by Hazel Hunter
She ran her fingers over his thickly muscled thighs, watching the muscles there jump. After a moment of consideration, she wrapped her hand around the base of his cock. It filled her hand, hard and heavy. There was a bead of cloudy liquid at the tip. Without thinking of what she was doing, she reached down to lap at it with her soft tongue.
The pleasure of it made Shayne arch up. The power she had over him thrilled her. When she leaned down to lay a kiss on his belly, the sound he made was nearly a groan.
Slowly, she began to stroke her gloved hand up and down on his cock. His eyes were closed, those long dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks. He was so beautiful like this, he made her heart ache.
Her heart.
She frowned. This was beautiful. He was beautiful, but there was something about this act that left her strangely untouched.
Shayne’s eyes flew open. Whatever was wrong with what they were doing had become clear to him as well. His hand came up to cover hers, pulling it away gently.
“Gillian this doesn’t feel right.”
“I want it to,” she murmured unhappily. “I want you, I want this. I…I loved touching you.”
Shayne’s smile was equal parts sadness.
“I know exactly how you feel,” he said. “A big part of me wants nothing more than for you to keep on doing what you’re doing, and damn the consequences. But there’s something wrong.”
She sat back on her heels, feeling regret flood through her body. It was better than the emptiness that she had felt before, but only by a little.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, I don’t…I don’t know what’s going on.”
Shayne had every right to tell her to pull it together, to get her up and moving. He did neither. Instead, he brought her close and wrapped his arms around her.
“It’ll be fine. I swear. I’ll make it fine. We’ll get out of this, and sooner or later, this will be just a bad memory.”
He dressed in silence. When he was geared up again, she fell into step beside him.
But now there was no denying something was wrong. Wicked thoughts crept into her consciousness. They told her it would always be this way, that she would always suffer just like this. The Templar’s spirit had not left. She tried to push the evil thoughts away. She concentrated on walking. She followed Shayne, matching him step for step. But the Templar was persistent. He promised––swore an oath––that he would never leave. Could that possibly be true? When Gillian thought she might scream, she reached into her pocket, letting Max nuzzle her fingers. Once, when the onslaught of anger was particularly hard to bear, Vlasti came down from the trees to perch gingerly on her shoulder. She stood perfectly still as the little falcon plucked at her hair. When Vlasti took wing again, she looked up to see Shayne smiling at her.
“You should feel lucky,” he said.
“I do,” was all she could manage to say.
When night fell and Shayne called a stop, she nearly collapsed. She refused the food he tried to offer her. When he insisted, she managed a few mouthfuls before she had to push it away. The water was a little better, but she didn’t want it either.
“Shayne, something’s wrong with me,” she murmured, her voice breaking. “I don’t know what’s in my head. I don’t know what’s going on.”
Shayne’s eyes were dark with concern. All he could do was hold her, telling her it would be all right. Next to the river, he summoned fire to keep them warm again. The golden sparks danced in the darkness. Gillian absently followed them with her eyes, watching them trace patterns back and forth in the night. They were wonderful, as sweet and special as birthday candles. She focused on them until she felt her eyes drift closed. Sleep came with almost brutal quickness. One moment she was wondering what would become of her, and the next she was simply gone.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SHAYNE SLEPT LIGHTLY and restlessly. There was a part of him that was always on watch. That part took note of every one of Gillian’s tosses and turns. Gently, he laid one arm over her body to keep her still. It soothed her, but only for a little while.
If he left his brain too idle, it went back to what they had almost done at the river. It was an exquisite kind of agony to have her hands on him. The thought of her small, gloved hands gliding over his body made him stir. It was clear to both of them that he wanted her. There was nothing he wanted more than to let her continue. But there had been a wildness in her eyes and something uncoordinated about her motions that had disturbed him. He hadn’t been sure that it was only her who wanted him.
He thought back to the Templars that he had killed the night before. He didn’t regret it, but something about that bothered him too. He remembered the way that they had circled the camp, the way they hadn’t simply attacked. It suddenly occurred to him that they were trying to use non-lethal force. The realization shocked him. One of the Templars’ great missions was the total eradication of Wiccans. They didn’t take prisoners unless there was information to be had.
Shayne thought of how one had reacted when he had surprised him in the darkness. The Templar hadn’t had time to do anything except fumble at his belt. When Shayne had looked the man over, he’d found a gun. The fact that the gun wasn’t out for Gillian was indicative.
Shayne glanced at her.
“Poor darling.”
The Templars he had dispatched were interested in her. They were intent on taking her alive. The thought sent chills down his back. It was terrifying to think of what those men would have done to her.
In her sleep, Gillian mumbled, tossing and turning. He realized with despair that her temperature was rising again. The relief he had been able to offer by the river was gone.
“Damn you,” he whispered, thinking of the Templar he had killed. “Damn you, let her go.”
• • • • •
Gillian knew that she was asleep. The way she could tell was that, when she sat up restlessly, she left her body lying on the ground. For some reason, it didn’t bother her. She got up and stepped away. She looked at the sleeping body and Shayne sitting nearby. Still awake, his pained look made her heart ache.
I’m sorry, she wanted to say. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I know you don’t want to be here. I know this isn’t what you wanted.
When her sleeping body stirred, he draped an arm over her.
In her spirit form, she knelt in front of him. Though she was only a hairsbreadth away, there was no way to touch or comfort him. She remembered what they had done by the river. She had acted badly. Though she’d wanted to touch him, she couldn’t, not when she was being hounded by an evil spirit. She’d longed to run her hands over his body, to take him into herself, to hold him and be held. She had never wanted anything more.
The air began to heat.
She jumped up and backed away from Shayne, who had not sensed anything. In the real world, her body jerked and cried out. Gillian spun on her heel, toward the source of the heat, and gasped.
It was the Templar, but in a new form: a bare outline of the man was written in red mist. Instead of eyes, there were only shadowy patches. When he opened his mouth to scream, she saw sharp teeth. The sound that came out of his mouth was a hellish shriek. She covered her ears, but it did no good.
From out of nowhere, a spear appeared in his hands. He thrust it at her. She barely dodged sideways fast enough. As the tip passed, she saw it was stained with blood. For a moment she thought of grabbing it, but he yanked it back too quickly. Then, instead of thrusting, he swung it. Gillian stumbled back, nearly falling, but managed to stay upright with hurried, lurching steps.
Somehow she sensed that safety lay within her body. But the Templar seemed to know it too. When she moved toward it, he spun to block her way. His face split into a grin that was far too wide. The sight sent a shiver down her spine. In moments, her entire body trembled.
“No,” she whispered. “Please no.”
The wide mouth yawned open and howled. The screech was
deafening, piercing, and rattled her vision. He lunged at her.
Barely dodging the spear again, she spun away and ran. She did the only thing she could do and dashed for the woods. But she could hear the Templar in pursuit and, with every stride, he was gaining on her.
• • • • •
Shayne was jerked out of his light sleep. He didn’t know what did it, but he summoned a flame so he could see Gillian. She had kicked off the covering of the parachute silk. Her long, pale legs were bare in the dark. Her gloved fists were clenched tight. Every muscle in her body was tense. When he touched her shoulder gently, she made a pained sound, then hissed through her teeth.
“Oh Gillian.”
He threw a circle of fire around them so he could see her more clearly. She was shaking.
He poured some of the water out of their canteen, using it to wet the handkerchief. When he laid it against her face, she jerked away with a piteous moan.
At a loss, Shayne stared down at her.
“Oh Gillian, please, please don’t,” he said, barely aware of what he was saying.
He took a gloved hand in his. He could feel how small her bones were, how fragile she was. He would do anything to protect her, but it wasn’t up to him.
“You’re strong, Gillian,” he found himself muttering. “You’re so strong. You can beat this.”
• • • • •
Deep in the woods, Gillian knew she was going to lose. She was fast, but the Templar was faster. In her spirit form, she could still feel the burn of her lungs and the ache of her legs, even if her body was being left far behind.
Every time she tried to circle back to the camp, the Templar was there, thrusting his spear at her. She realized with horror that he had no intention of killing her quickly. He wanted to run her to ground, to exhaust her so that she was completely worn out when he moved in for the kill. Even so, she had no choice. All she could do was run. But the farther she got from her body, the weaker she became. If she was going to do anything besides run to her death, she had to stand and fight. She tried to force herself to be calm. If she could think clearly, it might be an advantage over the raging monster pursuing her.
With a last burst of speed, she jumped sideways behind the cover of a tree. Though she had no illusions that he hadn’t seen her, she waited. His footsteps pounded closer. But as he turned, he led with the spear. She grabbed it, finding it surprisingly solid in her hands. Twisting her torso, she gave it a mighty jerk. For a moment, she thought she had it.
The Templar roared with wordless rage. The spear froze in midair, as though it were stuck in cement. He shook her off with such ferocity that she flew toward the ground, slamming into it. In the next instant, the Templar was standing over her. She didn’t even bother to glance around. It was over. As he raised the spear, she closed her eyes.
I’m sorry, Shayne.
A blast of cooling wind burst over her. She heard the Templar unleash that unearthly scream again. When she opened her eyes, the Templar was fleeing back in the direction from which they’d come. The clearing where she lay was suffused with a cool blue light.
“You poor little ghost. Look what he’s done to you.”
Gillian gasped and tried to jump up, but didn’t have the energy. Instead she pushed awkwardly into a sitting position and turned her head. The light wasn’t coming from a lantern or a bank of outdoor lamps. Instead it emanated from a young woman. She was short, with curly black hair that was cut in a close crop. She wore a tight white T-shirt and a pair of jeans that were stained with grease. She stood at ease, feet apart. Then she cocked her head, and took a few steps forward. When she offered her hand to Gillian, Gillian didn’t hesitate to take it.
“You still remember your name?” the young woman asked, helping her up.
It was an odd question. Gillian opened her mouth to say of course she did, and then she froze.
She had a name. She knew she had a name. Shayne said it teasingly, worriedly, in a panic, and once or twice, with desire. She had to have a name. Didn’t she? A new panic seized her.
The young woman made a comforting sound, and took Gillian’s face between her hands. They were blessedly, wonderfully cool. Gillian felt herself relax a little.
“Gillian,” she whispered. She stared into the woman’s eyes. “For a minute there, I didn’t know. Why didn’t I know?”
The woman nodded and released her.
“You’re too far away from your body. That thing has chased you a fair distance and, without practice, you might not be able to find your way back.” She paused, looking over Gillian’s shoulder. “I want you to try something. I want you to close your eyes. I want you to imagine a silver line that leads between you and your body. Don’t think about where it goes. Just imagine that it exists. Can you do that?”
“I think so,” Gillian murmured, closing her eyes.
Imagine a silver line, the woman had said. Gillian frowned a little with the effort. It would be a like a shining rope and curve back through the woods.
“All right, open your eyes.”
When Gillian opened them, she gasped. She could see a faint silver line leading back into the woods.
“I can see it! Is that the way back to my body?”
The woman smiled before nodding gravely at the line.
“There’s going to be more than your body waiting for you. That red-eyed monster’s going to be there. It wants to kill you, kid. Make no mistake.”
Gillian shook her head.
“I don’t know what to do. Shayne’s there with my body, and I know he’ll protect it, but there’s nothing he can do about the Templar.”
“So you have someone waiting for you?” the young woman asked, but she didn’t pause. “That’s good. That’s very good. This Shayne, he’s someone you trust? Or that you believe in?”
Gillian quickly nodded. “Without question.”
“All right. That means there might be something I can do. First, you’re going to tell me something that only you and he would know. Then you’re going to follow that silvery cord all the way back to your body. But don’t get too close. And whatever you do, don’t let that monster see you.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to be along in a bit. I’ve got a body of my own to collect.”
The woman stepped close. Gillian caught the faint scent of smoke and motor oil, something oddly comforting.
“Don’t worry, kid. We’ll get you sorted.”
For the first time in what seemed like a small eternity, Gillian felt hope rise. She nodded, turning to follow the silvery cord back to Shayne.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SHAYNE HADN’T REALLY been sleeping. Above him, the stars spun in their timeless dance. It made him think for a moment of all the places he had seen them. The constellations had different names and different shapes, but still, they were all the same stars. He sighed and looked down at his hand.
One of Gillian’s hands was wrapped around it. Though she was quiet, she wasn’t at ease. She ran a temperature, and her body was tense. Gently, he brushed a few strands of hair from her face.
“You’ll be fine,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure he believed it any more.
Without warning, there were footsteps in the forest. It was the stride of someone who wasn’t trying to hide. He leapt to his feet, his hands ready to throw fire. But when the figure stepped out of the darkness into the light of the campfire, he blinked. He wasn’t sure who he had been expecting, but it wasn’t a slim, young woman who walked with a soldier’s swagger.
“Evening, Shayne. Gillian sent me. She says to tell you that your falcon’s name is Vlasti and that you give amazing baths by the river.”
Though he relaxed a fraction, he didn’t lower his hands.
“Who are you?” he said. “And why are you here?”
“You can call me Raina. And I’m here because I was out for a walk and a pretty girl came tearing out of the woods followed by a red-eyed monster. Gillian
’s here now, but the bastard won’t let her into her body.”
Shayne stiffened and glanced around. “She’s here?”
The woman nodded. “That she is. But that thing she’s got in her? It wants her good and dead. And I’ll tell you this, it’s not going to stop.” She tsked. “Dicey business. It’s bonded to her like tree roots in a cliff.”
Despite the dire words, Shayne’s soldier mind took over. The first step was to find the enemy.
“But if you saw her, and saw it, there must be something we can do.”
The woman grinned.
“That’s where I come in. I’m someone who…fixes problems.”
Shayne’s eyes narrowed on her. This Raina had wandered out of the woods, in the middle of nowhere, and claimed to ‘fix problems.’ Though his every nerve was on alert, her easy stance and ready smile seemed just what they appeared. And she had known about him and Gillian.
“And how is it that you fix problems?”
Raina’s only answer was to settle on the ground next to Gillian’s prone body. As Shayne watched, she ran her hands lightly along Gillian’s limbs, stopping to check her pulse at the wrists and throat. She made a faint disapproving sound. She waved at the air, as if she was pushing away something he couldn’t see.
“All right,” Raina said, getting to her feet. “That thing has been riding her hard. It looks to me that it’s got a death grudge against her.”
“What? Why her? I’m the one that killed him.”
Raina shrugged.
“Maybe she was the last thing it saw before it died. But really, who knows how those things think? Better not to know, as far as I’m concerned.” She paused, crossing her arms over her chest. “Gillian said she trusted you, Shayne. But now I’m wondering if that’s the right thing to do.”
Every nerve still on end, Shayne’s hands balled into fists. They were wasting time.
