The healing woman nodded. “Yes, Father Superior.”
“Then it is time to discuss the price.”
The witch’s last words came back to the healing woman, and she turned white. “Price?”
He unfolded his left hand from his sleeve, and she saw it was not human, but rather a wolf’s paw. She shrank back in her chair as far as she was able.
“I am Benandanti and was cursed by a witch long ago such that I always carry a sign of my true nature, even in human form.”
Again, the healing woman’s curiosity got the better of her. “What is Benandanti, Father Superior?”
“It is a secret order within the Church, but on the edges of it. We are able to go into trances and, in our spirit forms as wolves, fight witches and wizards who would act destructively and steal animals and crops to take to hell.”
She remembered the witch’s injuries. “Was your cheek injured then, in battle with the witch?”
He nodded once. “You are very perceptive. She fought us as a snake, and one of her fangs grazed my face as I fixed my fangs on her throat. Whatever happens to us in spirit form also happens to our physical form.” He touched his cheek with his human hand and winced. “I fear I am not long for this world, for her venom was powerful.”
“That’s more than a scratch, but I can help you. I am very good at healing snakebites.” She sat forward eagerly, hoping that was her price.
Father Superior shook his head. “I’m afraid the price is not up to me. As you see, we are growing old, and we need more young men to join us. You will marry, and you will have children. One from each generation will be destined to be a Benandanti.”
The healing woman laughed, then, for she considered herself to be well beyond childbearing years. “I accept your price, then, Father Superior, for it will take a miracle for me to get married and have children at this point. What of your paw?”
He wrapped it up again. “That was to prove to you what I am. Need I tell you what will befall you if you share our secret?”
Her mouth became dry. “No, Father Superior. I will keep your secret.”
“Good. We will come for the young Benandanti when they are ready, around the age of thirteen.” He stood. “Good day, Signora.”
She didn’t miss that he had used a married honorific. “Good day, Father Superior.”
“Need I tell you whose great ancestor that was?” Max asked me. His question brought me back to the present with a start—the view out of the window was more shadow than mountains. I had been on a different sort of mountain with yellow soil and rocky paths.
“No, she’s obviously mine, but that doesn’t tell me why they’re after me.” I looked at him. “She paid her price, one per generation.”
“Ah, but the Padre Superiore underestimated her, as I suspect others underestimate you.”
“How so?”
“The healing woman, whose name has been lost to us other than that she was called Benedicta, counter-cursed him. She did end up getting married to the next blacksmith who came to the village, who fell in love with her when she helped cleanse his house of the negative energetic residue left by the evil family.” Max looked into middle distance and frowned. He looked like a schoolboy trying to get the story exactly right. “When she gave birth to her first child, a boy, she remembered the price the Padre Superiore made her promise, and she tried to protect her family.”
“Obviously she only succeeded in pissing him off.”
“We don’t know exactly what she did, only that she knew she was not strong enough to prevent the talent from emerging in her descendants. She did ensure each would have a guardian to help them avoid joining the Padre Superiore’s pack.”
“Like Aunt Alicia had Gladis Ann.”
“Right, and like you have Wolf-Lonna, although she is hidden from you. The problem was that some of the bad witch’s evil stayed in the house, and the spell was turned into a curse. Again, we don’t know how.” He spread his hands. “As long as there is a descendant of Benedicta’s alive, the Padre Superiore will not rest in peace unless he can claim the previous descendant’s soul after death. Obviously that’s never happened—your guardians are too good.”
A chill went down my spine. “Does whoever did this to me know about this? Do they know they’ve put me in grave danger by separating me from my guardian?”
Max shrugged, and then he caressed my cheek. “It’s a good thing I’m here, then, isn’t it? Assuming you don’t go running off into underground caves and get killed by angry ghosts.”
I leaned into Max’s hand. “Hey, I took care of myself, mostly.” I tried to blink the tears away—knowing I could change and having no control over it was more frustrating than the original problem—but they kept coming. “You being here keeps me from being completely alone.”
“I wish I could help you reconnect with yourself, but the block is for you to deal with. Your survival instincts broke through part of it, but there’s no guarantee that will happen again, and even if it did, that’s no way to live—mostly cut off from an important part of yourself.”
I nodded, but before I could say anything else, my phone rang. It was Joanie, so I answered.
“How are things with your aunt?” she asked.
“Not so good. She died.”
“Oh no! I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks.” I got up from the couch and moved to the window seat. “What’s going on with you? How are Leo and the baby?”
“Both are doing well. The last ultrasound showed a strong heartbeat…”
We got through the social niceties, and then she hit me with the reason for her call. “We got the toxicology results on what was in those tranquilizer darts you and Matthew got hit with.”
“Oh? All that seems like such a long time ago I’d almost forgotten.”
She snorted. “Sounds like you’re having some interesting adventures. You’ll have to fill me in when you get back.”
Her easy assumption that I would be back almost started the water works again. “So what did I get hit with?”
“There was a sedative-hypnotic, which we expected since you were out for so long. The surprise was a powerful antipsychotic, which Leo only found because he threw the kitchen sink at the testing.”
“Which one?”
“Which kitchen sink?”
I couldn’t help but smile. If she was silly-joking, things must be okay with her and Leo. “No, silly. Which antipsychotic?”
“Luridatone. It works by blocking dopamine and acetylcholine transfer in the brain.”
I remembered some of that stuff from the psychopharmacology I was always sure to pick up as part of my continuing education, but I didn’t have the pathways mapped out in my head. I suspected she’d already hit the books and the Internet to figure it out. I also knew her well enough to say, “So this is a clue as to what the change does to our brains?”
“Exactly! And how we can help get Wolf-Lonna back. Dopamine is the main neurotransmitter in our motivation and rewards system.”
I clenched my fist with the other implications of her discovery. “But if she’s gone underground as the result of an antipsychotic, doesn’t that also mean she’s a hallucination? I mean, none of you have anything like her. You just change, and there you are. Your mind doesn’t talk back to you like mine does.” I took a deep breath. “Or did.”
A pause, so I knew she was thinking. When she did speak, it was so softly I had to move away from Max to hear since even his breathing was too loud. “I wouldn’t have said this a year ago, Lonna, but there are corners where science and magic meet.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Max, who had said something similar. He leafed through one of the Cabin Living magazines he’d found on the claw-footed coffee table. He looked so comfortable, like he belonged there, and I wished it was a normal domestic scene.
“Thanks for not calling me crazy,” I told Joanie and turned my view to the window, where the last of the light streaked the sky and t
urned the ridge across the way into a mass of serrated shadow.
She laughed. “You’re the sanest person I know.”
“That’s frightening.” But she’d made me smile again. That’s what friends do—they make you smile when you’re down.
I turned back to Max and intended to rejoin him on the couch, but a sensation like someone running cold fingers across the back of my neck prompted a full body shiver. My palm and left heel burned. I stumbled, and Max rose, concerned.
“Are you okay?” Joanie asked. “You just gasped.”
“I’m fine,” I assured her. “I need to go, though. Max is here, and it’s dinnertime.”
“Max is there? You can catch me up later.”
We said our goodbyes, and I hung up and rubbed my neck.
“I won’t intrude on your conversation with your friend,” Max said, “but what was that?” He gestured to my neck. I put the phone on an end table and looked at my palm, where I still had a tiny mark from where Peter had changed me. It tingled.
“Something’s out there.” I looked out the window. “And whatever it is, it wants to hurt me.”
Chapter Fourteen
“What did you feel?” Max took my hand and examined it with a frown. I moved closer to him. Even if there couldn’t be anything romantic between us, as he’d made clear, it was comforting to have his wiry strength beside me.
“Like something cold brushed across the back of my neck, and then burning pain in my palm and heel.” I took my hand back. “What did you do to me that night on the beach? In my dream? You were putting some sort of mark on me when we were interrupted.”
“Ah, that reminds me. I didn’t want to finish it without your permission. I’ll explain in a moment, but first I need to see if I can find what’s out there. Stay away from the windows—with the lights on, you’re an easy target.”
I rubbed my palm and sank to the sofa. He was only gone for a few minutes, but they seemed much longer. He’d left the Cabin Living magazine open to the article he was reading, and I tried to turn my mind to it to see what he’d found so interesting, but all I could tell was that it was about beach “cabins,” with one island in the Caribbean featured.
Makes sense considering his accent. Maybe he’s from there.
The look on his face when he came back in kept me from asking any questions. His brows were knit, and his right fist clenched. “Whatever it was, they’re either well shielded, or they got away.” He sat on the other end of the sofa.
“As for what I did to your foot,” he continued, “it’s a marker. It will help me find you no matter where you are, and it will let me know when you’re in danger.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Did it tell you anything this afternoon?”
He shook his head. “It’s not complete. I only had time to finish the part that would tell me where you are.”
“I would think the other is more important.”
He shrugged. “If I don’t know how to find you, what good is it if I know you’re in danger?”
“Touché.” He had me there, but I was irked. I stood, moved to the bookshelves, and picked up a photo. This one was of my mother and Aunt Alicia as children. Each held a stuffed dog. I couldn’t help but envy the closeness they seemed to have—sisters who would always be there for each other. Even to the end.
Joanie and I were kind of like that, or at least we were finding our way back.
Now I have to deal with rapey ghosts and the pissed-off wolf-monk stalking my family. Maybe I do need someone to watch over me.
Still, I couldn’t just give in. “Either way, you didn’t have my permission, not even for the first part.”
“Things work differently in my world,” he said and stood. “We do what we have to in order to ensure the safety of those we’re supposed to watch over.”
“Again, I didn’t ask you to.”
He stood and ran his hand through his hair, which I couldn’t help but enjoy since I’d never seen it out of place. Although he wore it short, a red-gold lock fell over his forehead.
“You look very British,” I said, noticing his crisp long-sleeved shirt and neatly pressed pants. “Did you go to a boarding school?”
“In a sense. Why are you changing the subject?”
I shrugged, remembering how he had told me in the woods in Arkansas I had attributes that went beyond my werewolf talents. And he does always dress me in that ridiculous bikini in his visions… If there’s anything I know how to do, it’s how to get men to do what I want. Fine, if he wants to track me, then I’m getting something from him as well.
“You can finish the mark if you like, since you started.” I looked at him through my lashes. “Might as well do something useful.”
The look he gave me said he didn’t trust my change of mood, but he gestured for me to join him. I walked to him and stood close, tilting my head up at just the right angle that it would be just a little effort for him to kiss me. I wasn’t prepared for my reaction to him, though. Standing this close with just a breath between us, I sensed every plane of his muscle. He was clean-shaven, but a golden haze lined his jaw, and I pictured how he would look after a week of not shaving, the sun on his cheeks.
“I need to get to your foot,” he reminded me, but his accent was thicker, his voice deeper, and the temperature seemed to have picked up a couple of degrees.
“Of course.” I lowered myself to the couch, and he sat beside me. I leaned back on the pillows by the arm and put my feet on his lap. He traced one toe with a finger, and it sent a good shiver up my leg and straight to my core.
“You have lovely feet,” he said. “Even better than in the dream world.”
I could barely answer, so focused was I on the sensation of him caressing my arch. “Thank you.”
“They’re a little rough. Is that from your running around as a wolf?”
I nodded. “It’s hell on the hands and feet.”
He started to massage the right foot, and I didn’t remind him it was the other one he’d marked. I leaned back and closed my eyes. He certainly knows what he’s doing.
Every stroke and circle of his long, strong fingers made me wish he was caressing me higher. He moved on to the left foot, and once he had it relaxed, he asked, “Ready?”
“Mmmm?”
He laughed, a deep, soul-satisfying sound. “I thought so.”
I looked at him from beneath half-opened lids and resisted the urge to ask about a happy ending. “Go ahead. You have me at a distinct disadvantage, sir.”
“I would never take advantage of a lady in distress.”
“Oh, my distress isn’t of the damsel kind.”
He chuckled, and I decided I just wanted to keep making him laugh, forget about the sexy bits.
Okay, I probably won’t forget about the sexy bits, but he’s got the best laugh.
“Go ahead,” I said. “Do what you have to do.”
He traced an intricate pattern on my foot. Some of it felt familiar, like he traced over what he’d done before, and then the new part. It didn’t burn, but it didn’t exactly feel comfortable, and by the end, I was clenching my jaw with the effort not to twitch my toes.
“There, done,” he said and went back to massaging my foot. “Just one more little incantation, and you’re good.”
“I’m always good.”
His lips quirked like he was trying not to smile, and he whispered something in a language I didn’t know. It was calming, and between that and him rubbing my foot, I was almost asleep when he gasped and crushed my foot between his hands.
“Ow, what?” I sat straight up.
He leaned back. “Your earlier sensation was correct—you are in danger, and it’s closer than I thought.”
Whatever romantic mood had been established earlier by the foot massage had been killed by his announcement and his frustration at not being able to figure out the source. I went into the kitchen to start dinner while he prowled around the outside of the house again, and I’ll admit to ju
mping when he came back in.
“Exaggerated startle response,” I explained as I soaked up the water I’d spilled when I jumped. “It’s happened ever since the incident in Arkansas.”
“The one that turned you?”
I shook my head. “The one I can’t remember—of being kidnapped and experimented on.”
“You’ve blocked it,” he said. “Wasn’t it hard, then, to go into the cave below? To be trapped there?”
“Yes, but I was curious enough I was able to get through it. Apparently curiosity and survival are my two highest motivators.”
He smiled and started tearing lettuce without my asking him to. “Thank goodness you’re not a cat. You’d be constantly conflicted.”
I just watched his hands dismantle the lettuce and couldn’t help but admire them.
Stop it, I told myself and turned my attention back to the stove, where I was sautéing onions and peppers for fajitas. I wasn’t sure, though, what I was telling myself to stop doing—staring or falling for him?
The next morning, after I’d tossed and turned from nightmares that escaped my consciousness as soon as I woke, I found Max had beaten me into the kitchen.
“Sleep well?” he asked.
I glared and poured a cup of coffee.
“Are you always this charming in the morning?” he asked.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether I have to interact with people before I’ve had my coffee. Thanks for making it, by the way.”
“My pleasure.” He leaned against the counter and blew across the top of the black liquid in his cup.
I tore my eyes away from his lips. “So I was thinking today I could retrieve the box that Aunt Alicia left in the cave. Hopefully it’s still under the bottom step.”
“What box? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? That could be important.”
“It’s a family thing. I decided to tell you since I couldn’t figure out a way to go after it without you knowing.”
Long Shadows: The Lycanthropy Files, Book 2 Page 13
