyes, but her lids were too heavy.

  “Drink.”

  No. Lips on hers. Water seeped into her mouth. Bitter. She choked.

  “Snap out of it!”

  Too much noise. She lifted one lid. Light stung her eyes. She couldn’t focus.

  She inhaled.

  Smelled Mike, safety.

  He shook her till her teeth rattled.

  A pungent aroma made her eyes water. The violent sneeze lifted the hazy veil coating her vision.

  Mama waved a vial under her nose.

  Melanie sneezed again.

  “Enough.” Mike had an arm wrapped around her and held her up. “No more smelling salts.”

  “Sit.” Her voice surprised her. Hoarse. Weak.

  “No. Walk. Open your eyes.”

  She hooded her gaze, but the light still smarted. “Hurts.”

  “Turn off the lights.”

  Mike’s voice. Mike’s embrace. Mike making her stumble forward.

  “Sleep.”

  “No. Walk. Open your eyes. The lights are off now.”

  Melanie peeked with one eye. Soft, welcoming shadows.

  Darkness.

  The last call. She stumbled and grabbed his shirt. “Forgive.”

  “Forgive who? What? Give me that water again, Kitchi. Okay, I’m going to let you sit for a second, but only if you drink all the water.”

  Mike held her on his lap. Brought the cold glass to her lips. Melanie forced herself to take a sip. Then another. She shuddered. “Bitter.”

  “All of it.”

  Another tiny swallow. Not so bad. “Tired.”

  “More.”

  He bullied her into finishing the glass, and by the last mouthful, the water tasted sweeter.

  “The color’s coming back to her face.”

  Mama.

  “I’m going to switch on the lamp now, Melanie.”

  Mama again.

  She lowered her lids so the light only penetrated a tad. Not so bad. Opened one eye.

  Mike’s large palms cradled her face.

  She leaned back and met his gaze.

  “Hurting?”

  Concern had shrunk his pupils to pinpricks. “Headache.”

  “You banged your head against the bed frame. Do you think you could keep down a pain pill?”

  Bile rose in her throat. “No. Water.”

  “Hot, sweet tea and fresh air. That’s what she needs. Carry her into the living room. Open the windows. Wrap her in the throw on the couch.” The roses in Mama’s cheeks had faded.

  Melanie didn’t have the energy to resist the flurry of activity that followed.

  Each sip of the sweet tea revived her, and little by little, Melanie became aware of her surroundings. Mike held the cup to her lips, and she sipped. The throbbing in her head receded to a dull ache.

  “Better?” Mike tipped her chin, and his glance roamed over her face.

  “Much.” He had her snug as a bug sideways over his bunched thighs. The throw swaddled her like a baby, and she didn’t want to leave the harbor of his hold.

  “Another bear?”

  She dropped her gaze, didn’t want to remember, and didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Melanie, babe, I need to know.”

  “Shuman.” Melanie shuddered.

  “Shuman?” Mama refilled the teacup on the table. “Drink another cup.”

  Sadness, a deep profound melancholy weighted her chest. “Yes, Shuman.”

  “Shuman?” Mike frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense. Before you said forgive. Who? What?”

  “His last call. Forgiveness.” Unshed tears misted her vision. Shuman’s last call had held such sorrow. And fury.

  “He forgave someone?” Mike cupped her chin.

  “No. He wanted forgiveness.” Mike looked so worried. The tiny lines bracketing his beautiful silver eyes held a hint of white amid his tanned complexion. She traced one set, relishing the slight grooves beneath her fingertips.

  “I wasn’t around much when her grandmother went through this, but He Who Sees With Eagle Eyes warned me that if it happened, not to let her pass out. Last calls can kill.” Mama rose. “I’ll make more tea.”

  Melanie tensed. Didn’t believe what she’d heard Mama say. “Last calls can kill?”

  “From a black wolf they can. That’s why your grandmother learned to block them.” Mama had that waver in her voice, the one she’d had after Papa and Gramps died.

  “She blocked them?” How could anyone refuse a last call? Why?

  “There were many black wolves back then and much evil in our world. Most of the black wolves lived in cities, but there were those who lived on the reservation. They had learned to hide
their evil. She never knew when the call came if it came from a black wolf, a creature, or a human. She grew weaker with each last call from a black wolf.”

  “You didn’t mention white wolves.” Mike’s rumble was more a statement than a question.

  “For some reason, she could never hear the call from a white wolf. It was only after she learned to block the calls that her healing touch began.”

  That was why she couldn’t heal? Melanie couldn’t stop staring at Mama. Her blue eyes had this faraway glaze. “How did she block them? The last calls?”

  Mama sighed; she blinked and met Melanie’s gaze. “I don’t know, child. But I do know your grandfather helped her somehow. It worked for a long time. Until…”

  “Until what?” Melanie reached forward and grasped Mama’s hand.

  “Until the rise of Kaa’jindii.”

  “Sit down, Mama. Who or what is Kaa’jindii?” Shuman’s call had left her feeling soiled, and though Melanie wanted the tea, she had to know more about this blocking thingy.

  “The leader of one section of the black wolves. Those who accepted I’naawsi fully. Those who performed the sacrificial rituals. You’ve lost all your color again. Let me make more tea.” Mama gently eased her fingers from Melanie’s frantic grip.

  “I don’t need tea. Tell me more.”

  “She’s right. All this is upsetting you. Go ahead and make the tea, Kitchi. I’ll watch her.” Mike’s thumb and fingers firmed around her chin, and though he turned her face to his, she couldn’t tear her focus from Mama’s retreating form.

  “Do you understand what she’s talking about?” Mike gave her a little tug. “Look at me.”

  He seemed worried. Melanie rubbed at his frown and related all that she had read in the journal.

  “May I read it too?”

  Oh, she loved this man. May I—as if she’d ever refuse him anything. “Of course.”

  Porcelain tinkled, and she looked up to find Mama carrying a tray loaded with a chintz cozy-covered teapot, three mugs, and a plate of cookies.

  “Let me help you with that.” Mike shifted.

  “Stay exactly where you are. I overheard you two—hard not to in this cottage. I take it you found the journal?”