The Beholder

by Connie Hall

  “Well, well, what have we here?” His deep voice rumbled loud enough that she felt the vibration in her own chest. He prowled closer on massive paws. “A little do-gooder.”

  Nina gulped past the sudden dryness in her throat. Remain calm, assertive, show him you’re not afraid. She forced a smile right back at him, though her cheeks felt disembodied and plastic, and her lips must surely crack any second.

  “Just cleaning up your handiwork.” She tried to sound as cold-blooded as he had, though she was certain a drop of fear had slipped into her words.

  The flames in his eyes narrowed the slightest bit, cunning burning bright in them. “I clean up my own plate.” He ran his long tongue around his mouth.

  Staring into his eyes was like looking into a bonfire. They both held the same hypnotic power. So this was how he lured victims to their death. She avoided his eyes as she said, “Not this time. You’ve been sloppy.”

  “I’ll admit, I didn’t expect the Brayville sheriff’s department to be so prompt in arriving. But look what it brought me.” He raised his flat black nose, and his nostrils quivered as he sniffed. “I smell human, but wait…” His nostrils flared, then he said, “You smell pagan. What are you, witch, conjurer, fairy, angel? They all work for me. Hmm! Your scent is different, inviting. But I think it’s poisonous if you wish it to be.”

  “How perceptive of you.” Nina didn’t let her gaze waver from his nose. Here was where a poker face held the difference between life and death.

  He slowly crept toward her, his eyes calculating, assessing. “Hmm! I’m guessing you’re a siren of some sort.”

  “Wrong, sorry.” She jammed her hands on her hips while scanning the area for an escape route. The path she had been on swerved to the right.

  “Maybe it’s time to find out.” He bared his teeth in a wicked sneer; then he crouched to spring.

  Before Nina could react, a roar thundered and shook the very ground beneath her feet. A seniph, in lion form, lunged out of the woods. An enormous furry body sailed past her.

  The seniph landed on the gleaner with a loud thwack, solid walls of flesh hitting.

  Nina staggered back, mind reeling, heart racing. She took cover behind some trees.

  The creatures tore into each other. She kept her gaze on the seniph. He was even larger than the gleaner. He fought more aggressively, too. The gleaner had a hard time fending him off. She glimpsed familiar vivid green eyes. The seniph from Brayville?

  Nina didn’t know which was more frightening, the seniph or the gleaner.

  In all her dealings with shifters and animals, she’d never seen a more violent struggle for survival, all bared fangs, claws and tearing flesh. The two lions balanced on their hind legs, front paws locked in an unnatural human way, going for each other’s throats. Their thick manes were the only protection they had, and in the gleaner’s case it didn’t seem to help.

  The gleaner had taken more bites from the seniph, and deep gashes covered its fur. It struggled to hold its own. No blood poured from the wounds; gleaners didn’t bleed. Their blood disintegrated as soon as it touched the air. And it took them only twenty-four hours to regenerate and heal, unlike regular seniphs, who healed faster than humans, but not half as quickly as a gleaner. In order to wipe out a gleaner, you had to stop its heart or cut off its head. A lot like vampires.

  The seniph sensed his weakening opponent and used his weight to thrust the gleaner to the ground. In a second, he covered the gleaner, his massive weight pinning the gleaner’s spine to the ground.

  The seniph raised his mouth to rip out the gleaner’s throat, saliva and blood dripping from his formidable fangs. But he paused, shaking his head in fury, as though his conscience warred with his animal instincts. His green eyes narrowed and looked expressly human and odd embedded in his lion features. He opened his jaws wider to bite, but instead of delivering the coup de grâce, he let out an enraged roar.

  Nina felt the tremor of it inside her chest.

  At the seniph’s hesitation, the gleaner saw his chance and bit the seniph in the shoulder, gouging flesh.

  The seniph growled out in pain.

  The gleaner bit again and again as it rolled the seniph off with a twist of its body. Once free, it staggered into the woods. Then it broke into a limping gallop and disappeared into the forest.

  Nina couldn’t figure out why the gleaner hadn’t fried the seniph, or why the seniph had hesitated in finishing off the gleaner. The seniph lay on the ground, unmoving, bleeding. His own hesitation might have cost him his life.

  Since he’d saved her, Nina wanted to check on him, but the gleaner was getting away. She followed the fresh shiver trail of pain and anger the gleaner left in his wake and went after him. Now that he was wounded, he would be the hunted. How quickly the tide had turned, thanks to the seniph. She spared him one final glance over her shoulder, then shoved her way past the thick branches of a pine tree.

  Kane’s shoulder and arm throbbed as he heard a branch crack. He smelled the woman before he spied her skulking off into the woods. The little idiot was pursuing Ethan.

  She’d get herself killed. Maybe she believed that now Ethan was wounded she might get the upper hand. Did she really think she had a chance against a gleaner?

  She might not be as fragile as he thought. Maybe she could kill Ethan. Kane didn’t want his brother destroyed. It wasn’t Ethan doing the killing, but the gleaner. No, the brother he knew, the one he cared for, was in there somewhere. And if he needed proof of that, he’d witnessed it moments ago. Ethan could have killed Kane easily with his power, but he hadn’t. Ethan cared for him, Kane was certain of it. He would never believe Ethan was all monster.

  Kane would give anything to have traded places with his brother. He’d been only twenty when Ethan showed signs of gleanerism. They had seventeen great years together; they were closer than two brothers had ever been. But when Ethan showed signs of the sickness, it all had soured. And in saving Ethan’s life, Kane had betrayed his father’s trust. When Nelson Byron Van Cleave lay on his deathbed, he whispered in Kane’s ear, “This family was cursed the day you were born.” How those words had tortured Kane. His father’s prediction had come to pass, for everyone Kane had ever cared about, he’d destroyed or disappointed. The guilt of not being able to do something to help Ethan would always be Kane’s burden to carry. But it was in his power to save Ethan again, and he had to try.

  What possessed Ethan to return home and stir up so much trouble? It was sheer folly. Once the council learned of a gleaner being in the area, they’d assume Ethan was back. He’d be hunted down and slaughtered, if Kane didn’t find him first.

  What irritated Kane more was that the human had watched as he spared Ethan’s life. She was an eyewitness to his one Achilles’ heel, and if the council found out, not only would Ethan lose his life, but Kane, too. And Arwan might be dragged into it. Not to mention the meddling human.

  Something had brought her to the Baldoon farm, but what? What kind of powers did she possess? He’d seen her stand up near the animal corpses, facing them, her expression one of fixed concentration, then she’d gazed up at the night sky as if seeing a vision meant for her eyes only. He had no idea what she was doing. Then he’d tracked her down the path where she’d walked right to Emma Baldoon’s ashes, as if she knew where Ethan had killed her. The human had worn the same absorbed rictus on her face as before, as if she had been experiencing something preternatural. Whatever her power, he promised himself she would rue the day she came to Brayville or anywhere near it.

  Despite the flesh wounds, Kane rolled over and up onto his feet. He licked the blood from his shoulder and front leg, then slunk off into the forest. He’d have to find the woman and Ethan. Damn them both!

  Nina paused to catch her breath. She sat on one of many rocks that jutted into a secluded ravine and branched out over a waterfall. Solid icicles clung to the rocks and hung in long, sparkling rivulets below her and above her. Oaks and hickories crowded the rocks, t
heir naked boughs bent and twisted and grasping at the promise of spring. She might have enjoyed the serene beauty, if she hadn’t felt totally disoriented, lost and freezing.

  The sleet had turned to a fine snow. Her breath formed white clouds around her head. She brought a hand up to shield her eyes from the flakes that the wind whipped at her face. The cold went right through her wool gloves, and she had to keep her hands in her pocket. Even so, she couldn’t feel the tips of her fingers…or, for that matter, her toes. The hood on her coat did little to keep her face and cheeks and neck warm, and she felt the ice chaffing them raw.

  Not to mention she had lost the gleaner’s trail. Nothing stirred her thought processes. She couldn’t pick up one sensation, one feeling, one vibration. It was as if the gleaner had vanished off the face of the earth. He must be using his gleaner cloaking powers. A sort of gleaner camouflage, a chameleon’s trick, only more deadly, for it made finding them almost impossible. Flitter demons were capable of the same wiles. When her grandmother had been the Guardian, Nina had helped Meikoda track them. They were crafty killers, even worse than gleaners, because they could hide inside a human body. Flitter demons possessed a person, forced them to commit suicide, then took the soul and moved on to their next victim. It was hit or miss with flitter demons. If they were already entrenched in a human, they hid their emotions within the human’s mind, and Nina had been no help to Meikoda at all. Sometimes Nina could discover them if they were moving from one body to another by concentrating really hard. Maybe she could do the same thing to track the gleaner.

  She closed her eyes and concentrated. Something didn’t feel quite right. Something heavy stirred the air where it shouldn’t be moving. A breath maybe. A pair of eyes. The feeling of being hunted.

  Her skin crawled as she opened her eyes and locked gazes with the seniph.

  She gulped in air, every nerve in her body prickling. He was still in lion form, perched on a rock above her head, a commanding leonine predatory figure in the driving snow. He stood across the waterfall, about twenty-five feet away, jungle-green eyes narrowed on her, teeth bared. Even though he was yards away, he looked massive. His chest and body were so thick with muscle, his skin quivered with every breath.

  She spotted caked bloodstains from the wound on his shoulder and front leg. The lesions appeared deep and open. By all rights, he shouldn’t have been able to stand, much less track her. The main question was whether he could jump far enough to attack her. Those vivid green eyes paralyzed her. The black pupils narrowed like blade edges, daring her to stir. She was afraid to even blink. So this was how his prey felt.

  Suddenly he leaped over the waterfall, sailing gracefully through the air as if he had wings.

  She wheeled and jumped up and ran, slipping on the ice-covered rocky mountainside. Branches snatched at her pants, coat and face. A deer path led to the right, and she sprinted that way, heart hammering, adrenaline coursing through her body.

  Thump! The seniph landed on the rock where she’d just been sitting.

  The violent images of the fight between the seniph and the gleaner flooded her. She couldn’t bring herself to stop running.

  “If you make me come after you, you’ll regret it.” The deep bellow thundered through the woods, his closeness startling her.

  She slipped on some icy leaves, lost her footing and slid straight down. A limb came out of nowhere. Before she could react, her head plowed into it. For a second, a vision of her flesh being torn to bits by huge fangs flashed before her eyes, then blessed darkness took her far away.

  Kane saw the woman’s head crack into a maple limb. Then she crumpled, her limp body rolling and bouncing down the mountain.

  In three long strides, he chomped down on the back of her coat, dug his claws into the ground and instantly stopped her fall. The material ripped. A piece stuck inside his mouth. He spit out the wool, irritated at having to track her and chase her. Because of her, Ethan had cloaked himself and could only be found if he allowed it. Though the human had somehow followed Ethan until she lost his trail. What type of magic allowed her to track gleaners?

  He gazed down at the hole he’d left in the coat. He’d severed it, lining and all. She was lying on her belly, half her back exposed. Her baggy blue sweater had ridden up her spine, exposing a ten-inch expanse of what looked like two pairs of white long johns. Was she wearing long johns under her pants, too? If so, her legs were too slender, even with the layers of material around them. Her low-top hiking boots were caked with snow. She was small for a woman and fragile looking, way too thin to suit his taste. He could snap her bones with one good swipe of his paw.

  He tugged on the sleeve of her coat and rolled her over. Her long hair covered her face in jumbles of thick strands. He used an extended claw to gently swipe aside the thick jet-black hair, then stared down at her face. A large bruise was forming in the middle of her high forehead. He hadn’t noticed from their first encounter, but she had a girlish face and soft rosebud lips. Impossibly long dark lashes, too. Her features were delicate, almost ethereal, and there was an air of purity about her that grated against him. There was nothing innocent about her intentions. Something had brought her to the area, and she had foolishly followed Ethan. Most humans would have run in the opposite direction. Not this female.

  In animal form his senses were heightened, and he could hear her heart beating, every pulse point in her body drumming softly. Her mouth was open, and tiny clouds of her breath condensed in the air. He bent down, feeling the tips of his whiskers brushing her cheek. The sensation sent an awareness of her that made an eyebrow raise and his blood quicken.

  He wanted to pull back, but he found himself moving in closer to suck in her breath, absorb her essence. Her scent was far different than that of most human females. Sweet and tempting, fey to be sure. She definitely gave off a supernatural impression, an enchanted vibe he couldn’t figure out. Whatever it was, he found it fascinating and impossible to ignore. It was like being pulled by a leash, or feeling the hypnotizing tug of a full moon. It touched something primal in him, stirred a reckless yearning to fill himself with her. He hated being drawn to her, for he knew what might happen if he totally gave in to his urges.

  He broke her spell by shaking his head. She’d actually made him salivate, and droplets of saliva went flying from his lips. He licked his mouth and came to a decision.

  He knew he was stronger in shifter form and could cover more ground. He stretched out his legs, morphing his hips and shoulder joints. Skin stretched, tendons popped and muscles writhed as he stood upright. He bent and scooped her up into his arms. It surprised him how little she weighed. She hardly put a strain on his wounded shoulder and arm. He ran back up the mountain with ease, trying to ignore the small and helpless way she rocked in his arms. He wished she hadn’t come near him or Ethan.

  In frustration, he threw back his head and let out a roar. The sound echoed through the mountains and carried for miles. He hoped Ethan got the message: contact him in some way. Why hadn’t he trusted Kane enough to seek him out, rather than hide from him? Didn’t he know all Kane wanted to do was help? Kane felt that familiar emptiness in his heart when he thought of Ethan, and before he could stop himself he was bending down to sniff the human’s hair. Her scent was like a balm, and he let it wash over him.

  Chapter 4

  Charles Billingsly, Kane’s butler, held ice on the woman’s forehead while Kane searched through the belongings that he’d taken from her car. Charles, a seniph, was pencil thin. His balding pate glistened in the lights. Freckles dotted his nose, and his gray goatee and mustache were trimmed with mechanical precision. He managed Kane’s home, Lionsgate, and its staff with the same meticulousness. Charles insured Kane’s privacy was never infringed upon. Sometimes Kane wouldn’t see a maid or gardener for weeks on end. Kane didn’t know how Charles managed it, but he liked that the staff stayed well away from him and out of harm’s way.

  Ever since Kane could remember, Charles had worked a
t Lionsgate. Charles’s family took pride in having served the Van Cleaves for over three hundred years in the capacity of butlers, maids, gardeners and chauffeurs. Charles’s wife did all the cooking on the estate, and his three sons supervised the vineyard and the making of the wine. Running a vineyard and an estate was truly a family affair, and Charles and his relatives were the closest thing Kane had to family, though he’d never allowed himself to get too close, for their own good.

  Charles was the only person Kane permitted to cross that line. The butler had been there for Kane during the death of his parents, Ethan’s disease and finally Kane’s own reckless descent. He was loyal to a fault, would do anything asked of him and didn’t seem afraid of Kane as others in the pride were. He’d always been a bulwark in Kane’s life, the one person with whom Kane shared his true feelings.

  Kane scowled over at Charles. An eager-to-please expression rarely left the servant’s face, but at the moment he didn’t look at all enthused about his task. He held the ice on the woman’s forehead with two fingers while he kept a wary eye on her as if she were a sea hag about to rise out of the water.

  Charles studied the woman’s face. “There’s something weird about her. Can you feel it?”

  Kane paused from rummaging through the pockets of her torn coat. Nothing there but old tissues. He was glad that someone else experienced the odd attraction, and the allure he felt wasn’t just his imagination. “Yes. What do you think it is?”

  “Clearly magic of some sort. She appears human, but there’s a definite enchantment about her.” Charles bent and sniffed. “It’s strong, too. I can feel the pull all the way to my insides.”

  “Me, too,” Kane said, tossing aside the coat.

  Charles bent lower, placing his nose above her face. Being that close to her caused the butler’s stiff guards to come tumbling down, and a silly grin broke over his face. “What is it about her that makes you want to rub up against her and lick her? Kinda like taking a bath in warm crème. Good grief, she smells delectable….” Charles’s tongue flicked out, his fangs flashing.