A dizziness washed through her as she exhaled the last deep breath. With her eyes closed, she began to see a flickering purple light in the center of her forehead—at her brow charka, or third eye. As the color swirled, moving like a whirlpool in a clockwise direction, Dana became less and less aware of her physical surroundings.
Dana no longer felt Chase’s warm, rough hand around her own. The thunder became distant. The wind no longer ruffled the damp, stringy hair plastered to her face and neck. Moving into the whirlpool of purple hues, Dana sensed lightness. The heaviness started to dissolve. And then she heard a vague popping sound. Suddenly, she was buoyant, like an escaping balloon, and ready to astral travel.
Dana got her bearings and switched to seeing through her astral eyes. Instead of the grainy green smudges of her night goggles, she saw the shapes and outlines of objects, including the living electromagnetic energy that throbbed around them. And she saw them four-dimensionally. The colors were many and varied, and it took her moments to recognize the wooden wall of the compound. First things first, however. Dana cloaked herself in a silver-white bubble of light for protection. It was energy armor that no one could penetrate. If there was a clairvoyant in that compound who was awake, he or she would not discover Dana skulking quietly among them.
Floating upward, she headed over the wall and drifted toward the buildings. She was searching for a particular energy signature, and she found it. The Storm Pipe had a blue auric field, to denote Father Sky and the thunder beings. Blue sky, blue energy. It was really very simple. Dana hovered near the wall and noted a bluish-white light flashing like a beacon within the compound. Moving forward like a feather in the breeze, Dana followed the light until she was just above the main lodge’s cedar shakes.
Dana scanned the area, but saw no one out on this miserable night. At least in astral form. Even though rain continued to fall more gently than before, she was impervious to it. The lightning had waned, too, although Dana saw cloud-to-cloud forks and flashes.
She could feel her heart beating hard, pumping heavily as if it were a pulsing cord connecting her physical body and her astral one. She felt no fear. Just anxious to see exactly where the pipe was located.
Because she was in a pure energy form, Dana was able to drift down through the roof of the lodge into the building. Walls were no deterrent to her entry or exit. As she did, Dana froze near the ceiling. Below, she saw Rogan Fast Horse with a man who was handcuffed to a large, central pole. Rogan struck him repeatedly with his balled fist. Dana watched as blood spurted out of the man’s broken nose and from his split lips. To her horror, she saw a dead woman nearby, her blond hair soaked in blood. Terror sizzled through Dana. There was nothing she could do to help the man, whoever he was.
She struggled with her shock and turned away from the traumatic scene. She couldn’t be diverted from her main goal. She had to find the Storm Pipe! Moving like a silent apparition, she floated through several walls, one after another, the blue light becoming brighter and more intense. As she slipped silently into a room halfway to the other end of the lodge, Dana finally saw the pipe. When she entered, it blazed with intense and swirling turquoise and cobalt colors, as if welcoming her.
Hovering over the pipe bag, the same one her mother had held and used for so many years, Dana felt a surge of raw emotion. The Storm Pipe was resting on an altar, the stem next to it. The door to the room was unlocked. Rogan must have felt very safe to allow it to be exposed like this, Dana thought.
She dared not speak to or touch the pipe. Dana knew it had bonded with someone in this compound. And if she did anything to trigger it, the owner would know and sound the alarm that an intruder was in the room. No, best to leave now.
She could hear Rogan’s shouts, flesh striking flesh, as she floated away from the lodge, and her stomach turned violently. She had to concentrate hard to memorize the layout of the buildings, and her head was beginning to ache. Where were the sentries? She saw none. There were no guards at the main gate, either. Chances were the awful weather had driven everyone inside.
Moving quickly, Dana left the compound and descended the cliff, very slowly and gently slipping back into her body. When her astral feet were locked into place with her physical ones, Dana let out a long, tremulous sigh. She squeezed Chase’s warm hand to let him know she was back.
Carefully turning toward him on the narrow ledge, Dana quickly shared what she’d seen. She spoke in hushed tones, her lips occasionally brushing his ear.
Chase scowled as she finished her report. The wind was starting to pick up again. In the distance, another thunder cell advanced down the mountain toward them. Cupping his hand to Dana’s ear, he asked, “Who were the man and woman with Rogan? Did you recognize either of them?”
Dana leaned against him, her hand resting against his damp chest. “I don’t know them. She’s dead, Chase. Half her skull is gone. It was awful.”
Slipping his arm around her, Chase drew Dana close. “Rogan did that. He’s damn dangerous,” he growled. “I’d sure like to know who his victims are.”
“I don’t know. I wish I did, but I don’t, Chase.”
“It’s okay. We need to move now. Maybe we can save this guy from Rogan. The pipe is first, though. We need to scale the wall, drop down on the north side of that main lodge and slip in the back door. While you’re retrieving the pipe, I’ll go and try to save this dude’s life.”
Dana gulped. Her heart was slamming into her rib cage. She was shaking—the aftermath of seeing the murdered woman and the bloody, violent scene, she was sure. “Y-yes. I’m ready. Are you?”
“It’s a go, woman of mine.” Chase turned to her. In a flash of nearby lightning, he saw her large, beautiful eyes. Dana’s lashes were thick, and he felt like spiraling into her lustrous gaze. “I want to kiss you…” he rasped. “For luck. For love…”
“Yes….” Dana met his mouth with a hunger that surprised her. As Chase’s lips joined hers, the restless, stormy, chaotic world around them ceased to exist. His strong fingers moved across her cheek, threaded through her damp hair and cradled her head. His breath was hot, his mouth hungry and restless as it melded with her own. Moaning, Dana matched the ferocity of his need for her. Chase’s returning groan vibrated through her like the rumble of thunder. It was a wonderful, sizzling sensation, and Dana absorbed it like the thirsty earth in need of rain.
For two years, the idea of sex and sharing herself with a man had never entered her consciousness. Not until now. Not until Chase Iron Hand had entered her life. As the wind rose, whipping around them, Dana realized how intense, yet how momentary, their kiss really was. They could be killed. Shuddering as she recalled the astral view she’d had of Rogan, Dana concentrated on Chase’s searing mouth, his lips taking her places she’d never been before. Her body ached to mate with him.
But it wouldn’t happen now…and maybe not ever. For they had a mission to carry out. As Dana broke their kiss, their breathing ragged, she understood the fragility of life as never before. This could be the last kiss they ever shared.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
WITHIN FIFTEEN MINUTES, Chase was up and over the high wooden wall. The timbers were each set in concrete on the edge of the cliff. Inside one wall, there were bracings every five feet to keep the wall upright and strong. When he jerked the knotted rope, Dana quickly followed and heaved herself upward. She had left her safety harness behind, which made the last few feet the most dangerous. They could not risk having the pitons being hammered in this close to the fence. Another storm was breaking over them, the wind tearing at her clothing. The pack on her back made the climb more difficult as the wind caught it. Dana ignored the buffeting. She had to focus. If her wet gloves slipped on the rope, she could fall three thousand feet to her death. As she tried to put that terrifying possibility out of her mind, she twisted the rope around her arm and pulled herself upward, closer and closer to the top. Time had halted. Rain slashed into her face, but the night goggles protected her eyes. Just
a few more feet…
A powerful gust slammed Dana against the rough wooden palisade. One of her hands slipped off the rope and she dangled precariously. The wind slapped her to the right and then the left. She was on a slowly moving pendulum, the dark chasm below illuminated by lightning flashes. A croak escaped her as she twisted.
“Dana!”
Chase’s harshly whispered command roared into her frantic mind. Gulping, Dana knew what she had to do. She had trained for this. She had to stop panicking! But as her fingers slipped down the knotted rope, Dana felt as if she was going to fall to her death. No! Oh, Great Spirit, no! Give me strength! Help me!
“Turn around!”
Chase’s deep, implacable order shattered through Dana. Another gust of wind struck, turning her so that her belly was flat against the wall. With a grunt, feeling her right arm weakening by the second, Dana threw her left hand upward. Her wet glove met the rope. Grab the knot! Groaning, her right shoulder burning like fire, Dana curled her fingers around a knot in the nylon. There.
She caught her breath and pressed her feet together on a lower knot, so that they took most of her weight. Her right shoulder burned so badly she felt it going numb. Had she torn her rotator cuff? Chase had always warned her about climbing with both arms, never just one, for fear of injuring a shoulder.
“Dana! Are you okay?”
His urgent tone now was like a slap in the face. Gasping and choking, the rain dripping down into her open mouth, Dana gurgled, “Yes! Give me a second….”
“Climb up now! You can’t hang there!”
Dana sprang into action. She knew if she didn’t get off this rope soon, she’d fall. Grunting, she made it up the last ten feet to Chase’s extended arm.
The moment his strong, steadying hand wrapped around hers, he hauled Dana up to the top of the wall, as if she were a leaf in the roaring wind.
She would have fallen off the narrow ledge of four-by-fours that braced two feet inside the wall so that the sharp points could deter visitors. The ledge ran the length of one wall as a strengthening device to keep it strong. And yet Chase perched easily upon it, his balance better than hers. Relief sheeted through her as he slid his arm around her waist. She carefully turned around on the narrow shelf. The wind howled, keeping her off balance. As she gripped Chase’s shoulder, her own right arm aching, Dana choked down her fear.
He dropped some coils of rope into the compound. “Squat here,” he rasped. “I’ll go down first. Then you come.”
Dana nodded, knowing they shouldn’t speak unless absolutely necessary. She crouched and gripped the top of the wall with her left hand. This allowed her right shoulder a brief respite as Chase dropped the rest of the rope and shimmied down inside the compound.
Thunder rolled and the stockade wall shivered. Chase held the rope taut. Maneuvering carefully, Dana made quick work of getting back to solid ground. The earth had never felt so good or stabilizing to her as she landed next to him. He quickly released the rope from the gaff hook that held it solidly on the top of the wall. They ran the short distance to the side of the cedar lodge.
Breathing raggedly, Dana rubbed her right shoulder, which was aching in earnest. But she couldn’t dwell on the pain. Flexing her fingers, she shucked off her wet, slippery gloves and stuffed them into a thigh pocket. Chase quickly pushed the coiled rope back into his pack, retrieved two pistols and handed one to her.
The pistol was heavy in Dana’s numb, wet fingers. Chase had schooled her for weeks on how to handle it, but her stomach turned at the idea of shooting someone. After seeing the murdered woman, and the man being brutally beaten, Dana knew Rogan would kill her if he caught her. She had to be ready to use the firearm.
Chase tiptoed along the edge of the building a ways, then lifted his hand. With her night goggles in place, Dana saw the signal and quickly moved forward to where he crouched.
“Okay,” he whispered, “let’s enter the back door of this lodge. We don’t know if Rogan is still in there. Can you feel his energy?”
Dana tried to concentrate. She hoped Chase didn’t know how much pain she was in. “I…Wait…” She made another attempt to focus, but it was impossible. Opening her eyes, she murmured, “I’m sorry, Chase, I can’t concentrate enough to find out for sure.”
“It’s okay.” Chase swallowed his disappointment. Psychic functioning hinged on many factors, and was easily blocked by stress. He knew Dana was upset over what she had seen—the murdered woman, and realizing the danger Rogan truly presented to them.
Chase reached out and squeezed her hand. “Okay, we’re going in. You get to the pipe. You get it in your pack and meet me at the gate.”
“But what about the man in there?” She strained to see Chase’s darkened features. Only when lightning flashed could she see the thin set of his mouth—a sign that he was all-business, all-military at the moment.
“I need to find Rogan. That’s my priority. We need a clear shot at getting to the front gates of this compound and then making a run for it down that road. That’s our plan. This guy—if he’s still alive—will slow us down.”
Sickened, but aware that Chase was right, Dana gave a jerky nod. They must get to the pipe immediately. She crawled along the edge of the lodge toward the door. When she wrapped her hand around the brass doorknob, it turned easily. Chase slipped inside and on down the narrow passage. Focusing her senses, and trying to ignore the pain in her shoulder, Dana started toward the area where she’d seen the pipe during her astral travels. When Chase headed in another direction, toward where she’d seen the man and the dead woman, she swallowed against a hard lump in her throat. Dana knew she had to concentrate on her part of this rescue.
The door to the small room, too, opened easily. The moment Dana stepped inside and saw the blue glow on the altar, she gasped. The Storm Pipe throbbed with such vibrancy that joy washed over her like a wave from the ocean. Quietly closing the door, she tiptoed forward. Just as she had seen in her astral travels, the pipe lay next to its wooden stem on the red cloth of the altar.
Dana shucked off the backpack and crouched before the altar. With shaking fingers she unzipped the bag. She could feel the pipe’s response to her being here. She knew it must recognize her as the daughter of a woman who had once carried it proudly for three-quarters of her life.
A memory flashed within Dana’s brain. She’d been barely ten years old when her mother, after meditating with the Storm Pipe one day, had come and settled the pipe bag into Dana’s thin, spindly arms. Cora had smiled and instructed her on how to carry the pipe—as if it were a much loved baby. Dana recalled the happiness and warmth she’d felt washing over her like a rainbow after a storm. It was the first time her mother had entrusted her with the ceremonial pipe. And even as a ten-year-old, Dana had realized the honor of even getting to hold it. Very few people ever got such a privilege.
She slowly unwound from her crouched position. Would the woman who’d bonded with the Storm Pipe feel her here? Would she come running for it? Panic joined fear as Dana’s hand hovered for a split second above the sacred object. She counted on it seeing her as a friend and not sounding the alarm. Would her mother’s years of caring for the Storm Pipe be enough for it to trust her, the daughter, now? She prayed to Cetan, the pipe she left at the hogan for safekeeping during this raid. Feeling the personal pipe respond energetically to her prayer for help, Dana steadied herself.
Closing her eyes, Dana focused her intent, mentally communicating with the pipe. She begged the spirit within it to remain quiet and not give away her position.
To her relief, Dana felt the pipe promise its silence. She imparted her next steps: rescue the pipe and bring it home. The moment she communicated the idea, a wave of delight seemed to roll through the room. That instantaneous, glad response brought tears to Dana’s eyes. Yes, the spirit would entrust itself to her; after all, she was the daughter of the woman who had cared for her for decades.
With the pipe’s allegiance settled, Dana wonder
ed about Rogan’s whereabouts. And was Chase safe? Feeling suddenly vulnerable, Dana gently slid her fingers around the pipe head. She retrieved a special, protective pouch from her pack and sheathed it inside. As she did so, a feeling of warmth moved through her fingers. Then a bolt of heat shot up her right arm and exploded through her shoulder.
For a moment, Dana was staggered by the sensation. The heat was so intense, she gasped. She realized belatedly that the pipe was sending healing energy to her aching shoulder.
She dropped to her knees in front of the open pack. But just as she felt relief, the lodge trembled from nearby lightning and thunder. It was a clear warning that she had to act. Her hands shook as she placed the pipe and pouch into an insulated pocket of her pack.
As she rose, she reached for the stem and slid it into a long sheepskin pouch. She tightened the drawstrings and settled it within her backpack for optimum protection.
Rain pelted the cedar of the lodge. Dana couldn’t hear anything except the pinging roar of the downpour. Was the current pipe carrier aware she had the Storm Pipe now? Dana knew that the owner of any pipe had an energetic link to it, an open line strung between them. Had the Storm Pipe turned off that connection?
As she zipped her pack shut and hefted it upward, Dana realized there was no more pain in her shoulder. Stunned by the unexpected miracle, she settled the straps into place.
Heart of the Storm Page 19
