by Jewel Dartt
Time ceased to exist as rage hammered at her brain with an insistence she couldn't resist. She grabbed her head and doubled over as pain shot through her body. Her body was burning, but the sweat washing her felt like a film of cold. Dear God, it wasn't possible. She couldn't be changing now. It was a moonless night.
"Please, no…" she screamed, doubling over.
"What the hell is the matter with her?" the man shouted, his voice cracked with fear. "Make her stop, mister, or I'll kill you both."
"I wish I could." She heard Hadden say, his voice hoarse with concern. "I wish I could."
The voices faded. It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours that she twisted on the floor with her knees jammed against her chest. Pain like liquid fire ravaging through her skin, through her muscles, down to the very depth of her bones. Her birth mother had been wrong. She was capable of transformation without the help of any moonlight whatsoever. She was a freak, a creature of neither the human world nor the loup-garou world.
After the first few screams, she lost the power of speech. Her throat and ears hurt too much to continue.
And then it was over, and again that now familiar rush of incredible vitality poured through her. She rose slowly, taking in the shocked white faces of the cashier and would-be thief.
The thief pointed the gun in her direction, his hand trembling. "Stay away from me," he shrieked at her. His eyes were wide with fear. Fear of her, Miranda thought dimly, before she stopped thinking and let the animal in her take control.
Rage and hunger tore at her as she rushed him, and ripped the gun from his hands. A shot rang out, but it went wild. It served only to infuriate her more as she threw him to the ground and prepared to tear out his throat. Scum like him didn't deserve to live, she reasoned hazily. He deserved swift justice. Her brand of justice.
"Miranda, for God's sake, no…don't do it."
She felt hands pulling at her, pulling her back from her quarry. She made a swipe at the intruder. At Hadden, she realized too late.
His cry of pain brought her head up in shock. Hadden, dear God, she'd hurt him…in her midst of madness.
He lay a few feet away from her, holding his injured arm; blood seeped between his fingers. "Miranda, please…"
Her heart was wedged tightly in her throat; and with a cry of anguish at what she'd done to the man she loved, she jumped up and ran from the store, disappearing into the darkness of trees behind the store.
Hadden staggered to his feet and went after her, ignoring cries from the old woman to come back.
He had to find her. Find her before someone else did and tried to shoot her. As he stumbled through the night-shaded woods, he tried to figure out what had prompted Miranda's transformation.
Dammit, it wasn't supposed to have happened tonight. Could the violent act she'd walked into so unexpectedly have triggered the transformation?
He found her beneath an ancient oak tree, in the charcoal smudged hours just before daylight. She lifted her head to look at him as he approached. "I knew you would find me," she whispered as he wrapped his shirt around her.
Her eyes, set in deep dark circles, had a mournful, lost look that made him take her in his arms, comforting her like a lost child.
Hadden leaned back and gave her a slight smile, letting his knuckles trail lightly down one pale, tearstained cheek. "Of course. I'll always find you, no matter where you go.
"What's happening to me, Hadden?" The words came out throaty and harsh.
"I don't know, baby," he said. "I just don't know, but we're going to find out."
By the time they drove into Homineyville a few hours later, the whistle of the town's only factory was giving out its long mournful wail, announcing the changing of the work shifts. As they drove down the quiet streets of the mill town, Miranda noted the plain white plank houses that sat in narrow rows on every street.
As they drew closer to the center of town, she could see that the factory held center place in a square of faded brick buildings. It stood alone, a relic from the past, an old, gigantic brick building that smelled of wet cloth, and belched gray smoke from its many chimneys at regular intervals. Miranda suspected that the factory was the lifeblood of Homineyville, the same way it was in many small mountain communities.
Again the whistle blasted, startling her with its shrill cry. Hadden slowed the pick-up truck as scores of men and women, all dressed in jeans and tee shirts, left their cars and trucks in the enormous parking areas across the street and made their way toward the darkened entrances of the factory.
Some were laughing and talking, but others were silent and morose…leaving Miranda to wonder if they hated their jobs as much as they appeared to, and saw them as only a means to put food on the table. She gave a little shudder, thinking how lucky she was to be able to make a living doing what she loved to do. But then she remembered what had happened last night, and wondered who were really the lucky ones. At least these people still had a life. A normal existence. That was more than she could say about her own life.
"Are you sure you don't want to stop somewhere and get a few hours sleep before we do this?" Hadden asked, giving her a sympathetic look. "We've waited this long, a few more hours isn't going to make that much of a difference."
Earlier, Hadden had made her wait at the edge of the woods until he could check and make sure the way was clear to get the pick-up truck. Thankfully, the excitement had died down, and the store was dark and locked up tight. She changed into her extra jeans and blouse quickly, and once again they were back on the road. Hadden had wanted to stop at a cheap motel and let her sleep a few hours outside Homineyville, but she had refused. If there was a cure, she didn't want to waste anytime in finding it. Not after last night.
She pulled down the sun visor to block the early morning sunlight, and then gave him a tired smile. "Yes, I'm sure. Let's see the woman first, and then later we can stop somewhere and get a few hours sleep before we head back home. I don't want to take any more chances, Hadden. We have to get back before dusk."
"Miranda, just because it happened one time on a night without the moon, doesn't necessarily mean it will happen again."
"You don't know that for sure."
"No, but I do know you. I suspect it was the implied threat of the gun that brought on the transformation this time. That doesn't mean it will happen again tonight."
"I can't be sure of that, Hadden. And I will not put anybody else at risk like that again. I came to damn close to killing that man last night. And you…" Her voice trembled and broke off.
He touched his bandaged arm and smiled. "I'm fine, Miranda. It was just a flesh wound, no serious damage done."
She wrapped her arms around herself and stared out the side window. "I've hurt you twice now. I might kill you next time. Hadden, I couldn't live with that if I did."
"It's not going to happen, Miranda."
"How can you be so sure?" she whispered.
"I just am," he said abruptly, flicking on his turn signal. "And you should be too."
She was too tired to argue with him again and remained quiet. Ten minutes later they turned into a dirt path that winded up the side of a mountain. "Are you sure this is right?" she asked.
"I think so, but if we don't run into the place by the time we get to the top of the mountain, we'll turn back and find somebody so we can ask directions."
It took another twenty minutes to reach the top, and when they did, a weather faded wood sign announced they were at the Campbell residence. It wasn't much of a house, really not much more than a shack, Miranda thought. In the back yard she spied an outhouse, and wondered if the ancient witch was one of those people who despised technology. Or maybe she just liked to live life in a simpler way. An appealing idea in its own way, she thought in amusement.
When they exited from the pick-up truck, a red hound dog came scrambling out from under the sagging porch, barking furiously. Miranda backed up, but Hadden strode forward with his hand held outward.
The dog stopped in its tracks and then sidled up to him, its tail wagging a welcome.
"Come on, Miranda, it won't hurt you," he said, glancing back over his shoulder at where she stood cowering by the car door.
Miranda gathered up her courage and came forward, more slowly than Hadden had. The dog stiffened, and then with a howl of sheer fright it ran back under the porch, where it lay cowering from her.
She stood stock still, shocked by its bizarre actions. She tried to understand what had just happened, but there were simply no explanations.
The banging of the screen door brought her head up sharply. On the porch stood a woman with long red hair streaked wildly with silver. Miranda guessed that she was probably around forty; but it was hard to be sure because the woman's face, surprisingly enough, was unlined by age. Except for the color of her hair, she could have been anywhere from twenty to sixty years old.
"What do you want?" the woman asked, her voice cold as ice. "We don't like strangers around here."
"You're Elaine Campbell?" Hadden asked.
The woman crossed her arms. "Well, now that we have that out of the way, you won't mind telling me who the hell you all are, and what you want?"
Hadden made the introductions quickly, and then studied the woman for a moment before he spoke again. "Ms. Campbell, we are here to see you mother. It's really important."
Elaine sighed heavily. "I know. Mother told me this morning to expect company. I should have known she was right as usual. But she's old now, and I don't think it's a good idea for her to see you. Please just go."
Hadden exchanged a look with Miranda. "I'm sorry, Ms. Campbell, but we can't do that. We have to insist on seeing your mother."
"Please, we need her help," Miranda added, before Hadden could go on. "We have no one else to turn to, Ms. Campbell. Please don't turn us away."
Elaine held the door open. "All right, just for a few minutes. But let me tell you, if you upset her in anyway, I'll throw you out, understand?"
Hadden nodded and grabbed Miranda's hand, almost dragging her inside the tiny shack before the woman could change her mind. It took Miranda a few minutes before her eyes adjusted to the dim light, but once they did, she was surprised to find the place so clean and tidy. Not a speck of dust covered the old scarred furniture, and delicate white doilies covered every flat surface, from the fireplace mantel to the coffee table in the middle of the room.
In the far corner, a rocker creaked gently, and a woman with hair as white as newly fallen snow leaned forward. "It's about time you got here. I've been waiting on you for hours."
"How did you know we were coming?" Miranda asked, taken aback by the woman's knowing expression.
The old woman let out a cackle. "There ain't much I don't know, child. I got the seeing, you know. My mother had it and her mother had it." She glared at her daughter. "But because of my daughter's stubbornness, it will die with me. She don't want to believe in such things and won't accept God's gift."
Elaine shifted uneasily. "Mother, these people don't want to hear about us and our problems. They have come to you for help. Although I must say I don't like it at all. You're getting too old for this kind of nonsense."
"Hush up, girl," the older woman scolded. "A person ain't never too old to use the seeing. Anyway, quit your fretting, I know what they have come for, but they wasted their time. I can't help them."
"I don't understand. You knew we were coming but you can't help us?" Miranda said. "Why can't you help us? I thought that's what witches did, help people who needed it. If it's money, we can pay you."
The woman rocked backward, shaking her white hair. "It's not the money, child. I know many things, and I can fix many things, but your problem is something that even my magic can't fix. You are dealing with very evil forces, forces that go back to the beginning of time. There is no one that can help you, child. No one. You must accept your destiny."
Miranda bit her lip and pushed back the despair threatening to overcome her. The last few strands of hope died as she listened to the woman.
"No, there has to be a way you can help her," Hadden insisted. "There has to be something you can do to stop what is happening to her."
A shuttered expression came across the old woman's withered features. "No, there is nothing. My advice is to accept her fate and go on with your life, Doctor. That's all you can do for her."
Just then Hadden's beeper went off. He reached into his jacket impatiently and cut it off. "Miranda, we have to go. I have to find a phone."
"I'm sorry my mother couldn't help you," Elaine said as she showed them to the door. "I know how disappointed you must be."
Hadden frowned, his arm tightening around Miranda's waist. "I'm not convinced your mother can't help us. There is something she isn't telling us…something she is afraid to reveal."
Elaine shrugged helplessly. "That may be true, but if mother doesn't want to tell you, well, there is nothing you can do to change her mind."
"Yes, but perhaps you can, Ms. Campbell. Please talk to her. Perhaps you can convince her how much we desperately need her help in this matter."
The woman nodded. "I'll do my best, mister. But I won't make you any promises. I don't put much stock in this kind of stuff."
"Thank you," Miranda whispered, taking the woman's hand into her own. "We can't ask for anything more than that.
Hadden handed her a card. "My service will know how to reach me if you find out anything."
The trip back to town was made in silence and once they reached a phone booth, Hadden got out to make his call. He returned a few scant seconds later, his eyes worried and concerned.
"What is it? What's happened?"
"It's Jan, Miranda. She's been attacked."
Chapter 12
* * *
Steven met them as they came through the glass double doors of the Kingston County Hospital. From the worried look on his face, Miranda suspected the worst.
"Thank God, you're here," he said.
Miranda touched his sleeve. "We got here as soon as we could. How is she, Steven?"
Steven took off his glasses and shook his head. "Not good, Miranda. They're not sure if she's going to pull through or not."
Hadden put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Does the sheriff have any clues to who did it and how it happened?"
Steven's expression hardened; a muscle jumped in his cheek. "No, not yet. The whole town is convinced she was attack by the same animal that killed Bobby, but you and I both know who the real culprit is. And I intend to see him pay for what he did to Jan."
Alarmed by his words, Miranda clutched at his arm. "Don't do anything crazy, Steven. Drake is too powerful for you to try and take on alone. I don't want to lose another person I care about to this madness that's taken over my life."
"He wouldn't be alone," Hadden said, his voice harsh with emotion. "I'll be with him. Drake has to be stopped now before it's too late and he kills again."
"No…stop it," she cried. "I won't hear of it. It would be suicide, and you both know it. Leave it alone."
Hadden let out an explosive sigh. "Then what do we do, Miranda? Just let him kill off our people one by one? I for one can't just stand by and do that."
Steven put his glasses back on, his eyes sad. "She's right, Hadden. It would be insane for us to try and go against someone like Drake without help. He warned me to stay away from Miranda."
Hadden grabbed his upper arm. "When? When did you see Drake?"
Steven looked surprised. "Didn't I mention it?"
"No," Hadden snapped. "So tell us now."
Steven shrugged off Hadden's hand. "There's not much to tell, Hadden. He was waiting on me the other night when I came in. He made a mess of my study and made some rude comments about my books, and then warned me to stay away from Miranda. I should have listened. Perhaps then he wouldn't have hurt Jan the way he did."
Miranda shook her head. "No, it's my fault. He insinuated he would hurt her if I didn't do what he wante
d."
Hadden gave her a hard look. "And when the hell did you see him?"
Miranda rubbed her arm nervously. "I'm sorry. I know I should have mentioned it, but I didn't want to worry you any more than you already were. He came to see me while you were in town. Jan was just leaving, and well, I guess he figured out how much I cared about her."
Hadden's mouth pressed into a hard line. "That's it. I'm going to take this guy out if it's the last thing I do."
"No, Hadden," Steven said. "Miranda's right. I'm not sure if any human could go after Drake and live to tell about it later. Perhaps we should go to the sheriff, tell him what we know?"
Hadden gave him an incredulous stare. "About Miranda? Have you lost your mind?"
"No…about this Drake character. Miranda need not be mentioned at all. I think the sheriff needs to know what he's dealing with, don't you?"
Hadden let out a harsh bark of laughter. "Norman would think we were nuts." He quieted. "He'd never believe us, Steven. And besides, I can't take a chance like that, not with Miranda's life hanging in the balance. Drake has already implied that he would take Miranda down with him. No…it's just too damn risky."
Steven jammed his hands into his trouser pockets.
"What about Mrs. Campbell? Didn't she have anything that could help Miranda?"
Miranda stared at the shiny white tile floor; the smell of disinfectant was beginning to make her feel sick. She swayed slightly. "No…" she whispered.
Hard hands caught her as she slipped to the floor. "Miranda!"
Hadden led her to a sagging green leather couch in the waiting area. "Here, sit down for a minute."
"I'm okay, Hadden. Just tired is all." Silently she added hungry, but she couldn't tell him that because she wasn't hungry for normal food. Her stomach twisted painfully at the thought of what she did hunger for instead.
Steven thrust a paper cup of water in her face. "Here, drink this, Miranda. It should help."
Miranda took it gratefully, giving him a tired smile. "Thank you, Steven."
