Healer's Choice

by Jory Strong

  Aryck’s fingers flexed in frustration. For parts of their trip they’d worn fur, and the scent of a female deeply in heat had very nearly driven him to cover her. He’d resisted only by fierce determination and a concentration of purpose.

  The route they traveled was one his father had shared with him mentally. In the time since Koren was an enforcer, the scenery had changed very little.

  They were now in territory inhabited primarily by ferals and rogues, those whose human and animal souls had separated, one battling the other for dominance to the extent they could no longer live within pack society or follow pack law.

  Ferals ended up wearing fur. Their beast ruled, reverting to animal instincts but drawing on human cunning without also feeling bound to the pack. It made them a danger that had to be driven from Were lands. Rogues shifted back and forth in a continuing fight. Most fled Were lands voluntarily. They left before they broke pack law and ended up being made outcast or killed by their own kind.

  The scent of hyenas hit Aryck. There were pure animals and Were, though he couldn’t tell if they were one pack or several.

  Among Weres who were prey animals, mixing with herds containing pure animals was like donning camouflage. But among predators, a willingness to pack and mate with beasts was the mark of a feral or rogue.

  He’d expected to find a heavy concentration of them here. Like other supernaturals, ferals and rogues were drawn to human settlements and cities, because despite the risk, prey was plentiful.

  They were close to what the humans called the Barrens. It was a blackened, burned-out place where the dregs of human society took refuge, the insane and hunted, those so reviled they didn’t dare live in the red zone as the healer he sought did.

  Distaste shuddered through Aryck, that she’d make her home among outcast prostitutes. It didn’t surprise him the ancestors knew of the healer’s existence. It was in their power to restore those they’d judged unfavorably, though it happened so rarely he’d never seen evidence of it.

  Aryck spared a glance at Melina as the scent of hyena grew heavier. He hated the necessity of it, but knew it would be safer to have the jaguar’s strength.

  “We change before going any farther,” he said, stopping and immediately removing his pants and supple moccasins, ensuring the pouch containing payment for the healer, gold coins unearthed in ruins on Jaguar lands, was well secured.

  For once Melina stripped and stood naked without the conscious offering of her body. Like Aryck, she quickly rolled her footwear into her clothing, then knotted it to make a loose fabric collar that could be worn while in jaguar form.

  Aryck shifted first, the collar of clothing already around his neck. Melina did the same.

  Low to the ground the scent was even more intense. It carried not only traces of hyena but wolf and coyote, feral dogs as well as deer and rabbit.

  This deep in the forest there was no trace of humans, but that wasn’t surprising. Even with their guns they would be nothing but prey here.

  Aryck moved on, with Melina traveling farther from his side than before. He was anxious to get to the red zone and find the healer. Willing or not, she would accompany him back to the Jaguar’s summer campsite.

  The trees thinned as they neared the Barrens. Rubble and debris turned the path they were on into a winding trail full of blind spots.

  Aryck slowed, sensing danger an instant before three spotted hyenas scrambled over hills of vine-covered ruin while two others blocked the path in either direction, creating a vicious cage. Their excited whooping added to the adrenaline spiking through his blood and he lunged, using his weight to his advantage to knock a small male to the ground as it leapt from the piled rubble.

  There was no time for finesse. Aryck buried his canines into the animal’s throat, clamped, and ripped, severing the jugular.

  Searing agony whipped through his side and flank as his skin was pierced by two attackers. Behind him Melina screamed in fury and pain.

  He turned, raking his claws over the animal trying to eviscerate him, blinding it in one eye. It retreated, giving Aryck a chance to spin around and savage the animal whose bite had torn through muscle to crush leg bone.

  Fury, pain, the will to survive burned away any vestige of thought. He attacked with teeth and claws, not content just to drive his attacker away.

  Aryck killed his opponent, then focused on those circling Melina. She was bleeding from a tear in her side but had held them off.

  He launched himself, nearly blacking out as he used his hind leg, but somehow managing to land on his target and bite, severing the spine so the animal went down underneath him.

  Melina pounced on a large female. Aryck felt the rip of muscle and tendon, the crack of bone in his other back leg as the beast he’d blinded in one eye overcame its injuries, forgetting them in the frenzy of fighting, and with the whooping calls announcing the rapid approach of another pack. He turned, driving the hyena off him as Melina killed her attacker.

  Strength bled out of Aryck with the loss of blood and the severity of his injuries. He knew he was a dead man, the ancestors’ prophecy coming to pass, though not in the way he’d envisioned it.

  His legs were both broken, too badly damaged to hold his weight. He was injured beyond what could be healed by shifting form, even if he had the strength to manage it.

  The whooping calls were closer now, moments away given the speed of hunting hyenas. He would die where he lay, fighting until they ripped out his internal organs.

  Aryck growled at Melina, using a sound that meant retreat, climb, hide. She showed her teeth and growled in response but was already scanning, looking for a route, a tree, the instinct for self-preservation greater than any other and beginning to override all else.

  She’d taken only a few steps before the first of the new pack appeared, coming from the direction of the forest instead of the Barrens. A feral led it, the scent different from the pure hyenas in the first attack. It was followed by a second feral and then a third, their rolling gait and obvious intelligence enough to send terror out in front of them.

  Aryck pulled himself into a crouch, half expecting the hyena he’d injured to attack from behind. Instead he heard it yelling, the roaring scream of an animal trying to escape.

  An instant later he saw the reason for it. A male Lion charged past him, closely paced by a Tiger. In front of Aryck the lead feral dropped as a bullet smashed into its skull.

  Before the first two of its companions could escape, the big cats were on them, taking them down like prey.

  The remaining pack members fled, laughing, filling the forest with the high-pitched sounds of their intense fear.

  Melina wheeled and snarled, prepared to launch herself at a new threat. Aryck turned his head just as a man holding a gun said, “I don’t want to shoot you but I will if you attack.”

  The voice and face were vaguely familiar but Aryck couldn’t concentrate. With the hyenas gone and the need to fight no longer present, adrenaline flowed out of him, leaving him hollowed out, nauseous until pain descended and shock started to settle in.

  He fought against blacking out and was only vaguely aware of Melina giving up the jaguar’s shape for a human one, of the Lion and Tiger padding over, sitting, their heads cocked as they listened while she and the man talked.

  Aryck struggled to full consciousness with the mention of the healer Rebekka. Despite the futility of it, he tried to change shape, failed even as the conversation ended and the man moved to his side and crouched next to him.

  Were, Aryck had time to think. Lion. And then darkness descended in a wave of agony as he was lifted off the ground.

  IT was backbreaking work, bending over each plant, not just to harvest but to check for disease and insects. Rebekka ached from it.

  A few plants in front of her a girl pulled a bug from a leaf and tossed it a short distance away. A bold mockingbird snatched the bug up before it could crawl away.

  The mockingbird wasn’t the only bird b
rought to the garden by the prospect of an easy meal. Robins dotted the aisles, waiting for a chance to dart in and snag an earthworm as children harvested small potatoes for the evening meal.

  Finches and sparrows of various types were equally plentiful, varying from shades of brown to gold. A lone male cardinal sat on a low tree branch, while higher up, two scrub jays began squawking and quarreling, the sound of it making the cardinal fly away.

  Rebekka stood to stretch the muscles of her back and take a moment to look over at where the younger children played on blankets or took naps, watched over by older girls and women on break. She’d taken her turn underneath the trees and out of the sun several times since coming to the garden with her mother to work.

  At midday everyone stopped for a lunch of bread, cheese, and fruit. She’d had a chance to play with the girls, to hold her mother’s new son.

  A different ache filled Rebekka as she thought about the children. When she was at the brothel she rarely allowed herself to dream of a husband or children. They had no place there. But here . . .

  She rubbed her chest, wished. But the feel of the amulet hidden by her shirt was a sharp reminder of the horror she could call to her and the answers she still needed if she was ever to be able to use her gift to free the Weres from life in the brothels.

  In the row next to Rebekka, her mother straightened, facing her. Chloe lifted her hand, shading her eyes.

  Around them, other women also stopped working. Several of those looking in the same direction as Chloe murmured to their neighbors, causing them to turn.

  Curious, Rebekka did the same and immediately knew what had caused the women’s reaction. They might be devout, married for the most part, but they weren’t blind.

  The man accompanying the Fellowship’s leader was physically beautiful. His presence reached across the distance and held them all spellbound.

  He wore homespun clothing, dark and somber, plain like Edom’s. But where a carved, wooden crucifix hung from a leather strap around the Fellowship leader’s neck, this man wore gold crosses in his ear-lobes. And instead of short hair, his was long and black, reminding her of Tir.

  “This is Brother Caphriel,” Edom said, the introduction carrying through the garden in a warm, powerful tone. “He is also Of The Sign, though his fellowship is far from here.”

  “Thank you for welcoming me among you,” Brother Caphriel said.

  His voice had an even more profound effect on the women and children than Edom’s had. They left their places, gathering like a flock to a shepherd.

  Rebekka didn’t fight when her mother’s hand closed around her upper arm, drawing her forward. Human, she thought as they neared Caphriel, maybe gifted in the same way as Edom was, with the innate ability to attract followers and hold them to him.

  The women and children murmured greetings. And as Caphriel offered each a personal smile, saw them individually, it was as if he were the sun and they were flowers soaking in his warmth.

  Rebekka was unnerved by what she witnessed, yet not quite unaffected by it. When his attention was finally on her she wanted to step away in equal measure to the desire to step forward.

  His eyes seemed to blaze when he looked to the spot where the hidden amulet touched her skin. “Speak with me, sister. I see you carry a heavy burden. Let me offer you a chance to be rid of it. Let me shine the light where darkness claims a part of your soul.”

  Next to him, Edom said, “God is a living god. He doesn’t have a body. Except us. We’re his hands and his mouth. We’re his way into this world.”

  “Amen,” the gathered said in refrain.

  “Let Brother Caphriel share The Word with you, Rebekka! Let him pray, so The Spirit might move on you!”

  Hands pushed Rebekka forward with an “Amen.” Bodies formed a wall, blocking any possibility of retreat.

  “Come, let us speak privately,” Caphriel said, turning away, separating himself from the crowd.

  Rebekka followed, not sure whether it was hope or fear, free will or hidden command, making her place herself in front of him.

  His eyes bored into her as though he could see the desires of her heart. “Brother Edom tells me you have a powerful gift for healing. But it’s not enough. Is it? You long for a family, a husband to love and be loved by. Children. A place to call home that is free of horror and full of peace.”

  Rebekka wet suddenly dry lips. “Yes.”

  “You can have those things. Brother Edom spoke to me about your mother as we came to the garden. I can sense she bears a tattoo, and you a similar one. I can guess the shameful nature of it.

  “There are those who embrace the scripture proclaiming the creator a gracious god, slow to anger and abounding in love. Forgiving wickedness, rebellion, and sin, though he doesn’t leave the guilty unpunished. For the sins of the parents, the children are punished to the third and fourth generation.”

  Goose bumps broke out on Rebekka’s skin as she remembered the policeman quoting similar words as justification for holding a child down and forcibly, painfully, leaving a mark that destroyed hope and possibility.

  Caphriel’s face warmed with compassion. “Forgive those who trespassed against you. They do not understand the nature of the Father. The god of the early days needed to be harsh to ensure his children were not led astray.”

  “And the god of the end days? Is he any less harsh?” Rebekka said, the words escaping unbidden, forced from her subconscious as a result of her encounters with Father Ursu and the witches, by the terrible fear resulting from the memories and dreams of the urchin. “I looked and there before me was a pale horse, and its rider was given power to kill by sword, famine, and plague, and by the wild beasts of the earth.”

  Caphriel threw back his head and his laughter was a burst of sunshine. “The end days aren’t yet upon us. There is no reason you can’t find what your mother has. Peace. Acceptance. Love to create and sustain a family.”

  His smile was glorious temptation. “I myself have a small gift for healing. I can remove the tattoo with a touch if you accept all that I offer. You will never have to worry about disrobing in the presence of others. You’ll never have to fear revealing your body to the man who claims your heart and being repudiated or turned away from in disgust.”

  Caphriel’s eyelids lowered. “The darkness I see in you is tied to your gift. Unless you rid yourself of it, death will follow in your wake.”

  The icy fear Rebekka had kept at bay since realizing the amulet offered some protection returned in cold waves. She couldn’t have spoken if she wanted to.

  Caphriel leaned forward, offered his hands. “You don’t have to live with such a burden. Pray with me, sister. Ask that your gift be made pure so you can go forward with peace in your soul and the knowledge you serve only a higher cause.”

  His voice held promise and conviction. His words tasted of happiness, sweet and infinitely tempting.

  Rebekka believed without question. Any prayer made in his presence would be answered. Her gift would be changed so she no longer had to fear calling sickness and plague to her.

  She lifted her hands toward his, only to hesitate. She was a child of the brothels, an inhabitant of a world where everything came at a cost.

  Brother Caphriel had seen some of what lay in her heart, but not all of it. If Edom spoke of her gift, then he also confided how and where she used it.

  “What about the outcast Weres? Will I still be able to heal them?”

  There was a subtle hardening of Caphriel’s face. “You can’t serve the light and the dark at the same time. If you want your soul and your body cleansed of the things setting you apart and causing you fear, then you must turn away from those who are damned. You must separate yourself completely from the path that being able to heal the Were outcasts places you on.”

  Levi’s image came to Rebekka’s mind. It was followed by Feliss’s, and Dorrit’s, and so many others’.

  Some of them were still in her life. Some gone, dead or their co
ntracts sold, or their debt to the vice lord paid.

  She couldn’t turn her back on those she’d come to care about, even if in coming here she’d learned the truth of her father, and knew he was the one who’d sent her to the Were brothels.

  The amulet bought her time to figure out who she could trust. Until then she had to trust herself to make the right choice, to do the right thing.

  “No,” she said, her hands falling back to her sides.

  Caphriel straightened and suddenly there was something terrifying about being in his presence. “So be it,” he said.

  The words rang with icy, unnerving finality. And the dread stirred to life by them remained with Rebekka through the return to her mother’s home and the evening meal. Lasted up until she saw Levi appear at the edge of the forest, beckoning for her to join him.

  Eleven

  REBEKKA blinked, hardly daring to believe it was Levi and not some apparition. How could he know she was here?

  Yet as she continued to stare, he didn’t disappear. If anything his gestures became more frantic.

  When he risked taking a step away from what little protection the trees provided, Rebekka signaled she was coming, sudden fear shoving aside her doubts and questions. The members of the Fellowship weren’t prone to violence but they weren’t avowed pacifists either.

  Levi was too close to their homes, too close to the women and children. A flaring of an amulet warning a Were was near would bring men with pitchforks and hoes, perhaps even with rifles.

  Chloe turned from the cabinet where she was putting away a dish she’d finished drying. Her gaze went immediately to the window.

  All semblance of peace left her expression. She’d met Levi once, the first time he’d escorted Rebekka across the Barrens. She knew what he was.

  A hasty glance over her shoulder, to where her husband was supervising the children as they helped him tend the snakes, conveyed Chloe’s nervousness, not for their safety, but at what Boden’s reaction would be if he caught Rebekka exposing his children to evil and wickedness.