Number of the Beast (Paladin Cycle, Book One)

by Lita Stone

  Her eyes lit with excitement and he couldn’t help smiling.

  “Tobias.” Her voice shook, either from pride or from fear of his reaction.

  Stroking the back of his hand down her cheek, he said, “Let’s keep Tobias our secret.”

  She took a step back. “I’m not crazy. Tobias is our--”

  He pressed a finger to her lips, shushing her. Choking back tears, he said, “Tobias.” Shane’s voice shook as he grumbled the name of the ‘man’ talking to his woman. Tobias the bitchass. “Tobias is our secret. So if you love me, you’ll drop this now. I really don’t want to hear anymore.” What he wanted more than anything was to dropkick Tobias like he’d done Private Sanders at the rec hall.

  Her fists balled by her side. “You don’t understand!”

  “I understand if you go around telling everybody that you hear voices...”

  “One voice,” she blurted.

  He sighed. “Okay. If you go around telling people you hear a voice...”

  Amy let out a huff. “Not ‘people’.” She made air quotes. “Just you.”

  With his head cocked, he smirked. “And Carmen?”

  Her brows furrowed, lips pursed. “She’s my best friend.”

  Holy fuck! Who was next? Roxy? Birch? Scooter? Her mother?

  Shane ran a hand over his head. Shaking a finger, he ground out, “If you go on like this, you’ll earn yourself a room at the asylum, right next door to your aunt.” Tears of frustration welled in his eyes. “You belong here with me, and Scooter and Alamo, not in a padded cell.”

  Amy glanced at the sky. “What do I do now?”

  Shane took her face in his hands and forced her to look at him. “Do nothing. I’m begging you.”

  Amy narrowed eyes. “I wasn’t talking to you.” She turned on her heel and strode toward the trailer.

  Hanging his head, he blew out a breath. The tears he’d struggled to keep at bay poured down his face. His fingers clenched into a tight fist. He eyed the trunk of a thick tree. Maybe if he broke every bone in his hand it would dull the pain of watching Amy walk away.

  “Fuck you, Tobias!” Gritting his teeth, he slammed his fist into the trunk…which should have broken at least a bone or two. Growling, he punched with the other fist. Raw skin covered the knuckles of both his hands but no broken bones.

  He turned and ran after her.

  Long, heavy strides.

  As she reached the trailer, he gripped her by the arm and swung her to face him. “Don’t ever turn your back on me…on us.”

  She shrugged out of his hold. “You think I’m crazy, just like most people in this podunk town. Tobias is the only one I can count on. You say you love me but when I confide in you, you turn on me.” A look of disgust contorted her face. “You don’t know how to love. Not even yourself.”

  Crushing his lips against hers, he pulled her against his body. His tongue invaded her mouth and she moaned, the sweetest, hottest sound he’d ever heard. Tears circled their joined lips. He heard her whimper and opened his eyes. Amy was crying too.

  He slid the screen door open. With his hands gripped on her ass, he lifted her off the ground and scooted her into the house. Shane lifted her shirt above her breasts. He pushed her against the living room wall and slid her up, until her groin was level with his hard cock.

  He drove inside her.

  “I’m not crazy.”

  “I know.” With his hands gripped on her narrow hips, he gazed at her face, smudged with teardrops and dirt.

  “Do you?”

  Shane nodded and nibbled on her shoulder-blade, inhaling her natural perfume combined with her oatmeal and honey soap.

  “I’m really, really not crazy,” she whispered against his lips. Her hands tangled in his hair.

  “Just shut up and fuck me.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Lynn opened her eyes and saw the empty room. Cold blood stains dotted the sheets while the sweet succulent aroma of fresh meat perfumed the air. A touch of divinity caressed through her body, starting at her core and stroking along her slender legs and her full breasts.

  She slinked from the bed. Hard wood beneath her delicate feet, she reached over her head, stretching her muscles to discover newfound agility. Looking into the full length mirror that hung on the black wardrobe, she saw something she had not seen in over two decades: erotically slender legs; a slimmed down tummy; and perfectly proportioned breasts. Even her black hair had a fresh sheen as if it had been rejuvenated by the Fountain of Youth.

  Instinctively, her tongue traced her lips as her hands explored her newly transformed body.

  She pressed her face close to the mirror. “I am Beast.” She licked the glass. “Hear me purr.”

  Musical notes caught her attention and her ears perked up. She felt the side of her head and realized her ears had literally twitched. The music came from afar but it sounded crystal clear: Bach Sonata No. 2 in E flat major for flute and harpsichord.

  In an uncanny swiftness, Lynn descended the spiraling staircase. Following her ears, she made her way through the home and down a long corridor with walls adorned with statues inside niches and authentic oil paintings of grotesque beasts and humanoids with strange alien faces.

  Large redwood doors swung open to a ballroom in dark shades. The gray walls were lined with gray statues, elaborately stain-etched floor to ceiling windows with a reinforced glass staircase ascending to a black marble balcony.

  Oblivious to Lynn’s presence, Ira twirled and whirled on the floor. Her beige off-the-shoulder evening dress flowed about her. A lacy shawl did little to conceal her small breasts peeking from her low-cut neckline. Atop her bald head she wore a black bonnet.

  The music beckoned Lynn. She had not danced since she was a child and her new muscles burned to be used and abused.

  “You are looking splendid m'lady.” Ira floated toward her.

  “I feel more alive than ever before.” She cast her eyes to the glass ceiling at least thirty feet above the dance floor. “And this ballroom...it’s beautiful and open. I feel so free. I wouldn’t have guessed this mansion could fit a room so large or corridors that seem to stretch for miles.”

  Ira giggled. “The house's exterior is only an illusion, Mistress. The inside of Master Isaac's home is not of this plane.”

  “How can that be?” Lynn asked.

  Ira twirled and rose into the air. The music crackled and from thin air Ira plucked a cello. From the balcony appeared shadowy figures holding flutes and a violinist. The phantom ensemble played a lonesome yet romantic sonata.

  Lynn’s new muscles slid her along the tile, with the grace of an Olympic figure skater. Alone on the dance floor, Lynn pirouetted and entrechat with ease and little effort, like she used to twenty years ago.

  The song ended and Ira clapped.

  Lynn bent at the waist. Straightening she asked, “Why does a Beast need such eloquent things?”

  “Master Isaac is not savage. Master appreciates the finer things that all worlds have to offer.”

  Lynn remembered her mother, or who she’d thought was her mother, and the many hours, days and years she’d spent teaching Lynn to dance. On the aged hardwood floor, in a living room probably the size of Isaac’s bathroom, she was taught ballet, the waltz and her favorite, the tango.

  Sunbeams filtered through high windows. Shards of glimmer streaked across the gray tile. But as wide open and spacious as the ballroom was, Lynn felt restricted, caged.

  “Does Isaac have a car?”

  Ira waved her hand toward a door in the corner of the ballroom. “It is in the garage down the long west wing corridor.”

  Lynn smiled. “Thank you for forcing me to eat. I’m feeling much better.” She stepped past Ira but Ira floated around and in front of her.

  “I want to see my mother,” Lynn said.

  Ira’s head shook. “That’s forbidden. I am sorry.”

  #

  Atticus lay face-down on the edge of Sera’s Pond. The fore
st once again replenished with vibrant chirping, hissing and cawing of wildlife, a welcome sanctuary compared to the nightmarish realm of the space-time warp.

  An celtic tune played somewhere beneath him. His phone. Atticus bolted upright and snatched his phone.

  “Atticus!’ Elder Cai’s voice was riddled with panic. “Where have you been, boy? I’ve attempted to call you several times with no response.”

  “I just spoke with you a few hours ago, Elder.”

  “It was yesterday when we last spoke. You’ve been unreachable for nearly twelve hours.”

  The time warp, Atticus thought. “I apologize.”

  “A Seeker located in Buckeye has discovered another possible attack by the Geminus.”

  #

  “To see my own mother is forbidden?” Lynn asked.

  “Now that you have a mate your surrogate mother is no longer safe to be around you or you to be around her. You must promise not to leave the manor without Master Isaac’s permission.”

  Lynn cringed at the dark. “I am not a prisoner in this mansion any longer. The walls and ceiling are closing in on me and I want out of here. If Isaac needs me so badly,” she purred and ran her hands down her body. “He can find me when he returns.”

  “No!” Ira sped around Lynn. Her arms flapped as if hailing a taxi. “You mustn’t, Mistress Lynn.”

  Lynn snarled, baring her elongated canines. “Back off spirit.” A strong scent fumed the air.

  Ira visibly shivered, phasing in and out. The wraith shrieked as she flew rapidly to the ceiling and dodged somewhere behind the balcony railings. She babbled a string of nonsense.

  When Ira poked her head over the balcony, she wore an old-fashioned gasmask. “Don’t leave the mansion, Mistress.”

  Lynn laughed. “Why are you wearing that ridiculous mask?”

  Ira remained on the balcony. “It is your essence, Mistress. It will drive a wraith insane.”

  Lynn licked her lips as she strolled out of the ballroom. Her senses heightened, she knew the strong aroma had come from her own body. She breathed deeply and savored the scent of her own pheromones.

  Lynn wandered down a corridor until she smelled motor oil behind a large double door.

  Inside was a multi-car garage.

  But Isaac’s car was locked and Lynn saw no keys inside, nor any switch or button to open the garage door.

  Ira drifted in after her. “Please, Mistress! Listen to me for your own good. It is not proper for you to return to your surrogate.”

  “Hush, you miserable ghost!”

  Lynn dashed past the wraith and through a labyrinth of corridors before she reached the front door.

  “Don’t go, Mistress Lynn!”

  But Lynn was already gone. With incredible speed she fled the estate. Her legs carried her faster than ever before, down the street, and onto a state road before she tore into the woods. Yet she did not slow down as she raced along the shadows of the cypresses and the ash. Moving so quickly, she hurled past a napping coyote then by a doe and her fawn who slept in a thorny bush.

  And when the sparse woods ended she was on another major highway. The sound of a growling diesel engine caught her attention. With her new keen sight she saw the biker speeding along the shadowy highway coming toward her.

  Immediately, she let the straps of her flimsy silk gown fall off her shoulders, baring her naked breasts.

  As intended, the biker slowed his rig when he noticed her. He brought it to a stop a few feet away from her on the shoulder of the highway. He removed his helmet and approached, a big happy grin.

  “Good God, woman. You got yourself one hell of a rack right there, baby. What the hell you doing out here like that?”

  Lynn moved slowly toward him. A growl purred from her lips.

  The man tossed his helmet to the roadside. He glanced around then back at her. “Mind if we step into the woods?”

  “I just want to take you right here, right now.” Lynn stepped closer.

  Again, he cast a glance up and down the quiet highway. A fist slugged Lynn across the cheek and a calloused hand grabbed her by the hair.

  He dragged her into the seclusion of the trees where he shoved her to the firm ground.

  He grabbed his zipper.

  Lynn stood and threw her arms around the barrel chested man.

  Then she wrapped her hands around his neck and sank her mouth into his throat. Her strangling fingers muffled his screams. When she jerked her mouth away, a chunk of his flesh came with it. As she watched the life drain from his eyes, she chewed and swallowed.

  She tore another chunk from the other side of his throat. Then allowed his body to fall to the ground.

  Ignoring the helmet, she mounted the motorcycle.

  As she sped away, the wind fluttered her hair and tickled her skin. She glanced at the wide-open sky, grateful to be free of the confines of that house. She leaned on the gas and threw her head back before howling at the evening sky.

  Forbidden or not, she had to see the woman who raised her at least one more time. And no one could stop her.

  Chapter Forty

  After they’d made love, Shane apologized for not believing her about the voice. He’d prefer she keep Tobias to herself, but that was a fight for another time.

  Amy was called in early for her second shift. The diner had got hit with another bus. Probably more damn tourists looking for evidence of the supernatural in Sacred Woods Forest.

  Amy told him she'd explain all about Tobias after work.

  Shane slapped her ass before she bounded down the steps. He could hardly wait, he had told her, and with any luck, she bought it.

  There had been a glimmer in her eyes and a glow about her body. She definitely believed this Tobias was a real person living in her head. Fuck.

  Shane spent the day working on his motorcycle, until he remembered he had to pick Scooter up from school.

  Twice a month a forever-mile long train passed through the center of town and today just had to be one of those days. The bells dinged and the bar lowered. Stuck behind two cars and a long-ass train, Shane grumbled to himself. He’d told Birch he’d meet him around three-thirty for a bike ride and he was already cutting it close at 2:45.

  With the way his day was going it wouldn’t surprise him one bit if Scooter wasn't waiting for him but rather stuffed in a locker or getting the ever living snot beat out of him. Shane slammed his fist into the steering wheel causing the horn to honk. A car behind him beeped its horn twice and Shane flipped them off.

  If only he could teach his brother to defend himself and not take crap from anyone, but the kid wouldn’t listen.

  Shane hadn’t wanted legal custody of his brother, but after his folks split and their mom went off the deep end he’d lucked out and gained guardianship of one Scott Philip Baker.

  And he’d not been worth a damn as a guardian.

  Scooter was a good kid—got good grades and stayed out of trouble. He didn’t deserve to get the piss beat out of him. Sad thing was, Scooter was just the type of kid Shane used to beat on when he was in school.

  Somehow, beating on other kids made Shane forget what a piece of shit he was, but it was like putting a bandage on an amputated limb. So Shane drank lots of booze, smoked lots of pot and fucked lots of girls. He had got real acquainted with Sheriff Rodney Bowden—minor enough shit. The U.S. Army had scooped his sorry ass up, shoved him into AIT and shipped him to the goddamn Middle-east.

  Nothing could bring Vicki back and nothing could right his wrong. He’d own it but he couldn’t fail Scooter, too.

  When the last of the train car passed, the bar lifted and Shane floored the gas pedal. Minutes, later he arrived at Buckeye High—or the BH as him and his buddies used to say. Three students stood on the grass, under the shade of an oak tree, waiting for their rides.

  No Scooter.

  Shane scanned the schoolyard across an open field and spotted his brother surrounded by a gang of boys in letterman jackets.

&nb
sp; “Fuck.” Shane pushed open the door and raced across the freshly mowed grass. He jumped a chain link fence and arrived just as a lard-ass kid shoved Scooter.

  “Fight me, you pussy.” Saliva squirted from the thick lips of the fatass bully.

  “Hold up, chief.” Shane stepped between the punk and Scooter. “You kids scram. Get the fuck outta here!”

  They scrambled, all except Fatass.

  “You’re a fucking pussy,” Fatass said. “Getting your big bad brother to fight for you.” The bully looked Shane up and down. “My dad said you’re working the rigs in Pecos ‘cause you couldn’t cut in the Army.”

  Shane clenched his fist, and glared at the kid. “Leave Scooter alone. Got it, asshole?”

  He snatched a Buckeye Vultures cap off the ground and with a dismissive flick of his hand, started off the field.

  Shane whistled at the kid. “And tell your daddy if he’s got shit to say about me, he should fucking say it to my face and not to his pussy-ass fatass son.”

  Shane clapped Scooter on the back. “For a genius you sure are a dumb fuck. Why would you take on all of them? Those guys would have kicked your ass inside out.”

  “They told me to meet them and I had to show. I mean I really had to show. They’re just losers who won’t make it into Ivy League schools. But I had to show them I wasn’t afraid.”

  “Well champ, in your case, looking like a pussy is better than being a bloody smear on the field. Come on Schwarzenegger, let's go home.”

  While walking toward the truck, another kid sprinted across the field. He wore a black T-shirt, baggy black pants, and his hair was gelled into spikes.

  “Now who’s this assclown?” Shane muttered. “Do I have to whoop his ass?”

  “That’s Zack.”

  Shane smirked. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “No!”

  At least a hundred degrees outside, Shane guessed, and not a drop of sweat anywhere on the kid’s body. He breathed naturally as if he’d just taken a leisurely stroll. Weird.

  Shane had met Zack for the first time at Scooter’s sixth birthday party. He’d thought Zack was an odd one way back then, but now the kid was just plain freaky. Sometimes he sent chills down Shane’s spine, a feat not many people in this world could accomplish.