When you think you’ve lost everything, you have to keep going. Once you give up, the enemy wins. That’s what Adisa would have told him. An image of her formed in his mind; tiny, worn but with a warm spirit and intelligent eyes, his mentor, his friend. She’d be the first to kick him in the butt for his current line of thinking. Damn, he missed her.
As long as someone is remembered, they are never truly gone. His wolf chided him for his melancholy. They live inside you. The experience of having known them makes you stronger and wiser.
True. And he wasn’t giving up, he was just bone-weary tired. He’d make his way back to Cantala, deal with Deirdre, take Christina back home and then… His future was too nebulous at this point. Better to stay focused on the present which meant—he glanced at the now dark sky—stealing a boat.
He ducked under the pier and headed into the water. He’d swim to the boat, loosen the moorings and row out of the marina under the cover of darkness. When he was well into clear water he’d use the motor and make his way across the channel to Cantala. With any luck, he’d be back at the orphanage by morning.
Sister Bernita pinned a smile on her face as she listened to the demands of her difficult guest.
“I want to leave. Now.” Sister Denise had her hands planted on her hips. She was obviously used to getting her own way.
“I sent one of the men, Diego, into town as soon as it was light. He will return in a few hours with tires for your vehicle.”
“A few hours? At ten o’clock, I’m supposed to be leaving—with three children, I might add—for Santa Marietta.”
“I’m afraid that isn’t possible. It takes over an hour to drive into town. Diego must get the tires, run a few errands for me and then it will be another hour’s drive back here.”
“That is completely unsatisfactory.”
“I’m sorry but—”
“Do you have any idea how much this will cost me? The families were going to pay a substantial amount for the children.”
“If they truly wish to adopt, then I’m sure they will understand.”
Sister Denise opened her mouth and then closed it. Her gaze seemed fixed on some distant point. “Someone is coming.”
Sister Bernita looked towards the gate, frowning. “I don’t see anyone. Ah,” her face cleared. “It is señor Esteban.”
“Esteban? Who is he to you?”
She ignored the rudeness of the woman’s question. “A local gentleman who stops by from time to time.” For once Sister Bernita was pleased the man was here. He might provide a distraction for Sister Denise.
Esteban approached. The man never looked pleased to visit but today he seemed actually churlish. “Sister Bernita, I see you have company.”
“Yes, this is Sister Denise from the Brothers of Virtue. It’s a missionary group that has been sponsoring us. I believe I told you about them.”
“Yes, you did. I never realized exactly to whom you were referring.” He stared at Sister Denise, his face cold, hard.
“You know each other?” Sister Bernita looked between the two sensing an undercurrent between them and it was definitely not amicable.
“We know of each other, though we’ve never actually met,” Sister Denise corrected.
“Well, perhaps you two would like to become better acquainted. I have to—” A hail from the gate interrupted her. “What? More visitors? This place is becoming like Grand Central Station. I’d better go see who it is.” She hurried away.
Tina had been watching the proceedings from the window of the infirmary. She’d been doing her best to avoid Sister Denise. The woman was sure to demand an explanation of her unusual scent and she’d yet to think of a reasonable explanation that didn’t involve details she’d prefer not to share. With Esteban here, she felt braver and stepped outside, shamelessly listening in to the exchange going on.
“Why are you here, dog?” Esteban curled his lip.
“I have business to conduct.” Sister Denise arched a brow. “What’s your excuse, pussy-cat?”
“This is my territory. I keep close tabs on who is in it and what they are up to.” Esteban looked her up and down. “I’ve been watching you and I don’t approve of how you are using my humans.”
“Your humans?” The nun laughed. “Why so possessive of them? It’s not like you don’t have more than you need.”
“I do not need to justify myself to anyone, especially not to the likes of you. I want you gone. Today.”
“I’d like nothing better than to be out of this hovel. I’m waiting for new tires.” She turned to glare at Tina. “It’s her fault.”
Esteban shot a look at Tina and then redirected his gaze back to the other woman. “Regardless, I suggest you leave without your vehicle.”
“And walk back to the village? You must be joking.”
“I’ve been told I don’t have a sense of humour.”
A loud complaint from Sister Bernita drew everyone’s attention.
“You have no right to barge in here.” Sister Bernita was confronting someone. “I don’t want drug dealers anywhere near the children.”
Tina edged closer to Esteban. “Drug dealers?”
“That’s Emilio Mendoza, the local drug lord. He thinks he owns Cantala.”
“Step out of my way, Sister.” Mendoza brushed past her, making a bee line for Sister Denise. “There you are. You didn’t contact me as you said you would.”
“Sister Denise is an acquaintance of yours as well?” Sister Bernita hurried after the man.
Mendoza ignored her, focusing on the other nun. “Reyes is making his move. He’s invaded the northern quadrant and his men will be here within the hour.”
“Another turf war? The villagers have barely recovered from the last one.” Sister Bernita blanched.
Ignoring Sister Bernita’s query, Mendoza flicked a glance around the compound. “I’m making a strategic retreat but I’m not leaving Reyes a thing. Anything of value is being destroyed.” He gestured with his hand and a dozen armed men pushed their way through the gate. One of the guards tried to stop them. A shot rang out and the guard fell to the ground.
“No!” Sister Bernita moved to run towards the fallen man but Tina grabbed her arm, holding her back.
“Sister, don’t. They’ll shoot you, too.” Tina’s voice shook as much as her hands. What was going on?
Mendoza unknowingly answered her question. “Round up the children, I’ll take as many with me as I can and sell them on the black market. Kill everyone else.”
His men immediately scattered about the compound.
“No! Not the children!” Sister Bernita tore herself free and pleaded with Mendoza. “We’re just a poor orphanage. We have nothing of value, nothing at all. Please, kill me if you must but leave the children alone.”
“The children are of value. They’ll fetch a good price on the market.” Sister Denise stepped forward to stand by Mendoza. “I have several potential buyers lined up and access to even more.”
“My apologies, Sister. I no longer need you as a middleman.” Mendoza pulled out a gun and shot her at point-blank range.
Sister Denise gave one gasp and fell to the ground, a blood stain rapidly spreading across her chest. Sister Bernita screamed, her hands clasped in horror.
“The tarot cards, the nine of pentacles, warned me about a powerful woman.” Mendoza stared down at the dying woman. “I’d be a fool to leave you alive, waiting to stab me in the back at some future date.”
Esteban stood as if frozen, his hands clasped behind his back. Outwardly he was calm but Tina could see the flexing of his jaw, the fire building in his eyes. At Club Mystique, she’d seen similar looks on shifters just before they lost complete control. She understood exactly how he felt. She was shaking with a combination of fear and rage herself. What could one shifter and an ineffectual witch do against all of Mendoza’s men?
A sudden popping noise drew her attention. One of Mendoza’s men fell to the ground. Then another. And another.
All around, they were dropping in rapid succession like ducks at a shooting gallery.
“¿Que? What is going on here?” Mendoza quickly turned, his expression changing from self-assurance to shock.
Tina, Esteban and Sister Bernita looked around in equal surprise and then Tina spotted him. Stone!
He was near the shower stall, efficiently removing Mendoza’s men one by one. Hope surged in her, perhaps she even made a sound, for suddenly Mendoza grabbed her and pressed a gun to her temple.
“One move and I’ll blow her brains out!”
Stone froze, his finger on the trigger. He’d been about to take Mendoza out when the man had spotted him and grabbed Christina. Now they were in a standoff. Damn, if he’d only arrived sooner.
The trip across the channel had taken longer than expected. The outboard motor had died before he’d reached Cantala and he’d had to row the last leg of the journey. After hiding the boat in a small coastal cave, he’d let his wolf take over. A sense of urgency had the creature pushing the extent of its abilities to get here.
The country was in turmoil, pockets of fighting between the militias of the two warring drug lords, the government’s army randomly arresting and shooting anyone they thought looked suspicious, citizens trying to find safe haven. Homes and crops were being burnt as Mendoza attempted to carry out a scorched earth policy. Stone stopped a few times, quickly shifting forms and helping those his conscience couldn’t let him pass by; a pregnant woman and her child, an elderly couple. Once he was able to hand them off to someone, he’d slipped away, shifted and resumed his trek. His wolf ran faster, panting, tired.
We cannot rest, his wolf gasped. The witch and the orphans will need us to protect them.
When he’d finally arrived at the orphanage, Mendoza’s guards had been swarming all over the place. He’d managed to take out the men waiting by the gate and grabbed a rifle as well as a couple of spare magazines. Then he’d scaled the orphanage wall to find his current vantage point. Ignoring the bloody scratches on his arms and face, courtesy of the barbed wire that topped the wall, he quickly assessed the situation.
He’d heard enough to know what was going on, had seen Dee killed at point blank range. There’d been no flicker of emotion over her death. Maybe later he’d think about what he’d witnessed, at that moment, he was a Shomer with a job to do.
Mendoza or the guards. Who to go after first hadn’t even been a question. The guards were after the kids. Removing that threat had to be his first priority.
He’d known he wouldn’t have much time. Mendoza hadn’t risen to the top of the heap by being an idiot. As soon as the guards started to drop, it wouldn’t take the bastard long to realize what was going on and to grab a hostage.
A hostage. For a moment he waivered. How could he think of Christina that way? How could he stay aloof and make the logical decisions needed, the decisions that were in the best interest of everyone?
The witch is ours. We gave her our blood. His wolf paced nervously wondering what to do. Yet the drug lord cannot be allowed to live. Too many have suffered because of him.
Dante had been right; for the good of all wasn’t always pretty.
“Let her go.” A stupid thing to say but keeping the man talking would perhaps buy some time.
Mendoza laughed. “Why would I do that? You’ll kill me as soon as I do. Your kind doesn’t let anyone go free.”
“My kind?”
“Reyes sent you, didn’t he? I fell for your trap the other day but not this time.” Mendoza glanced at Esteban and Sister Bernita. “You two, move over there, in front of me. You’ll be my shield as well as this one.”
They slowly complied. Sister Bernita appeared pale, her hands clasped either in prayer or fear. Esteban looked as cool and aristocratic as ever, only a narrowing of his eyes showing he was thinking, plotting, biding his time.
Stone growled. Even with two people in front of Mendoza, he could probably aim between them and kill the bastard, but Christina... Mendoza could reflexively pull the trigger when he was hit with a bullet.
“Who is she to you?” Mendoza asked. “A girlfriend? A sister? Do you really want to be responsible for her death?”
A lead weight settled in Stone’s stomach. Letting Mendoza go free was unacceptable yet if he didn’t, Christina would die.
An image flashed in his mind. Back in the desert, the others being punished, tortured while he’d stood helplessly by. The feeling of defeat, failure... “Don’t let them break you...” Adisa’s voice played in his head.
He blinked and took a deep breath. There had to be a way. Narrowing his eyes, he studied the situation from every angle. Could he rattle the man? Cause Mendoza to lose concentration or reveal a weakness?
“Why are you running, Mendoza? Why not stay and fight Reyes?”
“A strategic retreat means you live to fight another day.
“By hiding behind a woman?”
“Hiding? Or using an opportunity?” Mendoza began to move towards the gate, taking Christina with him, urging Sister and Esteban to move as well.
Esteban seemed to be moving slower, creating a slightly larger window between himself and Sister Bernita. It wasn’t much but Stone readied his weapon, took a steadying breath. If he could hit Mendoza’s gun hand, the force of the strike would propel the hand upward. Should Mendoza manage to squeeze the trigger, the shot would, with any luck, fire into the air, rather than striking Christina.
“Did you notice what I’ve done for you, Lycan?”
Esteban’s murmured words reached him, so faint his sensitive Lycan hearing almost missed them.
“Aim carefully and kill the bastard. With any luck, you’ll miss the witch.”
With any luck. His wolf frowned at the choice of words. The cat has provided us with an opportunity and we will use it, but if we miss…
Stone swallowed, tried to clear his mind, to forget the woman he loved was inches from where he was aiming. If she moved at the wrong moment, he might accidentally kill her. A bead of sweat dripped down his face. His fingers flexed on his rifle. The perfect angle, the right moment…
“I love you, Christina. Always remember I love you.” He murmured the words and took aim.
Tina felt the cold metal of Mendoza’s gun pressed to her skin, felt the heat of his arm wrapped around her, his body pressed to her back. His heart was pounding, his breathing was fast. She narrowed her eyes and tried to conquer her fear; he wasn’t as cool as he was acting. In front of her, Esteban and Sister stood stiffly, a human shield. Between their shoulders she could see Stone. His jaw was set, his face mirrored his name. No emotion showed. But she knew his internal struggle, could almost feel it inside her heart. He couldn’t let Mendoza go.
She had to do something. Stone had already eliminated Mendoza’s guards, their bodies now scattered about the compound, but he shouldn’t have to be solely responsible for saving the day. Dammit, she was a witch. Ineffectual, but a witch nonetheless. There had to be something she could do.
Rage boiled inside her as she considered what would happen if Mendoza escaped. More people treated like disposable objects, more trafficking of children. More death and fear. More innocent lives lost. The more she thought of the pig who held her in a death grip, and what he would do if allowed to go free, the more enraged she became. A fire seemed to ignite in her soul, a heat that spread outward consuming every inch of her. Her heart began to pound harder, her vision blurred. A humming filled her mind, her body seemed to vibrate to the frequency of the tuning fork in her head until the very ground beneath her trembled.
Sister Bernita stumbled into Esteban.
Mendoza loosened his grip. “Earthquake!”
The entire compound began to shake. Leaves dropped from the trees, the gate creaked and swung back and forth. The cow bellowed, the chickens squawked and flapped in panic.
The wind picked up, whirling dust into the air, buffeting the buildings, whipping her hair into her eyes. Lightning flashed and thunder crashe
d.
Christina fell to her knees. Pressure built inside her head, as chaos erupted around her. Cries of fear, the cracking of wood, a loud crash. Screams. The pain grew unbearable, she gasped, clutching her temples, struggled to breathe, sure she was going to die and then...
Silence.
The pain was gone. The trembling inside her had stopped. She collapsed on the ground, panting, nauseous. Her face was pressed to the dirt, pebbles digging into her cheek but she felt too tired to move.
“Christina!” Stone’s voice. Stone’s hands. He turned her over, helped her sit up. “Christina? Are you all right?”
She opened her eyes, saw him staring at her, love and concern etched on his features. “Yeah. I think so.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“I am?” She touched her head, looked down at her body, confused, searching for a wound. If Mendoza had shot her, it didn’t feel like the last time.
“No. A nosebleed.”
“Oh.” She inelegantly wiped her nose on the back of her hand, a streak of blood showing. “I don’t remember hitting it on anything.”
Stone tilted her face upward. “Your eyes are purple, too. Hardly any brown showing at all.”
“Wow. Red nose, purple eyes. I haven’t tried that colour combination before.” She tried to laugh but it came out as more of a sob. “What happened?”
“Most will say an earthquake, but,” Stone looked her straight in the eye, “I think it was you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. I was watching and you started to tremble then it sort of spread outward from you.” He shook his head. “That was some hex you just pulled off.”
“A hex?” Suddenly she remembered a vision she’d had days ago and how odd she’d felt afterwards. The hands grabbing at the children, Sister Bernita trying to save them…
A glance around showed Sister was currently hurrying towards the schoolhouse where most of the children were. Esteban was standing, arms folded, by Sister Denise’s body and Mendoza... She gasped and buried her face in Stone’s chest. Somehow a piece of wood from the fence had stabbed the man through the chest pinning him to the ground. The drug lord was most definitely dead.
Wolves, Witches and Bears...Oh My! Page 33
