Ana now realized more than ever she truly was a daughter of the Light, not the Dark. And to her relief, she had leaned toward the genetics of her mother, not her evil father.
With a grimace, Victor said, “And here you are. Again. When I tracked you down in that farmer’s field, I thought I had you. I saw the rainbow colors in your aura and knew you were of the Taqe. I was very disappointed. I knew then I had to kill you. When I fired my rifle at you, the female jaguar leaped in front of you and saved your life. Little did I know you’d survived a second time.” He frowned. “It was as if some greater power was shielding your energy signature from me. Years later, I realized that you had lived after I thought I’d killed you in that field. I had a vision one night and saw you leaving Peru on an airplane, but I didn’t know where you were being taken. I could not hunt you anymore because you were receiving protection that I couldn’t penetrate. But I knew someday you would show up here in Peru again. And you did. You were unveiled, and it was easy to track you down.
“So here we are a third time, facing one another.” Victor’s look sharpened, his eyes growing even colder. “Now, give me the box. Because, one way or another, you’re dying today, Ana. This is our final meeting. And I will be rid of you once and for all.”
Chapter 11
Ana cried out in anguish. The truth about her mother’s murder was a heavy burden. And her rage at this beast—her father—almost paralyzed her. She could barely stand the thought that she and Victor carried the same blood. Even as she realized just how much danger she was in, another part of her felt relief. So much made more sense now. Being adopted by John and Mary Rafael and raised in a loving household had made all the difference. That was why Ana had never tapped into the evil of her father’s genetics. Not ever! Her head swimming with colliding realizations, Ana couldn’t seem to control her breath. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she took a step back and hugged the box to her heart. “You don’t deserve this gemstone. It’s of the Light,” she said unsteadily.
Victor chuckled. “The sphere has no say about its owner. It will work no matter who touches it.” His voice grew harsher as he pointed at the box. “And I intend to find every one of the pieces and string that necklace together. Whoever wears it first will have the power and authority to rule this world.” His mouth twisted. “And that will be me, girl. Now, hand it over.”
All movement and sound ceased. Ana was again aware of the black emptiness in her father’s slitted eyes. She saw him raise the rifle. Felt the pounding of her heart, as if it would leap out of her chest. He was going to murder her, just as he’d murdered the beloved mother she’d never known. And then Ana felt the dizziness. She was beginning to shape-shift. But what could shape-shifting do to save her from this man’s bullet?
Victor’s finger brushed the trigger. Bringing the rifle to his shoulder, he situated the stock firmly against it. A wrenching disappointment flooded him as he prepared to shoot Ana in the head, but his lust for power won out. He did not want to take a chance of shooting the emerald sphere pressed to her breast. No, the piece was far too valuable, and he had to be careful, observant.
Just then his ears caught an unusual sound. Hesitating fractionally, he jerked a glance to the right.
In that second, a huge male jaguar hurtled toward him, claws outstretched, mouth open, fangs long and curved. Ready to fight.
Ana gave a startled cry. She was in the middle of a shape-shift when it happened. The magnificent jaguar exploded out of the jungle and leaped directly at Victor. Frozen, Ana saw her father pause briefly.
Because she was in the most vulnerable state, between a jaguar and human, Ana was paralyzed and could not move. Instead, she became a target.
Victor’s rifle roared, and Ana was lifted off her feet. She felt as if a fist had slammed into the center of her chest, just above where her hands clasped the box. The breath whooshed out of her mouth, and falling backward, she crashed to the jungle floor. Her hands flew outward, and the precious box tumbled into the mud near her head.
Something was wrong. Horribly wrong. Ana blinked, confused. Her vision began to go gray. She felt an odd, unexpected warmth rapidly spreading across her chest. Her fingers shook badly as she touched the numbed area there.
Senses heightened, she heard Victor scream. When she lifted her head, her breathing chaotic and forced, Ana saw the growling jaguar knock the sorcerer off his feet. The enraged cat’s snarling reverberated through the clearing as he swung a paw and savagely sliced her father’s exposed neck.
Ana saw blood spurt like a geyser out of the gaping wound in his throat. Her father fell back, unconscious. And then the cat turned, his green eyes connecting with hers. Instantly, the pinpoint black pupils enlarged, until Ana saw only a thin crescent of emerald surrounding them.
The jaguar had saved her life.
Her life.
Groaning, she felt the energy flowing out of her. Her father had succeeded. Surely the bullet in her chest would end her life. After all her monumental efforts to find herself, Ana felt a wave of sadness that her quest had come to this.
Numbly, she saw the cat walk up to her, its mouth open and panting. Was it going to kill her, as well as her father? She was already dying. Perhaps it would grab her by the throat and suffocate her. At this point, there was nothing she could do to defend herself. Her head fell back on the muddy ground.
Gasping for air, warm blood running through her fingers as she pressed her hand against her wound, Ana stared up into the cat’s ferocious green eyes. Every breath required a huge effort, and Ana could feel herself fading. Her legs grew cold and numb, a sign of impending death.
And then something happened.
The jaguar began to waver and fade, resembling the heat waves she would see on a hot summer day across an asphalt highway. To her amazement, the cat morphed and changed—into Mace Ridfort. He stood over her, his face contorted in anguish, his blue eyes fraught with terror. Terror for her.
What was going on here? Ana closed her eyes, finding the effort to breathe a terrible struggle. She had to concentrate on pulling oxygen into her lungs. Panting harshly, she battled to suck precious, life-giving air into her body. And then she felt Mace’s arms around her, drawing her against him. She was so weak now that her head lolled listlessly against the crook of his neck.
“Hold on, Ana. Hold on….” Mace whispered, his voice raw and unsteady. He placed one hand over her wound and pressed hard, trying to stop the bleeding. Ana’s arms fell weakly to her sides. She closed her eyes, every breath a strained gurgle. Oddly enough, she felt safe now—finally. Mace was here.
She had to be hallucinating. He’d been a jaguar moments before. How could that be? Victor was dead. That, at least, was true. But Mace, a jaguar? That had to be her weakened mind playing tricks on her.
She couldn’t worry about it now. She just closed her eyes and hoped she would wake up from this nightmare.
Mace jerked his head around. Panicked, he saw Ana’s blood flowing over his fingers. She couldn’t die! In the minute before he pounced upon the master sorcerer, he’d heard Victor say that she was the Light. That explained so much to him.
But he’d arrived too late. Too late! Ana was mortally wounded, dying. Tears burned in Mace’s eyes as he allowed all the love he had for her to flow into her.
He had to save her. And yet Mace knew it was beyond him to do so. Spying the wooden box nearby, he noticed the green-and-gold glow throbbing around it. This had to be the emerald sphere he’d always heard about. Mace looked down at Ana’s closed eyes. He understood she was the one who had found it. She was Taqe. Not Tupay, as he’d thought.
Oh, Great Mother Goddess! Help her! Save her! he called mentally to anyone from the Other Worlds who could hear his cry.
There was nothing he could do but hold Ana, rock her, whisper that he loved her. The blood purled through his fingers and her breath was shallow. Ana couldn’t leave him. No! No! Mace looked up at the temple and surrounding jungle. They were alone here.
His sobbing words were quickly absorbed by the greenery around them. Ana took fewer and fewer breaths. She no longer moaned or moved. Mace felt her going limp in his arms, her head lolling back. The light that had burned so brightly in her beautiful green eyes was dimming rapidly. She was slipping away from him!
“No!” Mace screamed hoarsely. “Take me instead. Take my life. She’s more important than I am.”
He wept, unashamed, and held Ana tightly.
Out of the corner of his eye, Mace saw movement in the temple doorway. He blinked back his tears as an older woman in a blue-and-white robe appeared. Mace didn’t know who she was—only that she was Taqe, with rainbow colors in her aura and a Vesica Piscis necklace. He felt sudden hope.
“Grandmother!” he cried. “Save Ana. Oh, Great Goddess, don’t take her away from me!”
Mace choked back sobs, his attention torn between Ana, whose breath was now barely perceptible, and the old woman, who seemed to float effortlessly just above the ground. She glided toward him, the look on her aged face one of concern. Mace watched as she hovered over the box. A green sphere slowly rose from it, suspended in the air before Mace.
“Place this healing sphere upon her wound, my son. Do it now.”
Without hesitation, he reached for the object. The instant his bloodied fingers curved around it, a jolt of white-hot energy shot up his arm and into him. He placed it against the small bullet hole in Ana’s chest and tried to stay calm.
Her face was white. Her eyes were open and distant. He felt her spirit leaving her, so he pressed the sphere more firmly against the oozing wound.
“Allow your love for her to travel into the sphere,” the woman gently advised him. “Love will call her back, my son. Only pure love has the power to return her to you.”
Mace choked again, nodded and closed his eyes. The sphere was red-hot in his palm as he held it against Ana’s lethal wound. He could feel her spirit lingering nearby, waiting and watching. Opening his heart, he allowed all his desire, his yearning, the sweetness he held for Ana, to flow out of him, down his arm, into his hand. His love went through the glowing sphere into her lifeless body. If only she would live. She had to! Mace started sobbing once more.
He felt the tentative, warm touch of the old woman’s hand on his shoulder.
“Call her back, my son. You know how to call her back.”
Ana heard the musical trickle of a nearby stream. It sounded as if the water were singing to her. The pleasant, soothing burbling became clearer as her awareness continued to expand. The next thing she felt was weight. The weight of her body. Ana slowly became aware that she was lying on something soft but supportive.
The melodic call of birds registered next. And finally the comforting warmth of a man’s hand gripping her own cool fingers.
There was a sense of utter peace within and around her. Exhausted by her efforts to become conscious, Ana lay there, content just to feel Mother Earth infusing her body with a tingling, life-giving energy.
Someone pressed a cool cloth to her brow. Ana could hear hushed voices. She strained to make them out, but whoever was talking was speaking in low tones. Was she in the another world? Was this how it felt to die and be reborn into spirit?
Ana remembered being shot. Remembered her father killing her. Strangely, though, there was no emotion attached to the evil deed. It was as if her life was running before her like a movie film, and she was reviewing the last hours.
Most surprising, she saw Mace turning from jaguar to man. He scooped her up after she was shot, holding her, cried for her to come back to him, telling her he loved her. There was a lot of emotion in that moment, and Ana felt her heart swell with fierce love in return.
Her lips parted and she took a deep, ragged breath into her lungs. Mace loved her as much as she loved him! The discovery was meltingly beautiful and infused Ana with a renewed desire to live.
She felt the man’s grip become more firm as oxygen flowed into her lungs once again. That cool cloth caressed her brow and her cheeks, removing the perspiration from her skin. The feeling of being love buoyed Ana, carried her and lifted her. With each breath she took, it was as if life itself was being pumped back into her chest. The delicious love she felt curled around her throbbing heart, and in her mind’s eye she saw a lovely, sparkling rose-colored energy flowing into that organ.
Love. She was loved. Like a thirsty sponge, Ana absorbed the purity of the sensation into herself. And with each wave that flowed through her, she became stronger.
She loved Mace. She had loved him from the moment she’d first met him on that airplane, Ana realized. And it was a love so deep and unfathomable that it fed her like a wellspring flowing from deep within the skin and bones of Mother Earth.
“Ana?” Mace whispered. He cautiously watched as color flooded into her face. Her skin flushed with life, and he tightened his hand around hers. He felt more than saw Grandmother Alaria, the elder, kneel down next to him, near Ana’s head. Earlier, Mace had been filled in on the Village of the Clouds, as well as those visiting this stronghold.
“Continue to allow your love to feed her, my son,” she coaxed. “You’re doing fine.” She laid her trembling hand on Ana’s smooth brow.
The moment Grandmother Alaria touched her, Mace felt a jolt of powerful energy flow through Ana and into himself. Though not uncomfortable, it was strong. This woman was much more than what she seemed. As he looked around the thatched hut, noting the gold woven rug upon the hard earthen floor, Mace knew that wherever they were, it wasn’t on earth. His training told him that. Moving his gaze back to Ana, he continued to hold her hand and watched as Grandmother Alaria sent healing energy into her. He received some of it by proxy, because he was gripping Ana’s damp, cool hand.
Silence enveloped them, but Mace was always aware of the small stream burbling happily just outside the door. The sound of birds calling to one another soothed his fractious state. His heart ached from the shock of almost losing Ana. Yet, now she was reviving. Mace had called back her spirit and somehow the emerald sphere had helped her return to him.
Ana was alive. And Mace knew, from the extent of her injury, she should have been dead.
“There,” Alaria said at last, seeming pleased, as she lifted her hand from Ana’s brow. “She’s back. Fully in her body once more.” She glanced tenderly at Mace and added, “You are exhausted, my son. Today you passed many tests, and moved higher in initiation as a result. Why not lie here at Ana’s side? Sleep with her. Hold her. When you both awaken on the morrow, all will be well.”
Mace nodded, his mouth working to hold back a fresh wave of tears. Alaria’s face glowed with such goodness. He had no idea whether this woman was pure spirit and assuming a human form for his benefit. The bottom line was that she had saved his Ana’s life, and he would always be grateful.
“Yes,” he struggled to say. “I will. Thank you for everything, Grandmother. Especially for Ana’s life. You have saved mine, too.”
Straightening slowly, Alaria smiled and patted his shoulder. “Ah, my son, what brought Ana back to us was your love for her. You called to her spirit the only way it can be called back—with pure love. But you will realize this over time. Now rest. You are tired to your core, and so is Ana. Both of you have been through rugged initiations, and you’ve survived them. Now it’s time to heal.”
Ana stirred. This time, all the sounds outside the hut were clear and present. The stream’s gurgle she remembered. The birds calling to one another gave her a sense of profound peace and of being swaddled in love. Ana pushed the light blanket away and opened her eyes.
The first thing she saw was Mace sitting on a three-legged wooden stool near her pallet, a cup of coffee in his hands. She was in a thatched hut of some kind, and a gold curtain had been pulled aside at the entrance.
Ana moved her attention back to Mace. His face was lined and tired looking, but a
slight smile crooked the corners of his delicious mouth.
As she slowly sat up, the blanket she was wrapped in pooled around her hips. Someone had dressed her in a soft white blouse. She wore pale pink cotton slacks, but her feet were bare. Her palm grazed the area where she’d been shot. Frowning, she moved her fingers in explanation.
“You’ve been healed, Ana,” Mace told her in a low, unsteady voice. “You’re going to live.” He saw her eyes widen and felt her relief.
Finally, she whispered, “It was so awful, Mace. I remember everything….” She wanted to dwell on the positive and not the terrifying last few hours.
“Where are we?” she asked in a hushed tone, her hand pressed over her heart. She couldn’t see any evidence that she’d been shot. It was as if it never happened.
Mace held the hot coffee toward her. He wasn’t sure if Ana was thirsty or hungry. “We’re here in the Village of the Clouds. It’s a special place, Ana, located in the Other Worlds. I heard of it during my training a long time ago, when I was very young. Grandmother Alaria and Grandfather Adaire filled me in after we arrived here. This is my first time here, and it’s a Taqe fortress where we are completely safe.”
Relishing the fragrant smell, Ana reached for the coffee. Being once more at the Village gave her a deep sense of security. She felt strong enough to hold the cup.
Their fingers met, and a warmth spread throughout her. Ana saw the love shining in Mace’s blue eyes—toward her. He loved her. The feeling radiated from him to her like the sun’s mighty rays. Ana felt incredibly protected and safe.
“Thank you for the coffee,” she murmured.
Mace grinned and watched her cautiously take a sip. “You’re welcome.”
He had so much to say to Ana, and yet he knew she was still adjusting to being fully in her physical body. Coming back from death wasn’t an easy transition. He understood it would take several days for Ana to feel whole, to feel “here” again. While he wanted to blurt out a ton of information, a million questions, Mace held himself in check and remained silent.
Dark Truth Page 16
