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The chill had overtaken the bedroom. Lauren built a fire in the fireplace, and it began to warm quickly. Zuzu had brought several outfits earlier, including a thin white cotton night gown, a robe, and slippers. Lauren decided the bath was too much to resist. After a warm soak in the tub, she put on the gown and settled in for the night. There was no television, but she didn’t need one. She read the label on the anti-nausea medicine — Phenergan — the doctor had given her and decided a proactive dose of the medicine might help the soup stay where it belonged. If it made her sleepy now, it wouldn’t matter. She needed rest.
Once bathed, warm and properly medicated, she climbed into bed with a book she’d found on the shelf in the corner; Ulysses printed in Czech. She’d read it in English while still a schoolgirl, and more recently in Greek. It would be interesting to watch for cultural and linguistic differences of the various translations, but she could barely keep her eyes open long enough to get through the opening pages. Sleep came quickly and pulled her down deeply. It held her there long into the night.
* * *
Dreams came and blurred into one another as she slept. Wolf songs filled her ears as she found herself lying in a field of daisies overlooking a familiar lake in Yellowstone. A shooting star streaked across the sky and a wolf — one she recognized as Judy Blue Eyes — yelped. Lauren had named all the wolves in the pack after her favorite singers, Judy Collins, Joan Baez, Frank Sinatra, Michael Bublé, Josh Groban, James Taylor, John Denver ... even Christina Aguilera. Lauren could pick out their voices in the night as they sang to one another across the wide valley where they hunted. She knew each of their voices well. Each had a distinct timber. Judy’s was the highest pitched of them all, but this cry wasn’t song, rather a yowl of distress; a yelp of pain.
Lauren sat up startled. Her heart raced in her chest. Another wolf — Christina — cried out in the distance. Something was attacking the pack.
In her dream, she jumped to her feet and raced out across the valley with the moonlight over her shoulder. Her hair flew loose behind her, and her lungs burned with the cold night air as she ran her fastest. As she reached the tree line, she skidded to a stop. Her blood chilled in her veins. The gray and white wolf she recognized as Frank lay in a crimson pool. Life gushed from the wound at his throat.
She staggered a few paces, finding Judy Blue Eyes in the same condition. No! What was killing her friends? She thought of them as friends ever since she’d come to Yellowstone to study them. That had been over a decade ago, and she couldn’t possibly expect the whole pack to be alive today. That didn’t really matter. They lived in her dreams. When she was working in the wilderness, she would lay at night listening for wolf song. Sometimes she thought she could hear them singing at night as they remained constant companions; watchers in the dark.
“Josh?” she called out, letting her voice draw out. “Joan?” Though she had named all the wolves that first summer, she never interacted with them. It was safer for the wolves when she kept her distance. She didn’t know why she called to them now, but she was genuinely afraid for the whole pack.
“Did you miss me?” A wolf stood in the darkness between the trees; obscured by shadow.
Lauren turned, startled. “Who are you?”
“Don’t you recognize us? It’s Michael,” he said. He looked oddly familiar, yet completely strange to her. His voice was even more so. He had a soft tenor with a cadence she couldn’t quite place; a voice that seemed to echo.
A breath of wind lifted the wolf’s coat, and it seemed to sparkle as the creature morphed into human form. “Michael?” The man stepped out from the shadows. It looked like her brother, but there was something different she couldn’t put her finger on. He had a rakish, almost wolf-like gleam in his eye as he moved closer.
“You named a wolf Michael Bublé? That’s what you called him.”
“Michael? Something isn’t right here,” Lauren stated. “What’s going on?”
“We have been watching,” he said. “We are always watching.”
She made to move toward him, but he held up a hand. She froze. The ground was wet and slushy. She felt the cold against her bare feet and her toes went numb.
“What are you doing here?” She panted, her breath hanging in the air around her face.
He nodded as he moved casually with a lithe grace she wasn’t accustomed to. “You need us.” He stopped and leaned on a tree.
“Why? What happened to the wolves? Am I dreaming?”
He glanced over at the bodies. “Well, there’s trouble.”
“Who would do that?”
“Who? Or what?”
“You’re talking in riddles.” Lauren’s knees felt weak. Chills raced down her arms.
“We’re under attack. Enlil and his armies are collecting and gaining strength, despite the Great Peace.” He started towards her. “Now is the time for war. This is the task you were made for, my sister. The one the gods have brought you to.” She noticed his foot prints in the soft ground were not human tracks, but those of a wolf. “The trickster comes like a thief in the night.”
Trickster, indeed. She was immediately suspicious. Lauren’s mind was racing. She felt deceived even as she stood there watching her brother — someone who looked like her brother — just a few feet away from her. He looked healthy, robust, his long hair loose. He didn’t look like he’d aged a day since his — ascension. “I don’t know what you mean.” Panic raced through her. She tossed in her bed, her body restless, while her mind was unable to escape the nightmare. “Please, explain!”
“The Great Dragon fell from grace long ago, but he prepares to challenge those who are chosen by the gods. He is gathering his power and when his book is made whole, he shall take up his wings and rise to take arms against the heavens and against the very gods themselves.”
Lauren’s knees turned to rubber. She slumped to the ground, trembling. “The war ...” The words of Enki echoed in her head. “The war is coming.”
“The war is here, sister. The enemy is at the gate,” Michael added. “You will need to be strong of heart, and pure of mind and spirit.”
“But ...” Lauren reached out as if a silent query to ask the questions she couldn’t articulate.
“Beware the Deceiver.” Michael’s voice echoed in her head. A cold mist of sweat broke out on her flesh, and she could feel the gown clinging to her body. “He will do everything he can to defeat you before the war even begins. Beware the Fallen.”
Michael turned, seemingly moving in slow motion as he started back into the trees. “Remember the promise that was made. You who have sought truth, found it, and used it wisely. You are to serve as our hand, our eyes. When the time comes, your role will require the greatest sacrifice.” The words of the alien god came back to her. She felt sick and swallowed hard, but then the remainder of the promise found her. “We will not ask more of you than you can give, and we will guard over your family, and your children.”
“Michael,” she gasped as he took a step back and turned. The fog came for him, but she clearly saw him morph back into a wolf before he disappeared, and the scene faded to black.
“Michael! Help me! Come back!”
* * *
“Lauren?” Zuzu’s face appeared as she forced her eyes open. The woman’s hands were on her arms, grasping her tightly. “Lauren, wake up. Are you okay?”
“Huh?” Lauren roused. She felt as if her bones had turn to lead. “What?” Her bedclothes were soaked with sweat. Her hair was in her face and clung to her neck and brow.
“You were crying out in your sleep,” Zuzu said, sitting back. “I could hear you from the living room. Are you okay?”
“Where am I? Where’s Tomáš?” Lauren ran a trembling hand over her hair, pushing it away from her eyes. A pale glow of daylight was beaming through the windows. “What time is it?”
“It’s well after noon,” Zuzu said. “Tomáš called and said he found something interesting at the museum and he wouldn’t be able to make it out ‘til this evening. I knew you said you were tired, but I was starting to worry when I couldn’t wake you.”
Lauren pushed herself up to her elbow and slid up in the bed. “The medicine the doctor gave me must have knocked me out.” Her voice was gruff, even to her own ear.
“Well, one way to avoid morning sickness is to sleep through the morning.” Zuzu stood. “Do you feel better?”
“I’m not nauseous at least,” Lauren said, licking her lips. Her mouth was dry.
“There’s some soup left from last night,” she said. “I’ll heat it and bring it up to you.”
“No,” Lauren said with a wave of her hand. “I mean, thank you. But I’ll get dressed and come downstairs. You don’t need to wait on me hand and foot.”
“I had four children of my own, Dr. Pierce. I know what it’s like in those first few months of pregnancy.”
“And did anyone wait on you hand and foot?” Lauren asked.
A bemused smile graced her features. “Now that you mention it, no.”
“Give me a few minutes to shake the cobwebs out and I’ll be down,” Lauren said.
“Fair enough.” Zuzu turned and paused at the door. “Take your time. I’ll be downstairs.”
* * *
Lauren rose slowly, heavy-headed, and heavier boned. Her stomach seemed to sit like a stone in her pelvis. Mice did cartwheels in her womb, a sign of healthy life that made her smile as her hand went to the growing swell. She paused at the window in the borrowed nightgown, getting her first good look at the castle on the rise above. The castle was a gothic megalith of gray stone with tiled towers topped with turrets and spires. The blocks were almost the same color as the slate-gray sky.
Something moved in the yard below. Lauren’s eye was drawn to it. At first, she didn’t notice the figure until the breeze picked up and parted the trees. Lauren realized there was a man standing between two giant pines looking up at her window. Her heart skipped and she took a step back, pressing herself against the wall while her mind tried to process what she’d seen. Then she recognized the face that had been looking back at her even from a distance. When she looked back, he was no longer there.
“Christ!” She gasped, trying to force her heart to still. She wasn’t sure if she should be frightened or not, but clearly her mind knew to be alert. Panic washed over her, and she forgot her state of undress as she rushed out into the hall and down the stairs.
Her hostess froze when Lauren appeared at the kitchen door, still in her bed clothes, with her hair tossed about. Lauren could only imagine the look on her own face as it reflected in Zuzu’s.
“What is it, dear?” She dropped the spoon she was using.
“There was a man ... in the trees ...” Lauren gulped hard. “I ... it ... I don’t know, but ... I’m ... frightened.”
Zuzu put a hand on Lauren’s arm and pressed past her. “Stay here,” she said. Lauren never saw where the gun came from, but she had one in her hand when she got to the entryway. As she reached for the knob, someone rapped on the door. Lauren flinched, but Zuzu stayed perfectly calm as she looked through the peephole. She seemed to melt, and the weapon disappeared as she turned and gazed at Lauren. She opened the door, throwing it back wide. “Tomáš!” She scolded him as she opened the door. “You nearly scared poor Lauren out of her skin. Come in. Come in. You know you don’t need to knock.”
Tomáš stepped in, looking sheepish as he clutched his hat in his hand. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” He turned and looked towards where Lauren stood, partially shielded by the wall. His gaze narrowed and something about his look made her skin crawl. For a moment, those Slavic features made her think of etchings she’d seen of Vlad Ţepeş — also known as Vlad the Impaler, Vlad Drăculea — Dracula.
“We weren’t expecting you for hours,” Zuzu said. She didn’t seem to notice the look in her son’s eye.
Lauren stepped out into the living room, suddenly self-conscious of her attire. The nightgown she still wore was a bit thin to be gallivanting about in, especially in the middle of the day.
Tomáš stopped and looked at her cautiously. The chill of his eyes on her skin made the hair on her arms rise. Her stomach churned and she swallowed hard to keep anything from coming up. “Learn anything interesting?” Lauren forced a bright question as she wrapped her arms around herself.
“Nothing of any consequence,” he said flatly. “But another page of that document you were looking for has reportedly been found in the archives at The Sedlec Ossuary. You need to go see it. I’ll take you.”
“We were about to have lunch,” Zuzu beamed. “Come join us. Lauren needs to eat before she goes anywhere.”
“Excuse me,” Lauren turned towards the stairs. “I’ll go change.”
* * *
Upstairs she dressed quickly, pausing to brush her long hair and plait it hurriedly into a braid, which she knotted up at the nape of her neck and pinned into place. As she passed, she paused at the window looking at the spot where she’d seen the man in the yard. Her eye turned towards the drive, and she chilled when she realized the detective’s car wasn’t parked outside. She suddenly felt sick.
She turned from the window and stopped long enough to put on her socks and shoes, then raced down the stairs to find Zuzu in the kitchen alone.
Her hostess froze when Lauren appeared around the corner. “What is it, dear?”
“Where’s Tomáš?” she gulped.
“I told you,” she said. “He’s going to be late. He found something at the museum.”
Floating dots turned to stars in her eyes as the room spun. She caught the edge of the counter. “What is it?” Zuzu asked.
“He was here,” Lauren said.
“Who was here?” Zuzu looked genuinely concerned.
“Your son,” Lauren snapped. “He was just here.”
“Last night, yes.”
“No. Just now.” Bile rose in the back of her throat.
“Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” Zuzu caught her arm as the room tilted and a mist of sweat broke over her upper lip. “Your color has gone off.”
The woman led Lauren over to the table and got a chair under her before her knees gave out. Lauren fisted her hands and pressed her elbows on the table to support herself. Her mind was racing, and her heart was rushing to keep up, barely able to supply sufficient blood flow to keep her from passing out.
“Here.” A glass of water was pressed into her unsteady hand. Zuzu helped her lift it to her lips. She took a tentative sip before all but burying her face in the glass, gulping desperately. The cool water hit her stomach and churned like a whirlpool, threatening to come back up. Lauren pushed the glass away, pressing her cold hands to her hot face. Zuzu took a tea towel from the drawer by the stove and rinsed it in the sink. She pressed the cloth against her neck. The relief was almost immediate. “Do I need to call for an ambulance?” Zuzu pulled up a chair and sat down beside her, as Lauren sat back. Her hostess mopped her face with the cloth, and the spinning in her head began to abate.
“No,” she said, but even Lauren wasn’t convinced. “I don’t know what’s happening ... I’ve never been one to get sick like this.”
“You’re with child, dear ...”
“I never had morning sickness with either of my sons.” Lauren took the cloth and used it to mop her chest where sweat trickled between her breasts. “Something is wrong with me. I think ... I mean,” Lauren hesitated. “I think I may be losing my mind.” She spoke the words she’d been thinking.
“Perhaps you’re having an indigo child,” Zuzu said.
Lauren looked at her blankly. “A what?”
“Surely in your line of work you’ve heard of indigo children?” Zuzu said. “A star child? Sometimes they are even called rainbow children. They present as difficult to manage, but it’s generally because they have some energy ... some force they are struggling to control or understand.”
“Did you say star child?” Lauren swallowed hard.
“Some say they are reincarnated spirits who didn’t have the slate wiped fully clean,” Zuzu said, taking the cloth and rinsing it again before handing it back. “Since they come straight from a higher plane, their karmic debt is almost nil, so they are blessed with gifts.”
“What kind of gifts?” Lauren asked.
“Some are especially sensitive to others, some can teleport, or use telekinesis. Others have the gift of foresight or prophesy; clairvoyance. Some can change their shape, or even escape the bonds of their own time and place in the universe. Because their spirits are pure, they’re especially in tune with animals and can sense when a creature is upset, or suffering. They have a higher aptitude for the arts, especially music and drawing. Some say they can even hear the music of the cosmos.”
Lauren’s head lifted and the hand holding the dish cloth to the base of her skull fell to her lap. “So ... do they carry that gift throughout their lives?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “Unless they have it beaten out of them. Most remain at least sensitive to the forces around them; good or ill.”
“Good or ill?”
“Why do you ask?” Zuzu leaned in to inspect her, taking the cloth back and mopping her brow as she pushed aside a lock of hair that had come loose near her temple.
“There was a man in the yard ...” Lauren’s voice caught in her throat.
“What?” Zuzu started to get up. Lauren caught her arm.
“I already told you ...” Lauren said. “You went to the door to see who it was ... you had a gun.”
“Of course I have a gun. I have several,” Zuzu said. “I’m never more than ten feet from a gun in this house.”
“It was Tomáš at the door ...” Lauren forced herself to continue. “But ... something wasn’t right.” Zuzu’s brow knitted, and she appeared to puzzle over Lauren’s story, clearly baffled by the tale. “There was something odd about the way he looked at me. His car wasn’t here.”
“What do you mean? I think if my own son were here, I’d know it.” She stood and paced. “How did he look at you?”
“I don’t know.” She took a deep breath. “He looked at me like ... like he was ... hungry.”
Zuzu’s brows lifted. “Hungry? Like ... sexually?” She nearly choked on the word as she sneered.
“God, no!” Lauren recoiled. “But his eyes were ... devouring my flesh.”
Zuzu looked dubiously at her. “I suspect you are an indigo yourself,” she said. “Clearly you have been under a great deal of strain. Tomáš told me some of what has happened to you. The soup is ready. You need to eat, then you can go lie down until he returns. Maybe when you see him, you’ll realize you were imagining ghosts.”
“Ghosts?”
“This region is rife with them.” She shrugged. “The ancient spirits of conquerors and kings still roam the lands. If you are perceptive, perhaps you have met one of them.”
Perceptive? Well, that was one way to put it. Yes. She had seen ghosts before. Lauren was still certain of what she’d seen that night at the Stanley Hotel, the night she and Rowan met. No one was within ten feet of her when someone — something pushed her down the Grand Staircase. Not a quarter of an hour before, she’d encountered a figure in the hallway outside of room number 428. She’d thought it odd when the man stepped out of the room and donned a wide brimmed cowboy hat. He turned and nodded to her. “Ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat. He turned and took two steps and vanished. As sure as she lived and breathed, she’d not only seen him, but heard him, too. His voice came to her just as easily today as it had that night so long ago.
“Here.” Zuzu put a bowl of soup in front of her and added a plate of bread. “Eat.”
Lauren did as she was told. By the time she finished the meal, her hands had stopped shaking and her nerves were starting to settle. She tried to convince herself that she must have still been dreaming; a vision induced by dehydration and Phenergan.