Ghost Stalker

by Jenna Kernan

  She felt sorry for his pain and that surprised her. It seemed the hatred her mother had injected into her only daughter was not as strong as her empathy for a man in pain.

  He turned his head and winced, drawing his breath through clenched teeth. She took only one step into the room before his eyes snapped open and fixed on her. The muscles of his stomach tensed and she caught her breath at the sensual sight.

  “How you feeling?” she asked, embarrassed at the strange strained quality of her voice and the tingling sensation rippling over her skin. It reminded her of the electrical charge of the air before a lightning strike.

  “Better.”

  He didn’t look it. She smiled and lifted the full glass of water as if it was her admission ticket. Then she gathered her flagging courage and crossed the room, setting the glass beside his bed, next to the medicine. “In case you don’t want to chew them.”

  She leaned down to flicked off the light beside him. He watched her every move with such an intent stare, it made her nervous. Next she turned off the overhead light, leaving only the small lamp on the desk glowing dimly because of the large stained-glass shade. Then she backed away until she collided with the reading chair across the room, fell back into the familiar cushions, leaping up again as if scorched.

  Why was she suddenly so clumsy?

  He continued to stare.

  “I wanted to be sure you didn’t need anything else. Before I, uh, head to bed.”

  His eyes were distrustful. She remembered the pillow, now under his head.

  “Rest,” she urged.

  He didn’t. “I’m a very light sleeper.” He glanced at the water and inhaled.

  “Don’t be so suspicious. I’m not trying to poison you.”

  “Because I could smell it if you tried.”

  She couldn’t keep her mouth from dropping open. “Really?”

  He gave a slight incline of his head. He stared long enough to make her truly uncomfortable and then turned his head and closed his eyes. She crept from the room.

  When she checked on him an hour later, she made it to the chair beside her desk, and he did not seem to rouse, though his breathing changed. She did not venture closer, fearing he’d wake, but instead settled in her comfortable chair.

  She closed her eyes to meditate. She was attuned to dreamers and so knew that her appearance had roused him, but not quite to consciousness. She had been wise not to draw any closer. She felt the moment when he relaxed back into slumber and exactly when his first dream began.

  From her meditative state Jessie released her astral self from her body, freeing her spirit to seek the wolf. Vicinity did ease in location and she found him quickly, surprising even herself. Her entrance to his dream caused barely a ripple, and has much more gentle than with most of her human clients.

  She found herself standing beneath the shelter of the wide branches of a huge pine, which hid her in shadows. Jessie looked out on a sunny grotto, surrounded by evergreens on three sides and a rocky cliff face on the fourth. For some reason the area radiated power, like a holy place. There before her, below the altar of rock, stood a woman with long dark hair pulled back at her nape. She wore a loose cotton dress that flowed over her ripe body, revealing herself to be at the final stages of a pregnancy. From the look of her, she would deliver very soon. Beside the expectant mother stood a giant of a man, dressed like Paul Bunyan in red flannel and dark blue jeans. His earthy aura marked him as a Skinwalker, while the woman cast a bright golden light that said unmistakably she was one of Jessie’s people.

  The Seer and the Healer.

  Here were the two Nicholas had told her about. So they did exist, and they glowed with life. Somehow Nicholas had managed to contact his friends, but would they remember his visit upon waking?

  Jessie always did, but it was her gift to speak to the living in dreams. Her grandmother had the gift of contacting the dead. Thus far, Jessie had been unable to reach anyone who had crossed to the Spirit Road.

  But where was Nicholas? She knew this place and these people could not exist here without him. The Healer glanced about and found the large gray wolf, standing so still he was nearly imperceptible among the trees.

  He approached them from the opposite direction. The large man saw him first, or rather smelled him, his nose twitching as he turned.

  Silly mistake to approach a Skinwalker from downwind…or was it a mistake? Somehow she doubted it.

  The woman followed the direction of her mate’s gaze and her arms went up in surprise as a smile blossomed on her face. “Nicholas!”

  The wolf paused, sat and curled his tail around his paws.

  She moved slowly, but with grace. “Transform this instant so I can give you a hug.”

  He did.

  Jessie gasped at what she saw. He stood tall and strong, without a hint of the cracked ribs that had rounded his shoulders. His thick black hair curled about his face was not bloody or swollen. No stitches crossed his nose and cheek.

  His face took her breath away, for it was too beautiful to be believed. Such a face should be illegal, she thought at the sight of his strong jaw and cleft chin, his mouth now only the punctuation to compelling eyes and elegant nose.

  His appearance made her stomach drop, her heart hammer painfully in her chest and her skin flushed as blood rushed through dilating blood vessels. He had not even looked at her and she wanted him. Never in her life had she experienced such a visceral reaction to a man. Her breathing came in gasps as she realized in that instant that he was more dangerous than she ever thought, because her reaction gave him power over her.

  “What news?” asked the woman, drawing back from the gentle hug.

  The man gave his welcome by thumping Nick on the shoulder with enough force to knock him momentarily off balance, which he gracefully regained an instant later. She knew such a blow should have buckled his knees.

  But not him. In his dream Nicholas was whole, virile and sexy as hell.

  “Bad news.” Nick and the other Skinwalker exchanged a look. “I was attacked by ghosts.”

  “Nicholas, do you need us?” asked the Seer.

  “No!” The force of the rejection took them both by surprise. “I mean, it’s not necessary. I’m with a…”

  How would he describe her?

  “A friend.”

  A lie.

  “She’s taking care of me. It’s not serious.”

  More lies, but spoken to protect his friends.

  “They were using me as bait to reach you.”

  “How did they find you?” asked the Skinwalker.

  Nicholas glanced away.

  “You were in those damned clubs, right?”

  “Not all of us can live on love alone. Some of us need…variety.”

  Jessie scowled. Just how much variety did Nick generally get? She was certain he’d have as much as he liked and it irritated her to find herself among the legions of enthralled females. Curse that face again.

  The man lowered his chin and scowled.

  The woman rested a hand on the Healer’s chest and he instantly lost his grim expression. Jessie felt her breath catch at the look of tenderness he gave her. His hand circled her back, protective—possessive.

  The Healer glanced back at Nick. “Are you sure you are all right?”

  Nicholas smiled fondly at her and Jessie felt a sharp twinge. What the hell was that? A sinking sensation followed as Jessie correctly identified her reaction as jealousy.

  “Pathetic,” she whispered.

  “What should we do?” asked the woman to her mate.

  “We keep moving, keep to the wild. Nagi can’t find us unless a ghost spots us. So we stay away from people, that’s all we can do for now.”

  “But what about Nick?”

  The Skinwalker rested a protective hand on his mate’s swollen belly and her protests died.

  “Keep safe, Nicholas, and thank you for telling us,” said the Healer.

  The woman rested her hand on her b
elly and grimaced. “I swear, my bladder has shrunk to the size of a peanut. I never sleep through the night anymore.” She turned to her mate. “Come, love.”

  Hand in hand the two strolled toward the rock, disappearing into a slicing crevice.

  Nick watched them go, then turned and looked directly at Jessie.

  Jessie shrank back, even knowing she could not be seen unless she chose to be seen. But still he stared.

  His roguish smile spread across his wide mouth. “You can come out now, Dream Walker.”

  Jessie’s heart nearly stopped.

  Chapter 9

  Jessie had entered hundreds, no thousands, of dreams but never had she felt so exposed. What was happening?

  He had seen her. It made no difference, for he would not recall their tête-à-tête.

  No one ever did.

  Even when she chose to be seen, her time here would be washed away by his waking, like footprints at low tide. And he posed no danger to her here. Even a Tracker, with his superior strength, could not trap a Dream Walker. She could leave at anytime and nothing he could do could detain her. Here she had the advantage.

  Gathering her resolve, she stepped into the clearing.

  Nicholas extended his hand, and for reasons she did not wish to closely examine, she took it.

  The contact brought instant heat to her skin.

  Nick captured Jessie’s other hand; his hold was gentle, yet commanding. The joy on his face took her breath away.

  “You’re here.”

  He was tall and as straight as an oak, with broad shoulders, lithe, agile muscles and a face that promised both peace and chaos.

  “I wanted to see…” Her words fell off.

  “If I was lying.” He finished for her. “I know.”

  “You…”

  He smiled. “You’re in the room right now. I heard you come in.”

  He knew what she was up to and still he allowed this intrusion. It pointed to a clear conscience.

  She bowed her head and changed the subject. “Was that the Healer and the Seer of Souls?”

  He glanced in the direction the couple had gone. “Yes.”

  “They seem very much in love.”

  “For now.”

  She was surprised by the pessimism in his tone, as if it was inevitable that their relationship would fail.

  “You don’t think their love will last?” she asked.

  He made a little growling noise in the back of his throat. “I’ve never seen love last. Mostly such pairings end badly and they face more challenges than most.” Then he gave her a charming smile that she thought masked his true emotions. “Perhaps they are the exception to the rule.”

  “Why are you so cynical?”

  “I prefer realistic. There is no worse trap than the unnatural bond between male and female. Such liaisons are meant to last as long as it takes to safely raise young. Sometimes not even that long.”

  Jessie didn’t know what to say to that. It was the most unromantic thing she’d ever heard.

  “What about love?”

  He released her hands and stepped away.

  “A very dangerous illusion. To love is to give unlimited power to another person. Without love you do not have jealousy, betrayal or the lust for revenge.”

  Jessie stared at him, completely speechless. Where could he have gotten such bleak beliefs? She thought of her own parents and a nasty suspicion rose. It took her father, a peacemaker, over a half century to convince her mother to have a child. Her mother, who was a Dream Walker like Jessie, having survived the war, did not think it fit to bring a baby into this world. Jessie was their only child.

  Nick’s father was Fleetfoot. What lessons of love had he gleaned from the most notorious Skinwalker of them all? She thought of what she knew of his father. All but one of his warriors had been killed at Blood Creek. Only his second in command had escaped justice. It was said that Fleetfoot had come to a meeting with her people to discuss a surrender but then attacked one of the ambassadors. His capture went badly and many of her people died as heroes.

  How had the story been told to Nick?

  “You said you were too young to fight in the war. But do you remember your father?”

  Nick’s expression grew dark as he folded his arms before him in a move dripping with obstinacy.

  “I do not talk of this.” He glared at her. “Not to anyone. Not ever.”

  She was used to such resistance. It never lasted. “Think of me as the exception to your rule. How did you know of your father?”

  He raked his hands through his thick hair and she knew he would tell her. “I was there when he was taken. My mother brought me. I was two.”

  Her eyes rounded. What had he seen?

  “My mother called him a monster.” Nick gave her a look of such open anguish, she felt her heart break in two. “What does that make me?”

  “Oh, Nick.”

  He glanced away and sat upon the mossy ground, then indicated the place beside him. She settled in the soft loam and watched him as he lifted his gaze to the treetops. Somewhere nearby a spring gurgled with life.

  “It doesn’t look bloody here now,” he said.

  Jessie looked around at the peaceful clearing, unable to contain her shock. This was Blood Creek? “Here?”

  “It is where they first met, where they first made love and where I was conceived.” He pressed his hands deep into the springy moss, as if feeling their passion. “She didn’t know what he was then. She was in love with a handsome man who promised to take her away. It was all she cared about. After I was born and she discovered what he was, her love died a bitter death. And yes, this is also the place where your people met my father. She chose it. Ironic, isn’t it? The place of her surrender and then of his. She was the only one who could have lured him out in the open. That is the power of love.”

  Jessie picked up the familiar story. “He came because he learned how many more humans there were in the East and that no one could kill them all.”

  He stared at her, his brow dipping over his eyes. “Is that what they taught you in your schools?”

  She nodded.

  “He came to rescue us, only to find his wife was a willing participant in the Niyanoka plot.”

  “He attacked John Painter.”

  “Who had a knife to my throat. My mother handed me over to him as bait, right after she told me she wouldn’t raise another monster like him.”

  Jessie gasped. “Sweet Mystery. She tried to kill her own son.”

  He sat there, defiant and proud. Only his eyes revealed the agony.

  “I’m so sorry, Nick.”

  “I don’t want your pity.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” she insisted.

  “Wasn’t it? He never would have come if not for me. He died saving his only son. He knew it was a trap. He still came—for me.” Nick’s eyes glittered and he looked away. “He fought well.”

  She was shocked speechless. She’d never heard this, and here, in his dream, she knew he told her the absolute truth.

  “He brought me to his trusted friend, a member of his pack. Then he turned to face them, giving us time to escape.”

  “They killed him.”

  He nodded. “Gone because he once loved a woman who used that power to destroy him.”

  No wonder he had such feelings about love and marriage, with such a tragic history as his first lesson. If he kept people away, they couldn’t use him. What an empty existence.

  “Did you ever see your mother again?”

  His eyes glittered with sorrow and rage. “I was raised by my own kind.”

  She could not think of what to say. “Not all love affairs end so badly.”

  His response was flat and cold. “Especially if they are brief.”

  “It was a bloody war.”

  “Not so bloody as the one waged between a woman and man.”

  “If you don’t approve of love, then why were you with those women?”

  �
��I make love to them. There’s a difference.” Something caught his attention. “There he is.”

  Cold fear washed her and she moved behind Nick, seeking protection even as her mind told her she could escape.

  There on the rise, standing on a rock outcropping, was a large male timber wolf, the largest she had ever seen. His left ear was tattered. She recognized him instantly—Fleetfoot.

  “Make him go away,” she whispered, gripping his sleeve.

  The wolf turned and disappeared. She knew it was only a creation of Nick’s mind, but still it terrified her. “He’s gone.”

  She stayed where she was, trembling and clinging as if this were her nightmare. He gathered her up in his arms, cradling her tenderly. She had the irrational feeling that he would protect her and keep her safe—that she was home.

  “What did he do to your family?” Nick asked.

  She had heard the story so often, she could imagine that dreadful day. “He attacked my mother’s family riding with Chivington at Sand Creek. My grandmother was killed and her father and his three brothers. They were just boys. My mother escaped to the river. She pretended to be dead, lying among the bodies of her clan. She saw everything. It has shaped her life, her beliefs.”

  “She hates my kind.”

  Jessie nodded.

  “I can’t blame her. But the truce has lasted. There have been no more attacks on men by my people.”

  “Yes, but her distrust runs deep.”

  “I understand that.”

  There were many Inanoka with Fleetfoot, but he was the most savage, sparing none, from the youngest to the oldest.

  “After that, we left our clans and moved to live among the humans. They married humans to give their children a better chance at survival.”

  “Did you witness this?”

  “No. But Fleetfoot’s name was mentioned often. He was the bogeyman of my childhood.”

  “Yet he was butchered defending his son.”

  He held her, this descendant of her enemy.

  “Well, he is gone from this world and will never come again. Hush now.”