by Jewel Dartt
She stared at him. "But how? Her mother's journal states that the changes begin in the twenty-fifth year of life. It makes no mention of any reversal of the process." She shook her head sadly. "It's her birthright, Hadden. As horrible as it is, you and I can't do anything to change that."
He jumped up and began to pace back and forth, his chest tight with the pain and confusion he felt. He'd suspected a hundred other reasons why Miranda had broken off their engagement the way she did, but nothing he'd imagined had come close to the reality of the truth.
"No…I won't accept that. I can't accept that." He whirled around to face her. "If she's some kind of werewolf like you say, then how could she change when the moon wasn't full?"
Elizabeth let out a sigh. "From what I gathered from that horrible diary, she doesn't need a full moon to change. Any moonlight at all will induce the transformation. It just happens spontaneously…at least until she can get it under control." She paused for a moment, biting her bottom lip.
"What else?" he asked.
"The biggest danger to her is the blood lust. If it takes hold, it can entice her to lose control and kill. If that happens, she will be lost to the human world forever."
Shaken to his very core by her statement, Hadden clenched his hands into fists to stop their trembling. "Are you telling me that she could end up like this for the rest of her life?"
"No, not at all," she reassured him hastily. "She will eventually be able to control that part of her heritage. What I'm saying is that she will lose her humanity on the inside. Killing will become a sport for her, a need that she won't be able to resist. Her compassion, her sensitivity…everything that makes her Miranda Slate will disappear and be lost forever."
"Not if I can help it," Hadden said with determination, moving toward the door. "I won't stand by and watch that happen to her."
"Wait!" Elizabeth cried in alarm. "Where are you going? You can't possibly hope to find her in the woods tonight."
He shot her a grim smile. "I'm going to find Miranda and bring her home."
Chapter 3
* * *
The transformation had taken place so suddenly that Miranda had no time to realize what was happening until it was too late. There was only pain and horror…pain beyond anything she'd ever experienced. But after the pain, her perception was different somehow. It was like being born all over again.
Her surroundings took on a clarity that astounded her, just as her senses of smell and hearing had increased tenfold. A new sort of energy flooded through her and a sense of wild exhilaration swirled through her veins.
Once she had shredded off her confining clothing, she raced through the woods with an abandonment she'd never known, reveling in her newfound freedom.
Hadden's shocked features passed before her mind's eye and her heart pulsed with pain, but she pushed it back. Now that he knew her secret, she was certain she'd lost him forever. How could he be anything but repulsed by what she had become?
"It's for the best," she said aloud, startled by the garbled sounds that issued from her throat. Why couldn't she talk?
"Miranda," a deep voice called her name, bringing her to a dead stop. She spun about to find herself face to face with another creature such as she, except he towered over her by several inches. His pelt was as black as night, with tiny threads of silver woven throughout.
Stunned by his appearance, she could only gape at him, trying to understand. "Who are you?" The words came out clearer this time.
He grinned a wolfish smile and held out his hand. "Does it really matter, ma petite? Come, take my hand, and let me show you our world."
His green eyes were oddly compelling, and although she didn't want it to be so, she found herself drawn to him. Her rational mind screamed out for her to beware of the stranger, but she ignored it. Surely, if he was one of les loup-garous, he could be trusted. Hadn't her mother's journal talked of the bond that bound all loup-garous?
Trustingly, she placed her hand in his. They ran through the trees with the night wind at their backs. She could feel the power pulsating through her body. She knew somehow, without a doubt, she could run forever and not be out of breath. Such strength…such endurance, it was deliciously intoxicating. She laughed aloud out of sheer joy.
He slowed his speed as they approached a small, outlying farm, and then pulled her behind him as he ducked into the shelter of a wood shed a few feet from the white-framed house.
Inside, she could see Allison cleaning up after supper, and Bobby, her son, was sitting at the kitchen table doing his homework. She smiled as she noted the worried furrow between his dark eyebrows and the way he chewed his bottom lip, she knew him well enough to know his actions were a sure sign he was having trouble with his lessons. Tomorrow, she'd offer to help him. Right now—despair panged her when she looked down at the white-gold hair that covered her body. She couldn't even help herself right now, much less him.
"You know the boy?" he asked, watching her closely.
"Yes, of course. Why did you bring me here?" she asked. "I don't understand."
"Ssh…wait and you shall know soon enough," he said, eyeing the house intently.
Just then the small towheaded boy came out of the house. Silhouetted by the warm glow of lights emanating from the windows of the house, Miranda could see the impatience in his tiny features. Bobby was always impatient, especially when he had chores to do. He escaped them often by coming over to her house and watching her work on her illustrations, always bearing freshly baked bread or cookies snatched from his mom's kitchen. Despite his less than angelic behavior, Miranda loved him. She'd told Hadden she wanted a half dozen little boys just like Bobby. She blinked away scalding tears as she pushed back the fragment of memory.
Bobby whistled and swung a tin pail as he made his way to the barn. Miranda couldn't help but smile. It was obvious that once again Bobby had forgotten to milk Bessie. Allison was always complaining that the boy would lose his head if it wasn't screwed on.
"It's time, little fledging, to try your wings," the stranger whispered.
Confused, and beginning to feel uneasy, Miranda glanced at him. "I don't understand," she said again, her voice uncertain. "Why did you bring me here of all places? What do you want of me?"
His emerald gaze darkened. "The boy is your prey. You must take him down before the hunger comes upon you. You have no other choice but to do as I instruct."
Horror speared through her, and she recoiled away from him in disgust. "No…"
"Oh, but you will, Miranda," he said, pushing her forward. "Or else the hunger will be unbearable for you."
What hunger? She didn't understand any of this. But there was one thing she did understand; she wasn't going to attack an innocent child, and certainly not Bobby.
And then it hit her, a hunger so overpowering it knotted her stomach. Even from the distance, she could smell the sweat of the young boy, and to her horror, the scent excited her to a fever pitch.
Her teeth actually ached to sink into his tender pale flesh; to rip and rend, to satisfy the hunger that threatened to overcome her reasoning.
The savage brutality of her thoughts brought Miranda up short, and with a scream of anguish, she darted out of the shelter of the shed, racing past the startled boy into the night. The child let out a startled yelp, but she didn't hear it. She had to get away before she lost control.
The hunger clawed at her insides, but she fought it with every ounce of humanity she possessed. Never would she succumb to the beast that dwelled within her.
I will not kill. I will not kill. The refrain beat a blinding tattoo in her head as she ran. She ran from temptation—ran from the stranger—ran from herself…and what she was becoming.
Bittersweet memories of Hadden hurled themselves at her, and she wrapped them around her like a protective cloak. Her heart ached as she remembered the first day she met him again after so many years.
Now, it seemed like centuries had passed since that moment, instead o
f only a couple of years. Coming to live in Silver Valley was the best thing she'd ever done, or so she had thought before…her life had turned into a walking nightmare of horror.
Hadden's laughing dark eyes framed in his handsome face flickered before her mind's eye, and she let out a tiny sob.
The promise of a new bright love…and now it was gone—ground into dust right before her eyes. The pain of losing him far outweighed the hunger, and suddenly she stopped running. The pain became more than she could bear, and she dropped to her knees and threw back her head, screaming out her agony. "Hadden…"
The sound of Miranda's anguish echoed in the quietness of the moon-dappled forest.
* * *
Heat shimmered in the beast's gut as he watched Miranda run away from her destiny. From him.
Goddammit, didn't she realize the truth? Didn't she understand that fate had decreed that she be his forever? Couldn't she feel the connection between them? He slammed his fist into the wooden wall of the shed. It wasn't over yet. He'd find a way to convince her that only he knew what was best for her. And when he did she would thank him for enlightening her, and then at last, she'd be his.
He would find a way to convince her to renounce her human side. Humans, he thought in disgust. God, how he hated them. They deserved to be wiped from the face of the earth for the sins they'd committed against his kin through the ages.
He winced as the image of his parents' dead bodies rose in his mind. They'd been killed during the Inquisition for being loup-garou. Huge silver crosses sharpened to a deadly point had been used to pierce their hearts and then their bodies had been burned for good measure.
He had managed to escape with his sister, only barely slipping past the clutches of the humans' righteous fury. And still mankind hadn't changed; they hid behind a veneer of civilization but he knew the truth. Once he had been naive and trusting, but never again. And somehow he had to convince Miranda to embrace his beliefs, his life.
He grinned. But first he had something to do. It was time to take care of unfinished business.
Hadden had been wandering the woods for what seemed like hours, searching for some sign of Miranda. Images of candlelight reflecting on pale hair and bewitching blue eyes flooded his mind. He could almost hear the whisper of black silk against satin soft skin. The way she moaned his name in the throes of passion drove him wild with desire.
God, how he loved her. He would always love her. She'd awakened a deep, elemental need in him that only she could assuage. He trusted her…and lost himself in her every time he took her in his arms.
Miranda seemed too unreal to be true. Too much like the superstitious lore he'd so desperately tried to rid himself of when he went away to college. Growing up in the mountains, where stories of vampires, werewolves and ghosts were as matter-of-fact as the daily news among the old timers, including his own late grandfather, had been difficult for him.
The stories had frightened him so much as a child. At night he would lie stiff with fear, fighting sleep and certain that if he closed his eyes something horrible would jump out from under the bed. Or possibly from out of the shadows that lay heaped in the far corners of his room.
But after he was an adult, he dismissed the stories as fanciful nonsense. He supposed that was one of the reasons he chose medicine. It was scientific and based on logic, not mysticism or irrationality.
For God's sake, he didn't even like to read horror novels, or go to movies featuring horror. And now, ironically enough, he found himself in the midst of a Stephen King novel. It was like being awake in a nightmare that was not of his own making.
Miranda was in danger, and he had to find some way to help her…save her from this thing that was taking her over. But how? That was the million-dollar question, and somehow he had to find the answer before it was too late and he lost her forever.
His heart twisted painfully as still he saw no sign of her anywhere. Dammit, she had to be out here somewhere, but where? He was beginning to despair of ever finding her, and was wondering if perhaps he should return to her house, and wait for her to return on her own, when suddenly he heard his name carried upon the back of the rising wind.
A shiver of apprehension crawled down his spine as he recognized her voice. Immediately, he began to run in the direction from whence it came, only to halt abruptly at the sight of Miranda kneeling in a litter of dead leaves…naked and shivering with cold, her head bent, her pale hair streaming into her face.
He stared at her for a moment, drinking in the sight of her hungrily. Although he knew it was illogical, he had been secretly afraid that he'd never see her again.
With a muffled oath, his heart pounding, he dropped to his knees in front of her, and reached out to brush her hair back with a gentle hand. Instantly, he slipped out of his leather jacket and placed it around her quaking form.
He framed her face with both hands and tilted it toward him. "Thank God, I found you. I've been out of my mind with worry. Miranda, why didn't you tell me?"
She took a shaky breath. "I couldn't. I didn't think you'd believe me."
"Well, I know now, and just as soon as possible we're getting married. We'll fight this together."
"No." She jerked out of his grasp, her eyes dark and tortured. "You just don't get it, do you? Nothing has changed. You can't fix this, Hadden. I won't marry you with this thing hanging over my head. What if someday the change came over me and I attacked you?" She shuddered. "I could never forgive myself if I hurt you."
"You would never hurt me, honey," he reassured her. "There has to be a way to reverse the process, Miranda, and by God if it's the last thing I ever do, I'm going to find it."
She rubbed her forehead wearily. "There's no way to stop it. My mother's journal makes that very clear. After my mother met my father and fell in love, she turned her back on her own kind. My father wanted desperately to take away the curse that hung over her. They researched every myth and every scrap of folklore they could trying to find a way, but they never succeeded." She looked up at him with sad eyes. "What makes you think you can do what they couldn't?"
"Because I won't give up," he said. "Not as long as there is breath in my body. I love you, Miranda, and somehow we are going to beat this thing, I promise you."
Silvery tears traced a path down the smooth slope of her cheekbones. "Hadden, I'm so scared…so alone."
His chest tightened as he stood and scooped her up into his arms. "You're not alone. We're in this thing together for however long it takes."
Her body seemed to collapse from the inside and she sighed wearily. It was almost as if she was too drained to fight back any longer. She tucked her head under his chin and snuggled deeper into his arms. "There's another one, you know," she said in a sleepy voice.
"Another what?" he asked, threading his way back through the dense pines.
"Another like me," she said. "He tried to get me to…" Her voice broke off.
Hadden stiffened. "He tried to get you to do what?"
He felt her shudder. "He wanted me to kill the Wilson boy." Her voice trembled.
A freezing cold seized his gut. Another werewolf? Who was he, and more importantly, what did he want with Miranda?
But there were no answers, at least not yet, so he pushed it to the back of his mind.
By the time he got back to her house, Miranda was dozing in his arms; she appeared so innocent, so much like a child in her sleep…except for the dark gray shadows visible beneath her eyes. Even in sleep there was now a sadness to her features. A sadness that he would give his soul to take away—wipe out forever.
Elizabeth jumped up from the sofa as he came into the house. Her faded blue eyes rounded in fear, and her hand curled over her mouth to stifle her startled cry when she saw Miranda in his arms. "Oh, my God, is she…"
"She's sleeping, Elizabeth, that's all," he hastened to reassure her.
"Thank God," she whispered, blinking back her tears. "I was so worried."
"Stay here. I'm goi
ng to put her to bed. I'll be back in a minute," he said, brushing past her and entering Miranda's bedroom.
Hadden slung back the frilly coverlet and lowered her to the bed gently. She moaned a little in her sleep, but then turned over and snuggled into the covers.
He touched the softness of her hair, and for the first time since he was a child felt an honest to God sense of fear…because somehow he already knew that he was losing her. Losing her to a world he knew nothing about.
After a couple of minutes, he left her to sleep, and returned to the living room where Elizabeth had a cup of hot coffee waiting for him. He took it gratefully, slumping down into a nearby easy chair. "Thanks, Elizabeth. You must have read my mind."
She gave him a wry smile. "It didn't take much reading to know that you could do with a cup of coffee after being out all night." The smile faded and her face took on a pinched, worried expression. "How's my granddaughter?"
"Exhausted, but other than that she seems fine, at least physically." He stared down into his cup. "Emotionally is a different matter altogether."
Elizabeth's mouth tightened. "I've been going through the diary trying to find an answer to all of this."
Hadden leaned forward. "Any luck?"
She shook her head. "No, I spent all night reading it over and over, but I came up with nothing. Miranda's mother spent most of her life fighting the darkness in herself, and she didn't want that for her daughter. I think she hoped that since Miranda's father was human, their daughter had more of a chance of escaping her inheritance, but she wanted Miranda to have the journal, just in case she was wrong."
"What if she had been right and Miranda hadn't gone through the change?"
"She still wanted her to know. She felt it was only right that her child know the truth about her family. And if it did happen to Miranda, she wanted her to know how to fight the killing lust."
"Killing lust?" Hadden asked, lifting a brow in surprise. "Is that the term she used?"
