Neal opened the door for him, Connie behind him. “Dio,” she said. “Look at her eyes.”
“She’ll be fine.”
“You’re covered in blood, Lukas,” Neal said.
“I had to fight Bernie. She saved me.” He headed toward his bedroom.
“Did you leave him alive?”
“Yes, but she clawed his eyes out. He intended to kill me. I think.” He paused on the stairs. “He hesitated. I don’t know why.”
Neal sighed. “I’ll start working on damage control.”
“She’s caught mid-shift,” Connie said.
“She’ll be fine.”
Once in his room, he removed all her clothes with the same care he used dressing her, leaving on her T-shirt and panties. The hawk in her didn’t like the clothing, but he wanted something to remind her she was human. He lay her in his bed and, after a quick wash during which he repeatedly put his head out of the bathroom door to check on her, he removed his own clothing to lie beside her. The moment his weight settled onto the mattress, she screamed a high “Kreeeahr,” a sound that should not have been able to come from a human throat. She thrashed and kicked until she landed on the floor. For a moment she lay there, arms moving restlessly in small wing-like movements.
He gathered her up in his arms, and she calmed.
“Peace, Liebling. Be calm, Engel. I am here. You are safe.” Calmer, yes, but little human lived behind the yellow-gold eyes that stared up at him.
He sat up against the headboard with Crissy in his lap, and pulled the blankets up around them. He kissed her temple, and she flinched.
“It’s me, Crissy, Lukas Baumann, who has waited for over five hundred years for you to come.”
She trembled, and her eyes flashed hazel. If he hadn’t been so close, he would have missed it. The hawk reasserted itself, and she struggled against him. This time he held her to keep her safe.
“You are safe. You are home. You have family now. Neal and Connie and Hugh, and dozens of other shifters who can’t wait to welcome you into our clan. We will never desert you.” He closed his eyes. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault. I couldn’t wait.”
For an hour, he held her, talking until his voice was little more than a rasp. She struggled less and less, and her hawk calls, subtle little “Kreees,” grew quieter.
“You’re home, Crissy.”
At last, exhausted from her struggle and her long flight, she tucked her head down against his chest. In the last moment before sleep took her, she croaked in a half-hawk, half-human voice, “Home.”
###
Crissy awoke to comfort and warmth, strong arms wrapped around her and her cheek nestled against Luke’s chest. Boneless, peaceful, she felt as if there would never be anything to worry about again in her life. Like an ordeal had ended.
Beside her, soft lamplight lit Luke’s face.
“There you are,” he said, his relief obvious.
“Home?”
“You’re home.”
They lay for some time while she worked out in her head what happened. Luke had the sense to stay quiet.
She said, “Real bird?”
“We don’t know for sure what happens, but many shifters say they have memories or a desire to be in certain places.”
“Meadow.” She frowned.
“Talking with your beast can be hard at first.”
She knew what she’d wanted. The hawk knew Crissy wanted a place to belong, and she was trying to make her happy. She took Crissy to the only place she knew of as home.
“I think my bear sometimes still thinks of me as a stubborn little cub who needs a swat now and then.”
“Cub?”
“Natural shifters can change from early childhood. We come out human, though.”
She actually giggled a little. “Cute?”
“I was fucking adorable. My mother and sisters and aunts all spoiled me.” He squeezed her. “You okay?”
“Bear. Eyes.”
“He was a shifter. Bernie. He’s healed already.”
She hadn’t cared at the time what happened to the bear. The bird saw a threat and attacked. Thankfully, a sense of urgency was its only emotion. No anger or rage, no killing glee. No filter of guilt or thoughts of consequences. Something needed to be done to protect Luke, and she did it.
“Bernie...” She choked on the word, and she burst into tears, all the drama of the previous days coming out in great, heaving sobs. Luke held her and whispered over and over, “I’m sorry, Liebchen. I’m sorry.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The clothes, jeans and a blouse, were bad enough, but the shoes felt wrong. She kicked them off for the third time while Luke saw to his own clothing. He stopped dressing for a second when they thunked against the floor.
Speech came and went. At the moment it went. “Sad?” was all she could manage.
Luke knelt before her and took a foot in each hand, rubbing his thumbs over the insteps to warm them. “No, Liebling. I’m worried that your feet will be cold.”
“Sad.”
He changed the subject. “Are you hungry?”
She managed a nod.
“Let me get dressed, and I’ll take you downstairs. We’re not going anywhere today, so forget the shoes.”
Luke had managed to help her to the toilet before she wet herself, helped her brush her teeth, and brushed her hair. She plucked at the bra he’d stuffed her into, trying to figure out how to remove it. The human part of her remembered a time when she got plastered and sat on her doorstep all night. She’d wanted to go inside, but she couldn’t remember how to open the door. She giggled. That was some kind of plastered.
Luke glanced up from where he was lacing his boots, a hopeful smile on his face. The human supplied another memory. “Naked?”
He laughed. “Not this time, Schatzi.” He rose and held out a hand to her. “Do you think you can walk on your own?”
She kicked her heels against the bed and shook her head. He bent over and took her elbow, lifting her. One halting step after another, with his hand still on her elbow, she managed to walk out to the hall. At the stairs he put an arm around her waist to help her. Mostly, he lowered her down each step. At the bottom she pushed his hand away and, with fierce concentration, walked the ten feet to the kitchen.
“That’s good,” he said. “You’re doing real good.”
She stumbled at the kitchen door, but he hovered behind her and prevented her falling. They made their slow way through the kitchen to the dining area under the watchful eye of Connie, who was cooking breakfast.
“What should we feed her?” Connie asked.
“A little of everything. She likes breakfast foods.”
Crissy stared at the plate they placed in front of her, possessing few words for the items there. Sausage! She grabbed the big link of Italian sausage in her fist and raised it to the side of her mouth, gnawing off a chunk. When she tried to swallow it whole, she choked. The human surfaced, and she spit the chunk onto her plate.
“Sorry. Sorry.” She wanted to weep.
Connie laughed, her blond ponytail bobbing. “Cara, after I first shifted, I licked food from my plate. You’re doing great considering what you’ve been through.”
Speech still came hard. “Not natural?”
“No. I had a shifter lover. I was one of the last humans successfully turned.” She made an exaggerated shudder. “When I think how close I came to death...”
Crissy picked up her fork and stared at it, looked down at her eggs, and stared some more. “Where now?”
“Italy, I guess. Three years after he turned me, he found his mate. Awkward. Thank goodness we never married. That would have really complicated things.”
Crissy wouldn’t have known what to say even if she could speak. She stared at her scrambled eggs some more. Her hand ached to pick them up and eat them without utensils.
“It’s no matter,” Connie said. “I now have three big lugs to take care of. Well, two now, I guess
.” She pinched some scrambled eggs from her own plate and put them in her mouth with a grin. “See. It’s okay. We’re all beasts here.”
“It’s okay,” Luke also said. “You need food more than you need manners right now.”
Crissy scooped up a handful of eggs and stuffed it into her mouth.
Neal walked in partway through breakfast but said nothing about her display, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “I’ve called Valerie. She’s coming down tomorrow. She promised to stay a month.” Neal came to the table with a plate in his hand. “She said she’d do the boundary magic while she’s here and teach Crissy a few things to get her started.”
Crissy turned to Luke.
“A witch,” Luke said.
“Dishes?”
“Dishes?” Connie laughed. “Yes. She was the Fiestaware lady. She’s my daughter,” Connie explained.
###
Crissy spent much of the day sitting on a chair in the dining area and staring out the back window, entranced by the colors and detail she could now see. Across the pasture, a quarter mile away, a squirrel scampered up the scaly bark of a pine. Every twig popped into focus on the bare apple trees, and she saw a score of small rodents scuttling about in the wintry yard.
Neal came for a while and leaned his slim hips against the edge of the table. “You’re lucky. Raptors have the best vision in the animal world.”
“Colors.”
“Yes. We believe they see shades we don’t.”
She nodded.
“Spring will be magnificent for you.”
She had to think about that. Spring. Leaves and flowers. She nodded again.
“You also have resistance to cold, enhanced strength, and remarkable hearing.”
“Mouse,” she said.
“Mouse?”
She pointed behind her over her shoulder.
Neal went to the sink and opened the cupboard underneath. “Yep, there’s a hole. Where’s Milton and Hairy when you need them?”
“Lazy cats.” That made her giggle again.
Luke, who was at her side the whole time, took her hand.
She turned her attention to him. “Missed you,” she whispered, and smiled for what felt like the first time in her life.
By the next afternoon, when Valerie arrived, Crissy could walk, though she still struggled with speech and things like forks and spoons and the toothbrush. She began to understand the seductive simplicity of life as a beast. Complex human thoughts and emotions were simply not in their wheelhouse. Life as a hawk offered few challenges beyond material needs, but she suspected in time she would grow bored. Vague memories of her hours listening to Bernie surfaced. The simple life had driven him mad.
“Not animals,” she said.
Luke stood by her side at the front room’s big picture window, watching Valerie’s car come up the drive. “Humans? In the car?”
She shook her head, frustrated. She wanted to tell him about Bernie, how she wouldn’t be human at all right now if he hadn’t sacrificed hours and hours trying to reach her, but the thoughts were too complex, the emotions too troubled for her to touch.
She must try to tell Luke one thing. “Bernie.”
“What about Bernie?”
The bird thought in pictures and basic concepts like “here” and “not here.” She dug deep. “Free. Me.”
“Free you from Bernie?”
She shook her head. “No. Bernie. Free. Me. Freed me.” There. He had to understand that.
“No, Crissy. You escaped.”
She shook her head vehemently. “Bernie.”
“But...why would he do that? He hates us.”
Outside, car doors slammed. “Franz. Cage.”
“Franz put you in a cage?”
“Yes. Forever. Bernie freed. Trees.” Her head reeled. This was the most she’d said in nearly a month.
He stared at her for a moment, mouth open slightly, and said, “Franz wanted to keep you in a cage forever, so Bernie set you free in some trees.”
“Yes!”
###
The earth shifted beneath Luke’s feet. The worldview he’d held for over five centuries cracked. Bernie not only did something to save a Baumann, he’d betrayed his brother in the process. He shook his head to clear it. She must be mistaken.
He didn’t hear the others enter until Neal said, “Luke!”
“Valerie,” he said, slowly at first, “you look wonderful.” She did. Witches were more like normal humans, but possessed many skills to keep themselves from aging. Valerie’s cap of sleek, brown hair still showed no gray, but small lines surrounded her eyes. A small woman with a youthful figure to begin with, the past fifty years had aged her by five.
He placed his palm at the small of Crissy’s back and guided her forward. “Meet my mate. Crissy Grady, this is Valerie LeBreton.”
Valerie put her hand out, but when Crissy stared down at it, she placed it on her forearm. She stepped forward to peer into Crissy’s eyes. “The beast is very close. A hawk or eagle?”
“Red-tailed hawk.”
Hugh thundered into the room, picked Valerie up by the waist and spun her around. “Firefly! You never write; you never call.”
“Put me down at once!” she said with a giggle. “You big oaf.”
He laughed and gave her a peck on the cheek before lowering her to her feet. She came to the middle of his chest. “Have you met Crissy?”
“We were just being introduced.”
Connie’s truck came up the drive, its big diesel engine rumbling. Instead of parking in the back, as she usually did, she left her vehicle at the front of the house and ran for the door.
“Mama!” Valerie said, tearing open the door.
The two women hugged and began chattering in rapid Italian.
At last, Valerie turned to Neal. “I can bind the beast by tonight.”
Luke spoke up. “Shouldn’t we first ask Crissy if that’s what she wants?”
“Is she in any state to make decisions for herself?” Valerie asked.
Luke turned to Neal, who said, “I think we’ve had quite enough of our making decisions for her.”
Crissy glanced among them like a panicked child, but he knew the woman was in there. “Explain it, Valerie.”
“Crissy?”
Crissy didn’t respond, though she stood straighter.
“I can bind the beast to weaken its influence over you. It will still talk to you, but you can choose not to listen. You won’t be able to shift at all, willing or not.” She shrugged. “The spell can be reversed whenever you’re ready.”
Finally, Crissy reacted, nodding.
“This will give you time to learn the skills to control the beast.” She smiled and put a hand on Crissy’s arm. “And I’ll teach you magic. Would you like that?”
“She’s not a four-year-old,” Luke growled.
Crissy looked up into his eyes. “No fly,” she whispered sadly. It broke his heart, but seconds later, she turned back to Valerie. “Bind.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Bernie followed Franz down the basement steps with leaden feet. It was always like this. Each time he had a great idea, he never worried about the consequences until they slapped him in the face. As they drew nearer Crissy’s empty cell, Bernie’s breaths grew shallow and his vision narrowed, black around the edges.
“What have you done?” Franz roared.
No use pretending. Only a handful of people knew about Crissy’s imprisonment in the basement cell, and only Bernie had a motive to release her.
He swallowed hard and said, “I let her go.”
Franz stared at Bernie for a full minute, his jaw tight, the keys to the cell fisted in his hand. Bernie knew this pose—Franz struggled to avoid violence. He could barely breathe, but Bernie stood his ground, his face burning.
In one swift move, Franz grabbed Bernie’s arm and thrust him through the open cell door. Bernie stumbled and hit his chest against the edge of the bed. The ce
ll door clanged behind him, followed by the clink of the keys and a resounding click.
“You’re losing your sanity again,” Franz said.
Bernie pushed himself to his feet and faced his brother. “I’ve not. I’m perfectly sane. I always have been.”
Franz grimaced in anger. “You know that’s not true. Only if the bear was in control would you do such a stupid, stupid thing. We needed her.”
Bernie stormed toward the bars, gripping them with each fist. “No. You’re too greedy. There was nothing we could trade her for that you really wanted. You would have kept her here for vengeance alone. You’re the one who’s insane.”
Franz gaped, taken off guard by Bernie’s verbal attack after centuries of submission. Then he visibly calmed, his shoulders relaxing. “Clearly, you’re on the verge of being lost to the bear. It is the only explanation for why you would act this way.”
“I’m not!” Bernie pulled at the bars, trying to shake them, but the heavy iron rods didn’t move.
Franz took a step back, and the two brothers stared each other down. Finally, Franz said, “You will remain here until you can prove you’ve come to your senses.” He turned on his heel and stepped away.
Bernie spun around, surveying the small cell. The twisted oak branch still hung in the corner. That and the bed were the only contents. It smelled of the musty scent of bird and droppings.
“At least get someone in here to clean the place!” he yelled as Franz turned the corner toward the stairs. “There’s bird shit all over the floor!”
Bernie brooded over his situation for several hours until Franz appeared with his second, Johann. While Franz stood outside the bars with a shotgun aimed through them, Johann carried in things to make Bernie more comfortable: clean blankets, a large jug of water, a portable commode, food, and an electric lantern. Bernie stood backed against the cold brick wall, mildly amused to watch burly, he-man Johann mop up bird droppings, scrub the walls, and remove the soiled bedding. He considered trying to overpower Johann and use him as a hostage, but in human form Bernie possessed only as much physical strength as any other shifter, and Franz would simply shoot the bear in the head. His odds of success were slim. Besides, he had no desire to go to war with Franz.
Runaway (Fox Ridge Shifters Book 1) Page 19
