Beauty's Beast
Page 8
Samantha’s shoulder burned. A glance told her that she bled from several gashes. She pressed a hand to her shoulder and concentrated, sending healing energy to the wound. It would do to stanch some of the blood until she had time for a proper healing ceremony.
Something swooped from above her. She leaped back to see the petroleum-black smoke materializing, taking shape. Alon now stood naked with his back to her, facing the little Halflings who emerged from the underbrush to circle them, standing erect, long hairy arms relaxed so the vicious claws grazed the ground. Samantha gasped. There were so many. Six, and even though they stood only three feet high, their numbers made her throat close as if someone squeezed her windpipe. Too many to defeat, she knew.
She inched closer to Alon, hating herself for having to depend on him to protect her. But she saw no gap in the attacking circle, no spot where she might break free, and she already knew how fast they could move. Would Alon fight with her or just hand her over?
“This one is mine,” he said to the horde, who all stared up at them with the biopic focus of all predators.
His? No. She was not. Not now or ever. She would never give herself to the enemy of her people.
She recalled their kiss and her ears went hot.
“Mine,” he said again.
Samantha turned to stare at Alon, joining the rest as stunned silence filled the clearing where she thought to meet her end.
“She is under my protection.”
The tallest pointed at Samantha and made a guttural, tortured sound.
“No,” roared Alon. He took a threatening step forward, the muscles of his back bunching. The challenger retreated to join the others. “She is not enemy! She is my woman.”
The largest snarled and made a gurgling sound, then nodded. The others nodded, as well. The leader made a series of sounds, its long tongue lolling and then twisting, darting from behind the rows of sharp teeth in a tortured gesture. What was it doing? To Samantha, the movement looked both obscene and mocking.
Samantha glanced to Alon for understanding.
“Yes, like mother. Skinwalker. But not enemy. She is our guest.”
Speech. Was the thing trying to speak? Samantha listened harder and this time she thought she heard the word guest amid the snapping and snarling.
“A guest is a welcome visitor, an honored visitor. Not food.”
They bobbed their heads.
“Mother wants you all to come with me. This territory is no longer safe for you.”
The pack shook their heads and disappeared into the underbrush. She listened to their retreat. Her shoulder began to throb like a persistent toothache. Blood ran from the wound. She pressed a hand over the injury, sending healing energy to slow the bleeding. She needed a circle to properly heal the gashes.
Alon still had his attention on the retreating Delta Pack. “Damn it.” At last he turned to her. “I can’t get them to come, and I can’t leave them to bring you to her.”
She didn’t like either of those options.
“Are they... Are they...?” she asked, feeling sure she knew since they were like the ones who attacked her dad, only smaller.
“My kin,” he confirmed. “The youngest. That’s the Delta Pack, each set of twins born of other human mothers and Nagi. We are always born in twins.”
Where was his twin?
He broke eye contact, staring away in the direction they had gone as if he could not meet her gaze. His translucent skin flushed. He glanced at the clothing, some folded beside the tree.
He slipped into his jeans then dragged on his gray sweater. It took him several minutes to locate his loafers. Once he had removed all that rippling male flesh from her sight, she found her thoughts were easier to gather.
“Those are the creatures that attacked my family. Only they were bigger.” She pointed in the direction the Deltas had gone.
“Nagi’s recruits. That’s why my family has been so busy. It’s a race to find more of my kind before Nagi does. They won’t come to Skinwalkers or Spirit Children. That’s why my parents brought most of the Alpha Pack with them. If they locate any newborns, the Alphas will be there.”
“I didn’t understand. It’s important.”
She said so only because she knew her family would have to face any Ghostling that they didn’t find first. He shouldn’t care what she thought, but her understanding mattered to him.
“That’s why Aldara and I need to bring the Beta, Gamma and Delta packs north. If we leave them they will be recruited or killed.”
Samantha rolled her shoulder and grimaced, then pressed a hand to it. An icy tingle slithered down his spine.
“What are you doing?” He had not meant for his words to sound so harsh.
She startled and stared with those lovely cinnamon brown eyes of hers.
“Let me see,” he ordered.
“It’s nothing.”
He extended his hand and she lifted hers. Samantha’s palm was crimson with fresh blood. Alon’s stomach pitched. He’d seen blood on prey, of course, but this was different, so different. The sight made him ill, when he’d never been ill a day in his life.
He leaped at her and she startled, but allowed him to turn her so he could see her injuries.
Claw marks, four deep lacerations, as if cut by four scalpels. He recognized them instantly and from the size knew it was one of the yearlings. One of them had harmed her. Which one? His anger boiled inside him like lava. Which one had dared to touch her?
“It’s nothing. I’ll finish healing it later.” She lifted her injured arm and winced but still stroked his cheek. “Don’t look so fierce, Alon. I’m fine.”
He captured her hand, trapped it against his cheek and felt the soothing calm fill him. He met her gaze, and the tightness across his chest eased. She was a healer. He’d seen her repair that rabbit’s spine. He released her hand, and the worry crept back into his heart.
He glanced at her hand. Blood now dripped from her fingertips in a steady beat.
“I’m not leaving you injured and alone.” He recalled the ceremony for the rabbit. “You need the stones.”
She nodded. “I can work more quickly if you could find me a feather.”
He drew her to a seat beneath one of the towering pines and glanced up at the canopy, where two crows peered down at them.
“Any particular kind?”
“Bigger is better, but any sort will work.” She was glancing about on the forest floor when he streaked into the air. The crows were no match for his flying ability, and he quickly plucked a feather from the slower one’s tail then returned the way he had come.
He held out the feather, stained red at the tip from the extraction.
She frowned as she took it. “I generally use found feathers, not ones still in use.”
He lifted his brows. “Will it still work?”
She nodded. “Will the crow still work?”
Was she teasing him? No one ever did that.
“Yes.”
She smiled. He felt his mouth twitch at the corners in return.
“Then all I need is a stone circle. Sage and tobacco help sanctify, but I can do without them for such a small injury.”
Blood dripped between her fingers, spurring him to action. He dressed again and then gathered stones, dug stones, unearthed stones. He set them in a circle as she had done and helped her sit within. Then he paced as she began to chant. Finally, he stood with his arms folded across his chest as he rocked, restless as the March wind.
He circled and watched in fascination as the blood ceased and her flesh knit. Even her blouse mended. But she was a Skinwalker, he reminded himself. This was not really clothing. It was a part of her, her magical animal hide that appeared at puberty and which she could reform to suit her needs.
“There,” she said, favoring him with a lovely smile. “All done.”
He offered his hand, certain she would not take it. She hesitated a moment but then allowed him to assist her to her feet. The
electric tingle at the pressing of palms sent a thrill through him. He’d never experienced anything like it, and he craved more.
“Can you heal anything?” he asked.
“Yes, my dad taught me the prayers.”
Samantha stepped from the circle and withdrew her hand from his. He allowed it then felt a tinge of melancholy as she moved away.
“Thank you, Alon, for rescuing me. I’ve been needing a lot of that lately.”
She didn’t move away. He thought about kissing her again then remembered the change that had occurred the last time. His desire died in a rush of shame. She cocked her head to look at him and then leaned in to brush her lips across his cheek. He closed his eyes to savor the tenderness of her gentle kiss and then felt the jolt of desire make him hard. Her sweetness was no match for his lust.
His skin tingled. He stepped away. “We best go.”
Samantha carried the feather along. Better to keep it with her. If she used part of her coat to tie it in her hair, if she wasn’t too rough in her bear form, the feather might stay with her.
Something caught his attention, and he turned to glance behind them. She followed the direction of his gaze at some undergrowth, finding no sign of the others.
“More Halflings?” she whispered.
“Just one, I think,” he said and then raised his voice to be heard. “Aldara?”
A moment later a woman darted from behind a tree dressed in only a simple formfitting sky-blue T-shirt and tight denim shorts. They had a keen resemblance. Aldara’s waist-length straight blond hair was similar. Her skin tone was even paler than Alon’s as if she were Scandinavian, rather than Native, with only the barest blush of pink on her cheeks. Nearly albino, except for those eyes, Samantha thought. His sister was shorter than Alon by more than a foot, athletic, slim, but still curvy.
“Samantha Proud, let me introduce my younger sister, Aldara.”
Aldara narrowed her blue-gray eyes on Samantha and glared. She seemed like a wild little animal, and Samantha didn’t know if she should extend her hand or run.
Chapter 8
Aldara’s gaze flicked over Samantha and then returned to her brother as if dismissing her as unimportant.
“The Beta Pack is on their way back and I located the Gammas. They’re close. I see you found the Deltas.”
“Yes, but they won’t go and they attacked Samantha,” said Alon.
This news did not seem to surprise or concern Aldara in the least. She shrugged. “Small wonder.”
“We can’t go without the Gammas.”
“Together we can make them understand. The Betas and Gammas can help us. I saw another ghost. We need to go.”
The look on Alon’s face had Samantha hugging herself. Nagi’s scouts, she realized. Alon had told her so.
“I have to take Samantha to the house. Then we’ll go after the Gammas again.”
Now Samantha had Aldara’s attention. She turned her flashing eyes on Samantha and curled back her lip to show strong white teeth. “Didn’t you tell it to remain there? I thought animals could follow simple directions like ‘sit’ and ‘stay.’”
“Aldara.” Alon’s voice held a warning.
“She’s one of them.”
“None of her family has ever attacked our kind.”
Aldara folded her arms and glanced away.
“She is our guest,” said Alon.
“An uninvited guest,” Aldara objected.
“My guest,” insisted Alon, his voice holding unmistakable menace.
Aldara threw up her hands as if conceding the point. “Well, it’s taking too much of your time. We need to move them now. The Beta say they spotted two just east of us. They could be here anytime.”
Alon grabbed Samantha by the elbow. “I’ll catch up.”
He turned and marched Samantha away. Behind them, Aldara growled.
* * *
Alon guided Samantha along the worn animal trail that he knew as well as his own face, faces, oh, hell. She’d seen them, the young ones in their natural form, the shape in which all born of Nagi began their lives. Changing to smoke came next, almost as soon as they were born. Why couldn’t they change to smoke to be born and keep their birth mothers from dying in labor? It was one of many questions to which he could find no answer.
At puberty they turned handsome, losing the gray cast to their skin, learning to transform quills to the fine pale hair. This was the same time the Ianoka, born of Tob Tob, assumed their animal form, according to his mother, Bess.
Did Samantha find them horrible? Of course she did. They were horrible, hideous, the stuff of nightmares. Walking, talking monsters.
She would now find him repellent. It hurt him to think of her rejection, even though he had not yet experienced it. But he would. Surely he would.
He glanced back, making certain that Aldara didn’t come at Samantha from behind. He and Aldara had argued last night. She favored bringing the young ones to safety as soon as they gathered them all and letting Samantha fend for herself. He didn’t think Samantha would survive the hunting ghosts or Nagi’s marauding Ghostlings without their protection. Aldara did not think Samantha was their problem regardless of her father’s connection to their mother. But Alon could not leave Samantha.
Aldara needed him. Samantha needed him. He felt torn in two.
He brought her within sight of the house and left her there.
“Is it safe here?” she asked.
He knew nowhere was safe any longer.
“Our packs will not intrude here.” But any outsider would look there first.
“Nagi’s ghosts?”
He hesitated, not wishing to lie to her. He needed to follow Aldara and gather the packs.
“They are still to the east.” He left her, feeling her gaze upon him. Wishing he could stay with her and knowing he could not.
* * *
Samantha watched him go, her senses prickling on alert. Nagi’s army was about, as were his ghosts. She shivered as she recalled their attack on her dad.
Should she sit alone in that big log target and wait for Alon, or should she follow him? She knew that he was her best defense. And the Delta Pack understood she was under his protection. At least they seemed to understand.
Samantha hesitated, weighing her options. She didn’t want to die. Perhaps if she kept him in sight she might stay alive long enough to find his mother.
Her dad’s words came to her again. Learn what you can.
Samantha shifted to her bear form and followed Alon’s scent trail.
* * *
Alon found his sister with little difficulty. Aldara met him in her fighting form. Not a good sign.
“Maybe the ghosts are after her.”
It was a possibility he already considered. Samantha’s arrival might threaten them all.
“We need to get rid of her.”
“If you mean kill her, I won’t.”
“They kill us.”
Aldara changed back to her human shape. In this form she was slim and curvy, with pale skin and long, cascading silver-blond hair that covered her naked breasts.
Alon looked away. Aldara was constantly losing her garments and had little modesty. Alon tugged off his sweater and handed it over.
Aldara drew on the soft cashmere, which reached her midthigh. The sleeves fell well past her fingertips, but she scrunched them up to her elbows as if preparing to give him a thrashing. If anyone came close to succeeding in that, it would be his twin. She was much tougher than she looked in her petite human form.
Aldara snorted. “I can still smell her.”
He changed the subject. “Any luck with the Gammas?”
“They agreed to come after they finish their kill.”
She had done well.
“We’ll bring the packs with us. Get Samantha to Mom. Then we can resume the search for strays.”
“They’re not strays. They’re infants. Just like we were, alone and afraid. I hate the thought of leaving them behi
nd.”
He preferred it to trying to reason with the feral little monsters. He made a face. “I don’t know how you can even bear to look at them.”
Her scowl held this time, and she pressed her lips into a thin grim line. “How can you not?”
Aldara knew how ugly they were, but somehow she did not find them repugnant. She forgave them their appearance in a way that both shamed and humbled him.
But he didn’t agree with her or his parents. The Ghost Children didn’t belong here. That much he knew. The Naginoka upset the Balance. It was why he had vowed never to bring another of his kind into the world.
“Even if we convince them all to go, that Skinwalker can’t fly. She’ll hold us back.”
She was right again. When he did not answer, Aldara snapped at him.
“Fine! I’ll bring the packs to Mom and Dad while you babysit the little animal.”
“I don’t want you traveling with them alone. What if he finds you?”
“He might just as easily find you and the bear.”
They stared at each other a moment as worry spiked in his belly, as sharp as a tack.
Aldara’s shoulders sagged. “They must have brought her for a reason.”
“I wish I knew what it was.”
Aldara looked miserable. Tears trickled down her face, and she used the cuff of his sweater to sop up them up.
“I’m scared,” she whispered.
“I know.” He glanced back toward the house.
“Can you think of another way?” she asked.
“No.”
“Then we separate. Perhaps we’ll both make it.”
She gazed up at him, her eyes no longer yellow but blue-gray, a shade much darker than his own. Her pretty face was contorted, her brow wrinkled, but in human form the words came easily now.
“I listen to the Niyanoka. I’ve been to their communities, attended their gatherings.” She could, too. They’d never notice her, a little gray shadow, a hazy cloud of vapor clinging to the ceiling like blue smoke from a pipe. “They’d like us all dead.”
Maybe we already are, he thought. Half-dead at least.
“They know that the Skinwalkers are hunting the