by C. J. Parker
Bobbie faced, Stephen. “Well, son, you have a choice. You can choose who you want to live with. May and Donald, Nelson, or with Kangee and me?”
Stephen looked from one to the other and back to Bobbie. “Is Lexie gonna live with you?”
Bobbie nodded. “Yes.”
“Then I don’t want to live with you.”
“Why?” Lexie shouted. “You think you’re too good to live with me?”
“Lexie.” Kangee’s voice was laden with warning.
Lexie stomped her foot. “I thought you were my friend.”
“I don’t want you as a sister.” His gaze lowered, and his complexion reddened to a deep crimson. “You’re my girl, Lex.”
Lexie’s mouth opened and closed several times. “You’re cute, Stephen, but you’d be a lot cuter way over there.” She pointed to the other side of the village before running into the house.
Kangee leaned down to be eye level with the boy. “What’s your decision?”
“Mr. Nelson is a nice man, and I’ll gladly continue to help him in any way I can, any time he needs me. And I know I’m nearly grown, but I’d like to have a momma.”
Kangee nodded. “Donald. May. Meet your son, Stephen. Treat him right.”
May’s eyes filled with tears. “Don’t you worry about that, Kangee. I’ll treat him like my own.”
“No, no, no! It’s law.” Agnes stomped her feet. “You can’t change the law without a vote.”
With a sigh, Bobbie shook her head. “Agnes, what don’t you understand about the title queen? I can make or veto any law I see a problem with because I make the decisions as to what is best for my people. Not you, not with a vote or a promise.”
“You’re nothing but evil Moran blood, probably a direct descendant of Cain.” A gasp of shock erupted from the villagers. “He was condemned for his sin, and so are you. You’ll never be my queen.” Agnes slung herself around to face the crowd. “Are you going to take this? She deserted us. She’s an Outsider now, not one of us. She’s been tainted by the Karepey.”
“Tainted by the Karepey?” The pressure in Bobbie’s head threatened to blow. “If you damned back-swamp bumpkins would get out in the world a bit more, you’d know there isn’t any tainting going on. We could live side by side for years and no one would know a damned thing. Tabatha and Rhonda wouldn’t have known about me if I hadn’t told them.” She raised her hands in the air and turned in a tight circle. “And just look. I’m alive!”
She drew herself to her feet and walked to the railing, looking down at the villagers below. Her chest tightened, and her face heated. Bobbie looked around for her friends, seeing Rhonda leaning against the corner of the house. “How have I been tainted? Is it that I choose to act with some sort of decency? Bobbie ran her gaze over the crowd before her. “Maybe until this killer is found we should put some clothes on.”
“Oh, pooh.”
Bobbie glanced at Rhonda standing on the bottom step. “What?”
“Do they all have to?” Rhonda smiled wickedly.
Bobbie raked her gaze over Kangee, now dressed in cut-offs and T-shirt. He returned her mental undressing exercise and smiled. She sighed deep and long. “Such a pity, but, yes, all of them.”
Suddenly aware of Tabatha’s absence, Bobbie looked frantically from one corner of the common ground to the next. “Rhonda, where’s Tabatha?”
Rhonda glanced toward the gulf side of the village. “She took her grandfather’s journal and walked into the woods.”
Fear turned Bobbie’s skin cold. “For the love of…Rhonda, why would you let her go off by herself?”
“She said she didn’t want to me go with her.” Rhonda shrugged. “She’s missing Derek. And something in the journal has her confused, I think.”
“Where’s Cuda?” Kangee pushed away from the wall and glanced around the compound.
“Oh, hell.” Bobbie settled her gaze on Agnes. “This is over. The kids are not your servants. I make the rules.”
She pointed her finger at Rhonda. Bobbie tore her clothing off piece by piece and tossed them inside the doorway. “Stay here. If I come back to find you gone too, I swear, Rhonda, I’ll hunt you down and serve you for dinner.”
Bobbie shifted into panther form so quickly her bones dislocated before accepting their change and sliding back into place. She jumped from the porch in a dead run. A rush of wind ruffled the thick black hair on her sleek body. Hearing a bird’s cry from above, she knew a raven soared past the trees, out of sight.
Find her, Kangee. Please find her. Bobbie willed him to hear her.
Her heart drummed a rhythmic beat against her ribs, her paws a steady tattoo on the moist, thick mat of decomposing leaves covering the bayou. The scent of salt water filtered through the trees carrying Tabatha’s distinct scent of rosewood with no hint of the acrid smell of fear. She was close.
The raven called from above and circled the area before diving into the tree line.
Bobbie raced on, weaving through pines and cypress trees. Blood. Warm, fresh and still flowing. The thrill of a hunt roared in her ears, the smell of prey raised the timeless titillation of bloodlust making her stomach tighten and rumble.
She broke free of the forest, ran onto the bog-like beach and slowed to a trot as she searched the area for the source of blood. Tabatha sat against the tree, reading. A globe consisting of salt particles and ash shimmered around her. She glanced up and, with a wave of her hand, made an opening in the large shield.
“I’m okay, but you might want to come in where it’s safe.” Tabatha gestured for her to enter the globe. “I’ve learned how to make it soundproof.”
Tabatha’s reassurance sent a warm rush of relief to Bobbie’s soul, but the scent of blood reached out to her panther, calling, titillating her taste buds. “No. I’ve got to find Cuda.” It had been so long since she’d tried to talk in her panther form the words came out a bit mumbled as if she had a fat lip.
Bobbie nodded. “Stay inside and close the circle when I leave, Tabatha. It’s not safe.”
“Duhh.” Tabatha shook her head. “By the way, Cuda’s hurt. He slid over the barrier right into the tree.” What seemed like regret colored Tabatha’s cheeks. “I’m pretty sure he’s pissed at me. I wanted to help him, but when I stood he tried to attack again.”
“Stay here. No matter what you hear or see, do not try to help me with your magic. Okay?” Bobbie didn’t want to worry about Tabatha wandering into more trouble. And Lord knew trouble waited around every tree at times like this.
Tabatha opened her mouth as if to answer but closed it and sat back against the tree.
In the distance, a cry so wild and filled with rage caused Bobbie’s skin to tighten against her quivering muscles. Her legs moved of their own accord, sending her toward the sound faster with every stretch of her lean body. She skidded around the corner and into a hidden cove.
The raven’s wings spread a distance of six feet, slowly moved in a steady motion above the clearing, enough to keep the bird light on its feet and ready for any move the coyote might make.
“Cuda!” Bobbie stepped in front of him. “Cuda. Stop. You’re injured. You need a healer.”
“I’ll heal, bitch.” Cuda snarled and bared his teeth. “But will you?”
“I warn you, coyote…” Kangee took a step closer to Cuda, “…do not harm my woman or you will pay with your life.”
“Kangee, stand down. This is between Cuda and me.” She shifted back to her human form and knelt down on one knee, poised to pounce away if Cuda attacked.
Cuda charged.
Bobbie’s right hand changed into a paw with claws extended. She slapped him away as if he were nothing more than a pesky fly.
He howled, and his bottom jaw twisted grotesquely. His screams were shrill and pitiful. He writhed in the dirt covering his coat with dust, whining pitifully.
She resisted the urge to rush him. Her cat side wanted to tear him into strips of meat and devour him whole. The human bra
in wanted to kick some sense into the man. “You cannot fight like this, Cuda. Come back to the village, find the healer and I’ll make you a promise. When you heal, we will finish this.” She stared into his eyes. “Cuda, we have Outsiders killing our kind. We don’t need to help them along by infighting.”
He nodded, struggled to his feet only to fall again.
Through teeth held clenched together by his hand, he growled. He choked, sending blood spurting from his mouth. He crawled into the woodland, his pitiful whimpers trailing behind him.
“Why did you let Cuda march into the village and take over in the first place?” Bobbie turned on Kangee when he walked up behind her and shifted into his human form. “Where did he get the idea he could do such a thing?”
“I was in New Orleans looking for you when he arrived. There was no one to stop him.” Kangee ran his hands down her arms as he glanced in the direction Cuda had gone. “He had enough bluster to install fear in most. When I came back, I knew you’d return soon enough and set things straight. You’re Queen Moran, Bobbie. I’m nobody.”
“You are not nobody, Kangee. Never have been.” Bobbie leaned her head on his chest. Did everything have to be so hard? “This has got to be fixed. I don’t have time for this bullshit. I’ve got to find the killer. I’ve got to keep my friends safe. What the hell was I thinking bringing them here?”
“Where is this friend of yours, Robertina?” Kangee’s face flushed, and his hands closed into fists repeatedly. “This is her fault.”
“She wasn’t wrong going for a walk. Cuda was in error to attack her. She didn’t even fight back. Tabatha formed a shield around herself that an attacking coyote couldn’t penetrate.” She chuckled in spite of the situation. “He hit the shield and skidded right into a tree. That’s how he dislocated his jaw.”
The muscles around Kangee’s mouth twitched. “Tabatha has a lot of power, Bobbie. What is she? Where did she come from?”
“She’s a necromancer, but I’m beginning to think she’s more than that. I believe she’s a modern day sorceress.”
“A witch?” Kangee’s brow crinkled with worry lines. “You brought a witch into our village?”
“Hush. She’ll hear you.” Bobbie sat on a nearby felled tree. “Tabatha’s friend, Bertha, said that because she’s the first woman child born in many centuries, she might inherit all the Gray legacy of powers. Tab doesn’t know what that means yet.”
No more than Bobbie knew what being Queen Moran held in store for her. “That’s why she’s got her nose stuck in that journal all the time. It was her grandfather’s. Her owner’s manual so to speak. She found a book in her grandfather’s desk, too, but it’s mumbo jumbo. No one can read it. Bertha thinks it has something to do with Tabatha’s powers and how to harness or use them correctly. Right now it’s hit and miss.”
Tabatha entered the cove. “Paw-Paw said I’ll be able to read it when the time is right. At the time of the Noom Revo Su. Any idea what that is?”
Tabatha must have overheard their conversation. Kangee reached down and picked up a long stick. In the mud, he wrote Noom Revo Su, then under it he wrote, Moon Over Us. “It’s spelled backward. Revo Su is the moon of transition or renewal. It’s when the old regime’s time has come to an end.” He looked at Tabatha then at Bobbie. “That moon is only days away.”
Chapter Four
Though the old Council House stood only two hundred feet outside the village, and, as far as she knew, it hadn’t been used since the night Bobbie’s brother was acknowledged as King Moran twenty years ago. Ivy and wild periwinkle grew up the bark-covered walls and onto the thatched roof, blending the structure into the woodland.
Bobbie propped the first rattan shutter open with a dowel against the sill. Fresh air rushed through the window with a sound much like a sigh. Walking around the building, she opened the remaining shutters. As was custom, she retraced her footsteps to the front door, avoiding the north side of the hut and the ash pit, the final resting place for those of her kind.
Shoving open the woven twig door, she entered. Dust floated through the dim sunlit atmosphere like specks of souls trying to re-form. The open-raftered ceiling reached twenty feet above her head, where wild birds watched from their nests.
She walked up the center aisle between the hand-hewn cypress log benches, cut by her great-grandfather more than two centuries before. She’d been told the stories of Abelard Moran and how he died the day she was born. He lived to the ripe old age of three hundred and four. Wishing for another twenty or so years with her grandfather so she could get to know him was a bit too much to ask. Though three hundred years was a normal life span for a shifter, it was one of many reasons they had to live apart from the Outsiders. It’s rather hard to explain why you don’t age along with your friends and neighbors.
Bobbie stepped onto the raised platform that served as a stage but stopped short of beginning the ceremony to take her inherited place as queen. Her temples pounded, and she broke out into a cold sweet.
Father’s words, spoken so many years ago to her brother, Elsu, while he was still in training, rang clear in her mind.
“They can reject you, son. You must be pure of soul and have the best interest of the people in your heart. Live a good life, so when I leave for the spirit world, you can take my place as king.”
That very night her brother, Elsu, walked away from her to enter this same building, alone and mourning their father’s death not an hour after he and Father had talked. Their father had gone on a hunt and fallen to his death, or so the story had started. But, when the body was found, it became evident he had been murdered. So much unnatural death in our clan. Why?
Now, here she was. In this mess that was her life. Could she be an effective leader? Could she protect them from the Guardians, if they found the village? Or already had. Were the Guardians responsible for the recent murders? Bile burned her throat, but she refused to vomit in the sacred hut. She prayed that Tabatha and Rhonda wouldn’t come looking for her. This was something she had to do on her own. Alone.
Before she could chicken out and knowing she couldn’t delay the inevitable, anyway, Bobbie turned away from the throne and walked backward, counter-clockwise around the royal throne three times to end the reign of the King before her. Naked as the day she’d been born, she stood in the center of the stage, her arms outstretched, hands upraised. Inhaling deeply, she allowed her voice to ring out in the empty building.
“King Moran is no more. Being the last of my blood line, I claim my rightful place and take the title Queen Moran.”
She resisted the urge to swallow hard as she walked to the ornately carved, high-backed cypress chair that stood as the Clan Moran throne. Was she ready to take on the responsibilities of her people, of shifters all over the world? Would they accept her as such? Every nerve in her body vibrated like a strummed guitar string. With only a slight hesitation, she lowered herself as regally as possible onto the chair and waited to see if the ghosts of past rulers would denounce her claim.
A bolt of power tingled through her fingertips where she gently touched the armrest. The energy traveled up her arms to her heart and raced to her brain, becoming excruciating in its intensity. She closed her eyes as an ethereal voice filled her thoughts. Words floated around her like swamp mosquitoes buzzing in her ear.
The prophecy has come to pass, and you must fulfill its promise.
You must call upon those before you to join wisdoms.
Your rule is key in ending the Punishment of Cain.
The surge settled into her chest, a constant hum of power building, building, building inside of her.
As she feared, she might be blown to bits by its intensity, her head shot back, and a scream ripped from her lungs splintering the air.
An invisible hand drew Bobbie’s arms out to her sides. She was lifted into the air, her back arched until she feared it would break as the unseen force lifted her by her chest to the ceiling.
She tried to pull her ar
ms out of the spirits’ grip, but they only tightened their hold. The tingle became an electrical charge burning through her skin to her bones. She squeezed her eyes closed against the intense ache.
Convinced her soul had taken flight, she opened her eyes to reassure herself that she still lived, but the light emanating from her own body was more than she could bear, forcing her eyes to flutter closed again. A searing heat closed in like an electric blanket out of control adding to her agony. She was sure her spine would dislocate at any moment.
Scorching air filled her lungs as she inhaled deeply. “I accept the challenge and vow to fulfill the prophecy or die in the quest.”
The pain lessened with her oath, her body floated slowly downward to rest with her back against the cool throne. Oddly relaxed, she opened her eyes to find the interior of the council room filled with about twenty ghostly apparitions of ancient warriors from her clan. So relieved that the worst of it was over, she took in the Spirit Warriors calmly and without fear. They meant her no harm. But if one of them reached for her, she was going to scream unholy hell.
The men’s skin glowed with a golden light—their eyes alight with flames of death for pupils. Each warrior wore the skins of their animal, their sacred cloak of duty. One by one, they bowed before her. As a group, they turned their gaze toward the entrance then back to her.
“Beware.” The whisper reached her ears as the apparitions dissolved like wisps of smoky mist.
Omeda stepped into the room and the sunlight streaming through the open doorway dimmed with her presence. Her long ebony hair lifted in the breeze, her intake of breath imitating a rush of wind through leaves. “I knew I’d find you here.” She took one halting step closer. “Couldn’t wait to take over, could you? Power hungry, like all Morans.”
“Our time is short. The day of prophecy is near. Will you fight with us or against us, Omeda?” Bobbie wanted Omeda to leave, wanted to finish this thing and begin the tasks before her. But she wanted to know her friend would be there when they needed her. If not by Bobbie’s side, at least with her clan members.
