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“What if someone wants an ID when we land?” Evalle asked, running out of reasons to not join Storm on this trip. She had sixty feet left to come up with a viable idea before they boarded a Lear jet. The drive west of downtown Atlanta to Fulton County Airport, better known as Charlie Brown Field, had them on time to depart just after midnight.
Finally. When they landed, would it still be Saturday? Did Arizona use Daylight Savings Time? She was too tired to figure that out.
They’d arrive before daylight. That’s all she needed to know.
Even if she’d dragged her feet packing, Storm would have made the jet wait. Inconveniencing others would have been inconsiderate, and she did want to be with Storm, but he could function far easier without her.
Hadn’t the warlock in Oakland Cemetery proven that?
As always, Storm had an answer for everything. “You won’t need ID for anything. Stop worrying. This will be fun.”
She argued, “Your idea of fun has flaws. Remember when you tried to tell me camping would be fun?”
“Bad analogy. You haven’t camped yet. You will enjoy it when we go.”
She silently disagreed. Going to a reservation in Arizona didn’t sound as if they’d be in a city and there’d be nonstop sunshine. Give her an urban landscape any time with some Georgia rainy weather on occasion.
At the moment, though, camping sounded much more appealing than flying in an airplane to an unfamiliar city and staying in a casino.
What would those people think of her wearing sunglasses all the time? How did women dress to visit a casino? Evalle doubted they wore clothes like her standard jeans, boots, and BDU shirts. What would his uncle think?
How could she be of help when she couldn’t go outside during the day?
She could keep coming up with reasons not to go.
A new idea hit her. How many people could the jet hold? Fifty?
Regardless of the number, she could tell Storm they shouldn’t risk her becoming claustrophobic. She might panic, then her gryphon would show up at the worst time and kill everyone.
Her heart fell. That had a major flaw.
Mr. Lie Detector would roll his eyes at the fabrication.
She hadn’t felt any glimmer of her gryphon in Treoir and experienced little power at all in Atlanta.
The world was safe from a spontaneous gryphon shape-shifting event.
She’d agreed not to tap Adrianna’s Witchlock, a power at the high end of the nonhuman food chain, without bonding first, but she’d said nothing about finding another way to fix her body before she lost all her power.
Neither would she bond without fixing her problems first.
Going to Arizona killed any chance of looking for a different option from someone she knew within the nonhuman community in Atlanta.
If she tried to back out of going for any reason, Storm would immediately cancel his trip and stay so he could be nearby in support.
She sucked at being a mate these days.
When they reached the jet stairway, Storm sent Evalle ahead to where a woman decked out in dark blue pants, a matching jacket, and white blouse welcomed her inside.
Murmuring her thanks, Evalle stepped past the woman and into the cabin where she paused.
The interior reminded her of what she’d seen in movies of a corporate-style jet with luxury furnishings. Beautiful cream-colored leather sofas with matching chairs were scattered along the length of the cabin, accompanied by polished wood tables and sidebars.
No people.
She amended her assessment to a private corporate jet.
Storm’s hand cupped her waist. “What’s wrong?”
“Are we the only ones on this flight?”
“Yes,” he confirmed. “Why don’t you pick where you want to sit?”
Drawing in a breath, she continued halfway down the aisle and chose a sofa. She sat in the middle of the soft cushions and accepted she had no way out of this trip.
Storm asked to have the cabin lights dimmed as the jet motored to the runway. When he settled next to her, he asked, “Okay, what’s wrong?”
She considered her options, such as admitting she didn’t want to make this trip. She’d earn the biggest jerk award. Storm had never hesitated to do anything for her or go anywhere for her. The truth was she had a case of the jitters.
He could fit into any setting with a change of clothes.
She could dress up in runway model garb and still stick out like a weed at a national flower show.
Storm ran a finger along her neck. “Okay, spill it.”
As they made the turn to get into position to take off and accelerated, Evalle searched for any topic to avoid whining about taking an unexpected trip. “Are you rich?”
His eyes widened in surprised then he gave her one of his smiles that could turn her into putty.
She had no intention of getting naked with a flight attendant only a few steps away.
Storm quipped, “Took you long enough to ask me that.”
Lifting her shoulders, she said, “I’ve never thought about how much money you had until ... now.”
“Really?”
“Well, that’s not entirely true. I mean, we live in a building in downtown Atlanta and you have other real estate. Plus, I did wonder how you found me so fast in South America and down on the southeastern coast of Georgia when you showed up in a helicopter. I couldn’t believe you’d chartered one to meet me before I went to Cumberland Island.”
His handsome face fell at that reminder.
Her empathic gift picked up emotions she’d label as stress from a bad memory. She’d given Storm the slip in Atlanta to protect him from a beast game she’d intended to enter alone. She hadn’t wanted to go, but her former miserable goddess leader had forced her into that position.
Telling Storm would have put him in danger due to being a Skinwalker who’d be expected to battle.
Also, Evalle didn’t want him with her when she had low expectations of walking away with her life or freedom.
As it turned out, she’d been right on one account.
Storm showed up when she’d have thought no one could catch up to her from Atlanta after her huge head start, but he had and accompanied her into the secret nonhuman battleground.
Then the Medb teleported her and other Alterants on site to the Tŵr Medb realm.
Power built and rushed around her.
Yep, bad idea reminding him of that time.
Evalle patted Storm’s arm. “Power down. I don’t want you to blow us out of the air.” She added a smile, because he had unmatched control most of the time.
How often had her ability to land in a dangerous situation tested that control?
Too often.
He relaxed and she returned to her initial line of conversation, saying, “You were telling me about where you got the money to charter a private jet at a snap.”
“I have my own that I’ve earned, but I also inherited some meant for my father, according to my uncle. When things got crazy down in South America before my father died and I came up here, he told me if I ever needed anything to go to my uncle. I had no plans to ever contact his brother.”
“Why?” She’d like to understand the friction she sensed between Storm and his uncle.
Storm curled his fingers around her shoulder while he took his time answering. “My father and his brother fought over different visions for their clan, which is why my father left. He felt his people were losing their culture and the only solution people such as his brother brought in had to do with exploiting gambling on the reservation. My father died and I ended up a demonic jaguar created by the woman who used him.”
“The witch doctor who shall not be named,” Evalle quoted Storm in an understanding voice.
“Right. I can’t help thinking he and I wouldn’t have gone through all that if not for his brother’s determination to turn clan land into high commerce. I wasn’t happy to contact Bidziil when I needed funds, but he wired the money the minute I asked.”
Now Evalle understood the guilt coming from Storm. She kept silent as he finished explaining.
“When I returned from South America, I went to see him in person to repay him. He told me the money was my father’s and, therefore, mine. He’d been managing it all these years. I realized I owed it to him to repay that favor.”
She thought about when a Tribunal had teleported her to a jungle in South America. “You needed money to find me, right?” She shook her head and looked away. “I’m not just a constant danger to be around, but an expensive mate to keep up as well.”
His jovial mood flew out the window.
Storm came off the sofa and swung around, kneeling in front of her. He used a finger to turn her face back to him.
When she met his gaze, he said, “Do you think I care one bit about any of that money? I would burn it all in a bonfire this minute if I thought it would fix ... ” His lips closed in a firm line.
“My gryphon?” she finished for him.
Storm had to give her the truth. “Yes, I’d give anything for you to shift into your gryphon. You want honesty, so I’m not going to dance around that topic. I didn’t ask to be a Skinwalker or to have the ability to shift into a jaguar with my demon blood, but ... losing a limb would be easier than my animal. My jaguar is part of me. I get what you’re going through and will do anything in my power to help your gryphon return.”
She smiled, but her eyes wouldn’t commit. “I know that even without you saying it and love you for not pushing me or expecting me to just get over it. To be honest, I hesitated to come on this trip, because I want to be able to move on at some point and, if I stayed home, I could figure out my limits. It does weigh on me that I’m not at the point to fully accept what I can’t do. For now, I’m going to try not to dwell over losing my gryphon and do my best to enjoy this trip.”
Reaching for the right words were never easy in difficult times, but for her he would try. “I will always support whatever you decide, but I’m going on record to say I think you shouldn’t put a time limit on determining if what you feel right now is going to be your status quo.”
She listened with a thoughtful expression.
After a few minutes, he sensed her emotions evening out as if maybe he’d given her what she needed to hear.
He hoped so.
Silence sometimes offered as much comfort as words. Storm waited until she corralled her thoughts.
Lines formed at the bridge of her nose while she pondered. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Remember the shaman you brought in to bless our house? Is he like Garwyli and you?”
Was she looking for someone else to heal her? Didn’t she realize he would have found that person?
Storm gave her an answer he hoped met the point of her question. “Yes, that shaman could heal, but his gifts are more suited to calling upon protective spirits, like he did for our rooftop room. Garwyli and I possess stronger healing gifts than him.”
She frowned. “Was he a medicine man from your father’s tribe?”
Only Evalle would get that he didn’t feel connected to his uncle’s tribe in a way that would make them Storm’s. “Shamans are often considered medicine men and he is of the same tribe, but not from my father’s clan. They have a specific medicine man in the clan, unless he’s died and not been replaced. Why?”
Huffing out a big breath of air, she said, “This will sound dumb, but I was wondering if he’d see a non-tribal member.”
Storm considered that.
Did Evalle just want to have someone give her a spiritual reading? What harm could there be in her meeting with a Native healer? None that he could see. “Nothing you say ever sounds dumb, sweetheart. To be honest, I don’t know if a new person is in place or if that person will agree to meet you, but I’ll find out. My father said he grew up with a man who should’ve taken his place once he left.”
“Your father was a medicine man?”
Storm hadn’t realized how little he’d spoken of his father, but Evalle had no true blood relation she’d acknowledge so those conversations hadn’t happened.
He explained, “Had he remained with the tribe, he would’ve been.”
“That makes sense, considering the power from your Navajo side. What was your father’s name?”
“Sani.” Storm hadn’t said it in a long time. “I got the impression he became the go-to person around his clan from an early age. You’ve heard people call someone an old soul.”
“Yes.”
“That’s how I think he was considered in his youth. I inherited some of my gifts from him. He spoke little of his time before South America, preferring to tell me about my heritage more than his life growing up there. His power lay in his passion for Native culture he felt was being lost. That’s what drove him to travel thousands of miles to settle with a reclusive tribe like the Ashaninka and offer his aid.”
Storm still couldn’t believe that witch doctor—his birth mother—had deceived someone as powerful as his father, but she used her majik well to hide her dark side.
That manipulative bitch also managed to trick Storm into being captured in an underworld demon realm. He could appreciate how his father must have felt when he realized he’d been used.
“I wish your father was here, Storm.”
He returned his attention to the woman he loved, far more deserving of his emotions than the one who’d birthed him to be her personal demon. “I do, too. He would have loved to meet the woman who holds my heart in her hand.”
For that, he finally got a real smile that kicked his heartbeat into high gear. But he wanted to return to where this discussion had been heading.
Maybe visiting Arizona and engaging with some of the locals would reignite Evalle’s interest in bonding. They wouldn’t be that far from the location where he’d wanted to perform the ceremony. He asked, “So you want to meet a medicine man, huh?”
“I guess. I mean he heals people on the inside, right?”
His heart did a nosedive to his feet.
A medicine man in Bidziil’s tribe had very likely never encountered someone with a missing gryphon. Storm had to keep their presence as nonhumans a secret for the benefit of his uncle’s clan.
But he also had to be careful to explain this in a way that didn’t result in Evalle saying never mind and shutting down on him. “Yes, the tribe’s medicine man’s form of healing is to bring a person’s body back in balance. That often includes healing songs.”
Concern lit in her eyes. “Will he know I’m not human?”
“He shouldn’t, because he is and my uncle wouldn’t have shared that I’m a Skinwalker with any of the tribe.”
“Your uncle knows that about you?”
“Yes. When I tried to repay him, he pushed for me to move there and join the tribe. I gave him a demonstration of how my eyes change and shared that I was an Ashaninka Skinwalker they wouldn’t want around. That’s all it took to drop the topic.”
“Does he think a Skinwalker is a demon like you said the South American people do?”
“Demon or a witch.” Storm shrugged. “Either is considered to be from the dark side. The Dine people honor the earth and all the bounty it offers.”
“The Dine?”
“Yes, many of the tribe prefer to be called that instead of Navajo.” He paused, thinking about what they’d encounter at the reservation. If the medicine man his father spoke of still performed healing for the tribe, he’d be much older by now and possibly less receptive to meeting with a woman who didn’t belong to the clan.
The last thing Storm would tolerate was anyone denying Evalle a simple request, but at the same time he had to respect his father’s people.
It dawned on him that he might have a way to make that easier to set up and also be better for Evalle.
Storm started, “Here’s how I think it works most of the time.” He clarified, “I’m not positive, because I’m not a member of my uncle’s tribe and only know what my father taught me.”
“Okay. I’m listening.” Evalle sounded eager to hear more.
“You should actually meet with the seer first, because he or she is the one who determines in what way your Hózhó is out of balance.”
“My what?”
He chuckled and moved back to the sofa where he could feel her close to him. “Think of Hózhó as your body and mind being in harmony. Once the seer has determined where the problem is, the person in question goes to the medicine man with what the seer has pinpointed. Then the medicine man uses that information to perform the healing.”
“Huh. So the seer is like a specialist giving a diagnosis?”
Her genuine interest encouraged him to tell her more. “In theory, yes, but if I can arrange for you to meet the seer, it won’t be like meeting a human doctor.”
“Good. I don’t like doctors.”
Storm curled his fingers into a fist then relaxed his digits before he set his power churning again. A man working under the pretense of being one visited Evalle as a teen while she lived locked in a basement and that bastard had abused her.
The aunt and pseudo-doctor were both dead or Storm’s jaguar would be roaring for a hunt.
Evalle almost shifted the first time in that basement, which scared the predator into a panic. He died upon impact in a single-car wreck.
Too nice of a death.
“A seer sounds more like you and Garwyli,” Evalle speculated, dragging him back to the present.
Storm said, “Sort of, with the exception of the healing, which is left to the medicine man. Those two don’t normally work together specifically as in the same location, but they do share the responsibility of keeping their clan healthy.”
She tapped her chin. “That makes sense.”
Now that Storm thought about it, he warmed to the idea of Evalle talking to a seer. Being a spiritual person, the seer might be open to a non-tribal member looking for help. His father had spoken of how the people he grew up around were compassionate and had an honest approach to healing.
Just talking to a seer could be beneficial for her psyche.
At this point, she had only two paths for moving forward. She either found a way to call up her gryphon or accepted that she’d never be able to again.
The latter possibility sickened him.
Storm made up his mind that Evalle would have her wish.
She asked for so little.
He suggested, “If you like the idea of meeting the seer first, I’ll find out about getting you an invitation. After that, if you still want to meet their medicine man, it will probably be easier than just asking out of the blue. Either way, I’ll gain an audience for you.”
“No, don’t ask the medicine man yet,” she hurried to say. “Meeting the seer sounds interesting.” Then she sat up. “But first, I’ll help you with whatever your uncle has going on.”
“We can do both. Bidziil will be waiting at the airport when we arrive. Once I determine what’s going on, I’ll have a better idea of our schedule. As soon as his problem is resolved, we could stay a couple days, maybe take a break from the Atlanta preternatural rat race.”
This would be the perfect chance to complete their bond. He hoped she considered it before the end of the trip.
“Sure, we could do that as long as Quinn or someone doesn’t need us back home,” Evalle said.
That hadn’t been an ecstatic reply, but one step at a time.
He drifted a finger over her hair. “Good. I’d like to see more of this part of the country myself.”
“We won’t see much at night,” she joked.
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’ll get a vehicle and put a protective spell over it to block the sun’s rays like I did for my truck.”
“Okay, great. I can’t wait to see a new place with you.” This time, her voice had a lift of excitement.
His chest muscles eased at hearing her sound more like the Evalle he knew.
Maybe having her involved in whatever he had to do for his uncle would fuel her confidence, which had taken a hit at the loss of her gryphon. Using her sharp wit and ability to sort through a problem could show her how her value went deeper than telepathy and kinetics.
Just in case those powers continued to weaken.
If he had to leave her alone during the day for some reason, security around the casino would be tight. More than that, no one in the preternatural world would know her location while they were with his uncle’s clan.
He ran it all through his mind again.
Sounded simple and safe.
Why had a sliver of doubt burrowed into his conscience? He experienced that odd sensation again of questioning if he should be making this trip at all.
Evalle yawned and leaned over.
Storm closed his hands around her shoulders and moved her to his lap so she could stretch out. Her nocturnal schedule had been off since waking up in Treoir.
Once she drifted to sleep, Storm waved off the flight attendant heading his way, then dropped his head back and closed his eyes. With no idea what lay ahead of them, he could use a quick nap, too, evident by how quickly he fell asleep.
“Storm?” a soft female voice called from a distance.
Was that Kai?
Storm hadn’t tried to reach out to his spirit guide in a few weeks. They normally met when he had a private moment, which hadn’t been recently. When they did, he’d find himself in a pretty meadow with the sun shining, all composed by Kai.
She’d watched over Storm his entire adult life.
“Kai, where are you?” His words sounded muted. Could she hear him?
“Storm, you must ... ”
“What, Kai?” Why couldn’t he open his eyes and see her? Why was it so hard to hear her?
Kai’s voice wobbled, “... her ... spirit ... ”
“What?” Raising his voice never went well with Kai. She tended to call up a thunderstorm. “Kai? I can’t see or hear you.”
“You ... find ... Evalle ... dying ... ”
Storm came awake, panting.
Evalle moved where she slept under his arm. She grumbled something unintelligible. He tucked a blanket over her the flight attendant must have spread across his mate.
He still couldn’t catch his breath. His heart battered his chest.
Why couldn’t he hear all of Kai’s words? He didn’t know, but he had definitely heard two.
Evalle dying.
What had he and Garwyli missed?
