Chapter Twenty-Two

 

Shadows lengthened as each cautious step brought her closer behind River, his angry taunts falling on deaf ears, ears that at that moment were pinned, flat against a feline skull. Her vision was perfect in the rapidly disappearing light.

A breath. A pause, then a slow, cautious step. She repeated it, stalking him easily through the growing darkness. He was the one who was combing farther into the shadows. She merely followed. All the while her mind tumbled.

She didn’t want to kill him. She needed him alive to explain his fear. His absolute hatred. His anger was fueled by something she didn’t understand but could almost touch. She’d been close. It was there, just out of reach of her memory. Had he intended to challenge the wolf brother somehow? She couldn’t see it. The spirit was a pact, centuries, maybe even millennia old. He’d destroy the entire tribe.

“I know you’re out here,” he crowed, waving his gun around as if it were a magic wand to make her appear. In her given form she couldn’t snicker, but it was her choice reaction. He was a walking superiority complex.

Thank God she took after her mother in more than just looks.

She paused several yards behind him, hidden in shadow and frozen like a statue. Her gaze followed his every step, his every move.

Pictures flitted through her mind. The files she’d been reading before they’d drugged her and dragged her out into the wilderness. Studying him and listening to his ranting, the truth clicked for her rather suddenly. It shocked her so badly, she didn’t have time to be sick over it, because she never would have anticipated it.

She doubted anyone on the council even had a clue.

He wasn’t trying to destroy the tribe. He was trying to reclaim the shaman powers for himself. All of them. To rule the people.

And she proved he had failed. He had tried first by getting her mother pregnant, in his mind forcing the pregnancy, leaving her when he’d accomplished his goal, then believing he could control the wolf brother’s call to her. Believing that if she died, he’d have his answers, that it had been River’s powers that had killed her, denied her the ability to merge. She heard it all as he ranted. Which all but guaranteed she wasn’t the only one. To control the wolf brother’s abilities, meant a child first had to be born with the ability that he sought. She shivered beneath the puma’s skin. She prayed like she’d never prayed before, for all his folly, that she was the only one the wolf brother called to.

He was from the original shaman bloodline. Anything less was impure. And he’d wanted that power, the decision over life and death. But the spirit didn’t work that way. River’s depth of knowledge was lacking or he was arrogantly dismissing the rest. She hadn’t even had the training, and she knew no one person commanded the wolf brother’s call to merge. The age of the pact was ancient, the price immeasurable. River’s deliberate egotism was a crime against them all. She almost wished someone else were there so she could tell them what she’d discovered.

Waiting in the shadows, it was only her. And River. She continued to follow him, invisible in the darkness.

 

* * * *

Croma stood over Jacob’s body. Loren rose after checking his pulse. His expression said more than any words could convey. His pulse had stopped long before they’d arrived.

“This has gone far enough,” Croma decreed.

Loren glared at his dad, boiling anger making his voice sharp. “His death was greater than Angie’s?” Out of respect to the tribe’s feelings, Mark had stayed near Loren’s truck, waiting for the judgment to be made. Loren was thankful Mark couldn’t hear his father and himself. Mark’s nerves and patience were shot through, and Loren couldn’t blame him. He also doubted he’d be able to restrain him much longer. The last few hours—finding Angie gone again, then following Margaret’s directions—had put him on his last nerve.

Croma’s shoulders sagged. “No. There are many things I’ve done wrong. Let’s pray I can stop them here.” He leaned on his ceremonial staff, the exhaustion of the last few days showing their toll on his once robust frame. Time and age had finally caught up with him, and they weren’t being kind. Margaret sat silently, red-eyed in the back of Steven’s cruiser, watching them all.

People milled around the site, collecting information and photos. Soon Jacob’s body would be covered and carried away.

Margaret had called Steven in a hysterical fit to say Angie had shot Jacob, but quickly fell apart and admitted that she, Jacob, and River had drugged Angie and taken her deep into the wilderness. River had planned some elaborate sacrifice to the wolf brother, and Angie was to be the sacrificial lamb.

She’d hated Angie on sight for surviving, mocking her son’s death when he failed his merging. She’d never believed River would take it so far as to shoot one of them. When she’d heard the gun and saw Jacob crumple to the ground, she knew she had to get away. Her bitterness had cost her a friend and her freedom.

“Where are they now?” Loren searched the woods, where there was nothing but shadows. A glint on the ground several feet from Jacob’s body caught his attention. Standing, he held the bloody box knife covered in a sealed baggie in his hand. With only a single look at his father, he handed it to one of the deputies. He feared he knew whose blood would be on the blade.

“Falcon,” a voice called several feet into the tree line. Ignoring his father, he strode toward the call. The deputy was taking pictures of the bullet hole in the trunk of the tree when he arrived. “How old do you think that is?”

He touched the still leaking sap. “Not long, maybe an hour.” He looked around his shoulder, surveying the woods. “I’d say they’re still in the area.”

Loren nodded and began to search for other signs. It was only a few minutes later when he lowered once more to the ground, but not for a blade this time. With a sigh he gathered the clothes and reversed himself to the waiting vehicles.

Loren didn’t even bother looking at his dad. He set his find on the tailgate of his truck. Mark was at his shoulder as soon as he realized what Loren had found.

Lifting the shirt, Loren found the blood and the all too obvious hole. A neat slice, about the size of a cutting blade.

Mark’s entire body went rigid with fury. His hand shook when he ripped the shirt from Loren’s fingers without apology. His fingers held it so tightly, his knuckles turned white under the pressure.

“She’s tough, Mark,” Loren said, knowing what was going through his head already.

“What is it with you assholes?” He snarled quietly. Pain, anger, and fear were in his voice. “How many times does he have to hurt her before you will do something?”

“It will end here,” Loren told him.

“It fucking better,” was his adamant ultimatum. Every man had a wall, an absolute limit to what he could take, and when it came to Angie, Mark had hit his.

A sudden caterwauling wail erupted through the trees, a crying, carrying yowl that made the hair on the back of his neck stand straight up. He’d never heard anything like it before in his life. So demonic, utterly shrill and nerve chilling, he wanted to run himself. Before it had even faded, a male scream of terror rocketed to them. Gunshots reverberated through the night, and Mark tensed, ready to charge through the trees.

Loren gripped his arm, halting his movements. “Wait. She’s driving him back to us.” The howl repeated, longer, deeper, and Loren swallowed, unable to not feel the threat in that roar of anger.

“That doesn’t sound like a wolf,” Mark pointed out, his gaze whipping back and forth, the same as every person standing in the little group, all of them trying to pinpoint the direction the roars were coming from.

Motion within the cruiser showed Margaret murmuring, swaying, and shaking. Praying.

“Because it isn’t.”

Mark blinked, blanching a sickly shade of gray, then drew a breath, steadying himself with a hand on the frame of the truck. “You were right,” he managed, choking the words out by the sound of them.

“I almost wish I weren’t.” Then he turned to face the direction of those God-awful feline screams.

 

* * * *

Mark felt his legs shake, locking them so he wouldn’t fall to the ground. Shock was encasing him, almost a welcome kind of numb. That scream had crawled down his spine with the chilling finesse of ice. Loren was right. As a third roar carried to them, it was decidedly louder, more punctuated. With that powerful, screeching howl, she was driving River back to them.

Steven drew his weapon and urged Croma behind the cruiser, opening a door to block his own body. His deputy did the same, flanking the cramped space on the other side of the small track they’d driven to, searching for Jacob. Loren’s four-by-four hung at the back.

Crashing footsteps reached them. Someone running and uncaring as to what lay in front of him. As soon as his body was visible, Steven hit his headlights, and River tossed up his arm to block the blinding light splitting the darkness.

“Drop the gun, River.” Steven’s hand was steady, braced on his doorframe.

The arrest was anticlimactic for Mark after days of trials and mistrust, after the threats and attacks on himself and Angie. Mark watched River fall to his knees, exhausted, surrendering without a fight. Stark terror gave his face a dead, gray pallor. The gun in his hand fell to the ground. Steven approached him, grasping a wrist to snap the handcuffs on him. River didn’t even seem aware when he was pulled to his feet and escorted to the car to sit with Margaret.

Mark felt relief, but after everything, it just didn’t feel deep enough.

Something nudged him above his knee, and he looked down, spying a mountain lion rubbing at his leg.

He collapsed at the sight, his legs finally giving out on him. He’d never fainted. Never believed men could, but this… This was pushing his limits. She didn’t hesitate, just crawled onto him and sprawled in his lap, panting, like a giant housecat. A cat that could take a chunk out of him if it had been anyone but the woman he loved.

Mark bent over her, pressing himself into her thick fur to hide his tears.

 

* * * *

“How do you get used to something like this?” he wondered evenly, his hand stroking her side. They were due in the tribunal house for the tribe’s final acceptance of Angie into the Jahehn of Inglewood, and he was stealing the last few minutes without even a twinge of guilt.

A few stitches had taken care of the cut on her side, and Angie had bounced back from the whole affair. It felt like it had taken longer for her to explain River’s plans and what she’d overheard from him than it had for her to get over being the revered puma spirit. Unfortunately, it also meant they would have to be diligent in finding others, if River had more children than her with other women. River’s mental capacity had slipped further on an almost daily basis.

Her fingers trailed his naked chest, stopping at the snap of his jeans to return in languid patterns. She was already dressed. She wore a ceremonial doeskin dress borrowed from Grace, beaded with lovely bright colors and soft as butter beneath his fingers, and likely just as giving against her skin. Her hair was braided, ending in a knot with a single bead at the end. She was beautiful to him no matter how she dressed.

“I imagine the same way you take on any other new challenge in your life. One day at a time.”

He stared up at the ceiling from their snuggled position on the bed, his arms wrapped around her. Was it really that easy? “How do you feel? Are you okay?”

Her hands didn’t hesitate in their meandering. “I feel fine. Overwhelmed at times, if you want the truth.”

He tipped downward and kissed the top of her head. “Always.” Looking at his watch, he groaned. “Time to go.”

She rose and pressed a single warm kiss to his lips, sharing her devotion and love with him before they faced the council for the last time since her ordeal began.

A few days had passed since the final showdown with River, and Mark was almost feeling normal again, or at least as normal as he’d ever likely be. Letting Angie slip free, he sat on the edge of the bed, sliding his arms into his shirt as Angie studied herself in the mirror to ensure she’d done no damage while sharing the brief minute of ‘them’ time.

Dressed, he stood behind her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and met her gaze in the reflection. “I know we don’t know how things are going to stack up from here on out.”

“Hopefully today will be the end of it. I’ll go home, make a short presentation to divert interest from the talisman and the Jahehn, but give them enough to chew on to believe we really found more of their tribal work, which we did in the writings in the caves. And that will be the end of that.”

He nodded. “Then that only leaves one thing.” He turned her beneath his palms.

“What?”

Her skin was soft when he cupped her chin, stroking her cheek with a thumb. He felt the pull of her deep green eyes and took the plunge before he lost his nerve. Or the moment.

“Loren had asked me if I’d be able to live with what you would become when you still had to meet the wolf brother. I told him without a doubt, I couldn’t live without you. I want you to know, even with the status you’re going to have within this community, the years you’re going to have ahead of you to learn what it all means, and the responsibility you’re going to bear, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He took a deep breath and lowered to a knee. “I don’t have a ring to offer you, but I’m asking you to marry me. Be my wife, and I’ll cherish you and all that you are until the day we die.”

Tears filled her eyes to spill over like raindrops from her lashes. Her voice was thick with happiness as a whispered yes fell from her lips. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

He stood, sweeping her into his embrace, loving every inch of her body so close to his. Setting her down was a bittersweet feeling. There was no choice, but this was only the beginning.

 

* * * *

Nearly an hour later, Croma stamped his ceremonial staff on the hard-packed ground, the gray striped feathers at the top bouncing with the motion.

“Then let it be. Angela Merrick will be Woman of Two Spirits.” He smiled, graciously bowing his head to her. “Let us welcome the newest member of our community to our circle.”

Angie stood from her kneeling position by the fire pit, the ceremony complete as someone removed the naming shawl from her shoulders. The council had discussed for nearly thirty minutes the extent of her inclusion to begin her journey with the tribe and their knowledge.

She expressed some willingness but had held her ground on not wanting to join the council as River’s next of kin. Time might change her decision, but for the moment, many animosities would have to be healed and forgiven before she’d even consider it, if they should ask her in the future.

The one thing she did want to do was learn from Grace. The feeling that Angie could be the next tribal historian intrigued and appealed to her. It would keep her deep-seated love for the Jahehn close to her, but also allow her to continue her work at her own pace for the museum projects.

With Mark at her side, members of the council approached her to welcome her; however, it was apparent in their gazes a few were still unwelcoming to her as a person. She was fine with that. She wasn’t there to win anyone over. She was there to complete her registration with the council and then go home.

Steven had already expressed a low level of apology, but she felt it was only made under duress. Steven really had no like for Mark and left as soon as he’d greeted her.

Loren waited for his dad near the side door to the council house. She watched the elder approach with Grace at his side. His dark gaze was still troubled but softened and became welcoming when he caught hers. The future would be a rocky one now that the wheels had been put in motion. The only thing she could give them was her vow to do what was right to uphold the promise of the pact and to revere the spirits.

She studied the elder and realized that the entire situation with River had been draining on him. She noted while he still looked tall and regal in his appearance he also appeared more haggard and worn than he had at their first meeting. He’d lost ground within the council and within the community for placing sole faith in one person’s words. And she’d almost paid the price for it. Her anger at the council was still there, but with Croma’s acceptance of her place and change of heart toward her, she didn’t hold it against him any longer. It would take time to assuage the pains of the last few days for the remainder of the council who had seen fit to side with River, against the very laws that should have protected her.

“I must share my deepest apologies, Angie. We were all mislead and lied to. My son and your words and actions have proven that we were grossly wrong, that we wronged you. Anything that you need to know about the laws and the tribal knowledge will be at your disposal to learn. It will require returning, though.”

“Thank you, Croma. I will…consider it.” The warmth of Mark’s supportive arm around her waist felt perfect. “I have a lot to learn and would like to know what is ahead for me.” There was complete honesty in her reply.

“Don’t forget your children,” he offered with a kind smile.

She blinked, surprised at the suggestion. “I can’t. I’m barren.”

He hesitated, tilting his head to the side to study her. “Had you tried before your transition?”

“For years.”

“You are taka-ja-meh,” he said simply, then shook his head, a severe frown slicing between his eyebrows. “River has much to answer for.”

He lifted a hand and touched steady fingers to her forehead between her eyes, where the mythological third eye would have rested. The knowing gentleness she’d seen the last few days filled his expression. “Welcome home. I look forward to answering your questions. Strength does indeed run in our family, as it will run in yours.”

Croma left, leaning a little heavier on his adorned walking staff than he had days before. He must have spent a long night in meditation, searching for the right answers to today’s meetings. Loren held the door and walked out with his dad.

“What is that supposed to mean? All this proper talk makes my teeth itch. Can’t they just say what they mean and get it over with?”

She shook her head as he led her to the door. She waited until it drifted closed behind Croma and Loren. “You know better than that. It’s all in the way it’s handled, the manner of the voice, not just the words.” She, however, was wondering deeply at his final rejoinder. She put a hand over her stomach, only to let it drop as first the idea exploded for her, then vanished as so much wishful thinking. She knew she couldn’t conceive. Her life was already jam-packed. Not being able to get pregnant was almost a relief in the whole bag of issues she was now facing.

Angie had a new heritage to learn the nuances of, to follow in Grace’s footsteps. She had a wedding to plan and work still waiting for her in LA. Looking up at the man at her side as he held the door for her to the outside world, she couldn’t believe how far she had come in the last two weeks, from believing she was dying to realizing she was a lost soul of the Jahehn.

“You know,” she started, walking next to Mark, “we’re going to have to find a way to come here, and often.”

He nodded, his arm linked warmly around her. “I had assumed as much.” He glanced down and grinned lovingly. “I see that thought behind your eyes. You’ve already figured out a way to do it, haven’t you?”

She smiled, rubbing against him where he held her snugly. “I have an idea or two.” His light chuckle warmed her until his lips and his hands could warm her completely.