by Jory Strong
Melina snarled. Her eyes held distrust and dislike. Her body telegraphed unwillingness but she obeyed Levi’s order.
Rebekka dismissed Melina’s behavior. She was well used to seeing those same emotions along with hate for all humans, including her, in some of the brothel prostitutes.
She knelt next to the male. His breathing was shallow, rapid.
There was a rip in his side, long enough, deep enough, he’d only barely escaped having his internal organs spill out. His fur was matted with blood, his legs and flank torn open.
Tendons and muscles were shredded. Bone glistened in the light provided by the fire.
Rebekka took a deep breath, calming and centering herself. She’d healed worse, much worse.
She refused to give in to the fear that had been with her since waking from the memory and dream of the urchin. Her fingers glanced over the hidden amulet. She had witch-provided protection. She trusted the Wainwrights that much at least.
Rebekka gathered her will to focus it, leaned forward, and placed her hands on either side of the broken bone, intending to concentrate her efforts there. But instead of a tingling in her fingertips, instead of the flowing warmth of her gift manifesting itself, there was only the feel of blood-caked fur and a body lacking heat.
Fear returned, swallowing Rebekka as Brother Caphriel’s image flashed into her mind, his hands outstretched, her own lifting in that instant when she was tempted by his voice, by the promise his words held.
Before utter panic could take her, another image forced the one in the Fellowship garden away. Of skeletal, bone-white hands offering the amulet, calling it protection for one with her gift.
Rebekka trembled so violently that Levi crouched down next to her, asked urgently, “What’s wrong?”
She couldn’t tell him, wasn’t sure she ever would. Her heart thundered and she knew all of them would hear it, just as they would all scent the terror gripping her. First that she’d lost her ability to heal Weres, and then, that she hadn’t, but to use her gift meant she would have to remove the amulet and risk calling the diseased to her.
Her breathing was little more than short pants. She felt as if she was running again from the maze, from the demon Abijah’s words, from the Church spies positioned outside the witches’ house. But there was no outrunning this nightmare. No escaping it. And watching the Jaguar die as a result of her cowardice would only add to it.
Rebekka lifted her hands away from his matted fur and took off the necklace, shaking so badly the beads woven into it clacked. She set it on the ground next to her, gasped as an ice flower bloomed immediately in her chest, while at the same time her fingers felt as though fire streaked through them.
It was similar, yet different than it had been before. But there was no time to consider it and give it meaning.
She gathered her will. Gripped the Jaguar’s legs again on either side of the crushed bone and torn skin.
Rather than come as a tingling sensation followed by a gentle blending of purpose and desire to heal, her gift came as a taking. As if she were nothing more than a tool, a conduit for a power rooted in the earth, something raw needing eyes and intelligence to focus it, and a soul to judge who was worthy of being touched by it.
Pain screamed through Rebekka, originating in her legs, her side and abdomen, the locations mirroring the Jaguar’s injuries. The shock of it made her try to jerk her hands away, to stop using her gift. But it was too late for that.
It was like standing against the flow of molten lava. And in her mind’s eye she saw her blood seeping into the amulet.
Red like the beads that were a part of it.
Red like those her father wore in his hair.
Perhaps not a power rooted in earth after all, but in the flames of a fiery hell.
It didn’t matter. Of one thing she was sure—her gift was meant to be used on the Were.
Rebekka stopped fighting and felt the rightness of the choice deep within. Her will flowed into the Jaguar, walling off enough of the pain so she could concentrate on healing him, recognizing as she did so that while her gift had come without any cost except for exhaustion before, that was changed now.
Pain sliced through icy numbness. The intensity of it overwhelmed Aryck, turning human and Jaguar souls away from the steady, strong pounding of the ancestors’ drums.
Heat followed. Flowing in and forming a wall. Blocking the shimmering pathway to the shadowlands and trapping his two earthly souls to the faint beat of a heart housed in flesh, denying them the possibility of joining the eternal soul in triumphant unity.
Slowly he grew more aware, Jaguar and man rolling and tumbling in the warmth, bathing in it as though it were a pool of water. For long moments both were content to remain submerged.
Strength came with the heat, a feeling of wholeness, rightness. Rich scent pervaded, lush and feminine and totally unfamiliar.
The Jaguar mentally sprawled on its back, playfully exposing its belly, making the man, the enforcer, struggle away from pure sensation and toward conscious thought.
Memory returned in bits and pieces, with the concentration of burn in his leg, the slow mending of bone and flesh.
Healer. The word came into sharp focus and Aryck forced jaguar eyes open. His beast soul purred in approval at the first sight of the woman kneeling next to him.
Mate. Not a word but a recognition by the Jaguar, a claiming that had Aryck snarling in denial, rejecting the possibility of it.
“Stay calm,” a man’s voice said, accompanying the command by positioning the barrel of a gun in front of Aryck’s face.
Behind him Aryck heard Melina’s hiss of fury, sensed movement, but it was halted by low, rumbling growls. Tiger and Lion. He remembered them now, racing ahead to attack the feral hyenas.
Aryck subsided, heart beating even faster when he realized the Jaguar was very content to lie still beneath the healer’s hands, to luxuriate in the heat spiraling into its body with her touch, connecting the two of them in a way that had the man anxious to shift form so he could heal the rest of his injuries and break away from her.
For the first time in memory Aryck felt a separation of self, his two earthly souls diverging rather than integrating, preparing to battle against each other for dominance instead of existing in seamless harmony.
Even now the Jaguar was noticing the Lion who smelled too human hovering protectively at the healer’s side. It wanted to warn him away from her, to press between them, crowding her into a corner where she could be kept apart from other males.
A low growl threatened to erupt, this time the Jaguar’s instead of the man’s. Aryck suppressed it, as alarmed by the Jaguar’s desire to guard a human female as he was by the unraveling of self. He forced rational thought to prevail over instinct, ruthlessly overpowering the Jaguar soul when animal possessiveness bled into human images of coupling.
The healer’s hands moved to his other leg. It was less badly damaged, the bone more broken than crushed.
Additional strength poured into Aryck. He focused inward, as if watching an unseen gauge slowly rise until it finally reached the place where he was well enough to shift.
Pain returned in a heartbeat, marking the transition between beast and man. It was a price Aryck paid willingly, thinking he could more easily repudiate the Jaguar’s claim of having settled on a mate. But the moment he saw the healer through human eyes, desire raked through his belly. She was beautiful with her dark brown hair and blue eyes, with her gentle features and body created for pleasure.
No, he silently snarled, denying his physical reaction to her. Denying the Jaguar’s need to assure itself she was okay when it noticed her trembling as she reached for a necklace on the ground next to her.
Aryck turned away and found the collar of clothing. He untied it and dressed with uncharacteristic haste for a Were who found no shame in nakedness or the evidence of desire.
He’d barely fastened his pants before Melina was there, her clothed body pressed to his,
rubbing against his erection as though claiming it for herself and publicly marking her territory. The Jaguar threatened to rise inside of Aryck and drive her away if the man didn’t do it.
At least in this his two souls were still in agreement. Aryck pulled her arms from around his neck and met her gaze with one ordering her back.
Her eyes flashed and her lips tightened. She obeyed, her face taking on an expression of disgust as she turned her attention to the healer and the man with her.
Had the healer not come, Aryck knew he would be dead and any hope for the cubs dead along with him. He’d heard the drums calling him and seen a pathway shimmer into existence. He’d felt the tug of the eternal soul anchored in the shadowlands, holding his place among the ancestors until his two Earth-bound souls joined with it there.
A thank-you was due before he spoke to the healer about the cubs. Aryck steeled himself against feeling the claw-sharp rake of lust as he turned to go to her.
Despite the Jaguar’s claim, she was not his mate. To want a human in that way was an invitation to become rogue and ultimately be made outcast.
He would rather die than have that fate befall him. He would never willingly live outside of a pack and away from Jaguar lands.
Twelve
TINY tremors continued to go through Rebekka but she was too exhausted to hang on to the terror that had flashed into her when the Jaguar sprang away. As soon as he’d ended their physical contact, the terrible coldness in her chest returned with swift vengeance, as if once freed from concentrating on healing the Were, her gift reached out, calling for the sick and injured to come and be healed.
She suppressed a whimper. More than anything she wanted to lie down and sink into a dreamless sleep. But she was afraid that small measure of peace would be denied her. She was afraid to sleep. To dream.
Levi’s silence bristled with worry. It radiated from him, shouting at her for an explanation about the amulet.
There’d be no avoiding conversation, though even if she wanted to confide everything, she couldn’t, not among strangers, nor even Cyrin and Canino. She wasn’t sure she would tell Levi at all. He carried enough burdens without her adding to them, especially now, when he was escorting his brother home.
From the day she’d found Levi nearly dead in the woods and healed him, then talked Dorrit into hiring him as a bouncer and guard so he could remain near the maze in the hopes of one day rescuing Cyrin, he’d sworn to protect her. He would put aside his chance to visit Lion lands if he thought she needed him.
“The Wainwright matriarch gave it to me for protection,” she said, answering Levi’s unspoken question as she looked up from spreading the blanket onto the floor.
His nostrils flared. He wanted to ask Against what and Why do you need it. She could see what it cost him to let it go.
“What did they require in exchange?”
He was careful, as she’d been, not to speak of witches.
“Nothing. I offered the pages I took from the Iberá estate first, hoping …”
She let her voice trail off, knowing Levi would finish the sentence by assuming a bad night at the brothel had driven her to the witches in an effort to learn how she could deepen her gift.
He relaxed. She expected him to scold her for leaving the safety of the brothel before he returned. He surprised her by saying, “You were right about Tir. He looks and smells fully human but he can’t be. He found us earlier in the day, before we encountered the Jaguars. The tattoos were gone. So was the collar around his neck. He told me you were with your mother.”
Rebekka’s breath caught as she thought of Brother Caphriel and how he’d reminded her of Tir. “How did he know I was there?”
Levi shrugged. “I don’t know. He wanted me to pass on a message. You no longer have to fear returning home, but in the event you need to stay on Araña’s boat, it’s available, though Rimmon’s protection covers only the Constellation.”
“And Araña?”
“Safe and away from Oakland.”
Rebekka sagged with relief. “It’s over then?”
Levi hesitated for only an instant. “I think so. Tir said he’d taken care of the threat to you personally. I believe him.”
Rebekka caught herself lifting her hand to touch the amulet but aborted the movement, not wanting to draw Levi’s attention to it. Her chest became tight with renewed uncertainty about the future.
She forced calm on herself. She could go home, or at least to the house she’d homesteaded in the gifted area. She had money to pay for food, enough to last until she better understood the change to her gift and whether she could safely return to the brothels—or if she dared trust the witches enough to tell them about the urchin’s visitation and ask for their help.
The Jaguar male joined them, crouching next to Rebekka. His posture was stiff, making her wonder if he felt beholden, or worried how to pay her. Before she could tell him she’d come at Levi’s request so there was no debt, he tossed several gold coins onto the blanket.
“For healing me,” he said. “Thank you.”
The timbre of his voice sent unexpected heat into her belly. Rebekka turned her head slightly, truly seeing his features for the first time.
He was dark, strong. Silky black hair framed a face that was breathtakingly masculine. Green eyes blazed with confidence and the underlying wildness that came with being purely Were.
A flutter went through her chest, an edgy awareness that had her hastily dropping her gaze in sudden confusion, then keeping it there in dismay at recognizing the signs of physical attraction. When he’d shifted form she’d barely noticed his nakedness before the icy chill exploded in her chest and she’d turned her attention to putting the amulet back on.
Rebekka hesitated, then reached out to scoop the coins up. They’d buy her time. They’d help buy Feliss’s freedom. The Jaguar stopped her with a hand around her wrist, sending her heart racing and an unwelcome blush to her cheeks.
Levi growled a warning. It was met by an answering one.
The Jaguar’s fingers tightened on her wrist. He pressed close enough for his body heat to envelope her and arrow downward to settle between her thighs.
“Please release me,” she said, pressing her legs together and wanting to deny his impact on her. He was pure Were. Worse, he had a mate.
The sound of her voice seemed to shake the Jaguar out of his instinctive predatory behavior. He freed her wrist and moved away, out of arm’s reach. “The coins are a token payment. I’m Aryck, the enforcer for my pack. You are Rebekka, the healer who works in the outcast brothels?”
She dared to look at the Jaguar again, embarrassed by the blush staining her cheeks from having reacted physically to him. “Yes.”
“I came to Oakland for you. Five of our cubs will die without your care.”
“Then they die,” Levi said, his cold words making Rebekka turn toward him in disbelief.
His expression was closed off. “I’ll escort you back to the red zone at first light. Cyrin and Canino can go on without me. To get to Jaguar lands you have to pass through Wolf territory. They’ll kill you on sight. No human is allowed there.”
He challenged Aryck with a stare. “Or can you guarantee her safety both coming and going?”
“There are no guarantees. Only the promise of more coins.”
Rebekka wavered, knowing there was often little difference between courage and foolishness. But to turn away from helping cubs—children—and let them die. “What’s wrong with the cubs?”
“It doesn’t matter, Rebekka,” Levi said, taking her hand, squeezing. “Say no without hearing the details. They’ll only haunt you. Think of all those in the brothels who rely on you.”
“Outcasts,” the female Jaguar spat. The derision contained in the single utterance said the cubs’ lives were more valuable than a city full of those shunned by the pure Were.
Aryck’s fingers curled around Rebekka’s upper arm. Possessive. Commanding. Sending heat spreading through
her belly and shame into her heart. Without her noticing it he’d moved next to her again, so close his scent and presence seemed to wrap around her like a blanket.
She tried to pull away but his grip only tightened. “They’re being eaten alive by something humans created, a weapon left over from the days of The Last War. Even if our healer could find a way to stop the spread of whatever is consuming the cubs, infection will take them or they’ll survive so scarred they’ll wish they’d been allowed to die.”
Aryck’s voice was little more than a growl yet Rebekka heard horror in it, as well as a pain so acute it had turned to fury. The journal she’d taken from the witches in payment became a heavy weight in her pocket. There were accounts of such weapons in it.
The Were healer had called it bio-nanite technology, writing about organisms bound to programmable machines that locked onto their targets genetically. Hundreds of those in his care had died before he found a way to counter it with a combination of plant extracts that could be made into a wash to halt the spread of destruction. Hundreds more had died afterward from infection—or suicide when they rose from makeshift hospital beds and saw what they’d become.
Choices, Rebekka thought. Had the witches somehow known she’d be presented with this one? Was it a test to see if she would turn her back on the outcasts in favor of going to aid the pure Weres? And the price she would pay if she did—her own death?
It was safe to go home. Tir had seen to it. She could heal those in the brothels with the greatest need, taking off the amulet long enough to do it. She could give the recipe for the wash to Aryck. But if the damage was already too extensive, the infection too pervasive …
The thought of children suffering and dying tormented Rebekka, stirred her compassion and her conscience, touched the place inside her that longed for a family of her own. She healed the prostitutes so they could be abused and injured again, but with the cubs, she could make a real difference in their lives.
“I’ll go with you,” she told Aryck.
“I’ll accompany you,” Levi said.
“Not into Jaguar lands,” Aryck said, a deep growl in his voice. “Not unless you can shift to lion form and prove you’re not outcast. You smell almost completely human.”
