Moonrunner III
                  
            Dark Sunrise

© copyright by Jane Toombs   Oct  1997
cover art by Cindy Turner

 

 

 

 
                          Chapter 1

 
     The November tule fog that had shrouded California's
great central valley for most of their trip lifted as the
silver-gray Packard wound down a hill, allowing Jael
Steinmetz to get her first look at Volek House.  She stared
awestruck at the great stone fortress, its multiple turrets
bathed by the setting sun, the tall tower afire in crimson
light.
     Red as blood, she thought apprehensively, wondering
again why she'd agreed to come.
     Wolf Volek, sitting beside her, spoke for the first time
in almost an hour, startling her.
     "It was back in 1875 when I first saw my home-to-be," he
said, gesturing toward the mansion.  "I was ten at the time
and thought it was a palace.  Since I knew I didn't belong in
one, if I'd had anywhere else to go I might have turned tail
and run."
     Does he know I have no place at all where I belong?
Jael wondered even as she marveled at how open this scarred
and taciturn man could be when he did break his silence.
     She was twenty-seven, not ten, much too old to give way
to foolish fancies.  She'd seen many a San Francisco mansion
tucked away behind protective walls, hadn't she?  The Voleks
were wealthy and those with money protected their privacy.
If they chose to live in a stone castle girded with high
stone and adobe walls broken only by massive iron gates, that
was their privilege.
     Judged by his appearance, Wolf Volek's life hadn't been
easy.  The left side of his face was badly scarred with a
black eyepatch covering what she suspected was a missing left
eye.  Perhaps he had reason to live in a fortress.
     "I hope you'll stay," he told her.  "Marti needs you."
     He'd said something similar when they'd met for the
first time.  "I've searched for months, for years.  Believe
me, you're the one for Marti."  She hadn't completely
understood then and she didn't now.  It seemed, from the
little he'd told her, that the child really did need a
nursemaid but there were others just as suitable as Jael
Steinmetz.  She was far from accustomed to being the chosen
one--for anything.
     His scarred face made judging Wolf Volek's age
difficult--somewhere in his early fifties, she'd tentatively
decided.  But if he was ten in 1875 that meant he was sixty-
one now, in 1926.  Definitely old enough to be the
grandfather of the five-year-old girl who was to be her
charge.
     "You won't have any other duties," he said, repeating
what he'd told her before.  "Everyone at the house
understands that Marti will be, must be your one and only
concern.  As I explained, she's unable to talk but she's very
bright and understands everything said to her.  That doesn't
mean she always obeys.  Marti will need careful watching."
     In other words, a difficult child, one she wasn't to let
out of her sight.  Rather different than caring for the sick
children at St. Tabitha's Hospital where she'd worked as a
nurse.  Would she like the change?  How could she know until
she tried it?
     The car turned into a drive and Jael looked at the iron
gate looming in front of her with displeasure.  She didn't
take to the idea of being locked in, as she would be when
that gate clanged shut behind her.  But why should she expect
to feel at home in Volek House when she'd never felt at home
anywhere in her life?
     Wolf glanced sideways at Jael as he drove the Packard
through the gates.  He'd known the moment he set eyes on her
that she was the "shining one" old Bear Claw's spirit-soul
had described.  Bear Claw had warned him that if he didn't
find her and bring her to Volek House the entire clan would
be doomed.
     Though Wolf had good and sufficient reason to mistrust
red-headed women, he placed Jael's mass of frizzy, carrot-
colored hair in a different category, hers was more orange
than red.  Tall and awkward, her skin swarming with freckles,
by no stretch of the imagination could she be called pretty.
Her amber eyes held the wary watchfulness of a cat's,
trusting no one, yet even in that stiff first meeting he'd
caught glimpses of her essential warm-heartedness.
     "Jael is a good worker," the Mother Superior had assured
him later.  "We'll hate to lose her."
     "No flaws?" he'd asked.
     The Mother Superior had remained silent for a moment.
"She tends to prefer her own company.  People sometimes take
this to mean she's aloof.  Stuck-up is the term I've heard
used by some of our younger nurses, but that's hardly a flaw.
All in all, she's a well-trained children's nurse and a
sensible young woman.  Our loss will be your gain."
     Sensible.  Aloof.  Good traits for a girl who was coming
to live with the Voleks and their deadly secret.  Though the
family had servants, they were all day workers.  Jael would
be the only live-in outsider now that Chung and Gei were
gone.  Wolf's mind winced away from the bloody memory of how
they'd been killed.
     He stopped the car in front of the house, slid from the
seat and went around to open the door for her but she let
herself out before he got there.  Apparently she didn't wait
for a man's assistance when it wasn't really needed.  He
liked her self-sufficiency.
     "I'm afraid I don't remember many of the names of your
relatives," she said, her gloved hands twining nervously
together.
     "There are too many of us anyway."  He hadn't meant to
speak so abruptly or so honestly.  He forced a smile, hoping
to pass the remark off as a mild joke.  But there were too
many with the tainted Volek blood, most of them living in
Volek House and all of them his responsibility, exactly as
his grandfather, over forty years ago, had warned him they
would be.
     Wolf was as much to blame as anyone else for the
proliferation of Voleks.
     His wife greeted him as he ushered Jael into the entry.
"I thought you were never coming home," Cecelia cried,
hugging him.
     He smiled at her fondly as he introduced Jael.
     "Thank God you're here," Cecelia told Jael.  "Marti's
been a real problem with Wolf gone.  I can't tell you how
glad I am he's found the right person to look after her."
     As Jael greeted Wolf's wife, she felt someone watching
her and turned.  A silver-haired child with pale eyes and
dark skin stood halfway down the staircase, staring at her.
     Though Wolf hadn't described his granddaughter's
appearance, Jael knew immediately who she was.  "Hello,
Marti," she said.  "I'm Jael."
     Something flicked across her mind, oddly reminding her
of a waterbug skittering across a pond.  Without stopping to
reason what she was doing, she thought, Is that you I sense, Marti?
    Instant surprise, then withdrawal.  A moment later the
child whirled, ran up the stairs and disappeared from view.
Trying to conceal how shaken she was, both by the invasion
and by her own too-hasty reaction, Jael turned back to Wolf
and his wife and found them looking at her with concern.
     Why?  Had she inadvertently given herself away?
     "Now that you've met Marti," Cecelia said slowly and
carefully, "what do you think of her?"  Worry darkened
Cecelia's green eyes.
     She's afraid I won't stay, Jael realized.  That must
mean she knows about Marti.  But does she know about me?
Have either of them guessed?
     "You felt it, didn't you?" Wolf asked her.
     Since there was no reason not to admit she had, Jael
nodded.
     "I didn't mention this--intrusiveness--of Marti's
because I thought a non-family member might not be affected,"
Wolf said.  "I hope you're not too upset."
     "I am, a little," Jael confessed.  Honesty was always
best.  Up to a point.
     "You're taking this marvelously well," Cecelia said.  "I
do hope you'll stay and try to understand Marti.  In many
ways she's a sweet little girl."
     A sweet little girl who invaded your mind.  Jael took a
deep breath.  Wolf couldn't possibly be aware of how well
he'd chosen.  Or could he?  Because of all the children's
nurses in San Francisco he might have picked, he'd found
perhaps the only one who could understand Marti.  As a
desperate urge to flee Wolf House seeped through her, Jael
eyed him warily.  How much did he suspect?
     "Marti's a very lonely child," Wolf said.
     The words dropped into her heart like stones.  When she
was a child she'd had no one, not after Yuba died.  The
Sisters at the orphanage had taken good care of her but she'd
really had nobody.  She still had nobody.  Marti had a
mother, a father, grandmother, grandfather and many other
relatives right here in the same house with her.  And yet, as
Jael well knew, in truth, Marti had no one either.  She
needed Jael.
     "I'll stay."  Jael heard her own words with dismay.
She worried about Wolf's possible suspicion of her flaw, but
what really frightened her was far more sinister.  In opening
herself to Marti would she also leave herself open once again
to that horror from the past?  But how could she turn her
back on a child as lonely as she'd always been?
     Cecelia showed Jael to her room, the most luxurious
bedroom Jael had ever been in, and left her there.  She
immediately circled the room slowly, letting its feel soak
into her.  Though she appreciated fine furnishings, the
ambience of the place where she was to sleep was more
important than anything else.  Some rooms were threatening,
some terrifying; she couldn't bear them for an hour, much
less a night.
     This one, though, seemed innocuous.  She was at the
windows looking down at the grounds when someone tapped at
the door.
     At her invitation a young man of her age entered,
carrying her two suitcases into the room.  His resemblance to
Wolf convinced her he wasn't a servant and his drawn, rather
haunted look held her gaze.  She blinked when his dark,
slightly slanted eyes met hers, only then realizing she was
staring.
     "I'm Leo," he told her.  "Wolf's grandson."
     "You must be Marti's brother."  Jael was annoyed at the
high-pitched tone of her voice because it revealed the
nervousness she'd rather keep hidden.
     "Her half-brother, actually.  Relationships among the
Voleks can get rather complicated."  Leo spoke without
inflection, almost, it seemed, without interest.
     Why should he be interested in the nursemaid hired to
watch over Marti?  Especially now that he'd seen her.  Jael
had no illusions about her looks; men had never found her
attractive.
     "Someday you'll be beautiful," Yuba had always assured
the homely little girl Jael had been.  "When you grow up I'll
have to sweep the boys off our doorstep with a broom."
     Another of Yuba's golden dreams, Jael thought.  None of
them ever came true.  The homely little girl had,
predictably, grown into an unattractive woman.  And there'd
never been a doorstep of their very own.
     Leo started for the door, paused and glanced toward her.
"If there's anything you need, I'm usually--no, make that
always--around somewhere."  He didn't wait for her answer.
     Jael mulled over the words.  Why had he said them?
Politeness?  Probably.  Yet she'd swear she heard an
undertone of something other than mere courtesy in his voice.
And why was he, a young man no older than she, "always"
around?
     She was unpacking when another knock came.  This time it
was a woman.
     "I'm Druse Waisenen, Marti's mother," the woman said.
     Looking at the dark-haired, brown-skinned woman, Jael
saw where the child's dark complexion came from.  "I'm
pleased to meet you, Mrs. Waisenen."
     "Wolf tells me you've already met Marti and so you know
about--" Druse hesitated.  "About her difference.  I wanted
to be sure you understand how very necessary it is to keep
her with you.  I realize there'll be times you'll need to be
alone, just be certain to notify me or one of the other
family members first."  Druse bit her lip.  "You see, last
year Marti disappeared and we didn't find her for two days."
     "I'll do my best," Jael said.
     Druse sighed.  "I hope she takes to you.  It'll be such
a relief to me, to all of us to have an outsider--"  Druse
bit her lip again.  "What I mean is, Marti needs someone who
doesn't belong to the family.  She's with Samara now, I'll go
and fetch her."
     As she quickly finished her unpacking, Jael tried but
failed to remember how Samara Volek was related to the others
she met.  Though Wolf had explained, there were too many
members of the family for her to be clear about
relationships.  She wouldn't worry about it, if she stayed
long enough eventually she'd have everyone in the house
straight in her mind.
     Not Druse, but a white-haired man appeared next at the
door.  His skin was so colorless, his eyes so pale, that he
resembled an albino.  When he pushed Marti into the room
ahead of him, Jael nodded to herself.  So this was where the
rest of Marti's coloring came from--her father.
     "How do you do, Mr. Waisenen?" she said and smiled at
Marti.  The little girl refused to meet her gaze, staring
instead at her own shiny black patent-leather shoes.
     His gray eyes studied Jael for so long she grew fidgety.
"Wolf was right," he said at last, more to himself than to
her.  He knelt on one knee and turned Marti so she faced him.
"She's here for you.  Do you understand?"
     Jael knew Marti couldn't speak but she expected to see a
nod or a gesture, some indication the girl had heard her
father.  Marti merely stared at him, her face blank.
     He shrugged and rose.  "Jael is your name, I believe.
I trust you'll prove as hardy as your Biblical namesake.
I also hope that you, being a city girl, won't be alarmed by
our country noises.  We're close to the Sierra foothills and
their varied animal life--on occasion you may even hear a
coyote sing to the moon."
     Jael smiled, charmed by the picture his words evoked in
her mind--a lone coyote atop a hill, muzzle raised to the
moon, not howling but singing.  "I look forward to hearing
him," she said.
     Mr. Waisenen seemed startled.  "Him?"
     "The coyote."
     "Oh yes, of course.  Well, I'll leave you two to get
acquainted."
     As soon as the door closed behind Marti's father, Jael
felt a feather-light mind-touch.  She said nothing, hoping to
encourage the girl to trust her, concentrating instead on her
mind picture of the singing coyote.  There was no use to try
to conceal her unwished-for ability from this child who
already knew she had it.
     Not a coyote.  Marti's thought imprinted itself on her
mind.
     Unsure what she meant, Jael decided to let it go for the
moment and try to reassure the child while at the same time
let Marti know this would be a two-way communication.  I want to be your friend, she thought.
     Marti flinched, taking a step backward.
     Don’t be afraid, Jael thought hastily.  I won’t hurt you.
     I never had a friend, Marti thought after a long pause.
     You have one now.
     Are there others?
     It took Jael a few moments to decide that Marti was
asking if there were others who could speak mind to mind.
You’re the first I’ve met, she admitted.
     You can talk out loud, Marti thought.  I can’t.
     Jael chose her answer with care.  No two people are the same.  But I’m glad I found you.  I felt so alone.
     Marti took a step toward her.  I’m always alone.  Except for Quincy.
     Who’s Quincy?
     A pause.  I’m not supposed to tell you.
     Quincy.  Jael was positive Wolf hadn't mentioned that
name when reciting his family tree litany.  Was Quincy a real
person or an imaginary figure invented by a lonely child?
Jael had concocted one of those invisible friends when she
was little.  Nonnie, she'd called him.  Jael decided she'd
best tread carefully here.  She also needed to get a strong
message across to Marti while they were alone.
     When others are with us, I’ll talk out loud to you,  she
thought.  We’ll keep this secret.
     Marti smiled.  I like secrets.  I’ve got lots of them.
She cocked her head, studying Jael. Maybe sometime I’ll tell you my secrets.        
      That’s up to you.
       I know.  Lots of things are up to me ‘cause I’m different.  But I guess you are, too.  I like your hair.  May I touch it?	

     Secretly pleased that Marti had found something about
her to like, Jael thought, If you want to.  She sat on the
bed.
     Marti edged closer and reached a tentative hand to
one of Jael's frizzy curls, then wound it around her finger.
Finally she climbed onto the bed beside Jael.  Tempted to put
an arm around her as she would with any other child, Jael
resisted the impulse.  With Marti, it was best to let the
child decide.
     To her surprised gratification, Marti leaned against
her.  When they said you were coming I meant to hate you.  But I don’t. She slid off the bed, lifted the crocheted spread, crouched and peeked underneath.  There’s a trundle bed here so I can sleep in your room if I want.  Maybe I will.  
     I’d like that.Jael made the thought as positive as she
could, pushing away her doubts for the time being.
     Do you have dreams?
     Jael tensed.  Those she remembered were not dreams but
nightmares.
     Marti's eyes widened and she laid a hand on Jael's knee.
I didn’t mean to scare you.
     Realizing the child had sensed the way she felt, Jael
hurriedly pulled her thoughts together.  Best to tell the
truth, she reminded herself.  As much as possible. 
I used to have bad dreams, she admitted.
     If you do I’ll wake you up, Marti promised.
     Jael impulsively hugged her and Marti snuggled into the
embrace for a brief moment before drawing away
I’m glad I came to Volek House,   Jael thought.
     Marti's smile faded.  There’s things you won’t like.
She clutched Jael's hand.  I promise Quincy won’t hurt you.  Please
 don’t go away and leave me.
     Though Jael had no idea what Marti meant, she did her
best to smile reassuringly.  She and Marti had formed a bond
she'd never before found with another person.  For all she
knew there were no others like the two of them.  Despite
possible danger from the past, the wonder of using mind-talk
wasn't something she'd willingly give up.  She needed Marti
almost as much as Marti needed her.  She had no intention of
leaving Volek House.
      I won’t leave you.  The thought was absolutely sincere.
     That night Jael woke abruptly from a troubled sleep and
sat up, certain she'd heard an alien sound.  Confused for a
moment by her surroundings, she oriented herself and glanced
immediately toward the trundle bed where Marti slept
undisturbed.  Since she hadn't drawn the shades in her room,
moonlight flooded through the windows and, by craning her
neck, she caught a glimpse of the full moon riding high.
     There was no one in the bedroom but the two of them; the
door remained closed.  What had she heard?  She eased down
onto her pillow and lay quietly, listening.  Perhaps the
sound had come from an ordinary dream, the kind she never
remembered.
     She'd closed her eyes and was beginning to sink back
into sleep when an eerie high-pitched ululation jolted her
fully awake.  She clutched the bedclothes, tears coming to
her eyes as the howling filled the room with loneliness and
despair.
     Coyotes singing, Marti's father had said.  But this was
no song, it was a pain-filled cry for help.  Still, she'd
never heard a coyote before, perhaps they sounded like this.
Blinking back her tears, she glanced again at the trundle bed
where Marti now shifted uneasily in her sleep.
     Not a coyote, Marti had insisted when Jael had shown her
the mind picture of one singing to the moon.  What had she
meant?
     And why can I hear the cry so clearly? Jael wondered.
Is the animal on the grounds of Volek House?
     Suddenly she felt Marti in her mind. The moon’s full.
He can’t help howling.
     Marti's face was turned toward her, Jael saw, the girl's
eyes wide open.
     He?  Jael asked silently.
    The beast.
     Beast.  A coyote, of course.  What had she expected?
Jael decided she was foolish to get worked up over an
animal's song to the moon, no matter how plaintive.  Marti
obviously wasn't the least frightened; she must have heard
coyotes howl many a time.
      I can sleep in your bed with you if you’re scared, Marti
offered.
      Thank you but I’m all right now.  It’s just that I never heard
 a sound like that before. 
     Marti didn't tell her anything else and Jael saw the
child's eyes close so she resettled herself on her pillow,
determined to at least try to rest.  She'd calmed herself
enough to shut her eyes when a sleepy thought from Marti
skittered disturbingly across her mind.
     He can’t hurt you ‘cause he can’t get out.

                          Chapter 2

     By morning fog shrouded the valley once again, a fog
that didn't lift for three days.  The howling at night wasn't
repeated and, in the confusion of meeting so many people as
she settled into the routine of Volek House, Jael had little
time to worry about what she'd heard the night of the full
moon.  Especially after she discovered she was expected to
attend a family wedding in Los Angeles with Marti the
following week.
     "I'm afraid I didn't bring appropriate clothes," Jael
told Cecelia, concealing the fact she didn't even own the
type of expensive dress she'd be expected to wear to a Volek
wedding.
     Cecelia eyed her assessingly.  "You're taller but you
and I have much the same build.  If it wouldn't offend you to
accept it, I have a long gown that I'm sure Delores could
alter to the right length for day wear.  The dress is pale
green, which would complement your coloring."
     Jael stared at her for a moment.  The same build!
Wolf's beautiful wife was slender and graceful where she was
skinny and gawky.  Belatedly recalling her manners, Jael
managed to say, "That's very kind of you."
     "I recall a time when I was a young girl and the Voleks
befriended me when I had no one and nothing and I remember
how ungrateful I was at the time."  Cecelia's gaze grew
unfocused, as though she was looking into the past.  "Life
teaches hard lessons.  Frightful lessons.  I've learned them
at a cost."  She blinked and refocused on Jael.  "The least I
can do for you is try to make you feel at home here.  We
really do want you at the wedding."
     Delores, one of the day servants, used her skill on the
charming silk gown Cecelia produced, a dress whose tunic top
had a stylish dropped waist.  When Delores was finished, the
accordion pleated skirt came to just below Jael's knees,
shorter than she wore her uniforms, shorter than she was
accustomed to but certainly in style.  Many women wore skirts
coming barely to the knee.
     Fortunately Jael had an almost new pair of beige shoes
and a beige cloche to wear with the gown.  Before Cecelia
gave her final approval, she insisted on presenting Jael with
a new tube of pale orange lipstick.
     "I've never worn makeup," Jael protested.
     Cecelia shrugged.  "It's the fashion, so why not?"
Taking the tube from Jael and opening it, she applied the
orange color to Jael's lips.  "There.  See for yourself."
     Jael stared into the mirror and had to admit that while
she hadn't been transformed into a beauty by a becoming gown
and a bit of lipstick, she did look more like everyone else.
Enough like them, at least, so she wouldn't be noticed at the
wedding.  She dreaded the thought of attracting attention.
Life, she'd found, was safer when you remained in the
background.
     The idea of Jael Steinmetz going to any fashionable
wedding was startling enough, but it boggled her mind when
she discovered that the bride wasn't merely a Volek but also
a movie star.
     Jael had never dreamed that the dark and sultry Melda
Vance she'd seen on the movie screen a number of times was
actually a member of the family and that her real name was
Melanie Volek.  The groom was also famous in his way.  David
Eastman was a successful and well-known lawyer, a descendent
of a prominent Los Angeles family, and it was rumored he'd
be on the ballot for governor of California in the next
election.
     The night before they were to leave for Los Angeles,
Marti crawled into bed with Jael. I don’t want to go to the wedding,
she thought.
      Why not? Jael wondered.
     ‘Cause if they get married something bad will happen afterwards.
     A dark foreboding settled over Jael.  Could Marti
foresee as well as mind-talk?  She'd learned by now that the
little girl could sense emotions in anyone's mind, though she
couldn't decipher thoughts if the mind she entered didn't
project them.  What else could she do?  Jael tried to keep
her projected thought calm.  How do you know?
     I heard Ivan and Samara talking.
     Samara, Jael knew, was Melanie's mother.  Not by Ivan,
who she'd married after the World War, but by another man,
now dead.  Ivan was one of a set of twins, sons of Sergei and
Liisi, the two founders of the Volek clan and the builders of
Volek House.  Ivan and Samara had a daughter, Beth, a year
older than Marti.
     Samara said Melanie didn’t want any children so it was all right
for her to get married, Marti reported.  Ivan said he was sure Eastman 
would expect Melanie to have children.  Then he kind of yelled about 
things being shaky enough without adding more Voleks and, worse, 
any child of Melanie’s might turn on the entire family.

     Jael had no doubt Marti was reporting exactly what she'd
overheard, confusing as it was. Do you know what Ivan meant?
she asked.
     Sort of.  A long time ago I head Arno and Ivan talking about 
how Melanie’s father was one of the others, the bad kind, and 
how Melanie didn’t know.
     Except for understanding that the twins, Arno and Ivan,
shared knowledge that Melanie didn't, Jael had no idea what
to make of this.  Obviously not everyone in the family was
happy about Melanie's marriage but that wasn't uncommon in
families.  What ‘others’?  she thought.
     Marti shook her head which usually meant she didn't
know.
     It doesn’t sound as though anything bad will happen at the 
wedding.  Or afterwards, either.  Jael tried to make her
thought reassuring. If Melanie doesn’t want children she might 
well not have any.
     Marti cuddled next to her in the bed.  I hope not.  ‘Cause they 
might be like poor Quincy.
     Jael had discovered it was useless to question Marti
about Quincy.  Though she often mentioned him, she always
refused to add any details.
     When they arrived in Los Angeles, they found that Santa
Ana weather had swept in off the desert to hold the city in
its uncomfortably hot and dry embrace.  Not a cloud marred
the bright blue of the sky and the sun beat down
relentlessly.  Fans stirred the air inside the church but did
little to dissipate the heat.
     Sitting with Marti in one of the pews reserved for the
bride's family, Jael dabbed perspiration from her forehead
as she watched Ivan lead his stepdaughter up the aisle to the
altar where a handsome blond man, graying at the temples,
waited.  David Eastman, Jael had discovered, was a widower
with a grown son from his first marriage.
     In her white lace wedding gown, Melanie was even more
beautiful than she'd looked on the screen.  But under her
veil the bride wasn't smiling.  Nervous, perhaps, because
surely she was happy.
      She’s scared, Marti thought, I can feel it.  She leaned
her head against Jael. I feel everyone at once.  It hurts.
     Concerned, Jael glanced down at Marti who was even paler
than usual.  Everyone one at once?
     Lots of people.  All the people.  Too many.
     The church was crowded, with every seat taken.  And
throngs of the uninvited waited outside to catch a glimpse of
Melda Vance.
     Jael put an arm around Marti.  I’m here.
     Marti shuddered and clutched at her.  I can feel them 
all around me.  They make me hurt inside my head.  Sort 
of like a balloon you keep blowing up bigger and bigger 
and bigger till it goes pop.
     The poor child had never learned to shut herself off
from others.  Alarmed at the desperation she sensed building
inside Marti, Jael made a decision.  Leaning forward, she
whispered to Wolf, seated ahead of them, "Marti doesn't feel
well.  I'm afraid she needs to go home."
     He turned, took one look at Marti and said, "Tell our
chauffeur I said to take the two of you back to Volek House."
     Marti lay on the back seat of the Rolls, her head hidden
in Jael's lap, tremors shaking her at times, until the car
began the long, lonely climb up the Tehachapi Mountains.
Then she relaxed, turned over and fell asleep.  Jael breathed
a sigh of relief.
     In Bakersfield, the chauffeur, Delores' husband, Carlos,
stopped for gas and Marti woke up.  To Jael's anxious
questioning, she thought, I feel all right now ‘cause there’s 
hardly any people around.
     Reassured, Jael helped her from the car so they could
stretch their legs.  Hearing a mewing, they looked toward a
nearby eucalyptus tree.  A box under the tree bore a crudely
printed sign.
     "Free kittens," Jael read aloud.
     Marti ran to the box and dropped to her knees beside it.
Jael hurried to crouch beside her.  Three black and white
kittens slept curled together in one corner while a striped
black on gray kitten did its futile best to crawl over the
opposite side of the box.
      He wants to get out, Marti thought.  He needs to get out. 
She lifted him from the box and sat back on her heels
with the kitten in her lap.  When he climbed up her dress and
licked her face, Jael thought she'd never seen a more
beautific smile than Marti's.
      He likes me!  Marti's thought was exuberant.  She stood
up, carefully cuddling the kitten.  I want to take him home.
     Carlos was doubtful.  "Delores, she say no gato in la casa.”
     Her limited Spanish allowed Jael to translate this as no
cat in the house,  "Marti can keep the kitten in the barn if
she must," Jael suggested, reluctant to destroy the child's
happiness.
     Having spoken, Carlos shrugged off any further
responsibility for the kitten and so Marti climbed into the
car with it clinging to her and they started off again.
      Kittens are like people, Marti thought after a while,
they don’t like to be locked up either.
     No one, man or beast, wants to be locked up, Jael agreed.
     Marti shot her a swift sideways glance.  A few moments
went by before she thought, I guess you must sort of feel him.
Like you did the first night.  He hates the tower.
     Jael did her best not to show her astonishment.  The
tower?  Was Marti telling her there was someone locked inside
the tower of Volek House?  Going over everything Marti had
told her since her arrival, plus the strange howling she'd
heard that first night, Jael came to a conclusion.  Choosing
her words carefully, she thought, It must be Quincy.
     Marti's confirmation was rapid.  Poor Quincy.  Leo and
me, we try to keep him from howling but sometimes he can’t
help it.
     Remembering the desperate sadness in the cry she'd heard
on the night of the full moon, Jael decided it was possible
she might feel like howling, too, if she were locked in a
tower.  Quincy must be a Volek.  She longed to ask Marti why
the Voleks felt it necessary to keep one of the family so
carefully sequestered and searched for the right way to put
it but could find nothing better than a straight question.
     Why is Quincy kept in the tower?
     Marti, now busy wiggling her finger for the kitten to
bat at, thought, I’m not supposed to tell.
     Jael dropped the subject for the time being but she
couldn't get her mind off Quincy languishing in the tower.
Was he insane?  If so, wouldn't he be better off in an asylum
where they treated the afflicted?  And what was she doing
working for a family who'd imprison someone in this barbaric
fashion?  Could she stay on, knowing this?
     At dark, they finally arrived at the gates and the clang
when they shut behind the car made Jael cringe anew, thinking
of the man in the tower.  Who is Quincy?  she asked.
     He’s Leo’s twin brother, , Marti thought absently as she
stroked the sleeping kitten with a gentle forefinger.  I’m going to let 
Gato sleep on my pillow.  And I’ll never, ever lock him up.
     Jael sighed as she watched Marti.  What would happen if
she left Volek House?  Marti would have no one to share her
thoughts with.  Perhaps she'd never trust anyone again if
Jael broke the promise she'd made to stay.  As for herself,
away from here, she'd have no one either.  Yet, if she
stayed, what about the man in the tower?
     She'd heard his agonizing, wordless plea to be released.
Could she bear the knowledge of his suffering and do nothing
to try to relieve his plight?  Since she'd never been able to
ignore a human or an animal in pain, she doubted her ability
to remain silent if she stayed at Volek House.  What she must
do, as soon as the family returned, was to ask Wolf to
explain to her why Quincy was in the tower and then make her
decision.
     Waino, who hadn't gone to the wedding, was waiting in
the entry as Jael shepherded Marti through the front door.
He was starting to close it when the kitten suddenly let out
a terrified yowl.  Marti screamed with pain as the little cat
clawed its way free of her, leaped to the floor, dashed
through the open crack of the door and vanished into the
night.
     As Marti sobbed, Jael pulled her handkerchief from her
pocketbook to staunch the blood from the scratches on the
girl's hands.  Marti's thoughts tumbled chaotically into
Jael's mind.  Gato hurt me.  He hates me.  Gato hates me.
     "No."  Jael spoke aloud without thinking, used to
soothing frightened children at the hospital with her voice.
"The kitten doesn't hate you, Marti.  Something frightened
him so much that all he could think of was getting away."
Looking over the girl's head, she saw Waino watching her
speculatively and realized she'd given herself away.
     "Cats don't like this place, Marti," Waino said.  "The
kitten won't willingly come into the house.  I'll see that
Roger finds him tomorrow and brings him to the barn.  He'll
be safe and happy there and you can visit him."
     Marti stopped crying, fear replacing her anguish as she
stared at her father.  She shifted her gaze to Jael. Owl hunts at night.
Please don’t let Owl catch Gato and eat him, she begged silently.
     Did owls eat kittens? Jael wondered.  But it made no
difference whether she knew the answer or not, she must help
Marti no matter what she might reveal in the process.
Swallowing her apprehension as best she could, Jael faced
Waino.
     "Your daughter's afraid an owl will catch the kitten
before morning," she said, amazed that her voice didn't
reveal her inner trembling.  "If you'll watch Marti I'll be
glad to search for Gato now."
     For a long moment Waino didn't speak.  Finally he shook
his head.  "I forgot about the owl.  I want to make certain
Carlos shut the gate after himself when he left so I'll hunt
the cat while I'm out.  You take Marti up to bed."  He patted
his daughter's shoulder.  "Gato won't be afraid of me; I'll
find him and see him safely into the barn."
     Turning away, he reached into a small chest by the door
and removed a flashlight.  "Jael," he said, "please lock the
door after me.  I have a key."
     She did as he asked, then put an arm around Marti and
led her up the stairs.  Marti bravely endured the washing of
the cat scratches with soap and water but, as Jael was gently
patting her hands dry with a towel, she was startled to see
tears roll down the girl's cheeks.
      I don’t mean to hurt-- she began.
      It’s not you, Marti interrupted.  Quincy’s crying.  It
hurts me inside when he cries.  Quincy didn’t mean to upset
me, it isn’t his fault about the kitten.  He can’t help it.  I
should’ve known the kitten would be afraid of him..it’s 
my fault.
     It made no sense to Jael that a kitten could be afraid
of a man locked in a tower two stories above them, a man the
cat could neither see, hear nor smell at that distance.  At
the same time she was taken aback to realize the child's
outburst must mean she was communicating with Quincy.
     I didn’t realize you and Quincy could mind talk, she
said.
     Just sort of.  I have to guess lots of times, ‘specially
when he… Marti broke off.  Mostly he can’t unless something 
bad happens to me, like the kitten.   She leaned against Jael.
You’re the only one who understands all the time.  I have to go 
up there now or he’ll keep on crying.
     Into the tower?  Jael's thought was incredulous.
     Not in the room.  That’s locked and can’t ever be opened.  
Just outside the door.  So he can hear me better.
     Can't ever be opened.  The words made Jael wince.  Who
dared to damn this man to life imprisonment?  And why?  I’ll go
with you, she thought firmly though it made her skin crawl
to think of climbing into the tower.
     Marti looked at her dubiously.  You might upset Quincy.
     I won’t. Jael's thought was more positive than her
conviction.  I’m sorry for him.
     Marti brightened, pleased at her words. We better go quick
before my father comes back ‘cause he won’t like it.
     Jael hesitated, then shrugged.  Waino already had cause
to be suspicious of her so she might as well be hanged for a
sheep as for a lamb.  Besides, Marti was determined to go and
she couldn't let the girl climb to the tower alone.  If she
forbade her, Jael knew in her bones that Marti would try to
sneak away and visit Quincy anyway.
     Marti dashed into her bedroom closet and retrieved
something from deep inside, showing a key to Jael as she
emerged, a key that unlocked the access door to the tower
stairs.  Leaving the door unlocked, Marti raced up the
winding spiral staircase so quickly that Jael, hurrying in
her wake, worried for her safety.  She was breathless by the
time they reached the locked door at the top.  A dim bulb
gleamed from a lamp attached to the stone wall over the door.
     To Jael's surprise, as Marti projected her thoughts
toward Quincy, she also caught them.  But it was such a
jumbled confusion of pictures and words that she couldn't
easily follow the gist.  Opening her mind as much as she knew
how, she made an effort to understand.
     Her intense concentration on Marti and the man behind
the locked door left Jael aware of nothing else.  Startled
when a tide of darkness swirled around her, at first she
thought the light had gone off.  By the time she realized
the darkness had turned to crimson it was too late to try to
close her mind.
     Jael found herself enveloped in a reddish fog where she
could see nothing and was able to hear in her mind only one
voice, the same hateful voice that haunted her nightmares, a
voice from the long dead past.
     Blood of my blood, you will do my bidding.
     No! she tried to cry, but neither her voice nor her
thought pierced the evil fog.
     The time is ripe for revenge and you are my tool.
     As had happened too often in the past, horror
overwhelmed her, numbing her resistance.  The voice continued
to nibble at her will until she could do nothing but obey its
commands.
     In his hurry to open the gate for your car, he left the
key in the lock.  Turn it.  The numbers for the combination
lock above the keyed lock are etched on the inner surface
of the key.
     Without her willing it, her hand reached out and,
feeling a key under her fingers, Jael turned and removed it.
In the fog that blinded her, a series of numbers glowed
brightly, fitting themselves into her mind.  Of its own
volition her hand slid up to the circular dial of a
combination lock she couldn't see, the dial becoming visible
and illuminated the moment she touched it.
     Carefully she turned the dial, matching its numbers with
those in her mind until she heard a loud click.  All the time
she was vaguely aware of someone or something outside the
numbing blackness trying to call to her but no thought or
word could penetrate.  All she could hear was the voice from
beyond the grave.
     Listen to me, blood of my blood, lest you perish.  You 
must survive for until you reproduce you are the last of my line.
You will leap aside the moment you open the door.  The child 
will then protect you.  Now.  Open the door!
     Jael flung the door open.  As she quickly jumped aside
something she couldn't see brushed past her, she felt a brief
touch of coarse hair against her bare arm and smelled a feral
stench that turned her stomach.  Then a weight pushed against
her, forcing her against a stone wall and the crimson fog
dissipated.
     Marti stood in front of her, arms outstretched.  Jael's
mind spun with the force of the child's command.  Don’t hurt
her.  She freed you.  You’re free!  Run or they’ll catch you.
Run!
     Jael caught a glimpse of a vast nightmare figure, half-
beast, half-man, at the top of the stairs.  It snarled, a
sound so menacing her knees sagged in terror until only
Marti's weight pinning her against the wall kept her on her
feet.  Involuntarily she shut her eyes and when she opened
them again the thing had disappeared.  She heard claws
scrabbling on the stone of the steps, a violent scratching at
the door at the bottom and then a triumphant howl.
     Minutes later there came a distant crash of glass
shattering.
      Jael? Marti's thought was tiny and tentative.
Frightened.
     It took Jael a moment or two to form even the simple
words, I’m here.
     Marti turned and clung to her, her small body quaking.
You were gone.  Something dark and scary was inside you.
     Oh God, Marti had felt it.  Would the darkness return?
Would it harm Marti?  Panic struck Jael, her wobbly knees
gave way and she slid down the wall until she sprawled on the
stone floor, Marti lying across her lap.
 
     Waino was in the barn making a nest in the hay for the
kitten when the howl froze him in place.  As soon as he was
able to move, he dropped the kitten into the hay, ran to the
barn door and slammed the bar into place, locking himself
inside.  He yanked the rifle from its rack above the door.
As he reached into an inner pocket for the special ammunition
he always carried, he heard glass shatter.  One of the house
windows!
     The light bulb hanging from a cord attached to a rafter
cast a dim glow on the silver bullets as he grimly loaded the
gun.  Stripping his mind of all emotion except a hunter's
determination, he yanked the chain connected to the light,
shutting it off, then raised the bar and left the barn.
     Once outside, he stood with his back to the closed door
long enough for his vision to adjust to the darkness.  His
day vision was weak but at night he saw as well as or better
than most humans.  Still, the best he could hope for was
enough warning to shoot at least one bullet before he was
attacked and have that bullet score a hit.  Even in a minor
wound, the silver would poison the beast and, if not removed,
kill him.
     Treading with caution, Waino sidled away from the barn
and, trying to peer in all directions at once, struck out for
the house, expecting death at any moment.  He was halfway to
his goal when the beast's exultant cry stopped him in his
tracks.
     Beyond the wall!  The beast had already escaped from the
grounds.  With his speed, he'd be beyond rifle range in a
matter of minutes.  Waino took a deep breath.  He was safe
for the moment, unlike the unfortunates outside the grounds.
     He was safe, yes, but what had happened to his daughter?
Terrified of what he might find, Waino ran toward the lights
of the front entrance, noting the glitter of broken glass
amidst the shrubbery as he pounded up to the door.  Locked.
He cursed the seconds it took him to find the key, insert it
and fling open the door.  Kicking it shut behind him, he ran
up the stairs shouting Marti's name.
     There was no answer.
     Of course not, you fool, he told himself.  Use your
head, call the other one, the nursemaid what's-her-name.
Biblical.  The woman who'd pounded a spike through the
enemy chieftain's head, nailing him to the ground.  What was
the damn name?  Jael, that was it.
     "Jael!" he shouted.  "Jael!"
     No answer.
     He found no sign of them on the second floor.  His steps
lagged as at last he climbed the spiral staircase to the
tower.  At the moment he'd heard the first howl he'd
realized he'd forgotten the tower key and feared what he'd
find if he ever made it back to the house.  He might have
forgotten the key but he knew he'd locked both the locks.
Quincy could never have escaped from the room unassisted.
     He was almost to the head of the stairs when he saw
them, Jael holding Marti, both slumped motionless on the
stone floor.  Lifeless.
     "Marti!"  The cry came from the depths of his soul.
Until that second he hadn't realized how intensely he loved
his child.
     Before his unbelieving eyes, the two of them stirred.
Marti sat up, stared at him, then staggered to her feet and
stumbled toward him.  He rushed to meet her, grabbing her
into his arms and hugging her.
     "I thought the beast had killed you," he whispered over
and over.
     "Marti saved me."  Jael's voice was so ragged and hoarse
he could scarcely decipher her words.
     "Come," he said, shifting Marti to one arm and offering
his free hand to Jael.  "I'll help you to your room."
     Marti insisted on cuddling next to Jael on her bed.
Waino covered them with a quilt and then sat on the trundle
bed looking from one to the other.  Much as he disliked
asking questions of a young woman who'd been frightened half
to death, he had to have answers.  Now.
     Jael's yellow eyes met his, slid away, then returned.
She folded a pillow under her head to prop herself up and
then cleared her throat.
     "It was my fault," she said tonelessly.  "I unlocked the
door."
     "Why?"
     "I--I heard him the first night I was here and he
sounded so--so desperate..."
     He waited for more but no more came.  "How did you know
the combination of the second lock?" he asked finally.
     "I saw the numbers etched on the key."
     Impossible.  The numbers were so minute they could only
be seen in good light with the aid of a magnifying glass.
There was no way she could have deciphered them in the dim
light of the tower.  On the other hand, Marti might have
learned those numbers at some time or other.  She was a
remarkably perceptive child who excelled at ferreting out
secrets.  Was Jael protecting her?  He leaned forward.
     "Marti," he ordered, "look at me."
     His daughter turned her gaze from Jael to him, her pale
eyes unreadable.
     "Marti, did you tell Jael the combination?"
     Slowly, reluctantly, it seemed, she shook her head.
     "Are we safe?" Jael put in.  "From—from him?"
     She'd seen the beast.  Waino decided there was no point
in dissimilation.  "He won't bother with us now that he's
escaped the grounds.  He has other prey to hunt."
     Jael shuddered.  "I didn't know what he was.  I didn't
realize--"
     Waino wasn't surprised when her words faltered.  How
could she realize?  How could anyone but a Volek realize what
kind of thing had been locked in the tower?  Still, Jael
Steinmetz was proving to be a very odd young woman.  She
admitted she'd heard the beast howling to the full moon--a
sound to freeze the marrow of the bravest man's bones.  Yet,
inexplicably, she'd let him loose.  His mind marshalled
everything he knew about her, making him remember the
strangeness of her comments about the kitten.  She'd spoken
but the thoughts had been Marti's, he was sure of it.
     He pointed an accusing finger at her.  "You can do what
Marti does.  Read minds."
     Jael cringed away from him.  Marti wrapped her arms
protectively around Jael and scowled at her father.
     "I'll try not to ask hurting questions, Marti.  But I
must know the truth."
     "I'll leave first thing in the morning," Jael
faltered.
     Marti's face crumpled and she began to weep silently.
     Waino knew the Voleks didn't dare let this woman leave
the house.  Not with what she knew.  Quincy was hunting
somewhere in the dark and God knows how long it would take
them to trap him again.  Meanwhile, they couldn't turn Jael
loose with her dangerous knowledge.
     "No, no, Jael, please don't feel that way," he said.
"We don't want you to leave--why it would break Marti's
heart."
     Jael looked at Marti and began to cry, hugging the child
to her.
     Waino concealed his impatience as best he could while he
waited for them to calm down.  Had he convinced her to stay
or not?
     At last Jael mopped her eyes and said brokenly, "Marti
wants me to tell you something."
     Again he had to wait while Jael blew her nose and
cleared her throat.  When she finally spoke he could only
gape at her.
     "Marti says he--the beast--isn't hunting, he's looking
for his twin brother."
     Waino took a moment to recover himself.  He didn't doubt
Marti could communicate with Quincy--but when he was in beast
shape?  "Whether that's true or not," he said, "it's a good
idea to get Leo back here as soon as possible."
     Jael blinked several times, then said, "Marti tells me
it's too late.  Quincy knows Leo is in Los Angeles and so
does the--the beast.  He's on his way south already."
     Waino closed his eyes, envisioning the terrible
consequences of the beast roaming free.  He was a ruthless
hunter and his prey was as likely to be human as animal, as
he'd proven by his most recent kills.
     Though it wasn't the first time the clan had faced such
a calamity, the Voleks were an old and respected valley
family and had been able to cover up and gloss over the other
bloody tragedies because they'd happened locally.
     On foot, the beast could travel much faster than a
man.  How far south had he gone already?  They had to find
him before he brought doom to Volek House.  And not just find
him.
     Fixed and intent on what must be done, Waino forgot
about the other two in the room.  Without conscious thought,
he reached for and gripped the rifle he'd left on the floor
near the bed.
     The time was past for locking him away.  Quincy had to
die.

                          Chapter 3

     At the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles, Wolf woke to a
pounding on his door.  He leaped from the bed and rushed
into the sitting room.  "Who's there?" he demanded.
     "Leo.  Let me in.  Hurry!"
     Hearing the panic in Leo's voice, Wolf's heart rate,
already rapid from the abrupt awakening, speeded even more.
     Leo, barefoot and dressed only in his trousers, burst
into the room, his face twisted with anguish.  "He's escaped,
Quince has escaped!  I can feel him running free.  He knows
I'm here--odds are he's on his way to LA to find me."
     "No!"  Cecelia stood in the doorway to the bedroom in
her nightgown.  "My God, what are we to do?"
     The phone rang.  Wolf picked up the receiver, already
anticipating who was calling.  As soon as he heard Waino's
voice, he said, "Leo's told me about Quincy.  Is he right?"
     "Yes.  About an hour ago.  Quincy's left the grounds
but Marti says she can locate him for us."
     Wolf's eyebrows raised.  "Marti says?"
     "Through this nursemaid you found for her.  Through
Jael.  I can't explain over the phone.  And Jael's seen
Quincy."  Waino's voice was grim.  "In the morning the three
of us will drive south in the truck.  With the silver.  And
the means to use it."
     About to question the wisdom of bringing either a child
or an outsider on such a dangerous journey, Wolf hesitated
before answering.  Waino must already have weighed the
consequences.  "I'll stay here with Leo but I think it's best
we have someone at Volek House at all times so I'll send
Cecelia and our boys on the night train to Tulare.  Have
Carlos pick them up and then wait for them to arrive before
you leave.  Reynolds might prove of use if worse comes to
worst."
     How much use his son Reynolds might be was moot, Wolf
thought, but at least the boy shared Quincy's dark trait,
though controlled, as Quincy's was not.
     "I agree to your plan."  Waino sighed.  "Let's pray this
doesn't attract one of the--others."
     As he hung up, Wolf tried to force the thought of
stalkers from his mind.  Despite the murderous clashes with
those malevolent others over the years, the Voleks had
learned practically nothing about them.  There was no way to
protect themselves or Quincy if a stalker should sense him
and so there was no point wasting time worrying about it.
     "Quince shifted," Leo said, clenching and unclenching
his fists, "so everything's blurred between us.  If I could
only figure out a way to make him shift back..."  His words
trailed off and he slammed a fist against the door frame.
"Damn!"
     Wolf flung an arm over his shoulders.  "We'll save him
if we can, you know that."
     Leo stared at him, the muscles in his jaw working.  "I
know you can't."
     Wolf gave Leo's shoulders a squeeze and released him,
relieved that Leo realized the odds were stacked solidly
against keeping Quincy alive.  Seeing that Cecelia had gone
into the bedroom to pack, he lowered his voice.  "We must
stop him before the blood lust lures him into killing
everything in his path.  If he's caught--or killed--by anyone
else, we've no way to keep his identity a secret."
     Leo nodded.  "I know.  Old Sergei's safety of the clan
and all that."
     Something in Leo's tone bothered Wolf, turning his
relief to unease.  "The clan has to come first, Leo.
Otherwise we'd have perished long ago."
     "He's half of me."  Tears shone in Leo's eyes.  "You
might just as well kill me along with him."
     "That may happen."
     Leo blinked, obviously taken aback.
     "Don't forget you'll be the goat we stake out to attract
the beast," Wolf went on.  "We know that even in beast form
Quincy won't harm you--but what if a stalker's on the trail
of the beast?"
     Straightening his shoulders, Leo looked Wolf in the eye.
"I'm damned if it'll be a stalker who kills me.  Or kills
Quince either.  Where's the stake-out going to be?"
     "Waino's driving south in the morning with Jael and
Marti.  If he doesn't catch up with Quincy, then we'll have
to choose an isolated place near LA, a wooded spot the beast
would naturally seek."
     "I just may have found it," Leo said slowly.  "You know
how I hate cities, so after we checked in last night I asked
the doorman if there were any large, fairly wild parks in LA
and he told me how to get to one.  I got up early and hiked
through Elysian Park.  It's a few miles from the hotel to the
northeast--woods, with an uninhabited canyon running into the
park from the north.  What do you think?"
     "Sounds possible.  I'll take a look."
     "Why in hell is Waino bringing Marti?" Leo asked.  "And
this outsider?"
     "Jael saw the beast so we can't very well turn her loose
to spread the news.  And Marti claims she can track Quincy.
Waino was at the house when Quincy escaped so he knows how
and why it happened and has made up his mind how best to
handle the problem.  Until I have all the facts, I won't
question his decisions."
     "I admit Marti's been able to control Quince at times
but it's not fair to put such a young child into--"
     Wolf slashed a hand through the air, cutting Leo off.
"We need all the help we can get.  Young or not, Marti's a
Volek like the rest of us.  If the family doesn't survive,
she won't.  I thought you understood."
     Leo glared at him.  "Back to the damn safety of the
clan.  You're willing to sacrifice your own five-year-old
granddaughter on the off-chance you can catch Quince before
someone else does.  If you don't kill him, what do you
intend?  To lock him in the tower for the rest of his days?
And what about that poor nursemaid--are you going to turn
Volek house into a prison so she can never get away from us?"
     Wolf tamped down his anger, reminding himself how close
the twins had always been.  He kept his voice level.  "Jael's
a problem we'll settle later.  After we find Quincy.  I know
you love him and fear for him.  I've never forgotten that
time in the Miwok village when we took shelter with Bear Claw
and Quincy got sick.  Do you remember?"
     After a moment Leo nodded reluctantly.
     "We've never discussed it," Wolf said, "but did you know
why Bear Claw asked you to lie down next to your brother?"
     Leo nodded.  "When we were kids Hawk told me how the
Miwoks believe twins share one spirit.  Hawk knew a lot of
Miwok lore.  He said his mother named him Soaring Hawk
because she sensed at his birth that he'd choose the sky."
     Taken unaware by the mention of Hawk, Wolf pressed a
hand to his chest as if to ease the swift stab of grief.  No
one, nothing, had ever replaced Hawk, his firstborn son, lost
in the Bering Sea when he attempted to fly his biplane into
Russia.
     The past couldn't be changed.  Wolf forced his
attention back to Leo.
     "Lying there by the fire in the Miwok lodge," Leo was
saying, "listening to old Bear Claw's medicine chant, I
figured if he believed Quince and I had but one spirit
between us, he must be trying to take my health and pass it
along to Quince.  I was afraid Quince was going to die--"
Leo paused and took a deep breath.  "I didn't care what
happened to me, I just wanted him to get well."
     "As he did.  After he bit you in the throes of
delirium."
     "Yeah, I remember getting bit."  Leo stared at the scar
on his left arm.  "How could I forget?  Didn't it make me a
shifter, too?  I hated the changing.  God knows I was glad
when you and Waino banished the beast part of me."  He
fingered the amulet suspended from his neck by a leather
thong.  "I've never wanted to be anything but human.  Quince,
though--"
     "Has never wanted to be anything but a beast," Wolf
finished.
     "Maybe old Bear Claw was right and we do share only one
spirit, me the human half and Quince the beast half."
     Wolf stared at him for a long moment, the hair rising on
his nape.  Was it possible?  Maybe yes, maybe no.  His shaman
journeys had taught him not to label anything impossible.
     Not that it was the same as two sharing one spirit, but
in his life he'd encountered at least one instance of spirit
possession.  He shuddered, cutting short the memory.
Dangerous to dwell even briefly on that time for fear he'd
evoke the hell-spirit once again.
     A moment later, dark mist swirling about him, he feared
he had.  The hotel room vanished and a woman's form took
shape in the mist, a pale figure whose silver gaze pierced
his mind, transfixing his attention and his will.  His last
vestige of emotion was a trickle of relief.  She was not the
evil one, she was Grandmother Liisi.
     "Beth," Liisi whispered in his mind.  "Tell Waino he
must teach Beth how to journey."
     And then she was gone.
     Wolf found himself on the floor with Leo on one knee
beside him.
     "Grandpa, what happened?"  Leo's voice quavered.
     Wolf struggled to sit up, Leo helping him.  "Knocked
flat by a vision, that's all."  Amusement and self-mockery
laced Wolf's words.  "Grandmother Liisi always was a
determined woman."
     Remembering what she'd told him, he sobered.  On his
feet once more, he took hold of Leo's shoulders.  "Promise me
you'll do as I ask," he said.  As Leo hesitated, Wolf added,
"This has nothing to do with your twin."
     "Then I promise."
     "Tell Waino that Liisi wants him to teach Beth how to
make the shaman's journey, beginning as soon as possible."
     "I'll do exactly as you say but--" Leo's brow furrowed--
"but, grandpa, why can't you tell him?  And, come to think of
it, if Beth's to follow the shaman path, why can't you teach
her?"
     Wolf stepped back.  When he spoke it was to answer the
second question.  "The shaman's way is blocked to me; I can
no longer travel that path, much less lead anyone along it."
He gestured toward the door.  "Get dressed and go make sure
Reynolds and Nicholas are ready to catch the night train with
their mother."
     "How about the rest of the family?"
     "Let them sleep.  Morning's soon enough to break the
news."
     Not until Cecelia and his sons were gone and he was
alone in the room did Wolf allow himself to dwell on the
meaning of Grandmother Liisi's message.  When he was certain
he understood all she'd meant to convey, he locked himself
into his private bath, the only room in a hotel where he
could be sure he'd be alone.  Turning out the light, he sat
Indian fashion on the floor, resting his hands, palms up on
his thighs and closed his eyes.  After a time he began to
chant:
     "Spirit Wind, do not blow from the south
      Do not blow me toward the north
      Do not blow me to the dark, the cold
      The place where heroes drown
      The place where men are eaten
      Blow me, spirit wind, to a land
      Where Grandfather waits
      A land where my son soars high
      Where Hawk spirals down the sky forever...
     Much later, he tried to phone Volek House but there was
no answer.
     In the early morning, Cecelia telephoned him from the
house, saying that Carlos had picked her and the boys up in
the Rolls at the Tulare station.  When they arrived at Volek
House Waino had been waiting in the truck, driving out
through the gates as soon as Carlos drove in.
     "The dining room window is broken," she said.  "And the
tower room open.  "Otherwise everything's as usual in the
house.  Waino left us some--silver.  Like you, he doesn't
think we'll have any need to use it."
     "I'm sure you won't," Wolf said, unsurprised that he
wouldn't be able to talk to Waino.  "Ivan and Arno have
decided they ought to go home, too, so they're leaving the
hotel with their families to catch the afternoon train.
Expect them at Volek House by tonight.  Bren's with them so
you may have to look after him since Druse insists on staying
here."
     "I'll be glad to see Ivan and Arno," Cecelia admitted.
"But I wish you were coming with them.  You will be careful?"
     "As careful as possible."
     "Remember," she said, "you're not as young as you were
in '06."
     He knew what she meant.  San Francisco.  The earthquake
and the fire.  Golden Gate Park and the beast.  "I love you,
Cece," he said.
     She caught her breath.  "Oh, Wolf, I wasn't worth what
you went through--the scars, losing your eye..."  She began
to weep and was still crying when she hung up.
     He smiled.  She'd been worth everything.  She still was.
     Leo, who'd been resting on the sitting room couch, sat
up.  "Quince is closer, I can feel it.  A lot closer.  And
he's shifted to himself."
     "You're sure?"
     Leo nodded.
     Wolf's relief that Quincy wasn't traveling in beast form
ended all too soon.  He'd been out shopping for a few
necessary items and came back to the hotel near noon.  He'd
noticed earlier that one of the ground floor guest sitting
rooms contained a large Atwater Kent radio and it was turned
on loud enough to be audible in the lobby as he crossed to
the elevators.
     "There's bears in them there hills, folks," an announcer
was saying.  Wolf paused and drifted closer to listen.
     "Experts tell us that these days there's not a grizzly
to be seen in all of California," the man went on, "but,
according to a rancher who lives not far from our beautiful
new Rose Bowl in Pasadena, there's at least one real, live
grizzly in the San Gabriel Mountains.
     "In Mr. Thomas Denton's own words, 'I killed me a bear
or so in my time and that critter I saw today weren't no
ordinary bear, he must of been one of them grizzlies.  Why,
he tore up two of my steers something pitiful.'  Near dawn
this morning, Mr. Denton caught sight of the grizzly from his
truck but prudently didn't pursue the animal, claiming he
wasn't about to go after 'no beast that big and mean.'  In
other local news--"
     Wolf turned away and hurried to the elevators.  The
experts, he suspected, were correct.  Very likely there were
no longer any grizzlies in California and certainly none in
the southern part of the state.  There might still be a black
bear or two in the San Gabriel Mountains, but not grizzlies.
Yet he feared the rancher had been telling the simple truth
when he claimed he hadn't seen an ordinary black bear.  Mr.
Denton erred in calling the beast a grizzly, but Wolf had no
doubt it was a beast.  A Volek beast.
     In Wolf's suite, Leo listened to the story and nodded.
"Sounds like it might have been Quince.  He's not in beast
shape right now, though, and he's coming closer all the
time."
     Druse, sitting in a chair by the telephone, said, "To
get from Volek House to the San Gabriel Mountains that fast
Quincy must have gotten a ride for at least part of the way,
obviously not as a beast."
     "We can't take a chance on him coming to the hotel,"
Wolf said.  "God knows what might happen if he did.  He's
trying to reach Leo so the two of us will have to go to
Elysian Park now.  Be sure you stay by the phone, Druse, so
you can tell Waino where we are if he calls.  Tell him not to
take Jael or Marti into the park with him.  Have Room Service
bring you anything you need."
     "Don't worry about me," she said, "worry about
yourselves.  I thought you meant to wait until Waino arrived
with the silver mesh net."
     And the guns with silver bullets, Wolf added silently,
knowing Druse didn't want to think about her son being shot
down and killed.  "We can't wait," he said.
     Druse bit her lip.  "Leo, you take care of yourself.
And papa--you, too."
     "We're not entirely helpless."  Moved by an impulse he
only half understood, Wolf pulled Druse into his arms and
hugged her before leaving.  "You've always been my sweet
little girl," he said.
     She hugged him fiercely.  "Sometimes not so sweet,
papa.  Or else--"  She didn't finish.
     Or else Leo and Quincy would never have been born.  But
in her teens Druse had been as bemused by lust and what she
thought was love as Wolf had himself when he was young.  And
the pain he'd brought to the family was far worse than
anything Druse had done.  So how could he blame her?
     Pressed for time, Wolf felt there was no time to search
for the best place to encounter Quincy.  Elysian Park would
have to do.  Leaving Druse in the suite, he and Leo climbed
into a taxi.
     The entrance to Elysian Park was to the left off
Broadway, not long after they passed Sunset Boulevard and
crossed the bridge over the Los Angeles River.  Wolf and Leo
left the taxi on the street and hiked up the steep slope that
led into the park proper.
     Tall eucalpytus trees lined the narrow, twisting road,
with pines and other evergreens visible beyond their large
gray trunks.  Shrubs and bushes grew thickly where the trees
thinned enough to allow sunlight through.
     A cool breeze from the ocean promised relief from the
heat of the Santa Ana but also carried the threat of evening
fog.  Wolf hoped it would be no more than a threat.  While
southern coastal fogs were nowhere as thick as tule fogs, he
preferred clear weather for tonight.
     By the time the November sun was low in the west, they'd
penetrated deep into the park and had concealed themselves as
best they could in the densest of the wooded areas.  Assured
by Leo that Quincy was still some ways off, Wolf settled
onto a stump to go over the map of the city and the
surrounding area yet one more time.
     "According to the map," he said, tracing a route with
his finger, "this is an arroyo running from the San Gabriel
Mountains that feeds into the Los Angeles River.  Arroyo
Seco, they call it, so I suppose the waterway is usually dry,
like the LA River.  I imagine the arroyo is fairly wild with
lots of growth, making a natural pathway for animals.  Look
how close it comes to the park boundaries."
     "He hasn't shifted into a beast again," Leo said.
     "Even if he does, with luck and under cover of darkness,
he'd be able to get here unobserved."
     Leo, who'd been methodically leafing through the
afternoon Examiner, drew in his breath.  "Damn it, they did
pick up the grizzly story," he said.  "And they've got more."
He shoved the newspaper at Wolf.
     In the fading light, Wolf read the column.  Some
enterprising Examiner reporter had coupled the Denton grizzly
encounter with the death of a man found mangled and naked
just off Route 99 in the Tehachapi Mountains.  "Mauled By
Grizzly?" the small headline asked.  Though it wasn't front
page news, unfortunately the headline was sensational enough
to draw attention.
     "It must have been Quince."  Leo's voice was morose.
     "No doubt of it.  He shifted back after the kill, put on
the man's clothes and hitched a ride with someone.  No wonder
he arrived here so fast."  Wolf frowned.  "That almost sounds
as though Quincy's beast can act on orders from his human
part and that the human side of him knows the beast's
intentions.  Sergei told me that wasn't possible.  He said
the beast might be aware of many things the human part of him
knew but that, as far as he could plan, it was the planning
of a beast.  And once human, he never knew or remembered what
he'd done while a beast."
     "Quince is himself, not Grandfather Sergei.  So why
should his beast behave exactly as Sergei's did?  Besides,
don't you think it's possible being locked up for so long
might have altered Quince?  I can tell you he isn't the same
person he was when you shut him into the tower."
     "We," Wolf reminded him.  "It was a family decision."
     "No one asked Quince."  Leo's voice rose.  "He hated
it!"
     "He can't control himself and we can't control him.  The
alternative to imprisonment was--and is--death."
     "He doesn't want to die."
     Wolf shrugged.  "Who does?  But death waits for all of
us, sooner or later.  Sometimes it's the best solution."
     "No!"
     Apprehension thrust Wolf to his feet.  "Leo, you said
you understood."
     Leo's hand gripped the hilt of the silver dagger
sheathed on his belt.  Wolf, wearing a similar knife, eyed
him askance.
     "I don't have to like it," Leo said sullenly, taking his
hand away.
     "No, but you have to face it."
     Leo stared into the gathering shadows between the trees
and neither man spoke for a time.  After a while, Leo said,
"Doesn't elysian mean a sort of paradise?"
     "To the ancients, Elysium was the dwelling place of
happy souls after death," Wolf told him.  "The Elysian
Fields."
     Leo turned to look at Wolf.  "My brother would be as
much out of place in Elysium as he is in this world.  He
doesn't belong--"  He stopped abruptly, swinging around so he
faced east.  "Quince has shifted again.  Into a beast.  And
he's close."
     Deep within himself, Wolf had known all along Quincy
would have to be confronted as a beast.  He recalled the
bloody night when Leo and Quincy's father was killed, a night
of violence and death in another woods, and he closed his
eyes as though that would blind him to the memory.  He and
Samara were the only ones who'd survived that night and for
months after she'd been more dead than alive.  But she'd
lived and so had Melanie, the unwanted child of rape.
     Wolf closed his hand around the hilt of the silver knife
and eased over to the trunk of a pepper tree, taking comfort
in the feel of something solid against his back.  Quincy
wouldn't harm his twin but everyone else was fair game for
the beast.
     "What was my father like?"  Leo's voice coming out of
the darkness startled Wolf.
     "Uncontrolled, like your brother."  Leo didn't need to
know Stefan had been so uncontrolled that he'd killed his own
mother.  Only his twin, Samara, had been safe from his blood
lust.
     "Why is it some shifters can control their changing,
like Grandfather Sergei could and Arno and Reynolds and I
can?"
     And Cecelia, Wolf added silently.  "The family has
tried damn hard to figure it out," he said, "but so far we've
failed.  Just as we've failed to find a reason why some of us
are shapeshifters and some not.  There must be an answer.
Sergei always believed the secret of the Voleks lay in
Russia, where we came from."  He shifted his grip on the
knife handle.  "How close is Quincy now?  Can you tell?"
     "I'm trying but it's garbled, like getting two radio
stations at once."
     Wolf tensed, fearing Leo might somehow be picking up a
stalker.  None of them had any idea how stalkers homed in on
shifters.  "Could you be getting two different signals?" he
asked.
     Leo didn't answer for so long that Wolf had started to
repeat the question when Leo broke in.
     "Marti!" he exclaimed.  "That's the trouble.  Marti's
found Quincy."
     Damn.  Marti's presence might complicate matters.
"Found him in what way?" Wolf asked.  "Mind touch or--?"
     "Can't tell.  But she knows where he is."
     Wolf cursed again.  He'd feared it was a stalker Leo
sensed but Marti was bad enough.  If she followed close on
Quincy's trail she'd add more danger to the already perilous
situation.
 
     In the pale moonlight, Marti ran after the loping beast,
ignoring Jael's frantic mind calls.  If she could get close
enough, she was sure she could make him change back to
himself.  Then no more people would get hurt.  And her papa
wouldn't have to kill poor Quincy.
      Beast, she thought at him.  It’s Marti.  Stop.  Wait for me.
Stop!
     He finally slowed, pausing to look over his shoulder.
He was on all fours and she couldn't see him very well in the
moonlight but he looked bigger than she remembered.  Bigger
and so scary she had to remind herself he wouldn't hurt her.
     I’m your friend, she told him silently.  Your friend Mart.
Wait for me.
     Jumbled pictures and feelings slammed into her mind--
long, sharp fangs sinking into bloody meat, a dead man with
gory furrows clawed along his naked skin, a glimpse of Leo,
the excitement of running free, and the threat of attack if
anyone or anything tried to stop him.  Marti's steps
faltered.  There was hardly anything left of Quincy in him
now, unlike when he'd shifted while locked in the tower room.
     He was warning her to leave him alone.  Maybe she'd
better.  Maybe he really would hurt her if she didn't.  Marti
halted, watching him spurt ahead and vanish into the
darkness.  She looked around, realizing she didn't know where
she was or in which direction she'd come from.
     Where was the fence she'd crawled under, leaving Waino
and Jael on the other side, both too big to squeeze through
the tiny opening?  She had no idea.  Opening her mind in a
search for Jael didn't work, she found no trace.  Instead,
she sensed something so dark and ominous she snapped her mind
closed and huddled in on herself, wishing she could
disappear.  Not only the beast hunted this night.
     The moon slipped behind a cloud, leaving her in total
darkness.  She'd never been so frightened in her life.  Not
even when she flew with the owl.  A whimper rose in her
throat but she swallowed it fearfully.
     Where were all the people who lived in this city?  At
the wedding there'd been so many, too many, all pressing in
on her until she thought she'd burst.  Where had they all
gone?  Terrified, fearing to look with her mind lest the dark
hunter find her, she had to search with only her eyes and her
ears and she didn't see nor hear a trace of anyone.  Afraid
to move, she hugged herself, shivering.  It seemed forever
before she saw a light in the distance.  Two lights.  Car
headlights.
     Stumbling in the darkness, Marti ran toward the head-
lights.  Surely it must be papa and Jael, looking for her.
She eased open her mind long enough to call Jael silently but
there was no answer.
     Still some distance away, the car turned, driving on
until she could no longer see its lights.  Marti struggled
against her fear of the dark hunter, finally clearing her
thoughts enough to realize that if she'd seen a car there
must be a road because cars drove on roads.  If she walked
straight ahead she'd come to a road and then she wouldn't be
lost any more.  If she was on a road, papa would drive the
truck along the road and find her.  Wouldn't he?
     It took a long, long time to get to the road but, when
she reached it, the moon peeked out from the clouds and its
rays showed her buildings on the other side of the road.
Houses.  With lights inside.  Afraid to be alone in the night
any longer, Marti ran toward the safety of the lights.
     The first door she tried was locked.  She banged with
her fist but no one came.  At the second house, the door
opened and so she walked inside.  A man sitting at a table
with a bottle and a glass in front of him stared at her as
though he couldn't believe his eyes.
     Finally he blinked and shook his head.  "Don't cry,
little girl," he said in a slurred voice.
     Marti didn't even know she was crying but she touched
her cheek and found it wet.
     "C'mere," he said.
     She didn't think he was the dark hunter but she
hesitated to use her mind to make sure.
     "I ain't gonna hurt you," the man said.  "C'mere."
     Not knowing what else to do, she obeyed.  He reached for
her, closed his hand around her wrist and pulled her onto his
lap.  He smelled bad and she didn't like being on his lap so
she tried to squirm off and onto her feet but he wrapped an
arm around her body so she couldn't.  Fear and anger started
pressure building in her head, making it impossible for her
to creep into his mind and see what was in there even if she
dared to try.
     What if he was the dark hunter, after all?  She fought
desperately to get away from him.
     He laughed at her struggles.  With his free hand he
lifted the half-filled glass from the table and put it to her
mouth.  "This'll dry your tears, honey," he said.
     A few fiery drops stung her tongue before she jerked her
head aside.  She'd never tasted anything worse.  Some of the
liquid splashed on her dress and the smell was as bad as the
taste.
     He drank what was left in the glass and set it back onto
the table.  "Rotgut," he muttered.  "Don't blame you."
     Putting his hands on her waist, he lifted her until her
face was even with his.  "Give the ole man a l'il kiss,
sweetheart," he said.  Before she could raise her hands to
thrust him away, his wet. slobbery lips covered hers.
     Marti gagged, the increasing pressure inside her head
making it throb painfully.  Even worse than at the wedding.
     Terror blended with hate in a pulsing, burning fire,
pounding in her mind until everything blurred into a red fog
so dense and thick she couldn't see or hear or think.
     And then she exploded.

 
                          Chapter 4

     "Shield yourself!" Jael cried to Waino as she hastily
closed her mind.  She wasn't sure he understood and she could
only hope he knew what to do if he did understand.  Reverting
to her childhood practice, she lowered her chin and raised
her arms, crossing them protectively on top of her head, eyes
closed as she huddled on the seat of the truck.
     For a moment she was dimly aware of the truck stopping
and of Waino's low chanting.  Then an invisible vise caught
her skull in vicious pincers and squeezed as through trying
to pop her brain out like the meat from a walnut.  She
screamed.
     Waino's hand slid under her arms and onto her head.
Heat flowed from his hand, easing the painful pressure.
Waino's chanted words flowed through his hand into her,
words in an unfamiliar language that seemed to set a barrier
around her mind, allowing nothing to pass.  Jael sank into
a relieved semi-stupor.
     She had no idea how much time passed before she became
aware of someone gripping her shoulders and shaking her.
"Wake up, Jael," Waino urged.
     She opened her eyes.
     "Where's Marti?" Waino demanded, releasing her.
     Jael sat up straighter and stared into the darkness
outside the truck.  To their left, lights gleamed from houses
along the road.  She pointed.  "The second house."  Her voice
sounded strange in her ears so she cleared her throat.
"That's where I sensed her before--"   She broke off,
uncertain how to explain what she'd felt.
     Marti's image at the wedding of a balloon being blown up
past its capacity came to her mind.  "Before the balloon
burst," she said.
     Jael was unsurprised when Waino nodded.  Waino might not
be able to mind-talk like Marti but he had other unusual
abilities.  After the horror of seeing the beast they called
Quincy, she was convinced that no one who lived in Volek
House could possibly be ordinary.
     "Thank God you recognized the danger," he said.  "If you
hadn't--"  He didn't finish.
     She had no need to hear the unsaid words.  They'd both
be dead if she hadn't warned him in time for him to block the
lethal power.  Marti's power.  Jael shuddered.
     "My daughter doesn't know what she possesses," he said
sadly.
     Jael thought that was very likely true.  But the
knowledge didn't change the fact that Marti had nearly killed
them both.  Why?  For the first time it occurred to her that
something or someone had panicked Marti to make her unleash
such violence.  What had happened to the child afterwards?
Cautiously Jael released her mind guards.  She found no trace
of Marti.  Alarm tensed her.  Was Marti alive?
     Waino opened the truck door.
     "I'm going with you," Jael told him.
     Since the front door of the house wasn't locked, they
didn't bother to knock.  Waino entered first.  Jael, still
trembling from her narrow escape, followed him along a dark
hall.  As they approached a lighted room, the stink of
whiskey stung her nostrils.
     "Marti!" Waino cried and rushed into what Jael
recognized as a kitchen.  He fell to his knees beside Marti
who was sprawled on the linoleum like a rag doll.
     Beyond the motionless child was a man's body, also on
the floor but tangled with a wooden chair as though he and
the chair had been flung backwards.  Blood trickled from his
ears.  Amber liquid from a toppled whiskey bottle pooled on
the table and dripped onto the linoleum.
     Before Jael could reach Marti's side, Waino gathered his
daughter into his arms and rose.  Jerking his head toward the
man, he muttered, "Best to get away from here as fast as we
can." He turned on his heel and strode from the kitchen.
     Jael stumbled along behind him.  She believed the man
was dead.  Was Marti alive?  She was afraid to ask.
     After they were in the truck once more, Waino laid Marti
on her lap.  Bending over her, Jael thought she felt a faint
brush of breath on her own cheek.  Her fingers sought the
pulse under the child's jaw and found a faint throb.  Marti
was alive.
     Apprehension mingled with Jael's relief.  What would
happen when the child roused?  Would she and Waino survive?
     Waino had pulled the truck back onto the road and its
headlights shone palely on the macadam surface.  "We'll take
Marti to the hotel," he said.  "Keep trying to reach her,
mind to mind.  In the meantime--do you know any lullabies?"
     Jael blinked.  "Why, yes.  Yes, I do."
     "Sing to her.  Hearing goes last and comes back first.
A lullaby will soothe her before she wakes."
     There was no need to ask why it was important that Marti
wake soothed.  "Bye-low, my baby," Jael began in a husky
contralto, "bye-low, my sleepy little babe..."  Over and over
she sang the refrain while Waino drove on and on.
     Other cars passed them.  Street lamps appeared.
Buildings loomed beside the road to either side and she knew
they'd reached the city proper.  Still she sang, her voice
growing hoarse.
     The lights of Los Angeles shone through the truck
windows onto Marti's face.  Jael brushed a strand of fair
hair from the child's dusky skin and slipped into a hum
instead of words.  Moments later she felt Marti's first
tendril of awareness creep into her mind.
     Instantly she stopped crooning and sent a silent message
to the child.  Everything’s all right, you’re safe, safe with Jael, 
safe with your father.  Safe. Safe.
      My head hurts. Marti's sending was weak.
     Jael cuddled her closer.  Soon you’ll be better.
Glancing at the city streets, she hoped that was true, hoped
the pressure of many people wouldn't upset Marti as it had in
the church.  Of course that had been a mob, really.  Hundreds
had crowded into and around the church.  Big and busy as the
city was, its inhabitants weren't all in one spot at the same
time.
     Marti stirred and opened her eyes.  Jael smiled
reassuringly down at her.
      I knew you’d come and find me. Marti's thought was
stronger.  I knew you wouldn’t let the dark hunter get me.
     Dark hunter?
     He’s hunting the beast.  Hunting Quincy.  Tell papa.
     "Marti says something she calls a dark hunter is
following Quincy," Jael said to Waino.
     His hands clenched on the steering wheel.  "Stalker!"
He hissed the word.  "I was afraid of that.  I must find Wolf
and Leo and warn them."  After a moment he reached over and
stroked his daughter's hair.  "You're safe now," he told her.
"And you'll be safe in the hotel with Jael.  The stalker
won't come after you there."
     The tenseness in his voice raised the hair on Jael's
arms.  Her hold on Marti tightened.  I won’t let anything hurt you, 
she assured the girl.
     Marti closed her eyes, relaxing against her.  I’m awful tired.
     Sleep.  You’re safe with me.  Safe with Jael.  She began
to hum the lullaby again, as much to keep her own fears at
bay as to soothe the child.
     By the time Waino pulled up in front of the Ambassador
Hotel, Marti slept soundly.  "I'll come with you to the
desk," Waino told Jael.
     Leaving the truck running, Waino led Jael, still holding
the sleeping Marti, into the hotel.  At the desk, he used the
phone to call the Volek suite.
     "Druse is alone," he told Jael as he hung up.  "She told
me where Leo and Wolf have gone."  He started to turn away,
stopped and laid a hand on her shoulder.  "Thank you, Jael."
     Too exhausted to speak, Jael could only nod at Waino.
In a daze, she carried the sleeping child to the elevator.
When she finally reached the Volek suite and Druse opened the
door, Jael was staggering.
     Druse plucked Marti from her arms and led the way to a
bedroom where Jael collapsed on one of the twin beds.  She
managed to whisper, "Please lay Marti here beside me."
     Druse hesitated, then did as she asked.  Turning on her
side and cuddling the girl to her, Jael closed her eyes.  She
had no energy left to worry about Marti's potential for
violence, the beast named Quincy or the threat of what Waino
called a stalker.  All she could do was slide helplessly into
the dark pit of sleep.
 
     In Elysian Park, as the moon rose higher, something he'd
hoped never to experience again stirred inside Leo.  Freedom,
it whispered.  The hunt.  The kill.  The hot taste of blood…
     Quince is making me feel this way, he warned himself.
He wants me to change and run with him.  But I won't.  I'm
not a beast, I'm a man.
     "How close now?"  Wolf spoke softly but his voice
startled Leo.
     "Damn close.  And I don't sense interference from Marti
any longer."
     "He's left her behind.  Good."
     "But I think--"  Leo paused, frowning.  "Up until this
minute I've always been sure whether Quince was shifted or
not.  I think he's Quince again rather than the beast but--"
He shook his head.  "I don't really know."
     Wolf put a hand on his shoulder.  "Don't try so hard."
     Leo started to tell Wolf about his own urge to shift,
then changed his mind.  It was no more than an urge, one he
wouldn't give in to.  Couldn't, as long as he wore the
amulet.  Leo's hand crept up until his fingers caressed the
rune etched into the steel oval he wore on a leather thong
around his neck.
         The rune Iwaz, symbolizing the yew tree, his
protection against evil.  The rune that had been meant for
his brother.
     Waino had explained the power of the amulet on the day
of Grandmother Liisi's funeral, that dreadful day that Quince
had shifted for the first time.
     "The steel encloses a bit of Grandfather Sergei's noita
charm against shapeshifting," Waino said.  "A powerful
deterrent.  As for the rune, Liisi herself chose the one best
suited to your brother.  Since twins are one made two, Iwaz
will work for you as well.  If you learn to hold the shape of
Iwaz in your mind and your heart as well as in your hand,
you'll be forever safe from shifting, no matter how great the
temptation."
     "If I keep the amulet, what about Quince?" Leo had
protested.
     "Quincy will never willingly wear the amulet so Iwaz
can't protect him.  And neither can anything else."  Waino's
words had been chillingly final.
     In the park's moonlit darkness, surrounded by the spicy
scent of a nearby pepper tree, Leo silently began the Finnish
chant against shifting that Waino had also taught him.  It
had been a long time since he'd needed the words and when he
tried to recall them, the whisper returned to distract him.
     Join me under the moon.  Run with me.  Be free.
     Quince!  Leo's hand dropped from the amulet as he
whirled around, staring into the shadows between the trees,
seeking his brother.
     "Is he here?"  Wolf's voice was a mere thread of sound.
     Leo didn't answer immediately, bemused by the strong
linkage with his twin.
     "Leo!"  Wolf's fingers closed on Leo's shoulders,
forcing him to turn away from the shadows.  "Remember why
we're here."
     Leo struggled to focus on what Wolf was saying.
     "If you give way," Wolf warned, "the Voleks are doomed."
     Doomed.  Doomed.  The word tolled in Leo's mind.  Must
he doom Quince to save the rest of the family?  He was
wrestling with the question when a red mist began to spread
across his mind.  He knew what it meant and his heart sank.
Dealing with Quince was one thing but the beast was something
else entirely.
     "No!"  In his desperation he shouted his plea.  "No!
"Don't shift, Quince!"
     A long drawn-out howl was his only answer.
     Leo's first thought was for Wolf's safety.  Before the
howl died away he grabbed Wolf's arm.  "Put your back to the
tree," he urged.  "I'll stand in front of you to protect you
from his attack."
     Wolf pulled away.  "No need to protect me; I'll climb
the damn tree."  He jumped for the lowest branch and swung
himself up as effortlessly as a man half his age.
     They both knew the beast could climb a tree if he wished
but at least Wolf was beyond reach for the moment.
     "Call him to you," Wolf urged from his perch on the tree
limb.
     Leo swallowed.  Once the beast came close enough, Wolf
would expect him to use the silver dagger sheathed at his
belt.  Expect him to kill his own brother.  As he struggled
to come to terms with what he knew to be his duty, Leo
absently scratched the suddenly itching bite scar on his left
arm.  Only when he reached, slowly and reluctantly, for the
knife hilt, did he realize his own danger.
     Leo's hand stopped in midair and crept up to grasp the
amulet.  The damn bite hadn't burned like this for years.
Not since Quince's first shifting.  The one and only time
he'd shifted, too.
     "No, please God, no," he whispered.
     If he shifted, Wolf would die--no human armed only with
a dagger, even if it was silver, could withstand two beasts.
Wolf would die--and how many others?  Elysian Park was a tiny
wilderness within a great city.  If he changed and he and
Quince tried to escape from Los Angeles as beasts they'd be
forced to kill or be killed.
     He wasn't a killer, either by choice or by instinct, but
Quince was.  His twin was more beast than human.  He wanted
Quince to live but not at Wolf's expense.  Not at the expense
of other innocent lives.
     In his mind he heard Waino's words to Wolf.  "As strong
as this rune is, if his brother is free and in beast form,
the amulet may not protect Leo.  If Quincy wants him as a
companion, wants him as a beast, their twin bond may be
stronger."
     Leo closed his eyes and pictured Iwaz as he traced the
rune's shape with his fingers.  "Begone, shadow of darkness,"
he chanted in Finnish.  "I do not choose to walk the bloody
path--"
     A gunshot froze him.  The beast roared in pain that was
half challenge.  Overhead, Wolf cried, "Stalker!"
     The dreaded word released Leo.  He yanked the dagger
from its sheath and sprang forward as the beast loped toward
him.  Though a knife might be of little use against a stalker
with a gun, Leo knew he'd die before he'd let Quince be
killed by a deadly enemy of all Voleks.
     The gun cracked again and a burning pain seared along
Leo's right side.  He stumbled and fell to one knee.  In
front of him the beast stopped abruptly, whirling with a
snarl to face the shadows where the stalker waited.  The
silver haze of moonlight faded, leaving the park in complete
darkness.
      Save yourself! Leo urged the beast. Run!  He struggled
to his feet, bracing himself against the next bullet as he
stumbled through the dark toward where he believed the
stalker was hiding.  Whoever it was, man or woman, must die.
Not just to save Quince but to protect the clan.
     Stalkers killed not only shifters but anyone related
to shifters.
     Leo heard a surprised grunt ahead of him, then the
unmistakable sounds of two men fighting.  Wolf, he thought.
Aided by the dark, Wolf must have crept up behind the stalker
and jumped him.  Together he and I will best the bastard.
Struggling against a strange weakness that threatened to fell
him, Leo staggered on.
     A man shouted in rage and pain.  The beast snarled.  A
gun roared in Leo's ears.  Then the moon reappeared, flooding
the park with pale light.
     Two men, Wolf and another, lay sprawled on the ground,
the beast standing over them, fangs bared.  With the last of
his strength, Leo flung himself forward and collapsed half on
top of Wolf.
     Staring up at the beast, Leo saw blood matting the fur
on his left flank  Run, he warned the beast, cramming as
much urgency into his thoughts as he could, hoping enough
human remained so Quince would be able to save himself.  Get 
away before others come.  Shift back and find someone to dig
out that silver bullet.  If you don’t it’ll poison you and you’ll die.
     One lives.  Kill.  The beast's thought came through
hazily.
     Leo looked into Wolf's face and saw his grandfather's
one eye staring at him.  Not staring, thank God, with the
glaze of death.  Leo could see no visible wound on him,
either.
     Wolf's silver dagger was buried to the hilt in the
stalker's chest.  Much as Leo hated to touch him, he forced
himself to lay a hand over the man's heart.  He felt no beat.
     Go, he urged the beast.  The right one is dead.  You’ll
have to kill me to harm the other.
     The beast growled deep in his throat.  Gazing at the
vicious fangs and lethal talons, for one awful moment Leo
thought he meant to attack.  Too weak to search for the
dagger he'd dropped, he threw a protective arm over his
throat.
      Never you, brother.  The beast's thought was tinged with
sadness.
     Leo watched him turn away and limp into the shadows
under the trees, staring after him until Wolf's hoarse
whisper returned his attention to his grandfather.
     "Dead?" Wolf rasped.
     "You killed the stalker," Leo assured him.
     Wolf nodded.  When he spoke again Leo eyed him with
alarm, noticing how great an effort it took him to talk.
"Remember.  Beth.  Tell Waino."   A trickle of blood ran from
the corner of Wolf's mouth.  He tried to say more but only a
rattle came from his throat.
     As Leo gaped down at him in apprehension, belatedly
realizing the truth, Wolf arched upward and fell back to move
no more.  Frantically Leo searched for a nonexistent
heartbeat.  Only then did he see the dark pool spreading from
underneath Wolf's body.
     The stalker had killed after all.  Leo slumped onto his
grandfather and wept like a child, aware of nothing else but
the loss of Wolf.
 
     Waino parked the truck near the park entrance and began
tramping along the roads, searching.  After a while he heard
a faint sobbing and followed the sound into the woods.  He
traced the noise to its source and halted in grieved horror
at the moonlit death scene.
     After a time he helped Leo to his feet, but Leo,
blood oozing from his side, was too weak to walk and had to
be eased onto the ground.
     Waino hurried to bring the truck as close as possible to
where they lay.  Not touching the dead stranger, he half-
dragged, half-carried Leo to the truck and propped him in the
front.  Bringing an old blanket, he returned for Wolf.  When
he finally angled the blanket-wrapped body of his friend onto
the truck bed, Waino leaned his head against the tailguard,
wracked by grief as much as exhaustion.
     As soon as he gathered the energy, he climbed into the
cab with the already feverish Leo.
     "Wolf said tell you," Leo mumbled, his words almost
unintelligible.  "Vision.  Liisi.  You teach Beth."
     On the long ride toward the San Gabriel Mountains,
Waino sorted out Leo's ramblings enough to understand that
Wolf, evidently because of a vision of Liisi, was entrusting
him with Beth's training as a shaman.
     Once Liisi visited him with such a message, Wolf must
have known he was to die, Waino told himself.  His throat
ached with grief.  Why Wolf?  Why couldn't Quincy have died
instead, solving their problem?
     From Leo's disjointed words, he gathered that the
stalker had wounded the beast with a silver bullet.  Waino
hoped the poison would finish Quincy but, somehow, he doubted
it.  Unfortunately, Leo also had been shot with a silver
bullet and was enough of a shifter to be poisoned, too.
     He didn't dare bring Leo to a doctor or a hospital lest
a connection be made between his injuries and the dead
stalker in Elysian Park.  Besides, no doctor would understand
what was wrong with Leo or know how to cure him.
     If he didn't reach the mountains soon enough, if he
didn't locate a hiding place, if he couldn't find the right
plants to treat Leo, there'd be another Volek death.
     And still not the right one.

 
                          Chapter 5

     "...bringing the total to five dead.  Authorities
believe four of the deaths may be related but, to quote
Sheriff Riggs, the fifth victim's injuries appeared to be
different.  The sheriff refused further comment on the fifth
body, found in Elysian Park, other than to say his office was
awaiting the coroner's report."
     Jael bit her lip as she rose from the settee in the
lounge and hurried to the elevators.  Disturbed because none
of the men had returned to the hotel and fearing the worst,
Druse had asked her to go down to the lobby to listen to the
noon news radio broadcast.
     By the time the elevator stopped at her floor, Jael had
decided not to mention the four people found dead in their
houses near Arroyo Seco.  There was little doubt in her mind
that Marti was responsible but she needed to discuss it with
Waino before speaking to anyone else.  Where was Waino?
Dead, his throat torn out by the beast?  She shuddered.
     When Jael returned to the suite, Marti was still asleep
in one of the bedrooms.
     "One death," Druse said, after listening to Jael's
truncated version of the broadcast.  "But there were three in
the park--Wolf, Waino, and Leo."
     "Quincy might have been there."  Jael's voice shook as
she said the beast's name.  "Plus what your husband called a
stalker."
     "One death," Druse repeated, as though she hadn't
heard Jael's words.  "Why hasn't Wolf called us?"
     Jael shook her head.
     Druse's dark eyes fixed on Jael but both her gaze and
her thoughts seemed far away.  Neither spoke for some time.
"I imagine you'd like to cut loose from the Voleks and never
set eyes on any of us again," Druse said finally.
     Part of Jael agreed fervently.  The Voleks were
dangerous, to say the least.  Even Marti.  But in her entire
life no one had ever really needed her.  Needed the person
Jael Steinmetz was.  Marti did.  If she left, who was there
for Marti?  No one could understand her as Jael did.
     Though the beast terrified her, strangely Jael felt no
real fear of Marti, despite what she knew the little girl had
done.  Marti hadn't meant to kill those people, she was sure
of it.  The child's terror had driven her to unleash some
terrible power she likely enough didn't even yet realize she
possessed.  If Jael left the Voleks, who would be able to
teach Marti to curb such awful power?
     "I promised Marti I'd stay at Volek House," Jael said
at last.  "I've never broken a promise to a child.  Unless
you ask me to leave, I'll keep my word."
     Druse burst into tears and flung her arms around Jael.
     The phone rang.
     When Druse continued to sob, Jael pulled away and picked
up the receiver.  "Volek suite," she said.
     "Who is this?" a woman's voice demanded.
     "Jael Steinmetz, Marti's nursemaid."
     "Oh, God, what are you doing there?"
     "I'm here with Marti.  Would you like to speak to Mrs.
Waisenen?"
     "Where's Wolf?"
     "I'm sorry, Mrs. Waisenen is the only other person in
the suite."
     "Put Druse on, then."
     Wiping her eyes, still sniffling, Druse took the phone.
"Melanie?" she exclaimed in surprise after listening for a
moment.  "I thought you'd sailed off on your honeymoon."
She listened again.
     Rather than eavesdrop, Jael eased into the bedroom to
check on Marti.  The little girl was still curled up on the
bed but her pale eyes were open.  Jael sat beside her and
Marti climbed into her lap, clinging tightly.
     Is he gone?  Marti asked.  The dark hunter?
     There’s no dark hunter in our rooms.  Were you dreaming?
      Marti stuck her thumb in her mouth.  Bad dreams.  I want to 
go home.  Tell mama.
      A few minutes later Druse came into the bedroom.
"Melanie's quite upset over what's happened," she said,
resting a hand momentarily on her daughter's hair.  "She's
sending the Eastman chauffeur over to the hotel to drive us
back to Volek House."  Druse crossed to the window and stared
down at the street.
     Mama’s mad, Marti thought.
     Jael had gathered as much from the curl of anger in
Druse's words.
     Druse spoke without turning.  "I'm sending you and Marti
with the chauffeur.  I'm staying here until--"  She
straightened her shoulders.  "My father told me to wait here
and I will."
     "I think Marti will be happier at Volek House than she
is in the city," Jael said.
     Druse whirled to face her.  "If only I knew where the
three of them were!"
     Jael felt Marti tense.  I can’t feel Leo or Quincy anymore,
the child confided.
     Because they were too far away?  Or because one of them
was dead?
     "Melanie has no right to tell me what to do," Druse
snapped.  "She never has cared about anyone except herself.
All she's worried about is how her career and her marriage
will be affected if--"  Druse hesitated, eyeing Marti.  "If
what was mentioned on the news proves to have any connection
with the family.  She wants us all to leave Los Angeles
immediately."  Druse took a deep breath.  "I can't go."
     Jael nodded.  Not with Druse's husband, her twin sons
and her father still unaccounted for.
     "The Voleks don't welcome outsiders," Druse said,
clasping Jael's hand, "but you're different.  And God knows
we need your help.  I'm glad you haven't been frightened
off."
 
     High in the San Gabriel Mountains, Waino left Leo in a
tree branch lean-to by a stream while he loaded Wolf's
blanket-wrapped body and a spade he'd stolen from a farmer's
barn onto a crude travois.  He hauled the travois over the
rough terrain until he came to a shaded dell where the ground
was soft.  There he stopped and began to dig Wolf's grave.
     While he dug he talked to the dead man.  "I know you
prefer the Sierras, my friend, but I hope you'll rest easy in
these mountains for I have no choice.  How can I bring your
dead body home to Volek House?  I must bury you here to
protect the family.  We will mourn you in private to avoid
awkward questions; outsiders won't even suspect you're dead."
     Because he was an albino with no protective pigmentation
in his skin, Waino had to protect himself from the sun.
Since its rays slanted through the live oak branches, he
couldn't remove his broad-brimmed hat or his long-sleeved
jacket.  Sweat trickled down his face as he bent his back to
the digging.
     "I wouldn't work this hard for anyone but you," he
informed Wolf.  "How I'll miss you!  Rest assured I'll do as
you ask and train Beth in the pathways of the spirit.  God
grant I live long enough for her to grow old enough to be a
companion to me."
     Ah, but Beth was so young.  He loved his wife but she
was not his mind's companion.  Who would share his interests
until Beth matured?  The young woman who mind-talked with
Marti might be a possibility.  Would her attachment to Marti
be strong enough to tie her permanently to the family?
     "You sensed Jael belonged with us, didn't you, my wise
friend Wolf?  And now you've gone away and left me a legacy:
One way or another, I must see that she remains at Volek
House, see that she remains to save us from the doom old Bear
Claw warned would befall the family without her.  And so I
shall.  First, though, she has questions to answer.  Jael
Steinmetz is an enigma I look forward to solving."
     Some time later, Waino eased Wolf's blanket-clad body
into the grave.  He stood, removed a round white stone, an
acorn and a small silver cross from his pocket.
     As he dropped the stone onto the body, he whispered,
"May this pebble keep your body at rest."
     Dropping the acorn, he chanted, "As this seed holds the
promise of the oak, may your spirit realize the splendor of
rebirth."
     He held the cross high in the air, turning it to the
four directions before dropping it into the grave.  His voice
rose as he cried, "May the sacred amulet hold back the forces
of darkness forever."
     After he shoveled the dirt back into the hole, he hauled
rocks on the travois and piled them atop the grave.  Last of
all he chanted a noita charm to keep away animals.  Then he
returned to the feverish, delirious Leo and dosed him with
another infusion of steeped roots and bark before carefully
washing the festering wound along Leo's ribs.
     Plastering a thick coating of aloe mixed with mountain
misery seeds over the wound, Waino muttered, "You're damned
lucky, my boy, that the stalker's silver bullet only grazed
you.  If all goes well we can go home tomorrow."
     "Quince!" Leo cried, struggling weakly to sit up.
     Waino pushed him down.  "Be calm.  Rest.  Your brother's
not here."
     "He's gone," Leo mumbled.  "Can't feel Quince anywhere.
He's gone."  His face puckered like a child's.  "All alone,"
he whimpered.  "Never been all alone before."  Tears rolled
down his cheeks.
     While Waino did his best to soothe Leo, he wondered what
the severing of communication between the twins meant.  He
hoped like hell Quincy was dead.  But he knew shifters were
notoriously hard to kill.
     Two days later the  family, including Druse, but
without Melanie, was under one roof again--at Volek House.
     "We must mourn Wolf singly, in private," Waino advised
the gathered adults after the children were in bed.  He felt
it was just as well that Leo was still to weak to be up--the
boy was in no condition to hear what he had to say.  Jael,
not being a family member, hadn't been invited.  Again, for
the best.
     Since she'd done it once before, Arno and Ivan had
assumed Marti was responsible for freeing Quincy.  Waino
hadn't told them they were wrong.  He wasn't so much
protecting Jael for her sake as for his own purposes.  Since
Bear Claw's spirit had made the long journey back to tell
Wolf she was important to the family, Waino meant to keep her
here.  Unless she proved to be dangerous.  He wasn't yet sure
of her.
    "Remember," Waino said to the others, "to the younger
children and to the world, Wolf's not dead, he's merely off
on another of his excursions.  Since Melanie's on her
honeymoon, she hasn't been told of his death.  Perhaps it's
as well."
     "Melanie will be happier not knowing."  Samara's voice
was sad.  "I'd rather she wasn't told the truth even when she
returns."
     No one objected, so Waino nodded his agreement.
     "What about Marti?" Arno asked.  "Won't she sense the
truth?"
     "If she does," Waino said, "Jael will know and I'll
decide how to handle it."
     "Just how will Jael know?" Ivan demanded.
     Waino told them about her mind bond with Marti.  "If you
recall," he added, "Wolf searched for a year before he found
the girl and brought her here.  Wolf knew from the first she
was unusual; he believed she belonged at Volek House."
     "She's an outsider."  Arno and Ivan objected
simultaneously.
     Waino looked from one to the other.  "Not any longer.
She knows what Quincy is, she knows about stalkers--and
more."
     "If she sees into Marti's mind," Arno said, "why didn't
Jael stop Marti from setting Quincy free?"
     "Jael didn't understand what Quincy was.  Not until she
saw him."
     "What use is she if she can't control Marti?" Ivan
asked.
     "In time she will be able to.  You all know Marti's not
easy to understand."  Waino hadn't told anyone about Marti's
connection with the Arroyo Seco deaths; he wasn't sure when
or if he would.  Certainly not until he understood exactly
what had happened.
     Cecelia, leaning against her older son's shoulder, began
to weep.  "Wolf foresaw his death," she said brokenly.  "I
should have realized he knew what was ahead from the way he
said goodbye to me."
     "Liisi's spirit came to warn him."  Waino's voice was
gentle.  "A man is fortunate to have the time to say goodbye
to those he loves before death claims him."
     His words failed to comfort Cecelia.
     Others chimed in, asking questions and voicing opinions
but it was clear they all wanted to keep Wolf's death a
secret.  And why shouldn't they? Waino asked himself.  The
lie is to save all our necks and they know it.
     "As for Quincy," he put in when he had the chance, "Leo
no longer senses him anywhere.  I can't be sure but I suspect
either Quincy is dead or he's put so many miles between
himself and Leo that their bond has failed.  This would mean
that, if not dead, he's far from Volek House."
     "If I were Quincy, I'd run as far and fast as I could,"
Arno said.  "I don't ever want to shift again but I ama
shifter and I understand how he feels.  Imprisonment in the
tower?"  Arno shook his head.  "Not for me."
     "Nor me!"  Reynolds' voice was fervent.  "After the
first time I shifted I promised myself never again.  But
being locked up--"  He grimaced.  "Death in life, that's what
it is."
     Cecelia shuddered.  "Better by far to be dead," she
whispered.
     When the gathering broke up, Waino went in search of
Jael.  When he found her sitting in her bedroom rocker beside
the sleeping Marti, he beckoned her into the hall.
     "Come with me," he said and led her to the tower stairs.
     Jael hugged herself as she followed Waino up the stone
steps.  Though it wasn't warm in the tower, her chill came
from her all-too-vivid recollection of the horror she'd seen
here.  It was one thing to tell herself she'd stay at Volek
House because Marti needed her but quite another to realize
that Quincy was actually Marti's half-brother.
     At the top of the stairs, Waino unlocked the tower room,
flung open the door, and gestured to her to precede him.
Wishing herself elsewhere, Jael stepped hesitantly inside.
Apparently Waino had turned a switch outside the room for it
was dimly illuminated by four electric lights high on the
stone walls.
     The furnishings were pathetically few--a cot, a table,
one chair and a commode stand.  The wood of the table top was
heavily gouged and splintered.  As she wrinkled her nose
against the feral smell in the air, she tried not to
visualize the beast ripping through the wood with his cruel,
sharp talons.
     Waino set down a stool he'd brought in from outside the
room.  "Please sit," he said.
     She chose the stool rather than the chair, folded her
hands in her lap and waited.  Years of experience had taught
her how to hide her unease.
     Waino dropped onto the chair.  "Leo used to sit on that
stool on the other side of the door and talk to Quincy by the
hour to keep him calm," he said.  "We couldn't afford to have
the day help suspect what we hid in the tower and Leo was the
only one Quincy would heed.  Leo, and sometimes Marti.  You
do know what Quincy is, don't you?"
     "A--a beast."
     "Not all the time.  Sometimes he looks and acts as human
as his twin."
     Jael swallowed.  Deep inside her she'd known Quincy
couldn't have been born a beast but she didn't really want to
know any more about him, didn't wish to hear what Waino
apparently intended to tell her.  She raised her hands
defensively.
     "If you're to stay at Volek House, you must know the
Volek history," he said, his pale eyes, so like Marti's,
probing hers.  "The family has a dark heritage that goes far
back to their very beginnings.  Voleks came originally from
the ancient forests of Mother Russia."
     "Please," she begged, terrified that whatever he was
about to tell her was somehow connected with her own inner
darkness, "there's no need to--"
     "Ah, but there is.  To understand Marti you must first
understand her family and accept us as we are."
      “You’re not a Volek."
     "Not by birth, no.  My cousin Liisi married the founder
of the American clan, Sergei Volek, thus entwining the
bloodline of the Waisenens with that of the Voleks.  Before
she died she arranged for me to come here and take her place
after she was gone, believing the family needed me.  As they
did and as they still do.  Once here I met Druse."  Waino
smiled.  "We seem an odd pair to you, perhaps, but love is
blind.  And so we married and together we produced a Volek."
He sighed.  "I admit I don't entirely understand Marti."
     Seeing her chance to deflect him, Jael said, "I want to
talk to you about what happened in Los Angeles--"
     He held up a hand.  "I agree we need to discuss how and
why that man--and the three others--died.  But later.  Russia
first.  I intend to tell you the story as Sergei, a man I
never met, heard it from his father and told it to his own
sons.
     "A very long time ago, when the family forebears lived
on the edge of the Russian forest, a pretty girl named Samara
couldn't be stopped from wandering in the forest despite the
danger of wolves.  And of worse.
     "The local Wise Woman warned Samara that the lieshui,
the spirits of the forest, would ensorcel her but the girl
refused to listen.  Though Samara had paid no attention to
the village youths who came to court her, one day she brought
a stranger home with her, a yellow-eyed man dressed in
silver-gray who wore a cloak of wolfskins.  She said his name
was Volek and from then on she'd look at no other man.
     "Her family, along with the rest of the villagers,
disliked and feared this man from the forest, but when it
became clear Samara was with child, her father gave her to
the stranger in marriage.
     "On the night after the wedding, a full moon rose.  It
was then the Wise Woman crept into the bedroom of Samara's
father and woke him.  'Death rides the moon,' she hissed.
'You have welcomed a beast into your home, you have wedded
your daughter to a son of the forest spirits, an oborot who
is both man and beast.  Rise and stab him with a silver knife
while he sleeps or he will kill you all and gobble your
hearts before morning.'
     "Samara's father roused his three sons and, armed with
knives, they slipped into the bridal chamber and fell on the
slumbering groom.  The sons withdrew in terror when the
stranger's flesh, penetrated by their steel knives, closed
over immediately.  But the father's silver knife rose and
fell until blood stained the bedcovers and dripped onto the
floor.
     "The bridegroom howled and collapsed upon the bed.
Though they believed he must be dead, when he began to change
into a horrible beast the men took fright, gathered up the
screaming Samara and ran from the room, carrying her to the
Wise Woman.
     "She forced infusion of herbs down the girl's throat to
rid her of the child she carried.  When the father and his
sons returned to drag away and burn the mortally wounded
beast, he was gone.  Neither he nor the stranger named Volek
were ever seen again.
     "Samara didn't miscarry despite all the potions she was
fed.  When she was finally brought to the birthing stool, she
fell into a trance when the first child was born and died as
the second child slipped from her womb.  Her father meant to
kill the babies but when he saw how human they looked,
identical twin boys who, except for their golden eyes,
resembled his own sons when they had been babes, he didn't
have the heart.
     "The old Wise Woman, who might have convinced him the
twins must not live, was dead herself by this time, savaged
by a wolf while she hunted for firewood in the forest.  Or at
least the villagers preferred to believe it was a wolf.
     "Samara's twins grew to manhood and the full moon rose
and one of them--changed.  The villagers waited and stabbed
him through the heart with a silver dagger when he returned
to human form.  And so he died, but his twin escaped, fleeing
to a faraway city.  There he took the name of Volek which was
his by right and in due course luck brought him a wealthy
wife who bore him nine children, none of them twins."  Waino
paused.
     Jael took a deep breath, deliberately breaking the
trance the tale had cast over her.  "Sergei Volek was
descended from this surviving twin?" she asked.
     Waino nodded.  "Sergei was a twin himself.  His father
had violated the admonition handed down to each eldest son
along with the story, a warning that if identical twins sons
were born they must not be allowed to live.  Sergei's father
couldn't bring himself to kill the twins his wife delivered.
Instead, he sent them as children to Kamchatka with a trusted
Cossack who had orders to kill the twin who shifted at
manhood and bring the other home.  For, you see, only one of
identical twin sons would become a shapeshifter."
     Shapeshifter.  The word raised the hair on Jael's nape.
"Quincy," she whispered.
     "Yes, Quincy is a shapeshifter.  Like Sergei was.  In
Kamchatka, the normal twin died.  Sergei, the shifter,
survived and boarded a ship that eventually brought him to
America.  Since then, no Volek child, twin or otherwise, has
been deliberately killed.  And the family has discovered that
it's not necessary to be a twin to inherit the dark trait.
Nor do all shifters need to be exposed to a full moon before
they can change into beasts.  You saw Quincy, you know how
monstrous a beast can be."
     "He--he would have killed me.  Marti intervened."
     "So you told me at the time.  Fortunately all Volek
shifters aren't uncontrolled, like Quincy."
     Jael's eyes widened in shock as she remembered that Arno
and Ivan were twins.
     Waino nodded.  "I see it's occurred to you Quincy might
not be the only shapeshifter in Volek House.  You're right,
Arno is one.  So is Reynolds.  And Cecelia, though she isn't
a Volek by blood as far as we know.  When he grows into
manhood, it's been predicted little Curtis will shift, too."
     "My God!"
     "What I'm trying to tell you is that Arno, Reynolds and
Cecelia have completely controlled their shifting and refuse
to set their inner beast free.  We'll do our best to teach
Curtis how to control himself when the time comes."
     Jael swallowed.  "I've read tales of werewolves, but I
never believed them.  And Quincy really wasn't wolflike.  He
was--he was--"  Her voice faltered.  "Horrible."
     "Yes.  A beast has no conscience; he's filled only with
the lust for blood.  Now you understand why we kept Quincy
imprisoned and why we hunted him when he escaped."
     Jael shuddered.  "I didn't mean to--I don't know why I
let him out."  She glanced at the open door.  "I recall Marti
telling me that we mustn't unlock the door but it was as
though someone else turned the key."
     "And was it someone else?"  Waino's voice remained
even but his gaze grew hard and inimical.
     Jael's hands clenched together as she tried to block the
frightening memory of the crimson darkness that had
surrounded her before the beast escaped.  "No! I’m not a
shapeshifter!"
     "Since Wolf would have known if you were, I believe you.
But are you something else?  Something just as dangerous or
even more so?  Have we welcomed a viper named Jael Steinmetz
into Volek House?"

                          Chapter 6

     "Marti's awake, she wants me," Jael said, rising from
the stool.  "I must go to her."
     Keeping her mind closed to Marti, she fled down the
stone steps of the tower, relieved by the summons, relieved
she wouldn't have to lie to Waino.  How could she tell him
about the darkness that sometimes overwhelmed her when even
thinking of it might invite another invasion?
     Jael hated the sense of creeping evil that slithered
into her mind with the crimson darkness, she loathed and
feared the suspension of her senses, making her unaware of
what she might have done while under the dark command.
     The only person she'd ever told about the darkness was
Yuba and Yuba had been as frightened as she was.
     "The same thing used to happen to--"  Yuba had paused,
her eyes narrowing.  "But you're mine, not hers."  She
gathered Jael to her and cried, "Do you hear?  This child is
mine.  Mine!  You shan't have her."
     Later, when Jael had asked what she'd meant, Yuba denied
every word she'd said.  "I'm your mother, that's all you need
to know."
     As Jael hurried along the corridor to her room, she
prayed that the invading evil wouldn't return to change her
into the viper Waino feared.
     I work up and you weren’t here, Marti accused as soon as
Jael stepped through the door. And you wouldn’t let me in.
     I’m sorry.  I was with your father in the tower.  I came as 
soon as you called me.
     Marti's eyes shifted from her to the open door.  To
Jael's dismay, she saw that Waino had followed her.  He came
into the bedroom and closed the door.
     "Sit down, Jael," he said.  "We're not finished with our
discussion."  He looked at his daughter.  "Since you're
awake, Marti, we'll include you."
     Jael sat on the side of the bed and put an arm around
Marti.  The child snuggled close but her attention was fixed
on her father.
     Waino eased into the rocker.  "You remember being in Los
Angeles, don't you Marti?" he asked.
     Marti nodded.
     "Do you remember disobeying me and crawling under the
fence to go after the beast?"
     Marti nodded again, her brows drawing together.  The beast
wouldn’t listen to me.  He wouldn’t stop, she told Jael.  Then the dark hunter 
came and scared me.
      And what happened after that?  Jael asked.
     Marti blinked, confusion shadowing her pale eyes.  Then I woke up in the
truck with you and papa.
     "Marti recalls trying to stop the beast," Jael told
Waino.  "And being afraid of the dark hunter.  After that she
says she woke up in the truck."
     Waino sighed.  "Amnesia.  Perhaps it's best for her,
considering.  I do believe she's telling the truth.  But what
about you, Jael?  Do you really not remember what happened in
the tower when Quincy was set free?"
     You got all dark inside, Marti told her.  I couldn’t understand you.
     Jael bent her head, biting her lip.
     Don’t be scared, Marti begged.  The dark went away.
     Jael took a deep breath.  The darkness might be gone but
she had no assurance it wouldn't return.  And what might
happen if it did?  She had no control over her actions then.
What if something she did harmed Marti?  She'd never forgive
herself.
     Making up her mind to admit the truth, no matter what
the result, she raised her head and looked at Waino.  "Marti
says my mind turned dark and she couldn't read my thoughts.
When that happens to me I don't know what I do.  I'm not
myself until the darkness lifts and even then I have no
memory of what went on."
      You unlocked the door and let Quincy out, Marti said.
I told you not to but you wouldn’t stop.
     Jael hugged Marti reassuringly.  "Marti says she begged
me not to unlock the door but that I paid no attention.
Actually, I didn't sense her telling me or even her presence.
I sensed nothing at all.  I never do when the darkness
comes.  So perhaps you have the right to worry."
     Waino didn't speak for so long that Jael became
convinced he was getting ready to dismiss her from Volek
House.
     "How often does this darkness come over you?" he asked
at last.
     "Never more than twice in one year," she said.  "I'd
been free of it for almost two years until what happened in
the tower."
     "You call it a darkness.  Can you be more specific?"
     "I'll try.  An evil crimson fog shrouds me so I can't
see, hear or feel anything outside that fog.  A--a voice--"
     "What kind of a voice?"
     Fear gripped Jael, closing her throat.  She pulled Marti
onto her lap and the feel of the child's warm body eased her
tension enough so she was able to force words past her
constricted throat.
     "A woman's voice, an evil voice, a voice from the long
dead past."
     "How do you know the voice is from the dead past?"
     Jael blinked.  "I--I have no idea.  I just do.  I can
never recall what she says but the dreadful sound of her
voice comes back to me in nightmares.  I have to do what she
says; I can't help myself."
     "Are you religious?"
     Waino's question surprised her.  "I believe in God, if
that's what you mean."
     "Do you follow any particular religion?"
     "No.  When I lived in the Catholic orphanage I had to
attend Mass but I wasn't an orphan until I was ten.  Before
that my mother, who was Jewish, taught me her beliefs.
Perhaps that's why I was never able to accept all the Sisters
tried to teach me."
     "Your father--was he also a Jew?"
     Jael flushed with mixed resentment and embarrassment,
feeling as though Waino was forcing her to bare her soul.
"My mother refused to say one word about him.  I never even
heard his name."
     Marti reached up and patted her cheek.
     "I'm sorry if I distress you," Waino said, "but the
safety of the family is all important."
     "I understand."  Jael's annoyance fled, leaving sad
resignation.  Now that Waino knew she couldn't be trusted,
obviously she'd have to leave.
     "So your background is a mystery to you," he said.
     She nodded.  No matter how she'd begged, Yuba would
never talk about the past.
     "Did your mother have red hair?"  Waino asked.
     "No, hers was dark and straight."  Jael touched her
carroty curls.  "I've often wondered if my father's hair was
like mine."
     Marti wound a red curl around her finger.  I like your hair.  
I wish mine was red.
     Yours is beautiful, Jael assure
nothing.  He was as much a Volek as Sara, the shadowed twin.
     When she was discharged from the hospital, she drove
back with David every day to visit Zach and Sara as they grew
and thrived in the newborn nursery.
     "I can't wait until they're big enough to take home with
us," she said to David, to the nurses and to Oscar.  "They're
so sweet, such darlings."
     She was especially charming to Oscar, though she'd
disliked him from the moment she met him--a snotty rich man's
son if ever there was one.  His mother was dead, as were his
paternal grandparents and, between his mother's folks and
David, he'd been spoiled rotten.  But she knew it pleased
David to see her so friendly with the boy and she was
determined to do her best to disarm everyone around her.
     "I must have been out of my mind that night I cut
myself," she confided to David on the morning of the day they
were to bring the twins home.  "How could I have been so
foolish?"
     He smiled at her indulgently.  "The important thing is
you're back to normal now, darling.  I'm told pregnancy can
be hard on some women and I swear we'll never risk it for you
again."
     Too late, she thought, masking her bitterness with a
grateful smile.  "You're so wonderful," she cooed.
     He hugged her to him.  "I'm so glad my sweet little wife
has returned to me.
     Before they left the house, Melanie deliberately made a
last minute tour of the nursery where Mrs. Larson, the baby
nurse they'd hired, was folding diapers.
     "I wanted to make certain everything was in order,"
Melanie said with the right tinge of concern in her voice.
     "In perfect order, ma'am.  Are you sure you don't want
me along when you collect the babies?"
     "Quite sure, thank you."  Afraid she'd spoken too
abruptly, Melanie took care to smile warmly at the nurse.
"It's such a special occasion that I'd like Mr. Eastman and
me to be alone with the babies, just the four of us.  Our
little family driving home together.  We'll have no trouble--
the twins will be safe and happy in the car baby beds we've
installed in the Daimler.  Everything will be lovely.  Just
lovely."
     "I hope so, indeed, ma'am."
     "Thank you, Mrs. Larson."
     At the hospital, the two nurses carrying Zach and Sara,
made a great fuss about getting them settled into the car
beds and strapping them in.  Melanie curbed her impatience,
lavishing praise on the nurses for their wonderful care of
the twins.  By the time David pulled the car away from the
curb, everyone was smiling except the babies.  They were
whimpering.
     Luckily, the soothing motion of the car soon quieted
them or Melanie might not have been able to hold to her
pretense of being a devoted mother and loving wife.  And she
must, for the crucial moment was only minutes away.
     She'd planned long and carefully, she'd studied every
foot of the winding road along the canyon, and she'd analyzed
every nuance of David's driving.  She felt no guilt at all
where he was concerned--why should she?  He deserved to be
punished; it was entirely his fault the twins had been born.
     Despite herself, Melanie glanced back once at the
babies.  Zach was sound asleep but Sara's dark eyes were open
and staring straight at her.  Almost as though she
understands what I mean to do, Melanie thought.  Given that
Sara was a Volek, perhaps she did.  But it made no
difference.
     Melanie faced forward again, waiting.
     "Are they all right?" David asked.
     "Of course, darling."  She went on murmuring about their
sweet babies, all the time watching the road.  As David
approached the next curve, she suddenly cried, "A dog!  Watch
out!"
     When he tensed, his attention on the road, she grabbed
the steering wheel and turned it sharply, wrenching the wheel
from his control.  He had time for one startled shout before
the Daimler careened across the narrow shoulder and plunged
down the steep canyon wall.  Melanie rode smiling to her
death, absolutely certain they'd all be killed.
     The car tumbled downward, caroming off rocks and
smashing into trees.  David, flung halfway through the
windshield, died instantly; seconds later Melanie was crushed
to death by a boulder.  The Daimler came to rest halfway down
the slope, caught against the trunk of a huge sycamore, its
front end smashed beyond recognition.  In the relatively
undamaged rear of the car, strapped in their padded beds,
Zach and Sara began to scream.
     Two boy scouts, hiking in the canyon, rescued the babies
before the car caught fire.
     After the double funeral, twenty-year-old Oscar Eastman,
the closest relative, made it clear he resented being
responsible for his infant half-brother and sister.  He made
no objection at all when Samara and Ivan offered to bring the
twins to Volek House and raise them there.
     "A terrible accident," Ivan said to Oscar.  "It was a
miracle Zach and Sara survived."
     Oscar scowled.  "Accident?  Maybe.  But my father was
a very careful driver.  Too cautious, even.  No offense
meant, but everyone's aware craziness comes and goes--
personally, I think Melanie went berserk again."
     Samara and Ivan carried that disturbing thought back to
Volek House along with the babies, arriving on the last day
of October.
      Zach’s going to be a shifter, Marti told Jael the same
evening. But I can’t tell what Sara’s like ‘cause I can’t see into
her.  She’s all dark like you were when you set Quincy free.
     Jael brushed aside the mention of her darkness, refusing
to dwell on it.  Instead she deliberately pictured the tiny
baby boy with his wide golden eyes.  That helpless infant a
shapeshifter?  It was hard to believe.
     Beth’s got a dark place in her, too, but not all through like Sara, 
Marti went on. I ‘spect that’s why papa’s going to teach Beth
to be like Wolf.
     Jael's brow furrowed.  Like Wolf?
     You know, to be a shaman.
     Beth was only a year older than Marti.  Whatever a
shaman was, surely a seven-year-old was too young to learn
the necessary skills.
     Beth doesn’t like me, Marti observed, ‘cause Curtis does.
She wants him all to herself.
     Devoted to Marti's care, Jael hadn't paid much attention
to the other children at Volek House:  Samara and Ivan's
daughter Beth, seven; Arno and Griselda's son Curtis, eight;
and Bren Volek, four, apparently a Chinese orphan taken in by
the family.  There was some mystery about Bren that Jael
didn't yet understand.
     Melanie's twins brought the total to six children at
Volek House.
     Zach and Sara came here on Halloween, Marti told her.
Maybe that means Sara will turn out to be a witch.
     Marti's smile meant she was making a joke but the idea
sent a chill through Jael.  Since she'd arrived at Volek
House she was no longer certain of anything.  If
shapeshifters existed, wasn't there a possibility witches
could?  Not Halloween caricatures of witches but real ones.
     I hope Sara’s no such thing, Jael thought.
      Papa’s cousin was a noita. That’s a Finnish witch.  Grandmother
Liisi’s dead now but papa says she was a better witch than he’ll
ever be just like Wolf was a better shaman that papa.
     Shaman.  Jael didn't even know what the word meant.  She
must have communicated this to Marti.
     Shaman’s make spirit journeys, Marti explained.  Sort of like
I did with the owl, I guess.

     Jael was totally at sea.  With the owl?
     When I was almost four.  I scared everybody ‘cause they 
thought I got lost.  Only I didn’t.  This big white owl kept 
calling to me every night so I went outside and followed some
circles and pretty soon I was flying with the owl.  It was scary but I 
liked it.  No one ‘cept you knows I flew with the white owl.  I
might’ve gone again but then everybody started watching me all
the time so I never got another chance.
     Jael put an arm around Marti.  She didn't understand
exactly what the child had done and she wasn't sure she
wanted to understand.  But she had to make sure Marti
wouldn't get herself into any more danger.
     She knelt and cupped Marti's face with her hands.
Promise you’ll tell me before you go off to fly with owls or before
you leave the house at all.
     Marti nodded. Maybe you can come with me next time.
     The very idea of such strangeness was almost more than
Jael could cope with but she didn't want to say anything to
Marti that might tempt the child to break her promise so she
temporized.  We’ll see.
     She rose and took Marti's hand.  Time for bed.
      Do you miss Wolf? Marti asked as they climbed the
stairs.  I do.  I’m sorry he’s dead.
     Jael swallowed.  As far as she knew Wolf had gone on a
trip.  Wolf is dead?
      That’s why everybody was so sad after we came back from
Los Angeles.  I guess maybe the dark hunter got him.  Marti
shivered and gripped Jael's hand tighter.  Can I tell you a secret?
     I may have to tell it to your father, Jael warned.
     I guess you can if you have to.  Leo’s going away tonight.
     Though she rarely saw him, Jael knew that Leo had taken
months to recuperate from the bullet wound he'd suffered in
Elysian Park. Do you mean he’s leaving without telling anyone? 
she asked.
     Marti nodded. He’s going ‘cause he needs to find Quincy.
It’s like Leo isn’t all there without Quincy.
     It was Jael's turn to shudder.  Twin to a beast!  If she
were Leo she'd be happy to be rid of such a burden.
     Maybe you can wait till morning to tell papa.  Marti's
thought was pleading. ‘Cause Leo needs to leave here awful
bad and papa might try to stop him.
     How? Jael wondered.  Surely not by locking Leo in the
tower room.  She took a deep breath. I’ll tell your father
in the morning.

     But after Marti fell asleep, Jael's conscience began to
bother her.  Was Leo well enough to leave Volek House?  She
didn't know.  Surely his slipping away under cover of
darkness would upset the family.  If she couldn't tell Waino
until morning, the least she could do was speak to Leo
tonight and perhaps persuade him to discuss his journey with
Waino before going.
     Aware that he'd resent her interference, it wasn't easy
for Jael to arm herself with enough courage to walk down the
corridor to his bedroom.  Outside his door, she hesitated,
regretting her decision, telling herself it really wasn't any
of her business.
     Before she could decide whether to knock or beat a quick
retreat, the door swung inward.  Jael stood frozen, staring
first at Leo's bare chest, then into his dark eyes.  He
looked, she thought distractedly, as startled as she felt.
     He recovered quicker than she.  "I knew someone was
outside my door.  I'm honored to find you here, Miss
Steinmetz."  Relief colored his words.
     She decided he must have feared Waino had discovered his
plan to leave and meant to stop him.
     "May I come in?" she asked, amazed at how calm she
sounded when inwardly she quaked like gelatin.  Though he
wore trousers, he was bare to the waist and for some reason
he seemed far more naked than any male hospital patient she'd
ever taken care of.
     Leo didn't move from the doorway but one side of his
mouth quirked up mockingly.  "Any particular reason?"
     Anger came to her rescue.  Considering her plain looks,
he must know very well she wasn't expecting a romantic
encounter.  "If you insist I tell you while standing in the
hall, I will, but I don't believe you'd wish what I have to
say overheard."  As she spoke, one of Yuba's Russian proverbs
slid into her mind, something about two people talking with a
threshold between being bad luck.
     His eyes narrowed.  Without a word, he stepped aside.
Jael entered into Leo's room almost as reluctantly as she
would have if she were going into a real lion's cage.  When
he swung the door shut she gave a little gasp.
     Leo heard her.  "You're afraid of me, aren't you?"  His
hand rose and clasped the metal disk he wore around his neck.
     Jael raised her chin.  "Not of you, no.  But I do fear
you won't like what I have to say."  Not for the world would
she tell him she'd never in her life been alone with a man in
his bedroom.  She glanced around her, noting the bulging
knapsack by the door, the only evidence that Marti had been
right.
     His hand left the amulet.  Before she realized what he
meant to do, his forefinger rested on the pulse in her
throat.  "If you're not afraid of me, why is your heart
racing?" he asked.
     She jerked away from his touch, feeling as though she'd
been burned.  "I--I came to ask you not to leave like this,"
she faltered.
     "I didn't realize you'd miss me."  His grin mocked her.
"Now that you've told me you will, I'd best say farewell
properly."
     He caught her by the shoulders, pulled her to him,
covered her lips with his and kissed her long and hard.  When
he finally let her go, the dazed Jael stumbled back against
the wall and watched numbly as Leo pulled on a shirt.  He
grabbed his jacket and a cap from the bedpost and hoisted the
knapsack onto one shoulder.
     Hand on the doorknob, he glanced at her.  "Au revoir,
Miss Steinmetz."  He opened the door.  Half way out of the
room he looked back over his shoulder.  "On second thought,
goodbye's more appropriate because if you've got any sense
you won't be at Volek House when I return."
     And then he was gone.

 
                          Chapter 7

     Over lunch in a Randolph Street cafe Leo glanced at the
front page of the March 8th Chicago Sun, sliding past the
three inch headline: DILLINGER GANG AT WORK, to focus on the
picture underneath.  His six-month stint as an assistant at
one of Chicago's largest portrait studios had given him an
eye for a good shot.  This one wasn't but, considering the
subjects, that didn't matter.
     The camera--a Kodak Brownie, he'd guess--had caught four
men running from a building toward a waiting car.  Either the
picture taker had been nervous or the blowup of the
photograph had rendered details fuzzy, probably both.  He
could hardly blame the man with the camera--the unexpected
chance to snap a picture of John Dillinger in action was
enough to make anyone's hands shake.
     Leo liked his present job better than any he'd tried
before.  Though he well knew he could have wired home for
money at any time in these past six years, he preferred to
support himself rather than advertise where he was.  He had
no illusions about what might happen to Quince once the clan
knew he'd located his brother.
     Leo grimaced.  Located, yes, but pinpointed, no.
Chicago was one damn big city.
     All he'd had to go on at first was instinct, the
knowledge that he'd head east if he was fleeing for his life.
He'd had no doubt Quince would choose the same direction but
he'd never expected it would take so long to run his brother
to earth.  If he actually had.  All he had to go on was his
strong feeling that Quince wasn't far away and the fact that
for the first time since that night in Elysian Park, the bite
on his left arm itched when the moon was full.  He doubted
the itching would occur unless Quince was close enough for
his shifting to affect his twin.
     Yet there'd been no Chicago newspaper stories or news
broadcasts of strange killings by beasts.  Had Quince
mastered control?
     Leo sighed.  He hoped so, but he'd never know until he
found his brother.  Concentrating again on the photograph, he
envied the incredible luck of that passerby who happened to
be carrying a camera when Dillinger and his gang erupted from
the Security National Bank after the robbery.  The Sun had
undoubtedly paid a bundle for the negative.
     Because he'd seen so many newspaper pictures of him in
the last few months, Leo recognized the man on the far right
as John Dillinger, undisputed king of bank robbers and fast
becoming a local hero to Chicagoans.
     The three other gangsters would be his cohorts, men
whose names and faces Leo couldn't recall, men whose fame lay
in their association with Dillinger.  He was about to set the
paper aside when something about the man on the far left
caught his eye.  What was it?  Not his face.  Because of the
blurred focus and the way the man was turned it was
impossible to make out his features.
     Leo stared at the photo, finally holding the paper at
arm's length to see if that helped.  He shook his head,
unable to identify what it was that seemed familiar.  Ripping
the picture from the paper, he stuffed it into his pocket and
left the cafe.
     Later, in the darkroom at the studio, he clipped the
photo to the drying rack and stood back to view it, half-
closing his eyes, searching for what could have drawn him to
look twice at that particular gangster.  He was about to give
up when suddenly he realized what it was.  The camera had
caught the man in mid-stride, making it appear he was running
on air.
     Damned if the fellow didn't lope like an animal.  Leo
blinked, opened his eyes fully, stepped closer and peered
intently at the photo.  Loped like a goddamned animal, yes.
Like some kind of beast.  His heart leaped.
     Like Quince.
     Impossible.  Quince a gangster?  Leo shook his head.
     If there was a remote chance Quince might be a member of
Dillinger's gang where did that get him when even the police
had no clue to Dillinger's whereabouts?
     Leo's memory clicked in.  Sometime last week he'd
overheard one of the studio's clients boasting to the boss
that he was sure he'd spotted Dillinger in a northside night
club.  The boss had acted suitably impressed--the customer
was always right--but afterwards he'd remarked to Leo that
there either were a hell of a lot of Dillinger look-alikes in
Chicago or a hell of a lot of liars.
     But what if Dillinger actually had been in that
nightclub?  The Coliseum, if Leo remembered right.  He'd have
to go and see for himself, wild goose chase or not--though
even if Dillinger did happen to show up there Leo had no
guarantee Quince would be with him.  Odds were Dillinger and
Quince had never met.  But what else did he have to go on?
     He had to find his brother.  Life without Quince was
only half a life.  And once he found him, he'd tag Quince to
the ends of the earth, anything, as long as they were
together.
     That night in his rented room, Leo donned his one good
suit, now three years old, found a shirt that wasn't too
wrinkled and a fairly clean necktie.  He brushed his fedora
with the sleeve of his suit coat and set it on his head,
giving the hat a forward tilt.
     As he waited for a streetcar to take him across the
city, he realized how eagerly he was looking forward to what
for him would be a night on the town.  Since he was
chronically short of money, his amusements were cheap and
few--mostly the movies.  But he couldn't complain.  After
all, unlike a lot of guys in '34, he did have a job.
     Back in California, he had no doubt the Voleks were
riding out the Depression with few, if any, financial
problems.  The McDee Corporation had become so diversified it
was bound to be making money somewhere.  Some of that money
was his by right.  His and Quince's.  In their absence, were
their shares going into their accounts?
     Leo shrugged.  First things first.  At the moment all he
really cared about was finding Quince.
     He arrived late at the Coliseum and, since he couldn't
afford to tip the headwaiter, he was seated in an obscure
corner behind one of the Roman columns.  In spite of this, a
cigarette girl, a pretty blonde in an off-one-shoulder very
short toga, soon found him.  He smiled at her and got a smile
in return.  Women had always found him attractive, though now
his lack of money soon discouraged them.
     "Haven't seen you here before," she said after he bought
a pack of Camels from her.
     Leo covered up his disappointment.  If he didn't look
familiar it meant she'd never seen Quince.  "Haven't been
here before," he said, letting his gaze slide over her
appreciatively.  "My loss, I see."
     She slanted him a smile.  "Everyone who is anyone shows
up at the Coliseum sooner or later."
     "The mayor?" he asked.
     "Often."
     "Governor?"
     She tossed her curls.  "I've seen him here."
     Leo ran through a few well-known Chicago names before he
said, "How about John Dillinger?"
     "You see that brunette over there?"  The blonde pointed
to another cigarette girl.
     Wolf, craning his neck around the column to look,
nodded.
     "Her name's Kelly Green and everyone knows Johnnie's
kind of sweet on her."
     Leo showed no sign of the excitement he felt.  "If he's
so crazy about Kelly, how come he lets her go on working
here?  You'd think a guy who makes money as easy as he does
could do more for a girl."
     "Yeah, well, Kelly don't pop her cork for the first guy
who smiles at her.  A girl wants some security--you know?"
     "So?"
     "So she's waiting to see what Johnnie has to offer
besides his looks."
     "All I've ever seen of him is in the papers.  Does he
look like his pictures?"
     The blonde smiled dreamily.  "Better.  Much better.
But, hey, I got to get moving.  Nice talking to you."
     Before she could leave, Leo ran his forefinger down her
bare arm.  "If I offered you something, what would you say?"
     She shrugged.  "Depends on what it is, don't it?"
     "Maybe you can drop by the table later."
     "Maybe."  She gave him one last sultry look before she
turned away to begin edging between tables with her tray full
of tobacco.  "Cigars," she called.  "Cigarettes."
     He'd lengthened the flirtation solely to cover his
interest in Dillinger.  Not that he wouldn't like to know the
the blonde better but he knew damn well he didn't have the
kind of money she expected.  Or, if he really was getting
closer to Quince, the time.
     A pall of smoke hung over the room, stinging Leo's eyes
as he tried to keep an eye on Kelly Green without being
obvious.  The sound of many people talking and laughing ran
together in his ears, blending into muted, shrill gibberish.
Even after all this time on the road, much of it in cities,
crowds made him uneasy.  As they always had Quince.
     Which made the Coliseum an unlikely place to find his
brother.  Yet Leo suspected Dillinger's gang stuck together
even when they weren't on a job.  He'd hang around here until
his money ran out, hoping he was right.
     He continued to watch Kelly as best he could, sipping
each beer slower than the last.  He was down to his last buck
when he noticed her swing around abruptly to face the club
entrance.  He followed her gaze.
     Four men were being led to a table by the maitre d'.
Leo held his breath.  The first was John Dillinger, no doubt
about it.  He scanned the other three and then expelled the
pent-up air in a long sigh as he felt a familiar awareness
settle into him.  At last!
     Quince's head came up and Leo knew his brother had
sensed the same bonding.  Leo rose and stepped in front of
the column.  Quince stopped dead, staring across the room at
him.  Dillinger glanced back at Quince and halted, too, his
gaze zeroing in on Leo.  Leo could almost feel the man's
surprise when Dillinger realized he was seeing a second
Quince.
     Slowly, cautiously, Leo began to walk toward them, aware
they all must be packing guns.  He hadn't spent six years
searching only to get shot down at his brother's feet.
Quince looked away from him to say something to Dillinger.
The words were evidently reassuring because Dillinger and the
other two men went on to their table.  Quince didn't move,
didn't smile, only waited.
     "I came alone," Leo said as soon as he was close enough
for Quince to hear.
     Quince nodded curtly.  "I sure as hell didn't send for
you."  He jerked his head toward the entrance.  "We'll talk
out there."
     The night air, damp and chilly as it was, felt good to
Leo after the fug inside.  He followed his brother until they
walked side by side along the curving drive in front of the
club.
     "How'd you find me?" Quince demanded.
     "Took me seven years.  Been in Chicago six months.  Saw
the picture in the Sun today.  Heard Dillinger had been seen
at the Coliseum."  His attempt to match his brother's studied
terseness collapsed.  "God, Quince, I missed you so damn
much!"
     A muscle jumped in Quince's jaw.  "I'm getting along
fine without you."
     "Sorry I can't say the same."  Leo spoke defiantly.
Whatever he'd expected from their reunion, it hadn't been for
Quince to reject him.  "As far as I'm concerned, it's hell
without you."
     Quince halted, his expression grim.  "So what do you
think now you've found me?"  He spread his arms and Leo saw
the bulge of the holstered gun under his suit coat.  "Still
want to embrace your gangster brother?"
     Leo flung his arms around Quince and hugged him.  After
a long moment he felt the stiffness leave Quince and his
brother's arms wrap around him.
     "Jesus, Leo, you always were a damn fool," Quince
muttered.  "What the hell am I going to do with you?"
     "Take me into the gang, what else?"  Leo kept his voice
confident as he released Quince and stepped back.  "If
Dillinger finds one Volek useful, why not two?"
     He had no urge to break the law but if becoming a
criminal was the way to stay with his brother then he damn
well would.
     "The name is Voss, not Volek," Quince said.  "See that
you remember it."
 
     Leo drove the black sedan along a narrow country road
where pine saplings crowded close to either side.  "You're
sure this is the right way?" he asked Quince.
     Quince nodded.  "I've been up this way before.  Johnnie
likes the north country.  Quiet, if you know what I mean."
     The two girls in the back seat giggled.  One was
Cosette, the blonde from the Coliseum, and the other was her
friend Gloria, Leo's date.  Quince, as usual, had attracted
the prettiest girl.  Cosette had been going with him for over
a month now.
     Behind them another car bumped along the potholed road--
two other gang members with their girl friends.  Dillinger's
roadster was somewhere behind the second car.  By now Leo
knew Dillinger rarely worried about appearing in public
places and being recognized.
     "I look like a hundred other guys," Dillinger had
told him.  "No one's called the cops on me yet."
     In Leo's eyes, Dillinger was distinctive enough to stand
out in any crowd--if not for his looks, then because of his
jaunty go-to-hell style and his unique shuffling walk.
     Leo nodded in relief when a large wooden sign announced:
Little Bohemia Lodge.  An arrow pointed to the left and he
swung the car under an arched gateway of cement and rocks,
slowing to negotiate a winding dirt lane that was little more
than two ruts between the pines.  Patches of snow under the
trees showed that even this late in April winter hung on in
the north country.
     After he'd driven some five hundred yards, the pines
thinned and Leo saw a rambling two-story building of logs and
clapboard with various small outbuildings to either side.
Two cars and a truck were parked in front of the lodge.
     "Back in," Quince advised and Leo nodded.  He realized
the value of a quick getaway.
     He eased the sedan in next to the truck.  Moments later
the second car pulled in beside them and the others piled
out.
     "Just take a breath of that fresh air," one of the girls
cried.  "I ain't smelled air like that since I left Duluth."
     "They must cook a lot of onions in Duluth," Cosette put
in, "'cause that's what I smell."
     "Whatever it is smells good to me," Quince said.  "I'm
hungry.  I hope this Bohemian cook is good."
     Leo trailed behind the others, ducking around the corner
of the building to assess possible escape routes.  He'd
acquired the habit after he'd become the getaway car driver
for Dillinger, making the safety of the entire gang dependent
on him.  But feeling responsible for Quince had something to
do with it, too.  Never mind that Quince insisted he'd
finally managed to master his shifting except occasionally
when the moon was full.  Those times he went off by himself
ahead of time and locked himself into a basement he'd rented.
     Quince had gotten along for seven years on his own but
that didn't stop Leo from being concerned about him.
Dillinger and his gang might not have silver bullets but if
Quince ever shifted in front of them so much lead would go
flying that even the beast's special healing powers might not
save Quince.
     But what the hell, he was probably worrying about the
day he never saw, like Quince was always accusing him of
doing.  Who was going to find them in the woods of northern
Wisconsin?  They'd driven four hundred miles up to the sticks
to have a good time--he ought to relax and enjoy himself with
the others.  His share of the last bank job left him with
money to burn and, though Gloria might not be the girl of his
dreams, she sure wasn't hard to look at.
     Two mixed breed collies chained to a metal post growled
at him as he passed.  Since their chains were too short to
reach him he paid them little attention except to note that
the dogs hadn't barked at him.  They evidently were used to
cars and people coming and going.  Why were the dogs here?
Were they let loose to guard the inn after everyone went to
bed?  He hoped so--the dogs would give fair warning.
     Take it easy, he warned himself.  You're not on a job,
you're here to have fun.  Down a few beers, play a little
poker, give Gloria a chance to strut her stuff for you.
She may not be a knockout like Kelly Green or as pretty as
Cosette but, unlike that skinny carrot-top back at Volek
House, you can bet Gloria knows what to do when a man kisses
her.
     Leo half-smiled, recalling the stunned expression on
Jael Steinmetz's face after he'd kissed her.  He'd thought
later he might well have been the first man who'd ever kissed
her.  Probably the last as well.  The Steinmetz woman was one
perfect example of an old maid.  Odd how she stuck in his
mind because she certainly wasn't his type.  He wondered if
she was still at Volek House.  Probably not.
     He noted with approval the steep bank running down to a
small lake.  Little Star Lake, the map had called it.  Slide
down that bank and you'd be hidden from sight while you ran
along the shore.  A perfect escape route.
     Once inside the inn, Leo discovered the food was served
family style, around a long table.  They shared the meal with
local people who knew good cooking when they tasted it.  Leo
couldn't recall exactly where in Europe Bohemia, was or had
been, but he agreed with Quince that Bohemian food, as
prepared by Mrs. Wanatka, was worth the long drive from
Chicago.
     After they finished eating, Dillinger, who hadn't
brought a girl with him--Kelly couldn't come and his long-
time sweetheart, Billie Frechette, was in jail--wandered into
the bar with a couple of the gang to play poker.  Quince and
Cosette went upstairs to their room and Leo and Gloria
followed.
     Their room was in a dormer where the slant of the roof
let Leo stand straight only in the exact middle of the room.
Before he discovered this he bumped his head twice on
rafters, giving Gloria the giggles.
     "If you think that's funny," he remarked, playfully
wrestling her onto the bed.  "I'll show you something that'll
really make you laugh."  Pinning her beneath him, he began
tickling her ribs until she shrieked with laughter.
     Her squirming to free herself aroused him, making him
forget the tickling as he turned her onto her side, one hand
reaching for the lengthy zipper at the back of her dress.  He
pulled it down.
     "Careful," she warned, "or you'll wrinkle my dress.
Better let me take it off."
     As long as the dress came off he didn't care how.  But
when Gloria insisted on removing the rest of her clothes
herself, carefully folding each garment neatly before she
returned to the bed, Leo began to wish she could be a bit
more spontaneous.  Even her damn high-heeled shoes had to be
set precisely side by side.
     By the time she was finished undressing he'd stripped
and was sitting on the edge of the bed, impatiently waiting.
     "It's cold, I want to get under the covers," she
insisted, climbing in and pulling the sheet and blanket up to
her neck.
     What next? he wondered.  Would he be expected to keep
his eyes closed so he couldn't see any part of her while they
screwed?
     "I don't do it without a rubber," she told him when he
reached for her.  "Put the rubber on now so you won't
forget."
     Having little choice, Leo complied.  He knew perfectly
well she watched him not for kicks but only to be sure he got
the damn thing on right.  He was still hot for her but she
was getting close to discouraging him before he got started.
He hoped to hell she'd be more enthusiastic once they got
down to the business at hand.
     Afterwards he had to admit while she looked good enough
on the outside and felt good enough on the inside, all in all
it was one of the most unsatisfactory fucks he'd ever had.
Screwing old maid Steinmetz couldn't be much worse.  Hell, it
might even be an improvement.  At least Steinmetz didn't know
enough to keep telling him what he could and couldn't do.
     Gloria stayed in bed while he dressed and buckled on his
holster.  "I'm going to find out what the guys are doing," he
told her.
     "See you later," she said.
     As he closed the door, he thought he just might decide
to stay up the whole damn night.  He was still at the poker
table when the dogs started barking near midnight.
     Leo dashed out to take a look but found nothing
alarming.
     "Them mutts always bark their fool heads off at night,"
Emil Wanatka, the proprietor, told him when he came back in.
"Got a big deer herd around here, guess it spooks them."
    When they all were eating breakfast the next morning,
Emil, genial enough the night before, jittered around until
he finally blurted out, "You're John Dillinger."
     Dillinger grinned.  "Does that scare you?"
     "This place is all I got.  If it gets shot up I ain't
got nothing, that's what scares me."
     Dillinger patted his arm.  "Look, Emil, I'm a tired man.
What we want is a few days to rest up and eat your wife's
good cooking.  I'll pay you well.  And don't worry, if we do
any shooting it'll be target practice in the woods."
     Emil gave in.  What else could he do? Leo wondered.  But
after that, one of them kept an eye on Emil.
     The day was overcast and chilly.  After some persuasion,
Gloria agreed to bundle up for a stroll in the woods.  As
they left the lodge, she and Leo waved goodbye to one of the
gang, Reilly and the girl he was taking into Rhinelander to
see a doctor for her stomach pain.
     "I wouldn't've minded going into town," Gloria said.
"This dump isn't my idea of a good time."  She eyed the
mounds of snow and grimaced.  "Christ, April 21 and it's
still winter up here."
     By supper it was snowing, a brief flurry that melted as
soon as it fell.  The women got dressed up and insisted on
dancing, so the floor was cleared, Emil wound up the
phonograph and put on a record of "Hello Ma Baby."  The few
local men who'd wandered in for dinner and stayed on gaped as
the gang members, holstered guns in place under their suit
coats, whirled around the room with their fancily dressed
girls.
     One by one the men deserted the dance floor to sit in on
the poker game in the bar, leaving the women to dance with
each other.  When Leo finally came up to the room near
midnight, Gloria was so annoyed at him that trying to get
anywhere with her was like making love to an icicle.  After a
while he gave up in disgust and was almost asleep when the
dogs started barking.
     Again Leo went outside.  Again he saw and heard nothing
unusual.
     The next morning Dillinger announced they were leaving
as soon as Reilly and the girl got back.  When they hadn't
arrived by five, Mrs. Wanatka prepared steak smothered in
onions for them and afterward the men began playing poker
with Emil and several locals.
     Leo wandered past them to open the door and look up at
the dark evening sky.  He checked his watch and saw it was
getting on for seven and damn cold.  After seven years away
from California, the abrupt changes of weather in the midwest
no longer amazed him but he'd expected April to be a bit
warmer, even in northern Wisconsin.
     He sensed Quince behind him before his brother spoke.
"Like to take a walk?"
     "Why not?"
     Not wanting to set the dogs barking, Leo steered Quince
toward the other side of the building.  Without speaking they
pushed through underbrush until they'd penetrated deep within
the woods.
     "The pines are taller in our valley," Leo said at last.
     "This is all second growth.  Lumbering was big
business up here ten years ago--they cut all the white pine
to make matches."
     "Matches!"
     Quince laughed.  "How come you still believe everything
I say?  They did cut a hell of a lot of the pines for
matches, though.  A damn shame.  Now they've got CCC boys
planting seedlings on the cut-over land.  But it takes a long
time for a tree to grow.  I've been thinking a lot about Wolf
since you told me he was dead.  I always believed he was
right about saving the forests and the mountains, about
keeping the wilderness wild.  I hate cities."
     "Yet you live in one."
     Quince laid a hand on Leo's shoulder, ran his fingers up
to his brother's neck, then along the leather thong until
he'd pulled the metal disk from under Leo's shirt.  "I
discovered a few years back I'm safer in a city.  From
shifting, I mean.  The urge isn't as strong.  While here,
even in this piddling woods, even with the moon barely a
quarter full, I can feel the pull to change, to run--"  He
broke off, releasing the amulet.  "Better get back, Johnnie
likes us to keep close together."
     Leo tucked the amulet underneath his clothes again as
they hiked back to the inn.  They found Dillinger had joined
the game and he motioned the two of them to pull up chairs
and be dealt in.  The host brought glasses and another bottle
of whiskey.  Leo shook his head and asked for a beer.
Quince, he noticed, poured a shot of whiskey but didn't drink
it.
     Ashtrays littered with cigarette butts dotted the table.
Quince lit a Camel, then let it smolder in a tray instead of
smoking it.  Leo smiled to himself.  Quince, too, had learned
to fit in.
     Because the locals didn't bet big it was a penny ante
game but apparently Dillinger was enjoying himself anyway,
laughing more than he had since Billie Frechette was clapped
in jail early this month.
     "Johnnie always has a eye for the ladies,"  Quince had
told him.  "Kelly Green isn't the first he noticed and she
won't be the last.  But Billie is the only one he really
cares about."
     Leo had met Billie, a real looker, and he knew Quince
was right about Dillinger's feelings for her--he hadn't been
himself since the cops got Billie.
     The dogs began to bark.  Used to their clamor by now, no
one in the bar paid the slightest attention.  Except for Leo.
It was only eight--the dogs had never cut loose so early
before.  Uneasiness settled over him as thick and heavy as
the pall of tobacco smoke above the table.
     He eyed their host, who'd left the room and had just
come back in.  Did Emil look nervous or was he imagining it?
They'd watched Emil to make sure he didn't call the cops but
had he sneaked out a message some other way?
     Leo tried to get Quince's attention but his brother,
already a big winner, was raking in another pot.  Quince was
always lucky at cards.  No women were in sight, not even Mrs.
Wanatka.  The girls were probably in one of the bedrooms,
gossiping and doing their nails.
     Most likely he was getting himself all worked up about
nothing.  Emil wouldn't want the cops here, he didn't want
his place shot to hell.  And if the cops weren't coming, what
could possibly happen in this remote spot?  But he couldn't
relax.
     Eventually Quince glanced at him, frowning, apparently
sensing the ripple of worry running through Leo.
     "It's pretty damn early for those dogs to start
barking," Leo said, glancing at Emil.
     "Them mutts," Emil muttered, as he had before, but this
time Leo detected a tremor in his voice.
     Leo stood up and gripped Quince's shoulder.  Quince
said, "I fold," laid down his cards and rose, his eyes boring
into Leo's.  After a moment he looked at Dillinger who
immediately got to his feet.
     "Game's over," Dillinger said to the other two gang
members.  He started for the stairs with Leo and Quince at
his heels.
     By the time they reached the second floor, the dogs had
worked themselves into a frenzy of barking.  Each man ran for
his room.  Leo burst into the dormer room and promptly banged
his head so hard against a rafter that he staggered.  Gloria
wasn't in there so Leo hurried out again, calling Quince's
name.
     "In here," Quince shouted from the end of the hall.
     To get to Quince's room, Leo had go through an open door
and climb four steps.  At the top he plunged into a bedroom
and found his brother shaking Cosette, who lay sprawled
across the bedcovers, out cold.  As he hurried to Quince's
side, glass crunched under his foot.  He looked down, saw
he'd stepped on a syringe and kicked the debris toward his
brother.
     Quince glanced at the floor and shook his head.  "Stupid
little doper.  She swore she was off the stuff.  Help me with
her."
     As Leo bent to lift Cosette's feet, a gun roared.  Both
men straightened, looked at one another and rushed toward the
stairs, leaving Cosette on the bed.  Before they got there,
the door at the bottom slammed shut and they heard a key turn
in the lock.
     Leo tried the door but, as he expected, it didn't open.
Quince half-pulled his gun, then shoved it back into the
holster.
    "Can't risk shooting off the damn lock--what if I hit one
of us in the hall?"
     A fusillade of gunshots made Leo grab Quince's arm.
"Can we climb down from your windows?" he asked.
     As they raced back up the four steps the lights went
out.  Quince shoved open one of the two side-by-side windows.
     "We know you're in there, Dillinger," a man called from
below, his voice magnified by a bullhorn.  "We've got the
place surrounded.  Come out with your hands up!"
     Fat chance they'd live if they did, Leo thought,
considering all the ammunition those bullet-happy cops
already had gone through.  They were well and truly trapped.
     Quince turned away and went to the bed.
     "What're you doing?" Leo asked.
     "Wrapping Cosette in the spread before I lay her on the
top step and lock this bedroom door from the inside."
     Leo was puzzled.  "Do you think she'll be safer from
cop bullets there?"
     "Who knows?" Quince said so hoarsely his words blurred.
"But she'll be a damn sight safer from me, brother mine.
Safer from us."
     Leo, absently scratching his violently itching left arm,
felt bile rise in his throat as he realized what Quince
already knew.  If they had any chance to leave the inn alive
there was only one possible way.
     His hand rose to the amulet.

 

 
                          Chapter 8

     After carrying Cosette's limp body to the stairs and
closing the door, Quince growled an almost unintelligible
request:  "Lock the door."  Dread rose in Leo.  If Quince
couldn't turn the key, his hands must have already changed to
talons.
     An ear-shattering volley came from below.  Hurriedly Leo
locked the door, removing the key and shoving it under the
gap between door and sill.  After a moment's thought he
pulled off his amulet and forced it, thong and all, under the
door, too, beyond his reach.
     Either he shifted or Quince would leave him behind.
Quince had no choice.  Unshifted, neither of them could hope
to survive when they leaped from the window.
     He'd shapechanged but once in his life, years ago,
and he sure as hell didn't know how he'd done it then.
"Maybe I've forgotten how," Leo muttered as much to himself
as to Quince.
     His brother, tearing off his clothes, paid no attention.
     Leo nodded.  First order of business.  Beasts didn't
wear clothes.  He removed his jacket, hung it over the back
of a chair and unbuttoned his shirt.  When he found himself
carefully placing the shirt over the jacket on the chair, he
grimaced.  Hell, he was behaving like Gloria, delaying the
inevitable by neatly arranging his things.
     He smiled grimly as he yanked off the rest of his
clothes and flung them on the floor.  The comparison was
valid--he was no more eager to shapeshift than she'd been to
fuck.
     He stood naked and afraid, all but deafened by the
chatter of tommyguns and the roar of revolvers.  Glass
shattered as bullets smashed through the windows of the inn.
Somewhere a woman screamed, the sound faint and far away.
Suddenly a full-throated howl rose above the clamor, making
his heart hammer and triggering an unbearable burning in the
bite on his arm.  He yelped in pain as fire shot through him,
flaming away all that made him human, doubling him over as
the change began.
 
      Free!  The thought, not his, ripped through his skull.
We’re free, brother.  Run with me.
     Run?  Yes, run through the night, run from the stink of
gunpowder, run from the noise that hurt his ears.  Run with
his brother, free at last.  He lifted his muzzle and howled
in answer.
     The beast leaped through the open window, following his
brother.  He landed on all fours and flung himself at a man
aiming a gun at him.  Bullets stung his chest before his jaws
closed on the man's throat.  With the taste of blood hot on
his tongue, he raced toward the shelter of the trees, still
following the dark beast who was his brother.
     By the time they lapped water from a forest lake, his
wounds were closing over.  Even as he drank, a bullet
splashed into the water, expelled from his healing body.  His
brother looked at him, tawny eyes shining in the thin light
of the quarter moon.
     Tonight we own the woods.  I’ve waited long to hunt with you,
brother.
     The blood was gone from his mouth, washed away by the
cool water, but he remembered the taste and was eager for
more.  Hunt, yes.  Hunt and kill.  And feast.  With his
brother, the one he loved beyond all others.
 
     Leo woke, shivering, when the sun's rays slanted into
the rocky den where he lay.  He sat up in confusion.  Where
was he?  And why the hell was he buck naked?  He stared at
his bloodstained hands and chest in consternation.
     A growl froze him before he could get to his feet and he
swung around to face the rear of the shallow cave.  A huge
brown beast, muzzle drawn back over long white fangs, snarled
at him.  Not a wolf, not a bear, not a cougar, it was the
most fearsome animal he'd ever seen.
     For one long terror-stricken moment Leo gazed at the
monster and then his mind clicked on.  "Quince!" he cried.
     With one last snarl, the beast padded past him to the
mouth of the den.  Leo rose cautiously.  Though he was sure
Quince wouldn't harm him, it wouldn't be smart to startle the
beast.  Memories flooded his mind--the inn called Little
Bohemia, he and Quince trapped in the bedroom, his fear he
wouldn't be able to shift...
     It was all too evident he had shifted.  Yet he had no
memory of what he'd done while a beast.  The metallic taste
in his mouth suggested he'd eaten and the blood on his hands
told him he'd eaten raw meat.  What kind of meat?  Leo
swallowed uneasily, trying not to gag.
     At the cave entrance, the beast looked back at him, then
trotted away.  Asking me to follow, Leo told himself as he
ran after his brother, avoiding the mounds of snow still
lingering in the woods.  Spring came late in the north.  To
his left a flock of crows rose into the air, cawing in
complaint, and he saw the birds had been feasting on the
remains of a deer carcass.  Leo sighed in relief.  The
beasts' prey had been animal, not human, thank God.
     His brother led him through a hardwood forest, tall
trees, some with massive trunks, the branches just beginning
to leaf out.  Old trees, whose dense shade prevented
undergrowth from flourishing.  Evidently the Wisconsin
loggers were selective and only wanted pine.  Or were they
still in northern Wisconsin?  He had no idea how far they
might have traveled during the night.
     At the edge of a small lake, the beast paused to drink,
allowing the panting Leo to catch up to him.  Leo splashed
into the water some distance away from his brother, shivering
as he scrubbed the blood from his face and body before he
drank.  Without giving him a chance to rest, the beast
trotted on.  Groaning, Leo followed.  By now his bare feet
were cut and bruised, making walking, never mind running,
painful.  Yet he didn't dare lose sight of the beast.
     Leo was about ready to drop when his brother halted
again.  Through the trees he caught a glimpse of a log cabin.
Deciding he'd been led here deliberately, he stumbled past
his brother and made for the cabin.  When banging on the door
brought no response, he tried to open it.  The door was
locked.  He finally broke a window to get inside while the
beast waited in the trees.
     To his disappointment Leo found no clothes, only two
ragged blankets and an old pair of boot pacs.  Using a rusty
knife he found rammed into a battered plank table, he
fashioned a crude shirt from one blanket and wrapped the
other around his waist, trimming it so the wool didn't go
past his knees.  He slid his feet into the pacs and used
strips of the blanket to tie them on.  Last of all he tied
the knife around his waist.
     The delay had rested him and the pacs protected his feet
enough so he was able to go on following his brother.  The
beast seemed to have some goal--or at least Leo hoped so.  He
didn't like to think they were wandering around aimlessly in
these northern woods.  Wherever they were going, he was
sure the beast was too smart to lead them back to Little
Bohemia.  He wondered what had happened to Dillinger and the
girls?  Dead?  Captured?  He hoped not.
     But most of all he worried that Quince would never
become human again.  And that he, himself, wouldn't stay
human.
     The sun was sliding down the sky when his brother found
another den in the rocks and curled up to sleep.  The
exhausted Leo stretched out on the hard floor as far away
from the beast as he could manage and was asleep before he
had time to wonder what might happen when night came and the
moon rose.
     The itching bite on his arm woke Leo.  The cave was in
darkness.  He saw the lower half of the beast silhouetted
against the night sky in the opening of the den.
     Part of him rejoiced that he was still himself but the
rest yearned to be able to follow Quince into the night
unhampered by human limitations.  When the beast's howl rose
challengingly on the night air, Leo felt the now-familiar
wrench inside him.  He stiffened.
     No!  Danger no longer threatened, he could safely remain
a man.
     If he really wanted to.
     Couldn't he?
     The beast howled again, its eerie cry sinking into the
marrow of Leo's bones, pulsating along his nerves, echoing in
his mind until all rational thought faded.  The beast within
him responded eagerly, flinging off the stinking blankets and
scrambling through the opening to join his brother under the
meager but welcoming light of the moon.
 
     Free!  And yet a shadow darkened his joy as he loped to
hunt with his brother, preventing him from experiencing the
full thrill of the chase and the complete ecstasy of the
kill.  He lapped the hot blood and tore into the meat with
his powerful jaws but the shadow hovered, tempering his
enjoyment as he fed.
     He rested with his brother and followed him again when
it was time to run through the night, run on and on.  No
shadow could cloud his wonder and awe at the power that
pumped through him with every heartbeat, a power than defied
exhaustion.  Who or what could stand against such power?  The
world was truly theirs, his and his brother's.  Theirs for
the taking.
 
     In the morning Leo woke naked and cold and knew he'd
shifted again.  He lay under a rocky overhang and the beast
stood over him, its feral yellow eyes glaring into his.
Apparently satisfied he was awake, it turned and loped off.
Leo jumped to his feet and ran after his brother.
     By noon he was dressed in heavy woolen socks, a pair of
still damp overalls and a shirt he'd found hanging on a line
near the house his brother had led him to.  Leo wasn't
bothered by the theft--hell, this was a mere trifle compared
to the bank robberies with Dillinger.  What did upset him was
that he'd been seen by a woman standing on her back porch.
Worse, she'd caught a glimpse of the beast, a glimpse that
sent her screaming into the depths of her house.
     He hoped no one would believe her description of what
she'd seen.  They might not because the beast was
unbelievable.  Leo tried to avoid thinking of himself in his
shifted state, beast brother to Quince, tried to block the
knowledge of where the blood he'd washed from his face, hands
and chest again this morning had come from.
     He was human, damn it!
     But then, so was Quince.  Leo stared at the dark fur on
his brother's back and shook his head.  Why didn't Quince
change back?  Had he forgotten how?  The amulet might have
been of help but he'd been forced to leave it behind.  Leo
wondered if Cosette had survived the gun battle at the inn.
If she had, would she find the amulet and keep it?
     The woods seemed endless.  Sometimes the tall maples,
elms and oaks gave way to stands of cedars and spruce and
sometimes the beast pushed through second-growth pine where
saplings jostled for sunlight with the underbrush.  Snow lay
scattered everywhere the sun didn't reach.
     In the afternoon the beast found a den and they both
slept.  His brother's howling roused Leo at dark and once
again he shifted and ran with his twin.
     When Leo woke the next morning, he found himself not in
an animal's den but in what he finally decided was an old,
unused mine adit.  He stepped out of the chill darkness into
the sunshine, looked around for the beast, and stopped short.
He stood near the edge of a cliff.  Below him blue water
stretched as far as he could see.
     Where the hell was he?  This had to be one of the Great
Lakes.  Lake Michigan?  No, they'd been travelling northeast
since they left Little Bohemia.  Lake Superior, then, the
biggest of them all.  Since the lake lay to the north of
them, they hadn't reached Canada; they must be in the Upper
Peninsula of Michigan.
     The April sun failed to warm him.  He needed clothes.
And where the hell was the beast?  Leo washed the blood from
his body in a creek, wincing at the cold water, then began a
search for his brother by walking in widening semicircles,
coming back each time to the adit in case the beast had
returned there.  He found no trace of his twin.
     Facing the lake and closing his eyes, Leo turned slowly,
reaching with his mind.  To the north, nothing.  Northeast,
nothing.  East--  Leo's eyes flew open in surprise at what he
felt.  Not the beast--he sensed Quince.  His brother was
human once more.  But where was he?  What had happened to
prevent him from returning?
     Deciding the best way for a barefoot man to hike east
was on a sandy beach, Leo worked his way down to Lake
Superior.  He paused briefly to soak his bleeding feet in the
lake's icy water, numbing them, then trudged east along the
shoreline, wading or swimming across the mouths of creeks and
rivers.
     From what he'd seen along Lake Michigan's shore near
Chicago, he expected to find summer cottages but he was
disappointed.  He saw nothing but shorebirds skittering along
the sand, an occasional heron in a creek and seagulls crying
overhead.  No people and no signs of people.
     He skirted huge logs washed up on the shore, passed the
wooden skeleton of a wrecked boat on a sand bar.  He noted
the thin line of dark clouds along the horizon with a wary
eye.  Oldtimers in Chicago vied with one another to tell
tales of sudden lake storms that had capsized boats and
drowned their crews.  He wasn't worried about drowning but if
a storm swept over the lake he'd need shelter.  As it was,
even with the sun shining and the fast pace of walking, he
could barely keep warm.
     All the time he drew closer to Quince but, for some
reason he didn't understand, his brother didn't seem aware of
him.  It was past midday--by now the clouds had blotted out
the sun--when he picked up the scent of smoke mixed with
another odor.  Was it fish?
     Leo trotted toward the smoke smell, his sense of Quince
sharp and distinct.  He came to a creek and, so intent was he
on pinpointing the sensation that he failed to notice the
Indian woman hunched down on the opposite bank of the stream.
He was about to plunge into the water and cross to the other
side when she rose.
     Startled, he stopped and stared at her.  She wore a long
blue dress and her dark hair was in braids, reminding him of
Miwok women he'd met back home in California except that she
was prettier.  He was about to speak to her when he
remembered he was naked and made a hasty half turn.
     Though she gazed at him intently, she seemed less
bothered by his nudity than he was.  "I'm looking for--" he
began and paused for she'd spoken, too.
     "Your brother calls for you," she said, speaking English
with an accent.
     Forgetting his embarrassment, Leo splashed across the
stream, asking, "Where is he?"
     The odor of fish grew stronger as they approached wooden
shacks and canvas-wrapped lodges huddled where the sand met
the trees.  Thick smoke rose from a hole in the top of the
two wooden huts but the woman led him past them to one of the
lodges and bent to enter the open flap.  Leo followed her.
     An Indian fire, small and warm, burned in the lodge's
center.  When he saw Quince laying unmoving on a mat beside
the fire, Leo flung himself to his knees beside him.
     "I'm here," he told his brother, grasping one of his
hands.
     Quince's eyes fluttered open, closing again almost
immediately but his hand gripped Leo's.
     "We found him in a bear trap," a man said from the other
side of the fire.  "Naked, as you are."
     Leo shuddered inwardly, imagining the beast stepping
into one of the large cruel-jawed steel traps.  He could
almost hear the trap clang shut, feel its teeth biting
through flesh and muscle to the bone, holding fast.  And
shocking the beast into shifting.
     Peering at Quince in the dimness of the lodge, he saw
the open wound where the trap had caught his brother's left
leg.
     "Already it heals."  The man's voice, as accented as the
woman's, was deep and somber, reminding Leo of old Bear Claw
and the time he and his twin had lain by a fire in a Miwok
lodge.  He still recalled the strange sensation when Bear
Claw, the Miwok shaman, drew energy from one twin, him, to
heal the other, Quince.
     "You're a healer, a medicine man."  The words were out
before Leo realized he'd said them.
     The man, tall and heavy, walked slowly around until he
stood over Leo, who was still crouched beside Quince.
     "Your brother called me Bear Claw," the man said.
     "Bear Claw was a Miwok medicine man," Leo told him.
     "The trap splintered the bones in his leg.  Your brother
lost much blood before we found him.  Most men would die.
He did not.  And now, weak as he is, before my eyes his bones
knit together, healing.  This tells me he can't be a man."
The Indian gazed from Quince to Leo.  "You, like him, come to
our fish camp naked.  You two, brother bearwalkers."
     Leo had never heard the word but its meaning was clear
enough.  Someone who could walk as a man or as a bear.  The
Indian had come close to the truth and Leo knew better than
to lie to a medicine man.  He sat back on his heels and tried
to order his thoughts.
     "My grandfather was a shaman, like you," he said slowly.
"His grandfather was also a shaman.  Shamans are powerful and
do much good for their people.  My brother and I are not so
fortunate.  We aren't blessed, we're cursed.  Our power comes
to us whether we want it or not."
     After a time the old Indian sighed as though accepting
something he'd rather not.  "I am Wind Cloud."
     He said no more but he didn't have to.  Leo relaxed a
little, aware he and his brother had been accepted,
bearwalkers or not.  If they hadn't been, Wind Cloud wouldn't
have told them his name.
     When Leo gave the shaman their names, the old man
squatted beside him.  "Is it for good or for evil you have
come to us?"
     A gust of wind blew smoke back down the smoke hole
and rain began to patter on the canvas, heralding the storm.
Leo held his brother's hand, grateful Quince lived, glad they
weren't out in the storm.
     "Not for evil," he told Wind Cloud, praying he wasn't
wrong.  "You saved my brother's life, I'm in your debt."
     "Only men with bad hearts don't offer help when needed,
even to a bearwalker.  Though we know bearwalkers seldom
bring good to the People."
     "Will you tell me the People's name in your tongue?" Leo
asked, deciding there'd been enough talk of bearwalkers.
     "Anishinabe.  The government calls us Chippewa."
     Leo nodded, recalling that Billie Green was part
Chippewa.  "Some of my blood comes from a California band of
the People--the Miwok," he said.  And some, through Wolf,
from the Asian Kamchadals but that was too complicated to
explain.
     A woman slipped into the lodge, closing the flap after
her against the downpour.  Leo recognized her as the one
who'd brought him to the fish camp.  Without looking at him,
she took off the blanket covering her head and shoulders and
hung it on a wooden rack.  She laid clothes on a mat and
hurried to the opposite side of the fire where she busied
herself with a kettle.
     "My granddaughter brings clothes for you," the old man
said.
     "Thank you."
     Leo eased his hand from Quince's and rose.  Somewhat
unnerved by dressing in front of the woman, he turned his
back to the fire as he pulled on a pair of denim pants and a
faded blue cotton shirt.  He gratefully slipped his battered
feet into a beautifully beaded pair of deerskin moccasins,
vowing that somehow he'd find a way to repay the kindness.
     Wind Cloud, knowing what he and Quince were and fearing
they'd bring trouble to his people, still offered them the
hospitality of his lodge.  Such generosity of spirit was new
to Leo.
     "You're a great-hearted man," he told Wind Cloud.
     "I may live to regret it."
     No, Leo promised himself.  As soon as Quince was well
enough to travel they'd leave, leave before his brother
shifted again.
     I don't ever want to be forced to shift again, Leo told
himself, and, God forbid, especially not in the midst of
those who've helped us.
 
     "The hell I'm leaving," Quince said a week later as they
sat propped against a driftwood log, idly tossing stones into
the lake as they soaked up sunlight.  Though he limped
slightly, Quince walked easily.
     "We're staying here for the time being," he added.  "I
don't want the cops breathing down my neck and what better
hiding place is there than the back of nowhere?"
     Leo couldn't argue because the Chippewa reservation on
Michigan's Keewenaw Peninsula was isolated.  He knew from
reading the Houghton Mining Gazette that Dillinger and the
others had gotten away from Little Bohemia, though the cops
had killed one and wounded two of the locals in their barrage
of bullets.
     The Gazette had quoted Will Rogers:  "Well, they had
Dillinger surrounded and was all ready to shoot him when he
came out, but another bunch of folks came out ahead, so they
just shot them instead,  Dillinger is going to accidentally
get with some innocent bystanders some time, then he will get
shot."
     It was certainly true that John Dillinger was a lucky
man.
     "Chicago's too hot for us right now," Quince went on
"and think about it, brother mine, where else do we have to
go?"
     Nowhere.  But that didn't mean they should stay here.
"If you shift, I do," Leo said bluntly.  "What's going to
happen to Wind Cloud and Rose then?"
     Quince raised an eyebrow.  "Don't you know the old man
can hardly wait to see us shift?  Why do you think he's kept
us around?  Like any shaman, he wants the chance to tap our
power if he can."
     Leo knew there was some truth in what his brother said.
"If we stay you'll kill him," he protested.
     "Me?"  Quince's other eyebrow shot up.  "Don't you mean
us?"
     Leo grimaced.  "I don't want to shift any more."
     "Why?  Afraid the big bad beast will scare your sweet
little wild Rose?"
     Leo glared at his brother, his fists clenching.  "If you
harm her in any way I swear I'll--"
     Quince held up a hand.  "All right, all right.  I
promise not to shift until we leave the reservation."   He
grinned at Leo.  "Don't look so skeptical.  I told you I can
control myself."
     "So you said.  Except when the moon is full."
     Quince shrugged.  "That's not for a week or so.  If
you've any Volek blood in you, you'll be under Rose's blanket
before then and once you've had her a dozen times or so the
novelty'll wear off.  It always does.  You know that as well
as I do."
     Leo opened his mouth to claim that Rose was different
but shut it without speaking, uncomfortably aware there was
more truth in Quince's words than he wanted to hear.  He
picked up a flat stone and tossed it so that the stone
skipped along the surface of the water.
     "Eight jumps," Quince said.  "I'm still ahead by one."
     Leo turned to look at him.  "Ever since we were born
you've been ahead.  You set the pace and I followed.  I
stopped minding a long time ago, but you'd better listen to
me on this one.  On our journey here, every morning I was
human again.  You weren't.  I'm pretty well convinced if the
beast hadn't stepped into that bear trap you never would have
shifted to human again.  I don't only worry about what might
happen to Wind Cloud and Rose the next time you shift, I
worry about you.  What if the beast never changes back to
Quince?"
     Quince grinned at him.  "At least the woods is the
proper place for a beast, right?"
     "We may be surrounded by wilderness but no woods in the
United States is isolated enough so that sooner or later
hunters wouldn't be gunning for you.  Or worse--a stalker
with silver bullets."
     "Brother mine, why must you worry about the day you
never saw?  If I stay a beast, I'll survive.  After all,
you'll be around to see that I do, won't you?  By the way,
whatever happened to your amulet?"
     "I left it at Little Bohemia.  With Cosette."
     Quince snorted.  "Hell of a lot of good it'll do her.
Never could understand why people try to blunt the edge of
life with drugs or booze.  If only they knew what it was to
run free under the moon."
     "I never can remember how it was."
     "I can't bring back everything but I know."  Quince
gazed at the lake, his eyes bright and feral.  "Oh, yes, how
well I know."  He turned to look at Leo.  "I'd rather die
than never shift again."
     A dark premonition caught Leo in a sticky web of dread.
Terror skittered across his mind like a spider, leaving
tracks that writhed and twisted into words, warping what his
brother had said into a prophecy of doom:
      When you shift again, you’ll die.

                          Chapter 9

     In the darkness of the fish camp lodge, Leo cupped his
hand around Rose's breast.  He heard her draw a moaning
breath and smiled.  Rose was nothing like Gloria, she enjoyed
making love with him and wasn't ashamed to show her pleasure.
     Her body, firm and rounded, pressed against him
urgently, demanding what he was all too willing to give her.
     "You feel good," she whispered.  "So good."
     He wasted no time on words, easing into her, groaning
when he felt her close around him.  She was right--it was
damn good.
     Afterwards she rested her head on his chest.  "The women
in the village can't tell you and your brother apart," she
murmured drowsily.  "I can."
     "How?"
     "He looks at the world through wolf eyes.  You don't.
I'd never let him make love to me."
     "I hope not," Leo said.  "We share everything else but I
don't want to share you."
     "Ugh.  Who'd want to lie with an animal?"
     "He's not that bad, Rose."
     "I know what I see in his eyes."
     Though Leo knew Wind Cloud hadn't told Rose they were
bearwalkers, what she said made him uneasy and he began to
stroke her back, running his hand over her delightfully
curved rump in a effort to distract her.
     "Grandfather feels it, too," Rose persisted.  "He's
making medicine against your brother."
     Leo sat up, disentangling himself from her.  "What do
you mean, making medicine?"
     Rose was silent, either from annoyance at his abrupt
withdrawal or because she feared she'd said too much.  After
a moment she put her arms around his neck.  "It has nothing
to do with us tonight," she whispered in his ear.
     The fish camp, now deserted except for the two of them,
was over a mile from the Chippewa village.  He'd left Quince
alone there in Wind Cloud's frame cabin, never giving a
thought to where the old medicine man might be.  Now he
wondered where Wind Cloud had gone and what he might be
doing.
     Shamans could be dangerous.
     He unwound Rose's arms, sprang up, and yanked on his
pants.  "Get dressed," he ordered.  "We have to go back."
     "You go ahead."  Her voice was sullen.
     Taking her at her word, he flung on his shirt, and
shoved his feet into his moccasins.  As he raised the lodge
flap he held, listening to a faint drumming.  How long had it
been going on?
     "What's that?" he demanded.
     "Mide drums," she said.  "Medicine drums."
     The steady monotonous beat seemed to reach inside him,
to coax him to--to what?  The hair rose on his nape as his
left arm began to itch.
     He turned back to Rose.  "Get dressed," he snapped.
"Hurry!  We've got to stop your grandfather before it's too
late."
     They'd almost reached the village when a long wavering
howl rose above the drum beats.  Ignoring Rose's stifled
scream, Leo fought the wrench inside him, fought his
overwhelming urge to respond to his brother's invitation to
shift.
     If he gave in, not only Rose was doomed.  He was.  If he
shifted once more he'd never be able to resist Quince again.
     Halting, he dropped to one knee and, with his
forefinger, traced Iwaz in the damp sand.  Over and over he
followed the rune with his finger, intoning, "Iwaz.  Sacred
yew, protect me.  Iwaz, protect me."
     "Bearwalker," Rose whispered fearfully.
     He paid no attention, searching his memory for the
Finnish chant against shifting that Waino had taught him so
long ago.
     "By the heart of my father," he began haltingly, "whose
blood created me, by the breasts of my mother, whose milk
nurtured me, by the Holy Three who know my soul, I belong to
the human race.
     "I am a man.
     "I have traveled into the furthest reaches of myself and
I know what lies hidden there, yet I have set myself to
remain a man.  Neither the moon nor another's demand can
change my will or my body.
     "Wild spirit, your home is not within me.  Return to the
dark forest whence you came, return to the pines, to the
alder thickets, to the cedar swamps, to the oak groves.
Return, feral creature, to--"
     A dark shape burst from the trees, racing across the
sand.  Leo broke off abruptly, leaped up, grabbed the
whimpering Rose and thrust her behind him.  With his back to
the water and Iwaz between his spread feet, he faced the
beast.
     Moonlight glinted on white fangs and reflected from
yellow eyes.  Eyes so like his own.  Yet not quite the same,
as Rose had told him.  His brother's eyes.  His brother, who
he loved above all, who he'd do anything in the world for.
     Except shift.
     The beast paused in front of him, snarling, then raised
its muzzle to the moon and howled again. Run with me, 
brother mine.  The night, the hunt is ours.
     As his will to resist insidiously drained away, Leo
struggled to keep the image of Iwaz in his mind.  No, he
told himself desperately, I will not run under the moon.
Ever.
     Once more the beast howled, long and urgently, and again
Leo struggled against his own increasing need to change.  He
slid his feet from the moccasins and stepped directly onto
the rune he'd traced into the sand, feeling its power rise up
through his body to war with the wrenching inside him.
     At last the beast turned away.  Before it loped toward
the trees, it gave Leo one last look over its shoulder, a
look of questioning sadness.  Why brother?
     With tears in his eyes, Leo watched until the beast
vanished into the darkness under the trees, seeing a part of
himself vanish, too.  Finally he turned, lifted the shivering
Rose from the sand and led her toward the village, noticing
only then that the drums had ceased.
 
     It was long after midnight and the moon was low.  A
damp, cold breeze blew off the lake.  Slipping between the
trees, avoiding the patches of snow that still remained, Leo
touched once more the amulet of birchbark and eagle feathers
that Wind Cloud had made for him and listened to the night
with his mind as well as his ears.
     Rose hadn't wanted him to leave the village.  She'd
clung to him, weeping, until her grandfather had ordered her
away.
     "A darkness hunts your brother," Wind Cloud had told
him, "a darkness no one can save him from, but I understand
why you must try.  You will survive only if you remain a
man."  He'd offered Leo the amulet then.
     At first Leo had assumed Wind Cloud meant it was
Quince's beast self that threatened his brother, but as the
night wore on unease crept over him.  He sensed that
something else searched for the beast with him, something
dark and dangerous.
     He knew he was near his brother, he'd followed his trail
by listening for the howls and by his unerring feel for
Quince's presence, even as a beast.  He carried no gun but
Wind Cloud had pressed his own mide knife on Leo before he
left the village.
     He'd learned that the Midewewin Society was made up of
Chippewa shamans, some more advanced than others, a society
of medicine men going back to the origins of the People, back
to the time hundreds of years before when they'd lived beside
the great salt sea to the east.  The Miwoks had no such
medicine society and as far as he knew neither did the
Kamchadals.  Leo wished he'd learned more about his
grandfather's people.  What was their history?  Had they
always lived in Russian Kamchatka?
     He thought he heard a bird's wings overhead, thought he
heard a harsh caw and tensed, listening, then shook his head.
Crows didn't fly at night.  Deep in his mind, a memory
stirred.
      Kut rules the Kamchadals," Wolf had told him once
across a night fire on a Sierra camping trip.  Told him and
Quince.  "Kut, the raven spirit.  A god and a trickster in
one, never to be completely trusted."
     Leo scowled.  Ravens didn't fly at night, either.  He'd
misread the sound he'd heard.  Yet in his heart he feared
he'd been warned.  Again.  He'd already had one warning from
Wind Cloud.
     But of what?  Not of his brother.  The beast wouldn't
harm him.  What other danger lurked in the night?  Words
from years ago, words Marti had used, edged into his mind.
     The dark hunter came……
     Apprehension stroked icy fingers down Leo's spine.  The
dark hunter Marti had sensed had been a stalker.  That
California stalker was three years dead.  He and his brother
were thousands of miles away, in the Michigan wilderness.
But not safe, the Voleks were never safe from stalkers.
     The beast howled, the sound close and near the lake.
Leo drew the mide knife from its sheath and, setting his
direction by the soft swish of the waves, crept through the
woods.  There was no thinning of trees, merely a sudden
transition from woods to sand.  He stopped short of the
beach, peered along the shore and froze.
     The beast crouched over a kill.  Even twenty feet away
Leo smelled the blood and the deer scent.  Busy with his
feasting, the beast didn't look up or give any indication he
knew Leo was near.  Bloodlust had clouded his usual caution.
Leo scanned the surroundings, saw nothing moving and was
about to ease the knife back into its sheath when suddenly,
not more than ten feet from his brother, a shadow detached
itself from behind the upthrust trunk and roots of a
windfall.
     "Quince, look out!" Leo shouted and leaped forward,
knife in hand.
     As he raced toward his brother, he heard the beast snarl
followed by the ominous rattle of a tommygun.  From his time
with Dillinger, Leo well knew how deadly the spray of bullets
could be.  To escape certain death, he flung himself at the
assailant in a low tackle.  His shoulder caught the man
behind the knees and they both sprawled onto the sand.
     Leo raised up and plunged the knife into the man's left
side, just under the armpit, feeling it grate on ribs as the
blade slid in up to the hilt.  The man gave a bubbling cough,
convulsed once and lay still.  Leo grabbed the gun, sprang
up and, with his foot, rolled the man over onto his back.
Sightless eyes stared up at the moon.
     All this time there'd been no sound from the beast.
Hoping against hope he'd gotten away, Leo skirted the deer
carcass.  He saw no beast.  Instead, Quince lay half-in,
half-out of the water.
     Leo dragged his brother onto the sand and knelt beside
him.  Jagged holes, oozing blood, ran across Quince's bare
chest.  His eyes fluttered open but he didn't seem to see
Leo.
     "I'm here," Leo told him as he gripped Quince's hand.
Badly wounded as his brother was, if the bullets weren't
silver he might have a chance.
     "Now you--"  Quince's voice faded to a whisper and Leo
leaned close to hear.  "--you'll be first..."
 
     Men from the village dumped the stalker into a hastily
dug pit in the woods.  After Quince was buried near their
small Indian graveyard, Wind Cloud and Leo sat for four cold
May nights by his grave with a lantern.  Leo, because he
wasn't ready to part from his brother and the Chippewa
because he believed even a bearwalker would need light during
the four nights it took to travel along the Spirit Path among
the stars.
     Leo couldn't blame the old medicine man's drumming for
his brother's shifting.  Sooner or later Quince would have
given in to the urge to change and the beast would have found
the stalker waiting.  Or worse, maybe the stalker wouldn't
have waited, would have come to the village with his
tommygun.  God knows how many might have died then.
     "You will no longer bearwalk," Wind Cloud said on the
last night.  It wasn't a question.
     They sat in silence for a long time.
     "How can I live without my brother?" Leo asked at last.
     "The answer lies within you.  You must find it."
     Leo gritted his teeth.  Words, nothing but words.  How
could he ever forgive himself for failing to save Quince?
     As though reading his mind, the old man said, "If you
had joined your brother to bearwalk, I'd be sitting here
alone beside two graves and the man of darkness would still
roam free, hunting your kind."
     Yes, he'd killed the stalker.  One less for the Voleks
to worry about--but too late for Quince.
     Wind Cloud waved a hand at the reddening horizon where
sky met water.  "The sun rises.  Now your brother is safe and
happy in the Home of Spirits."
     Leo wished he could believe it was true.
     He meant to leave the village, but apathy from his
terrible grief kept him from making plans.  He didn't care
where he was or what happened to him.  Rose had to coax him
to eat.  Days went by.  Weeks.  Months.
     Near the end of July, Leo read in the Gazette about John
Dillinger being shot to death outside a Chicago theater.  He
felt nothing.  With Quince gone he didn't care about
anything.
     "Our child will be born in the Moon of Snow," Rose told
him one afternoon as they walked barefoot along the shore
under the warm August sun.  "In December."
     Sunk in his own misery, Leo didn't at first take in her
words but their meaning finally penetrated, shocking him into
alertness.  He stopped and faced her.  "Our child?"
     She smiled shyly.  "You're the one and only man I've
been with."
     He believed her.  He'd been her first man and after that
she'd been so busy looking after him she wouldn't have had
time for another.  Staring at her swollen belly, he wondered
how he could have missed noticing.
     Rose's smile faded.  "You're angry."
     "No, not angry.  Surprised.  And frightened."
     "Why be frightened?  I'm healthy."
     He took her hand in both of his.  "Rose, listen to me.
You feared my brother."
     She nodded.
     "Then think of the danger.  What if the child is born
with Quince's wolf eyes?  Born a bearwalker?"
     Rose drew in her breath, eyeing him fearfully.  "It
won't be."  Her words lacked conviction.
     "It will be.  I, too, am a bearwalker when I choose.
Ask your grandfather if you don't believe me."
     She pulled her hand from his and placed both of them
protectively over her rounded belly.
     "I'll never bearwalk again, Rose, there's no cause to be
frightened of me.  But any child of mine--"  He shook his
head.
     "What can I do?" she whispered.  "Already he moves
inside me, he lives.  It's too late for me to take
grandfather's medicine, the child must be born."
     Leo, busy blaming himself for his stupidity in getting
her pregnant in the first place, tried to gather his
thoughts.  "If he must be born, he must.  But I can't leave
him here in your village to grow up.  He might kill you all."
     She shuddered, looking away from him.
     "You knew I'd leave one day, didn't you?" he asked her.
     "Yes."  Her voice was so low he could hardly hear it.
"I knew you'd leave without me."
     "Even if I could take you with me, would you want to
be the wife of a bearwalker?"
     She shook her head, still refusing to meet his gaze.
     "You won't want to raise one, either," he told her.
"I've been putting off going to Chicago; it's past time to
leave.  I'll come back when the baby's old enough to travel
and bring him to my people.  We're used to bearwalkers and
know how to teach them."
     She glanced at him and he saw her fear and distaste.
"If you'd told me--"  Her words trailed off.
     He didn't need to hear the rest.  If she'd known he was
the same as his brother she'd never have lain with him.  "I'm
sorry, Rose."
     That night he spoke with Wind Cloud and the old man
agreed the child must not grow up in the village.  "It is
good you will take him," he said.  "I grow too old and my
medicine grows too thin to deal with bearwalkers and those
who hunt them."
 
     Now that it made no difference if the Voleks knew where
he was, Leo borrowed enough from Wind Cloud to wire his
family for money, then left for Chicago.  Keeping carefully
out of the way of cops, he made the rounds until he found
Gloria.  From her he got Cosette's address.
     She was living in a cheap walk-up not far from the cafe
where he'd first seen the newspaper with Quince's picture.
When she opened the door to him she stared in disbelief mixed
with dawning hope.  "Quincy?" she faltered.
     "No, it's Leo."  He tried to conceal his own shock as he
took in her stringy hair and blotchy skin.  She was close to
emaciation--except for the rounded mound of her belly.
     Cosette's shoulders sagged.  "You might's well come in."
     He shook his head.  "I left something with you at Little
Bohemia.  Do you have it?"
     She blinked.  "You mean that funny-looking chunk of
metal on a thong?  I thought it was his.  Quincy's.  So I
kept the thing."
     "It's mine.  I'd like it back."
     "I don't know."  She chewed on her lip.  "Where is your
brother?  How come he never got in touch with me?"
     "He's dead, Cosette."  His own words ripped into him
like a sword.
     She burst into tears.  Leo pushed past her, pulled her
after him and closed the door.  He put his arms around her,
holding her awkwardly while she sobbed on his shoulder.
     "I kept hoping," she said brokenly.  "Oh my God, what
am I going to do?"
     When he finally calmed her, he led her to a dilapidated
couch and made her sit down.  She looked up at him piteously.
"It's his kid.  Quincy's.  I know 'cause he was the only one
for a couple months and then I was so upset after we got back
from that awful place up north I couldn't stand a man
anywhere near me.  It really is his, I wouldn't lie to you."
     He wasn't so sure of that but he also knew he couldn't
take the chance she might be telling the truth.  "I'll give
you enough money to see you through," he told her.  Then he
remembered Cosette was a drugger and would spend the money on
shooting up.
     "I'll make arrangements for you to stay in a nicer place
until the baby's born," he said.  "All right?"
     She nodded, still tearful.
     "May I have the metal disk back?" he asked.
     "Yeah, sure."  She essayed a smile.  "Thanks for coming
by.  I really need help.  Bad."
     When she brought him the amulet, Leo hung it around his
neck, pushing it under his shirt.  He handed her ten dollars,
afraid to give her more.  "I'll be back tomorrow to get you
out of this hole," he said.
     The next day he left her at a Catholic home for unwed
mothers.  After promising a thousand dollar donation to the
order, he'd told the Mother Superior about Cosette's drug
problem and left assured that the nuns would take special
pains in caring for her.  They would also place the baby for
adoption if Cosette didn't feel she could keep it.
     "You realize," the Mother Superior added, obviously
believing him to be the father of Cosette's child, "that
babies of drug users are often born prematurely and sometimes
don't live."
     Which would be a blessing.  He almost told her so but
held his tongue at the last minute and merely said goodbye.
     Though he told neither the Mother Superior nor Cosette,
if the baby did survive, he'd have to take it.  He couldn't
leave a possible Volek to be raised by strangers.
     Alone in his hotel room in the hot August night,
memories of Volek House replayed in Leo's mind like unending
movie reels: Camping trips with Wolf; the wonder of his first
flight with his Uncle Hawk as pilot; school lessons with his
cousin Melanie, a sad and somber child who rarely smiled; his
half-fearful respect for Grandmother Liisi; his terror when
Quince first shifted.
     His throat tightened.  They were all dead--Hawk, Liisi,
Wolf, Melanie and Quince.  An emotion he'd never felt while
his brother lived rose in him, bringing tears to his eyes.
Homesickness.  He wanted to go home, wanted his family around
him, those who understood.  Those who loved him, despite what
he was.  He needed to go home.
     It was also long past the time he should have told the
family about Quince.
     Hurrying to the lobby, Leo used the hotel phone to ring
the long distance operator.  In California his mother
answered and began to cry so hard when she recognized his
voice that she couldn't talk.
     "Leo, is it really you?" Waino's voice replaced Druse's.
"Did you get the money we sent?"
     "Yes.  Thanks.  I'll be opening a bank account here in
Chicago so I can transfer more funds.  But that's not why I
called.  Quince--" he faltered, then forced himself to go on.
"My brother's dead."
     "I'll tell the others."  Waino, as always, sounded
unruffled.  "For your sake, I'm sorry, but we all knew it was
inevitable.  Can you give me any details?"
     He wasn't sure how much, if anything, the family knew
about the time he and Quince had spent with Dillinger.
They'd used the last name of Voss, the only newspaper picture
of either of them was the one with Quince's face turned from
the camera and neither of them had ever been arrested.  He
wasn't about to speak of Dillinger over the phone anyway.
     Or stalkers.
     "Quince died of poisoning," he told Waino.
     Silence from the other end.  "Come home, Leo," Waino
said at last.  "We miss you."
     "I will.  Soon."
     "Your Cousin Jennifer's getting married in September.  I
know she'd like you to be at her wedding."
     Jenny McQuade, the firestarter.  Jenny, who'd burned her
twin sister so badly when they were toddlers that Lily still
bore the scars.  True, Liisi had fashioned a protective
amulet for Jenny.  Leo's fingers caressed the metal disk he
wore.  Jenny was controlled now, just as he was.  But
marriage?  He shook his head.
     "I'm surprised," he told Waino.
     "We all were.  Like Jennifer, he's a doctor, a dynamic
young man."
     Leo couldn't ask over the phone if the man knew about
Jennifer's problem, but he doubted she'd told him.  He
shrugged.  With both of them doctors, at least they'd be sure
to prevent pregnancy.  Which was more than he'd done.
     "I won't be able to make the wedding," he said.  "Give
Jenny my love.  Give everyone my love."
     "But you will come home?"
     "Sometime after the first of the year.  With my son."
     Another silence, shorter this time.  "We'll be waiting
for you both," Waino told him.
     Only after he'd hung up did Leo realize he hadn't
mentioned the other one.  Quince's child.  Not that it made
any difference.  With luck, Cosette's baby wouldn't live to
add another potential Volek shifter.

                          Chapter 10

     Marti woke at one in the morning, exactly as she'd
planned.  Jael slept soundly in the adjoining room with the
connecting door open, as always.  Until she'd turned fifteen,
Marti hadn't minded.  She loved Jael more than her own mother
or father, more than anyone else in the world--except for
one other.  But she was no longer a child and the open door
limited her privacy.
     Moonlight streamed into her room, a beckoning silver
pathway.  The May breeze blowing through the open windows
carried the scent of new growth, of spring.  From somewhere
far off an owl hooted and Marti smiled.  Though she'd never
again flown with the white owl, she'd never forgotten the
exhilaration of the hunt with him.
     Quincy, she knew, had chosen that same wild freedom
rather than suppressing the beast as Leo had learned to do.
Arno and Reynolds, too, had been taught to control their
shifting.  And so the three of them still lived, but poor
Quincy was dead.  Two years ago Leo had promised to come home
with his son but he hadn't, not yet.  Until Leo arrived, no
one could be sure what had happened to Quincy.  Her father
thought a stalker had killed him.
     A stalker.  The dark hunter of her childhood.  Marti
told herself she'd outgrown childish fears, even if her
mother and father still believed her to be a child with a
child's feelings.  Jael knew better because it was impossible
to hide all she felt from her beloved companion.  Jael even
sensed her jealousy of Beth.
     "Curtis is your cousin," Jael had reminded her
yesterday.  "Just as Beth is both your cousin and his.  He
loves you both, why shouldn't he?  The three of you are very
young and haven't met many others your age.  Someday you may
marry, as your cousin Jennifer did two years ago.  When you
do, you'll choose someone from outside the family, just like
Jennifer did."
     Marti sat up in bed, scowling.  Until a few months ago,
Curtis had liked her best.  But in March, Beth had made her
first shaman's journey under Waino's guidance and when she'd
returned she'd been changed.  Not like a shifter changes
because Beth wasn't a shifter.  But her spirit journey had
altered her, made her older than her sixteen years and given
her an aura of mystery.  Ever since then Curtis had trailed
after Beth, fascinated.
     He hardly knows I exist any more, Marti thought angrily.
And Jael's wrong--I don't want to marry some outsider ever,
ever.  Curtis is the only one I want.  And I mean to have him
for my very own, no matter what.
     There could be no boy better-looking than Curtis with
his dark curls, amber eyes and devastating smile.  He hadn't
shifted for the first time yet but since he was already
seventeen every full moon brought the chance he might.  He
and every one else in the family had been warned to alert
Waino the moment a shift was suspected so no one would be
harmed.  Tonight the moon was two days away from full.
     Marti had planned carefully.  As she'd done for the last
two months when the moon was near full, she eased from her
bed, taking care to be as quiet as possible.  Would tonight
be the one?  She hoped so, but, if not, she'd try again
tomorrow night.  Without bothering to put on a robe or
slippers, she carefully opened her door and stepped into the
hall.  Eyeing the wall lights in their brackets and wishing
she dared turn them off to avoid being seen, she flowed
silently along the corridor toward Curtis's room.  She
detested the childish flower-patterned long nightgown she
wore.  Why hadn't she insisted on pajamas?
     She'd like silk pajamas, red with gold dragons
embroidered on them.  Bren sometimes wore a red tunic like
that, a tunic that had been his father's.  She wasn't
supposed to know the Quincy beast had killed Bren's mother
and father after she'd freed the beast from the cellar when
she was three.
     Marti had been wrong to free him; she knew better now.
Quincy's beast had no control over what he did; he'd never
learned any kind of control.  Unlike Leo and Arno and
Reynolds, he wanted to be a beast.  If she were a
shapeshifter, she'd be different from any of them, she'd be
in control of shifting and in control of the beast part of
herself, too.  She wasn't a born shifter but that didn't mean
she couldn't ever be one.
     She hadn't exactly shifted during that time with the owl
but she had been a part of the bird, feeling what he felt,
knowing what he knew.  If she'd done it once, couldn't she do
it again?  Only not with the owl this time.  Marti was set to
try.  It was her secret weapon in the war to win Curtis.  He
wasn't meant for Beth; he was meant for her.
     Except for her parents and Jael, everyone liked Beth
better than they did her.  She didn't care if they did.
Except for Curtis.  Curtis was the one who mattered.
     She put her ear to Curtis's door, listening, and heard,
very faintly, an owl hoot once more.  Marti's heart thumped
hard.  Hearing the owl again didn't merely mean Curtis had
his window open, it was a sign.  Not any old bird called,
this was her white owl.  Trembling with anticipation, she
eased the door open and slipped into the room.
     Marti knew she could move more quietly than anyone in
the family, so quietly she could pass like a shadow among
them.  But she was immediately aware that Curtis, standing at
the window with his back to her, sensed her presence.
Surprised that he didn't turn or speak, she stayed where she
was, just inside the closed door.
     He was barefoot and wore only the bottoms of his
pajamas.  He'd grown almost as tall as his father, and his
shoulders had broadened until he had the look of a man rather
than a boy.  Marti stared at his dark hair, willing him to
face her.
     "Go back to your room," he muttered.
     Instead, she marched across to stand beside him, gazing,
as he was, down at the silvered lawn where a rabbit nibbled
the new grass.  She'd never want to be a rabbit, rabbits were
prey and the owl had taught her the thrill of the hunt.  Why,
though, was Curtis so interested in the rabbit?
     Almost as soon as she asked herself the question, she
knew the answer.  "You're going to shift," she said softly.
"Tonight."
     He glared at her, his tawny eyes bright in the
moonlight.  "Get out of here, Marti."  His voice,
unfamiliarly hoarse and raspy, sent a frisson of excitement
along her nerves.
     She was right!
     "Come with me," she coaxed.  "I'll take you to a secret
place, one I've never shown to anyone else."
     "No!  No, I have to--"
     She pressed the palm of her hand against his mouth and
reached with her mind and her spirit through the open window,
reached through the night until she found the white owl.
     All at once she traveled a pathway of concentric circles
that wound ever smaller and smaller and when she came to the
end she was no longer Marti....
     Curtis blinked, hoping to clear his vision.  He shook
his head as if the motion would dissipate the confusion
inside.  He'd been about to--to--?  Frantically he struggled
to remember, knowing it was vital.  In vain.  He felt his
consciousness flicker like a guttering candle and at the same
time a female voice began to whisper in his mind, a voice he
had no will to resist.
     "Pick her up."
     He glanced at the floor, unsurprised to see the girl
crumpled at his feet.  Lifting her into his arms, he waited
for the next command.  Following the whispered instructions,
he carried the girl from his room, along the hall, down the
stairs and into the study where he eased her onto the leather
couch.  Obediently he turned toward the hearth, pressed the
third wolf's head on the carving that decorated the panel
beside the fireplace and waited.
     A section of the paneling slid sideways, leaving an
opening.  Reaching inside, Curtis pushed the switch he'd been
told was there and a light went on, illuminating stairs.  He
lifted the girl into his arms again and carried her through
the gap in the paneling and down the stairs.  Opening a heavy
metal door at the bottom, he walked inside a room, laid her
on a cot.  He pulled her nightgown over her head and dropped
it beside her.  Still listening to the voice inside his head,
he returned to the stairs, pushed a lever at the top and the
panel slid into place.  Then he went back to the girl in the
hidden room, removing a heavy iron key from the door as he
went through.
     Though he'd unhesitatingly obeyed every whispered word,
a small part of him fought against the compulsion he was
under.  This helpless fragment knew time was running out.
Dreadful danger loomed close at hand, danger only he could
avert.
     When he was told to close the door, lock it and slide
the key through the tiny barred opening, terror kept him
motionless.  Death! the fragment of himself warned.
     The voice insisted, repeating the instruction until his
resistance ebbed and he did as he was told.  When he heard
the clink of the key hitting the brick floor outside the
room, his befogged mind cleared a trifle, enough to let him
realize he stood in an unfamiliar room.
     Where in hell was he?  There were no windows in the
brick walls that were fancifully draped with brightly colored
long silk scarves.  A naked girl--Marti--lay unmoving on a
fur covered cot.  There wasn't any other furniture in the
room.
     "The change has already started," the voice whispered.
"Don't fight it."
     Hair rose on his nape.  Change?
     "Feel and understand as you shift," the insidious
whisper ordered.  "Learn how to release the other locked
inside you, learn and remember."
     Terrified but helpless, he tore off his pajama bottoms,
groaning with the pain as his guts twisted and wrenched,
watching in horror as his hands changed to talons.
     "No matter what, you will not howl."  The whisper was
fainter now, harder to understand, but still to be obeyed.
"At dawn, you will make yourself shift back."
     And then, alive with new sensations, he heard no more.
 
     Free!  The beast glanced quickly around, snarling as he
realized he was trapped in a room when he longed to be out in
the night running.  Hunting.  He raised his muzzle to howl
his frustration and rage but no sound emerged.
     His gaze fastened on the human stirring on the cot, her
female scent swirling in his head.  Human and female.  A
female trapped in this room with him.  His groin tightened.
If he couldn't hunt, he could mate.  He padded toward her.
 
     Marti determinedly shut away her fear of the monster
looming over her, concentrating on what she'd learned while
she'd shared Curtis's body with him.  Her first change began
inside.  Eyes closed, she found the concentric circles and
ran along them until she felt the first sickening inner
wrench.  Despite the pain, she smiled.  Her eyes flew open to
watch hair grow to cover her arms as she flung herself off
the cot.
     She'd won!
     In a moment or two she'd shifted completely, far faster
than Curtis had.  But she hadn't fought it the way he had.
She felt wonderful, free and unfettered, every sense sharp
and alert.  Perhaps her thinking was fuzzier but she was
still Marti as well as the beast she'd become.
     Her shifting had obviously confused the Curtis beast
since his golden eyes were wary as he circled her.  She'd
never in her life smelled anything as potent as his scent,
triumphantly, seductively male.  It triggered a hot and
violent yearning within her that she discovered she couldn't
control.
     Her beast body took over, edging closer to him, then
away, luring him on in a mating dance.  Both eager and
reluctant, she led him around and around the room, both of
them upright like humans until he finally cornered her.
     First she, then he, dropped to all fours.  Before she
realized what he meant to do, he licked the side of her
muzzle.  She snapped at him but he dodged to the side, still
keeping her penned in the corner.  He was bigger than she
was, his sleek, magnificent body covered with dark fur.  She
fought the urge to run her tongue along his muzzle and
growled instead.
     He licked her face again, his scent overpowering her
reluctance and making her ache with the need to mate.  Her
tongue darted out to touch him.  How soft his fur was, how
good he tasted.
     As Marti she had no idea what to do, but instinct drove
her beast self, instinct turned her body so she faced into
the corner, instinct showed her how to best present herself
to him so that he could fling himself onto her, mounting her
back while his talons gripped her.
     As he plunged inside her he nipped her shoulders with
his teeth, holding her in place while he thrust hard and
fast.  She moaned with mixed pain and pleasure, riding a
rising swell of such intense bliss she thought she'd die
before the journey ended in a shattering explosion of
fulfillment.
     Afterwards, panting, he yanked the fur cover off the cot
onto the floor with his teeth and they lay side by side on
it, sated and content.  When the mating urge rose in them
again they rolled on the floor, tangling together in a mock
fight, nipping one another until, thoroughly aroused, he
mounted and possessed her, she as eager as he for the union.
     Then they slept, sprawled on each other.
     When Marti woke, she found Curtis's leg weighing her
down, both of them lying naked on the fur throw.  Realizing
it must be dawn, she snuggled closer to him and whispered his
name.
     He woke abruptly and stared at her in consternation,
then sat up and looked dazedly around.  "Christ!  Where are
we?"
     She knew he couldn't remember what he'd done while she
shared his body.  Nor did he recall what they'd done as
beasts.  But she did.  So vividly her body began to throb
with need.  She rubbed herself against him.
     Curtis looked at her.  "Is that blood?" he asked.
     For the first time she noticed her thighs were
bloodstained.  She didn't care.  Running a hand along his
stomach, she touched his penis, also blood-stained.
     "Don't do that!"  He thrust her hand away, gazing down
in consternation as he saw the blood on himself.  "Shit!"  He
jumped up, grabbed his pajama pants and tugged them on.
     She rose and reluctantly donned her nightgown.  He'd
been a lot more fun as a beast.
     Curtis, tugging in vain at the locked door, demanded,
"How the hell do we get out of here?"
     Though they were safe enough from discovery down here,
Marti knew they couldn't stay.  She didn't want to be caught
coming through the secret panel and so she lifted the
mattress of the cot, retrieved the long-handled hook she'd
made from a metal hanger, handed it to him and gestured that
he should shove it under the door.
     He peered through the barred slot and located the key.
Marti sat on the cot as he fished for it.  Would Curtis tell
her father that he'd shifted?  Since he always did what he
was supposed to, she decided he would.  But she didn't think
he'd tell everything.  Not about this room or her.
     Curtis glanced at her over his shoulder.  "We're in the
basement, aren't we?  How did we get down here?"
     She smiled.
     "The last I remember I was in my room, afraid I was
starting to shift and trying to get rid of you.  You put your
hand over my mouth and stared at me really strange.  You
brought me here, didn't you?  Christ, Marti, what got into
you?"
     Suppressing a giggle--he'd gotten into her, didn't he
realize that yet--she shrugged.
     "Of all the nutty stunts, locking us in here like this.
Don't you know the beast could have killed you?"  He rammed
the wire farther under the door.  "Damn, where is that key?"
     Annoyance drove Marti to her feet.  After the trouble
she'd gone to--why, she'd even risked her life!--all he did
was yell at her.
     Curtis grunted in triumph and hauled the key inside.
At the top of the stairs, she showed him the lever and he
shoved it, opening the panel.
     It was barely light and the study was empty.  Good, they
wouldn't get caught, she told herself as she pressed the wolf
head to close the panel.
     "You go upstairs first," he said.  "I'll wait."
     He was afraid of being seen with her; he wanted to be
rid of her as quickly as possible.  Marti knew it was wise
for them to go to their rooms separately.  She also knew
he had no memory of the ecstasy they'd shared so how could he
feel the same as she did?.  Just the same, the way he was
treating her made her furious.  She glared at him, stalked
from the study and made for the stairs.
     She managed to wash herself and slip into bed before
Jael woke.  It was hard to go through the day pretending
everything was the same as always when her entire world had
changed, but she managed that as well.  Curtis avoided her
completely.  She couldn't do anything about that, not
immediately, but she had no intention of letting him get away
with ignoring her.
     In the evening, after the day servants left, by
judicious eavesdropping, she overheard Waino talking to Arno.
     "We'll both stay with him tonight," Waino said.
     She understood they were discussing Curtis.
     "I knew the boy would shift someday," Arno said, "but
it's hard for me as a father to realize the time has come for
my son to go through the same agony and risk the same
temptations I've faced ever since I was his age."  He sighed.
"The first time I shifted I nearly scared poor Samara to
death.  She and Stefan, both kids then, were hiding in the
closet spying on me and, of course, the beast caught their
scent."
     "The hiding was Stefan's idea, no doubt," Waino said.
     "It must have been.  Stefan wanted to know what it would
be like when the time came for him to shift.  And what a
bloody tragedy came of it when he did.  God, Waino, will it
never end?"
     "Not as long as Voleks continue to be born."
     "But what's the reason?  What's the God damned reason?"
     "Wolf believed, as his grandfather did, that if there is
an answer it lies in Russia.  Hawk died trying to get there.
Now that Nicholas has made his first solo flight, perhaps he
and Reynolds will succeed where Hawk failed.  Or they might
go by ship or take the Clipper.  Providing the political
situation in Russia remains favorable."
     "When we were young Ivan and I vowed to search every
forest in Russia until we found where we'd come from," Arno
said.  "We never got there; I hope Wolf's sons go.  But
something always seems to intervene to prevent Voleks from
reaching Russia."
     "One thing at a time, my friend.  Tonight we concentrate
on Curtis.  He's sure to shift since he almost did last
night."
     So that's what Curtis told them, Marti thought, smiling
as she slipped away unseen.  Nothing about the room, nothing
about her.  Her smile faded.  Curtis knew she'd been with him
even if he didn't remember what they'd done as beasts.  What
did he think happened?  She was determined to find out.
     Marti waited restlessly for the next four days, knowing
either Waino or Arno would be keeping a watch on Curtis at
night while the moon was near full, even though Curtis had
been given his rune-inscribed amulet.  Beth, she knew from
eavesdropping, had brought back his rune from her spirit
journey.
     The rune was Gebo and Waino hadn't been happy about the
choice.  Gebo was X and meant gift but also meant union.
Only Marti knew how appropriate Gebo was.  Curtis had given
her the gift of shapeshifting and their mating had been the
most wonderful of unions.
     Gebo would be no challenge for her to overcome--wasn't
she one half of X, one half of Curtis's rune already?
     On the fifth night she set her internal clock to wake
her at one.  After making her cautious way to Curtis's room
and easing his door open, she saw by the dim moonlight
filtering through the pulled curtains that he was in bed, his
back to her.  Was he sleeping?  She crept inside, carefully
closing the door and tiptoeing to his bed.
     Excitement pounded through her with each rapid beat of
her heart.  As she took off her nightgown she felt a hot
surge deep inside her.  When she'd succeeded in climbing onto
his bed and slipping under the covers without waking him, she
inched closer and closer to the enticing warmth of his body
until her bare breasts were pressed against his back.  She
wriggled even closer and draped her arm over him, running her
fingers down his stomach until she touched the springy hair
around his penis.
     That's what her father's anatomy book called it but
never in her life had she heard anyone say the word out loud.
Curtis half-turned onto his back, almost squashing her.  She
eased free, expecting him to wake but, when he didn't, she
reached for him again, her hand closing around his penis,
catching her breath as it grew, expanding under her touch.
     She began to throb with wanting.  Why didn't he wake up?
Or would he just tell her to leave if he did?  He might and
she was determined to have what she'd come for.  But how?
She knew the way the beasts had mated but it was impossible
to do it like that with Curtis on his back.  With her other
hand she felt the hot, wet place between her legs.
     Would he fit inside her if she sat on top of him?
     Marti raised herself until she straddled him and eased
down, guiding him into her.  At first she thought it wouldn't
work, but what she was doing felt good and so she persisted,
wiggling and twisting as she slowly fitted him in.
     Curtis groaned, thrusting his hips upward, abruptly
shoving all the way in.  Unexpectedly, it hurt, surprising a
tiny cry from her.  His eyes opened.
     He blinked, then reached for her, grabbing her hips,
holding her so she couldn't move while he thrust upward hard
and fast.  The pain faded and she was beginning to enjoy the
sensation when he cried out and stopped moving.  Moments
later he tipped her off him.
     "Christ, Marti," he gasped.  "You shouldn't be here."
     He'd liked doing it better than she had, she thought
resentfully, so why was he complaining?  She reached for the
amulet around his neck and traced Gebo with her forefinger.
The two of them, linked forever, if he'd only realize the
truth.  She wished he'd take the amulet off.  Mating was
much, much better as beasts.
     But it was too dangerous to be beasts unless they were
locked in the room downstairs or were somewhere outside the
walls around the grounds.  She doubted that she'd be able to
entice him into the secret room again.  Not without becoming
a part of him and that probably wouldn't work either.  He'd
likely be so wary of her that she wouldn't be able to push
past his defenses.
     So it had to be outside.  But how?
     "You can't stay here," Curtis said, sitting up and
looking down at her.
     She watched his scowl fade, watched him swallow
convulsively as his gaze traveled along her naked body.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, she thought, he leaned closer and
his hand covered one of her breasts.
     A new and pleasing tingle ran from her breast down
between her legs.  To her enjoyment, he continued to caress
her breasts.  She noticed his penis was enlarging again and
smiled in anticipation.  Maybe this time they'd get into the
right position and it would be as good as when they were
beasts.
     When Curtis spread her legs apart and, positioned above
her, entered her, she discovered there was yet another way to
mate.  It felt better than being on top of him but nowhere
near as exciting as beast mating.
     After he was through, he insisted she leave.  "My father
or yours is sure to look in on me," he warned.  "You were
crazy to take such a chance.  We're lucky we didn't get
caught."
     She left without argument, determined that their next
mating would be the way she wanted it.  As beasts.

 
                          Chapter 11

     A hot August breeze slipped in through the partly open
slats of the venetian blinds on the bedroom windows.  Jael
stood over the sleeping Marti, resisting the impulse to brush
a strand of pale hair from the girl's forehead for fear of
rousing her.  Though it was noon, Marti needed the sleep,
Jael knew.
     It upset Jael that Marti had stopped revealing any of
her feelings.  She feared she knew why, just as she knew what
caused the girl's excessive fatigue.
     Uneasy because she'd delayed sharing her suspicions with
Waino, Jael sighed and retreated into her own room, leaving
the connecting door slightly ajar even though Marti now
insisted on it being closed.
     The first time she'd wondered if something was amiss was
last month, when something roused her before dawn.  She'd
gotten out of bed and eased open the connecting door a crack
to make certain Marti was all right.  She'd seen Marti
climbing into her bed.
     She's been to the bathroom, Jael had told herself.  She
didn't question her assumption until several hours later when
she found the bottoms of Marti's new silk pajamas snagged on
a sliver of wood inside the laundry chute leading to the
basement.  When she rescued the pajama bottom and examined it
to see how badly the silk was damaged, Jael was appalled.
     The hems on the legs were not only filthy but showed
other evidence of having been worn outside--brown pine
needles pierced the silk in several places.  It was then
she'd started piecing together observations she'd considered
unimportant at the time.
     For the last two months Marti, who normally was an early
riser, sometimes slept until noon or later.
     Marti no longer watched every move Curtis made, instead
she rather elaborately ignored him.
     Curtis barely spoke to anyone lately and seemed to spend
a great deal of time in his room--something Jael had
attributed to the fact he'd so recently shapeshifted for the
first time.
     Marti hadn't asked Jael for any advice for months--since
May, to be exact.  When she first insisted on having the door
shut between their rooms.
     Jael hadn't confronted Marti about the pajama bottoms
but she couldn't dismiss what she'd found.  Worried, she
began getting up after midnight and checking on Marti.  Night
after night the girl was in bed asleep and Jael was about
ready to give up her spying when finally, last night, she'd
found the bed empty and Marti nowhere in the house.
     Jael meant to go directly to Waino but on the way she'd
stopped to look in on Curtis.  When she saw he wasn't in his
room, it was easy to put one and one together, but Jael
postponed telling Waino, wanting to make certain she was
right.  So she hid in an unused bedroom with the door ajar
and waited--for hours.  Finally, near dawn, she saw Marti
creep along the corridor to her room.  Jael stayed where she
was until Curtis appeared and slipped into his room.
     Rather than marching into Marti's room for an immediate
explanation, Jael decided to wait until later that morning.
Jael dearly loved the girl and hated to hurt her but these
secret night rendezvous with Curtis couldn't continue.
Though she lacked experience with men, Jael felt sure the two
of them were not simply strolling innocently through the
pines.
     The moment she heard Marti stir, Jael flung open the
door and strode into her bedroom, hardening her heart against
Marti's sleepy, startled face.
      You and Curtis were out of the house last night, she
began. I know it wasn’t the first time you’ve been together at night.
Then she waited.
     Marti sat up, crossing her arms over her breasts.  Did you
tell my father?
      Not yet.
     Marti's breath eased out, as though she'd been holding
it as she waited for Jael's answer. We’re not doing anything wrong.
Marti's thought was defiant.  You shouldn’t have spied on us.
     You’re fifteen and Curtis is seventeen.  What you’re doing
may not seem wrong to you but it can’t go on.
     Marti raised her chin.  You can’t tell me what to do.
     Jael sighed, hating to threaten the girl.  But what else
could she do?  That’s true, I can’t.  But your father can and will.
     Marti leaped from the bed and rushed to Jael, flinging
her arms around her.  Please don’t tell papa, please, please.
     Jael hugged her, wishing she didn't have to hurt Marti.
     Suddenly Marti pulled away and rushed through the door
into the hall.  Jael, hurrying after her, saw Marti duck into
the bathroom and slam the door.  A moment later she heard
retching.  The poor child was sick.
     Almost immediately, Jael's training as a nurse suggested
an appalling reason for the retching.  She turned the knob
and, finding Marti hadn't locked the door, entered the
bathroom.  Marti was crouched over the toilet vomiting.
Jael dampened a washcloth and, when Marti was through, helped
her to her feet and gave her the cloth to wipe her face.
     How long have you been sick when you get up in the morning? 
she asked.
     Marti looked at her tearfully.  It started last month.
     Do you know what it means?
     Marti nodded.  I looked it up in papa’s books.
     We have to talk to your father.  Now.  Her arm around
Marti, Jael led her back into the bedroom and stayed there
until she was dressed.
     They found Waino in the tower room.
     "Marti wants me to tell you something," Jael began.  She
looked expectantly at Marti. What do you want me to say?
     Marti bit her lip.  That Curtis and I made love.  And we’re
going to get married and have a baby.
     Jael cleared her throat.  "I'm afraid I haven't carried
out my duties as well as I should have," she told Waino,
realizing that was the understatement of the year.  "Marti
and Curtis are having a baby.  They want to get married."
     Waino's glance moved from her to his daughter.  Other
than a slight frown, his expression didn't change.  He was a
hard man to rattle.
     "You're too young to marry, Marti," he told his
daughter.  "As for the baby--you don't appear to be too far
along.  Your mother will mix a potion to--"
     No! The violence of Marti's unspoken cry made Jael's
head ache.  I want my baby.  It belongs to Curtis and me, not
to papa.
     "Marti wants to keep the baby," Jael said.
     Waino studied his daughter.  "Sit down, Marti."  When
she hesitated, he snapped, "Do as I say!"
     Marti sank reluctantly onto a stool.
     "You, too, Jael," he added.
     Jael perched on a chair next to Marti.
     "You shouldn't have children," Waino told Marti.  "Not
only because you're too young but because you aren't like
anyone else in the family.  I don't mean your inability to
speak, I mean something far more dangerous."
     Marti stared at him, obviously upset.
     "Do you remember when you were five and Quincy escaped
from the tower?  You and I and Jael drove to Los Angeles to
find him and you ran off because you thought you could
convince Quincy to change from the beast to human.
Remember?"
     Marti nodded.
     "You got lost, the dark hunter frightened you and so you
ran into the first house you saw."
       I remember the rest but not a house, Marti told Jael.
     "She doesn't recall going into the house," Jael said.
     "No, you wouldn't," Waino went on, "because something
terrible, something far more frightening to you than the dark
hunter happened inside that house.  Jael and I weren't there
so we don't know what it was.  Do you recall Melanie's
wedding and the way you felt in the church?  Like a balloon
blown up too far and ready to explode?"
     Hesitantly, Marti nodded again.
     "Jael hurried you from the church before anything
happened," Waino said, "but Jael wasn't in that house to
rescue you.  So you exploded.  Four people died because you
did, Marti.  The man in the house with you and three people
in the neighboring house.  You killed them without realizing
what you were doing.  Jael and I had just driven to the house
and, if she hadn't sensed the danger and warned me to shield
myself, we'd have died as well.  We know you didn't mean to
kill anyone, but the fact is you did."
     Marti reached for Jael's hand and clung to it.  Did I, Jael,
did I do that?
     Jael would have given anything not to have to tell her
the truth. I’m afraid so.
     Marti bowed her head.
     "You've never used that power since," Waino said.  "I
don't believe you can consciously evoke it.  But think about
a newborn baby with such a power, Marti.  Babies get
frustrated over minor things like being wet or hungry.
Sudden sounds or strange faces frighten them.  What if you
bore a child who had the ability to kill everyone around it,
a child too young to realize its own power?  And what if that
child became frightened or upset enough to use the power?
Obviously, to save ourselves, we couldn't allow such a child
to live.  Isn't it better not to take the chance in the first
place?"
     Marti didn't look up or reply.  Tears ran down her
cheeks.
     Waino touched her hair briefly.  "I know it's a
difficult decision but it's one you must make for everyone's
sake."  He glanced at Jael.  "Do what you can to see that she
understands."
     She rose and gently pulled Marti to her feet, leading
her from the tower room and down the stone steps.  At the
bottom Marti turned a tearful face to her.
      I have to talk to Curtis before papa does.  Alone.  Please?
     Jael, aching with sympathy, could see no harm in
agreeing.  Ten minutes, that’s all, she warned.
     Marti squeezed her hand, released it, darted through the
door leading to the corridor and ran toward Curtis's room.
     When Marti hadn't returned in the allotted ten minutes,
Jael gave her five more before she made her way to Curtis's
bedroom and tapped on the door.
     No one answered.  Jael tried the knob and found the door
locked.  Annoyed, she rattled the knob.  "Open the door this
minute!  Do you hear me, Curtis?  Marti?"
     When she still got no response, Jael grew alarmed.
Seeing Bren ambling along the hall, she called to him, asking
him to hurry to the tower and fetch Waino.
     Waino unlocked the door with a master key and flung it
open.  Neither Curtis not Marti were inside.
     "If you're looking for Curtis, I saw him going out the
back gate," Bren volunteered.  "With Marti."
     "Marti's unpredictable, but I thought better of Curtis,"
Waino said.  He put a cautionary hand on Bren's shoulder.
"We won't speak of this in front of the servants."
     Bren nodded solemnly.
     "We must find them," Waino told Jael.  "In two days the
moon will be full and I'm not sure--"  He stopped, no doubt
fearing to be overheard.
     "I blame myself," she said.  "Let me go along on the
search."
     Waino shook his head.  "You don't know the countryside--
the foothills and the mountains.  Those of us who do will
make up the search party."
     In the end, Arno and Ivan went alone.  Before he left,
Arno summoned Nicholas and Reynolds home from the main office
of McDee Enterprises in San Francisco, telling the two
younger men to begin searching the following morning if
Curtis and Marti hadn't been found.
     Arno and Ivan returned at sunset, exhausted.  "Not a
sign of them," Arno told Waino.  "They must have holed up
somewhere.  Just wait until I get my hands on that son of
mine--I thought he had more sense."
     "Might they have hitchhiked?" Jael put in tentatively.
"I know Marti doesn't like cities but is it possible they
headed for the coast instead of into the mountains?"
     Arno looked at her as though he'd forgotten she was
there.  "I doubt it.  Curtis knows the foothills but the
coast is unfamiliar territory to him.  Besides, they can't
have much money with them."
     Or anything else, Jael thought.  Marti had taken nothing
but the clothes she had on and, according to Griselda,
Curtis's mother, all that was missing from his room was a
blanket from his closet.
     Sleep proved impossible.  Sometime after midnight, Jael
still awake, heard a long, quavering howl.  She sat up, her
heart pounding in terror.  When an answering howl rose to
join the first, she sprang to her feet and ran into the
hall, almost falling over Bren who stood shivering just
outside her door.
     "It's the beast," he whispered.
     Needing comfort as much as he did, she put an arm around
him and drew him to her side.  At twelve, Bren hadn't yet
begun his adolescent spurt of growth and he didn't quite
reach to her shoulder.
     "The howling sounded far away," she said as reassuringly
as she could.
     "I think I heard two beasts," he said, echoing her own
fears as he pressed close to her.
     Other doors opened, family members spilling into the
corridor.  Nine-year-old Zach and Sara, standing hand in hand
in the doorway of the room they shared, stared with wide,
frightened eyes until Beth collected them and brought them to
Samara.
     "Since none of us will sleep a wink anyway, I'll go down
and make coffee," Cecelia said and started for the stairs.
Jael offered to help and followed Cecelia, with Bren trailing
at her heels as though he was afraid to let her out of his
sight.
     Druse joined them in the kitchen, setting out bread,
sandwich fixings, silverware and china for Bren and Jael to
carry to the long buffet in the dining room.  The others
straggled downstairs, selecting food from the buffet and
sitting here and there around the table.
     After a while, Jael noticed that Bren took nothing.
"Would you like some milk and cookies?" she asked.
     He shook his head, his "No thanks" all but inaudible.
     Taking a good look at him, Jael noted that his skin,
normally a healthy sallow color was far paler than usual.
Seeing that everyone was now gathered in the dining room, she
drew Bren into the kitchen.
     "What's the matter?" she asked, tipping his chin up to
get a good look at his face.  "Don't you feel well?"
     "It's my fault," he muttered, not meeting her gaze.
     "What is?"
     "I should've told."
     "For heaven's sake, Bren, told what?"
     He sighed.  "About the kittens.  In the barn."
     There'd been cats in the barn every since Jael had come
to Volek House.  She remembered five-year-old Marti adding to
the barn's feline population by bringing home a striped
kitten from Bakersfield.
     Holding to her patience, Jael said, "What about the
kittens in the barn?"
     "Well, you know how Marti likes cats."
     Jael did.  Since no cat would willingly remain in the
house, cats being able to sense a shapeshifter even in human
form, Marti had to go to the barn to play with the striped
kitten she'd named Gato.  When Gato grew into a staid adult,
Marti had found other kittens to play with.
     "It was a rainy day in May," Bren said.  "Zach and Sara
and I went to the barn to swing on the trapeze bars in the
hay loft like we do sometimes when it rains.  So we were up
there fooling around when Marti came in.  The old black cat
was nursing her kittens down below and Marti started toward
her.  That mama cat jumped straight up in the air, yowling
and spitting, and flew up the loft ladder with her fur on
end.  The kittens ran away from Marti as fast as they could
go.
     "Marti just stood there until she saw me looking at her
from the loft and then she put her finger to her lips and ran
out of the barn.  Zach and Sara didn't see her so they never
knew what spooked the cat."
     Jael stared at him.  "You mean you think Marti scared
the cat and her kittens?"
     "It was Marti all right.  We petted them when we came in
earlier and they didn't mind us but they sure did scat from
her.  She didn't want me to tell anyone, so I didn't."
     The implications of Bren's tale frightened Jael.  He
must be wrong.  Marti wasn't a shapeshifter.  There had to be
another explanation.  Jael took a deep breath and let it out
slowly.  May was when Curtis had shifted for the first time.
And, judging by her morning sickness, May must have been the
month when Marti became pregnant.
     "I guess I better tell Uncle Waino."  Bren looked
terrified at the prospect.
     Poor kid.  None of this was his fault.
     She put her hand on his shoulder.  "Don't feel so
bad, you didn't do anything wrong."
     "If I'd told right away Uncle Waino would've known
something was wrong with Marti.  Then maybe he and Beth
could've stopped it from happening."  He glanced toward the
kitchen windows.  "Now she's with Curtis and they're both--
both--"
     A howl stopped him.  He reached for Jael's hand and
gripped it hard as they listened to the chilling ululation.
As before, a second howl began before the first ended.
     Jael closed her eyes.  Dear God, she prayed, protect
Marti.
     The kitchen door swung open.  "There you are," Waino
said.  "Come into the dining room; I want us all together."
     "Bren has something to tell you first," Jael said sadly.
     Later, in the dining room, Cecelia reminded them that
Wolf had said Marti was not a shapeshifter.  Up until now,
Wolf had always been right--except for Leo, of course.  But
Leo hadn't been a shifter at birth, somehow his brother's
bite had infected him, had made him shift.
     Samara wondered if Curtis had bitten Marti but Jael
insisted there'd been no visible evidence of a bite.
     "Ever since we were little," Beth said at last, "I could
feel Marti's power when I was near her--it crackled like
electricity.  Before I made my journey I was always a bit
afraid of her.  Now that I've learned enough to understand
her power is terribly dangerous I'm more afraid."
     Waino and Jael glanced at one another, remembering how
that power had killed.
     Waino looked from one to the other of the family.  "We
all know Curtis is a shifter," he said.  "My conclusion is
Marti wanted so much to be like Curtis that she used this
power Beth speaks of to turn herself into a shifter."
     Jael, no longer able to deny the truth, blinked back
tears, imagining her dearly loved Marti as a beast running in
the night.
     "We'll continue to search for them," Waino said.
"During the day.  As of now, no family member is to leave the
house after dark.  The servants will be sent home well before
sunset."
     "No night searching?" Arno asked.
     Waino shook his head.  "We've already lost Wolf because
of a night search.  And Sergei Volek died in these foothills
while trying to rescue his shifter grandson."
     "That was my brother Stefan," Samara put in.  "Waino is
right.  Death came to my grandfather and my father in hunts
for the beasts.  Must we lose more of us?  To go into the
hills at night means death."
 
     A week later, despite daily family search parties,
Curtis and Marti hadn't been found.  Jael understood it was
risky to ask the authorities or any of the neighbors for
help--or even to mention that two Voleks were missing.
    Just this morning she'd overheard two of the maids
whispering about the night howling.
     "My pa says 'tain't wolves," Loretta confided to Sally.
"He says it's well known in these parts that something
straight outa hell roams them hills."
     "Well," Sally said, "my grandma says the sooner I quit
this job the better, on account of she thinks the Voleks know
something about that howling.  She tells tales about the
Volek family that'd make your hair stand on end.  Makes me
think maybe I oughta quit."
     "Yeah, but where else'd you get such good money?"
     "Money ain't everything."
     It had never been the money that kept her at Volek
House, Jael thought as she moved out of earshot.  From the
beginning Marti was the reason she'd stayed.  And now she'd
failed Marti.  She passed the music room where Cecelia, who
exercised every day, was dancing while Samara played for her.
Jael stopped to watch and saw Bren dancing, too.
     Or was it a dance?
     "Hand Strums the Lute," Cecelia called to Bren.  Then,
seeing Jael, halted her graceful movements.
     "I didn't mean to disturb you," Jael began.
     "You aren't."  Cecelia studied her a moment.  "Come
here, Jael."
     When Jael reached her, Cecelia reached up and briefly
kneaded the back of Jael's neck.
     "You've got yourself so worked up," Cecelia said, "that
your muscles are as tight as a stretched elastic band."
     "I can't help being worried."  Jael's tone was
defensive.
     "Worried, yes, that's understandable.  But blaming
yourself is wrong.  No one in the world could stop Marti once
she made up her mind to do something, so why should you think
you might have?  Come, join Bren and me in T'ai Chi Ch'uan.
It's a wonderful remedy for worry."
     "I'm no dancer," Jael protested.
     "This is different.  When I was young I studied with
Madame DuJour in San Francisco.  Madame spent her childhood
in Indo China where she embraced many customs of the Orient.
She insisted any dancer she taught must learn T'ai Chi Ch'uan
for inner harmony.  Only after reaching such harmony, Madame
believed, can anyone truly express herself.  T'ai Chi Ch'uan
is the Taoist way of placing the body and mind in harmony
through a series of basically simple specialized movements."
     "I'm not at all graceful," Jael said.  "And I'm not
dressed for--"
     "This will teach you grace."  Cecelia ran an appraising
eye over Jael's sensible low heeled shoes and full skirt.
"Your clothes are fine."
     "It's fun," Bren chimed in.  "Honest."
     "We'll start with a simple exercise, Grasping the Bird's
Tail," Cecelia said.  "Listen carefully and do as I do."
     Seeing she had no choice but feeling exceedingly
foolish, Jael did as she was told.
     After they finished, Cecelia praised her, saying she'd
done well for a beginner.  Bren, who trailed Jael from the
music room, offered to teach her more of the movements.
     "You have to go slow at first," he confided, "but once
you know all the motions by heart you can speed them up.  If
you do Golden Cockerel Stands on One Leg fast you can see
it's really for fighting."
     Jael cocked an eyebrow at him. "Cecelia said the
exercises were for harmony, not fighting."
     "Fighting's like dancing.  You can't fight well till you
have inner harmony."  Bren was as patient as if she were the
child and he the adult.  "Once you get mind and body working
together you can do anything.  Confucius says so in the book
Aunt Cecelia bought me.  He was a great man and he was
Chinese, like me."
     Jael smiled.  "I've heard of Confucius."
     "I can't ever be a shaman like Beth or get into people's
minds like Marti 'cause I wasn't born a Volek.  So I decided
to learn to be a good fighter.  If my mother and father had
known how to fight, maybe they wouldn't have died."
     "If you're not a Volek then you don't carry the curse of
shapeshifting either," she reminded him.
     He leaned closer to her and lowered his voice.  "That's
why I couldn't be friends with Curtis even before he shifted.
'Cause I knew he would sometime."
     "Remember, Curtis didn't ask to be a shifter."
     Bren shot her a sideways glance. "They never told you
how come I'm named Volek, did they?"
     "Probably because they adopted you."
     "Yeah, but you know why they adopted me?  It's 'cause
when Quincy was first locked up, he escaped as a beast and
killed my mother and my father.  I wasn't born yet but Waino
cut into my mother and saved me."
     Horrified, Jael bit back a startled exclamation.  "Who
told you this?" she asked.
     "It's true.  I heard Aunt Griselda and Uncle Arno
talking about it when I was six.  I was glad when I knew
Quincy was dead."  Bren stepped away from her and executed a
rapid T'ai Chi Ch'uan movement, one with doubled fists and
kicking feet.
     When he finished, he looked at her from under his brows.
"You're the only one who can find Marti, aren't you?"
     Taken aback, still shocked by his revelation about his
parents, Jael tried to decide what to say.  "I might be able
to," she replied cautiously.
     "So why don't they let you hunt for her?"
     Before she could come up with an answer, he went on.
"Marti's not really a shifter, Curtis made her do it.  If we
could rescue her from him she'd be just Marti and never
change into a beast again."
     "It's more complicated than that, Bren."
     His expression took on a sullen cast.  "That's what
adults always say when they don't want to listen.  If you'd
come with us and find Marti, Beth and I could control Curtis
and bring Marti back home."
     "Marti might not want to return."  Jael's voice was sad.
     "Does that mean you won't help Beth and me?"
     Heeding the undercurrent in his voice made her realize
that Bren, at least, meant to search on his own if she
wouldn't accompany him.  She couldn't permit that, it was too
dangerous.
     Surely Beth wouldn't go along with such a harebrained
scheme and maybe, knowing Bren better, Beth could talk some
sense into him.  "Let me talk to Beth before I make any
decisions," she temporized.
     Glancing at her watch, she saw it was almost noon.  Jael
had fallen into the habit of looking in the study around noon
because someone always had the radio on then, tuned to a news
broadcast.  Today, Bren followed her there.  Ivan was alone
in the study.
     Again, fighting--the Spanish Civil war, Germany invading
the Rhineland, Italy in Ethiopia--dominated the news.  The
United States government reiterated its policy of
neutrality.
     "I fought one war in Europe," Ivan said, "and one was
enough.  Damned right we should stay out of it and let them
settle their own squabbles."
     "Were you in the trenches?" Bren asked.
     Ivan nodded.  "A nasty business."  He went on talking
about fighting in France until the station switched to local
news.
     "Wolves or grizzlies?" the announcer asked.
"Thompsonville's abuzz with reports of sightings of wild
beasts roaming the Sierra foothills.  Ranchers living close
to the hills claim the animals must be wolves because they
howl at night but Jack Robertson, a forest service worker,
insists what he saw two nights ago was a grizzly."
     "'Over six feet, walked like a man,' Robertson said in
his interview with a reporter for the Visalia Times-Delta.
'God never created any such wolf.'"
     Ivan sighed.  "No, God didn't.  But I've often wondered
why in hell He created Voleks who turn into beasts."
     Not only shapeshifters, Jael thought, but the dark
hunters who prey on them.  Why?
     Wasn't it past time the Voleks did more to find out?

 
                          Chapter 12

     The day was uncomfortably hot despite the shade of the
pines.  August, Jael had discovered, was always hot in the
valley.  She pushed the brim of her straw hat up to dab at
the perspiration on her forehead, thinking how much cooler it
would be inside the stone fortress of Volek House.  But Beth
and Bren were determined to look for Marti and Jael hadn't
felt they ought to go outside the grounds on their own, even
in broad daylight.
     Besides, there was always the possibility she might pick
up a trace of Marti where no one else had.  After all, she
was the only one who was attuned to Marti's mind.
     "We can't go too far," she cautioned, "because we have
to be back by sundown.  And, besides, I wouldn't want to get
lost."
     "We won't get lost as long as we stick to the
blazed trails," Bren assured her.
     Jael, a city girl, had trouble spotting the blazed trees
even when the other two pointed them out to her.  "I'm not
much of a woodsman," she said.  The next moment she jumped
when something darted from under her feet and raced up a pine
trunk.
     "Just a squirrel," Bren said.  "Don't be afraid, there
aren't any dangerous animals around here."
     "During the day, anyway," Beth added.  "Except maybe for
rattlesnakes.  But we're not likely to run across any."
     The very thought of poisonous snakes made Jael shudder.
     "I love the scent of pines, don't you?" Beth said.
     Jael took a deep breath and had to admit the smell was
pleasant.  If she viewed it objectively, there was also
beauty to be found in the way the sun slanted through the
thickly needled branches, just as the sound of the wind in
those branches soothed the ear.  She decided to make a
determined effort to forget her uneasiness and try to enjoy
the woods as much as she could.  If her mind was calmer her
senses might be sharper.
     Time passed, Jael's handkerchief became soaked with
perspiration, and still they plodded on.  This is truly a
fool's errand, she told herself when they paused at last to
rest.  She leaned against a fallen log and closed her eyes,
one thought pulsing through her mind. Marti, Marti where are
you?
     No answer came and she half-dozed, vaguely aware of Bren
and Beth arguing about whether Curtis was to blame or not.
     "There's nothing wrong with Curtis except Marti," Beth
snapped finally.  "He never would've run off like this if
Marti hadn't persuaded him to.  I've come along for his sake,
not hers."
     Bren retreated into temporary silence.  Overhead a
bluejay called and, from far off, another jay answered.
Jael, lulled by the reassuring sounds of the pine grove,
didn't at first recognize the faint stirring in her mind for
what it was.
     Marti!
     Her eyes flew open.  Quelling the impulse to leap
to her feet, she mentally cast in all directions, questing.
Which way?  Where?  It was difficult to be sure.  Marti, she
could tell, wasn't deliberately contacting her.
     I've come close enough to sense her, Jael decided, doing
her best to tamp down her excitement since she wanted no
emotion to interfere with her sensing.  She rose and turned
in a slow circle, once, twice, three times.
     There.  Jael stopped, facing the direction where the
feeling of Marti's presence was the strongest.
     "Did you find her?" Bren whispered.
     "She's somewhere off that way," Jael said, pointing.
"Not close."
     "I told you Jael could find her," Bren muttered to Beth.
     "That's north," Beth said.  "We'll lose the marked trail
if we head north."
     Bren pulled out a pocketknife.  "I'll make our own
blazes and we can follow them back."
     Eager to go on now that she sensed Marti, Jael made no
protest.
     "If Marti's there, Curtis will be, too," Beth said.
"Okay, lead on."
     They hiked north, haltingly now as Jael made frequent
stops to be sure she still sensed Marti and Bren cut notches
in tree trunks.  The pines thinned, giving way to scruffy
brush among scattered giant boulders.  Deprived of tree
trunks, Bren resorted to hacking off twigs and laying them
across one another, forming arrows to mark their trail.
     The August sun beat down so cruelly that the heat
pressed like a weight on Jael's head and shoulders.  When
clouds edged up the sky to cover the sun, she breathed a sigh
of relief, not worrying about what the clouds might mean.
Thunderheads sometimes gathered over the mountains in the
afternoon but it rarely rained in August.
     "Marti's closer," Jael announced after they'd splashed
across a nearly dry creekbed shaded by live oaks.  She
pointed toward a ragged cliff visible some distance ahead.
     "Caves?" Bren suggested.
     "My father and Uncle Arno would have checked all the
caves," Beth said.
     "They could've missed one," Bren insisted.  "Or maybe
there's a couple they don't know about."  He held out his
hand.  "Hey, was that a drop of rain I felt?"
     Jael stopped and stared up at the sky.  Thick black
clouds roiled overhead and several drops of rain spattered
on her upturned face.  "Maybe we'd better look for some kind
of shelter," she said, certain the rain wouldn't last long.
     "There's an overhang up ahead."  Beth gestured.
     Minutes later, they huddled under a shelf of rock while
rain battered the ground and ran off the surrounding boulders
in rivulets.  Lightning zigzagged down the dark sky and
thunder boomed, echoing from the hills.
     "It hasn't rained in August since I came to Volek
House," Jael said.
     "We get thunderstorms like this once in awhile," Beth
told her.  "Not usually in August, though.  Maybe it was
sent."
     "Sent?" Jael asked.
     "To prevent us from finding Marti and Curtis.  Waino
warned me about a malevolent force that almost conquered Wolf
on his final shaman journey.  When I made my journey I wasn't
attacked, but a shadow watched me.  Watched and waited."
Beth shivered and stared at the slashing rain as if
suspecting the shadow lurked in the heart of the storm.
     Jael thought of her own dark shadow, a shadow that,
thank God, hadn't come to terrorize her since the night she
was forced to set Quincy free from the tower.
     "It's just a storm," Bren muttered.  "Pretty soon the
rain'll stop and we can go on."
     As if in answer, lightning slashed across the sky and a
rolling crash of thunder deafened them.
     Jael glanced at her watch and frowned.  Hadn't it been
two o'clock the last time she looked?  Noticing the second
hand wasn't going around, she shook her wrist.  The watch
didn't restart.  When she checked the winder she found it was
tight.  Neither of the others wore a watch.
     "My watch stopped," she said.  "How long will it take to
get back to the house?"
     "A couple of hours at the most," Bren said.  "Don't
worry, we've got lots of time."
     Beth shook her head.  "Whatever brought the storm also
stopped Jael's watch.  We're in danger."
     The skin prickled on Jael's arms.  Obviously they
could neither locate Marti nor find their way back home as
long as the rain sluiced down like this.  How long would it
last?
     Beth huddled in on herself and began chanting in a
language Jael didn't recognize.  Bren edged closer and Jael
put an arm around him.
     "Is it true what Beth says?" he whispered.
     "I think the storm is just a storm," she said firmly.
"And my watch probably needs a good cleaning."
     "Then maybe what I saw moving around out there was only
some kind of animal that belongs in the hills," he said.
"It's gone now, anyway."
     Nothing was visible except the rain.  How could she be
sure whether Bren had actually seen something or not?
     With no way to tell how much time passed, it felt like
hours to Jael before Bren said, "It looks like the rain's
letting up some."
     He was right.  After a while the rain stopped
altogether, though scattered clouds remained.  Jael stepped
from under the overhang and faced the cliff.  "I feel Marti
strong and clear," she said.  "Not far away.  But it might be
too late in the day to go on."  She took a deep breath,
hating to turn back now but afraid it might be dangerous if
they didn't.  "We'd better start for home."
     "I'm not sure we can," Bren said, staring at the wide
stream of water running down the slope they'd climbed.
"Looks like my markers got washed away."
     "We'll find our way."  Jael's voice was grim.  She urged
Beth from the shelter.  "We've got to reach Volek House
before dark."
     Some time later, Jael admitted they were lost.  The only
reference point any of them recognized was the ragged cliff--
which certainly wasn't the way home.  Yet whichever way they
went they seemed to circle back toward the cliff.
     "I was wrong," Beth said.  "The storm wasn't meant to
keep us from finding Marti and Curtis, it was sent to prevent
us from going home.  We might as well head for the cliff
because we really don't have any choice."  She started in
that direction without waiting for them.
     Jael and Bren hurried to catch up.  Whatever happened,
they must keep together.  And wasn't finding Marti preferable
to wandering, lost and confused, over the hills until
darkness closed in?
     The nearer they came to the cliff, the stronger Jael
sensed Marti.  Marti, not some horrible beast.  Marti, alive,
thank heaven.   She stared at the cliff, lost in her own
thoughts until Bren grasped her arm.
     "Look."  He pointed to a footprint in the wet ground.
     The print hadn't been made by any of their shoes.  It
was smaller than Jael's and about the same size as Bren's and
Beth's.
     Beth crouched beside the print, eyes closed, her hand
hovering over it.  She rose and swung around to look at the
cliff.
     "What do you think?  Is it Marti's?" Jael asked.
     Beth shook her head.  "The print was made by what Bren
saw in the rain."
     "Animals don't wear shoes," Jael said.
     "Stalkers do."  Beth's voice was barely audible.
     A stalker!  Jael clenched her fists.  Stalkers hunted
shapeshifters.  Hunted Marti.  Her Marti.  She gritted her
teeth and marched forward.
     Beth caught her arm.  "Stalkers are dangerous."
     "I won't stand back and let Marti be killed."  Jael
pulled away and hurried on.  After a moment Beth and Bren
caught up to her, keeping a few paces behind.
     Pressure began to grow in Jael's head, becoming so
intense she was forced to a halt.  A frisson of fear rippled
along her spine as she understood what she was feeling.
Whirling, she snapped, "Protect yourself, Beth.  Bren, gather
ch'i energy around yourself.  Quickly!"
     As she shoved them behind a boulder and crouched there
with them, Jael brought her own mind shield into place.
A gun cracked up ahead--once, twice.  The scream of rage
mingling with the shots scraped along her nerves.  Without
warning, she was flung backwards.  She blacked out.
     When Jael came to, she found herself in a tangle with
Beth and Bren.  Weak and depleted, it took all her energy to
extricate herself.  She looked at the others.  Beth's eyes
were open but she seemed in a daze.  Bren moaned with each
breath.  She couldn't be sure how badly they were hurt but,
thank God, they were alive.  When she'd sensed Marti's power
expanding, she'd feared Beth and Bren might not survive the
explosion.
     They'd survived but they were hurt and she had no way to
help them home.  What was she to do when she didn't even know
where home was?  The only thing she was certain of was that
Marti was somewhere near the cliff.  Marti and what else?
     Unable to think of any solution, Jael decided she could
at least try to find Marti.  She got to her feet and trudged
toward the cliff, stopping often to rest.  When she finally
reached its foot, she searched for the opening she knew must
lead to a hidden cave.  After a time she edged between two
boulders and faced a dark maw.  No sound came from within.
     Marti? she thought, finding the mind-send difficult
because of her weakness.  She couldn't see anything in the
darkness and Marti didn't respond--though Jael could sense
her presence.  Gathering courage she didn't know she
possessed, Jael forced herself to enter the cave, shuffling
and groping her way inside.
     She tripped over something soft and almost fell.
Fighting her fear, she knelt and ran her hands over the
obstacle.  A human body.  Alive, because a pulse beat faintly
in the neck.  Not Marti's features, her fingers told her.
Long hair.  She snatched her hands away.  Curtis didn't have
long hair.  This was the body of a stranger.  Of a stalker?
     Doing her best to ignore her rising terror, Jael edged
past the body, hands outstretched.  She found a second body
several feet away from the first.  No pulse.  Her fingers
touched a warm, wet and sticky substance she feared was
blood.  From the short hair on the head she decided it must
be Curtis.  Dead.
     Marti lay about a foot to his right, the pulse in her
neck so thin and thready Jael thought at first there was
none.  Lifting Marti into her arms, she staggered toward the
dim opening, left the cave, inched around the boulders and
stumbled into the open where she eased Marti to the ground
and slumped beside her, unable to go on.
     Colors streaked the western sky; the sun was setting.
Jael understood this but it had no meaning.  Her mind roiled
chaotically, she was unable to think.  Shadows crept around
her, growing darker and darker.  A distant call was repeated
again and again.  A bluejay?  Some time passed before she
realized what she heard was a man shouting her name.
     Jael opened her mouth but only a croak emerged.  She
was as mute as poor Marti.  A memory surfaced of a childhood
talent she'd learned from the boys in the orphanage.  Putting
her little fingers into her mouth and placing her tongue just
so, Jael blew.  The whistle cut through the gathering
darkness.
     By the time the search party--Ivan, Arno, Nicholas and
Reynolds--reached her, Jael was able to speak in a whisper
and tell them enough so they could find the others.  Then she
collapsed.
 
     When Jael awoke she was in her own bed, wearing one of
her nightgowns.  Narrow strips of sunlight leaked through the
slits in the blinds so she knew many hours had passed.  Her
first thought was of Marti.  She sat up, steadying herself
against dizziness, carefully got to her feet, made her way
unsteadily to the connecting door and opened it.
     Marti lay in her bed with her mother bending over her.
Druse straightened as she glanced at Jael.  "You shouldn't be
up."
     "How is she?" Jael asked.  She'd never seen Marti look
so frail, almost shrunken.
     "Alive."  Druse blinked back tears.  "But she doesn't
respond at all."
     "Beth and Bren?" Jael asked.
     "They'll recover, I think.  I'm not so sure about the
other one."
     Jael stared at her.  "I thought Curtis was dead."
     Druse sighed.  "He is.  The men buried him in the hills
rather than bringing him home and having to answer questions
about his death.  The official story has Curtis visiting his
Uncle Leo in Chicago.  By the other one I meant the stalker."
     "You mean the stalker's here at Volek House?"
     "She was alive--what could they do, leave her there to
die?  Or worse, recover and come hunting us?"
     "But she--I mean, isn't she dangerous?"
     "Not yet.  And she may never be.  You'll understand when
you see her.  For now you really should rest."
     Jael couldn't.  Though it took her some time to dress
herself, she persisted, then returned to Marti's room.
"Let me stay here with her," she begged Druse.
     By the next day, Jael felt well enough to visit Beth and
Bren, who'd been bedded down side by side in the old nursery.
     "Marti used her power, didn't she?" Beth asked.
     Jael nodded.
     "I knew she was dangerous.  If I hadn't taken my shaman
journey, so I knew enough to deflect her power, I'd be dead."
Beth looked over at Bren.  "Poor kid, he got the worst of
it."
     Bren's eyes were dark slits in his swollen face.  His
voice was a hoarse croak as he asked, "How's Marti?"
     "She's still in a coma."
     "She'll be all right, won't she?"
     "I don't know."  Jael realized she sounded as hopeless
as she felt.  Deep within her she knew Marti would never get
well.
     Jael was sure the terrible scream she'd heard when the
gun went off had been Marti's as she realized Curtis would
die.  Without Curtis, she feared Marti had no will to live.
     "Have you seen--her?" Beth asked.  "The stalker?"
     "Not yet."
     "My father says they intend to study her, to try to find
out just what a stalker is.  After you visit her, let me know
what she's like, will you?"
     Later, gazing down at the pale face of the brown-haired
young woman who lay on a cot in the tower room, Jael's first
thought was that the stalker looked completely ordinary.
     Waino was alone with the woman.  He drew Jael aside,
speaking in low tones.
     "Druse examined her thoroughly and found nothing
unusual--she might be anyone.  Except, of course, she
survived Marti's explosion of power, unlike those four in LA.
Jennifer's arriving tomorrow to see Marti and I'll ask her to
look at Susan.  As a doctor she might find something Druse
missed."
     "Susan's her name?"
     Waino nodded.  "Sometimes a person in a coma will
respond to questions.  When Druse asked her name, that's what
she said.  We didn't learn anything more.  The only other
word she uttered was 'mama'."
     Jennifer's examination revealed nothing that set Susan
apart from any other human.  Susan, Jennifer believed, had
sustained brain damage--how severe she couldn't determine as
yet.  The prognosis she gave for Marti was even gloomier.
     "I'd never admit this to a colleague," Jennifer told
Druse and Jael, "but it seems to me I examined only the shell
of Marti, that her body lives but her spirit or soul or
whatever one calls it, is missing."
     Jael had felt something similar, the same feeling she
used to have of a body's emptiness after a patient died.  Yet
Marti's body lived.  Where was her essence?
     "What can we do for Marti?" Druse asked Jennifer.
     "I don't know what to tell you other than to feed her,
massage her arms and legs to keep her muscles in tone, wait
and--hope."
     "What about the baby?" Jael asked.
     Jennifer shrugged.  "Marti may miscarry, she may not.
The pregnancy's a severe drain on her limited resources but
she's so frail I doubt she'd survive if I attempted an
abortion."
     Marti wouldn't want an abortion.  Marti, Marti where are you?
Jael thought desperately.  The body on the bed
didn't respond.  Not wanting to break down in front of
Jennifer, Jael walked to the window and stared unseeingly at
the pine grove, her forefinger absently tracing circles on
the sill, circles that led nowhere.
     Jael blinked, coming to attention.  Marti had mentioned
circles to her once.  Something about traveling along
concentric circles....
 
     Marti swooped from her perch at the top of a tall
sycamore, glorying in her noiseless flight as she stalked the
prey.  After circling she dropped, talons extended to pounce
triumphantly on the baby rabbit nibbling grass near the rose
garden.  Its death wail stopped abruptly as one of her talons
pierced its heart.  Carrying the carcass to a wide, low
branch, she fed, gorging on the bloody meat, swallowing fur
and all.  Later, she'd eject in a neat wad what she couldn't
digest.
     She lived for the night and the hunt, sleeping during
the day on her secret perch in the pine grove, a place so
hidden even the nosy, noisy jays hadn't yet discovered where
she roosted.
     After she'd eaten her fill, she preened her white
feathers and then flew up to a higher branch for a clear view
of her hunting grounds.
     She was an owl, a majestic white owl, a relentless and
devastating hunter.  When doubts gnawed at her, she cast them
out as ruthlessly as indigestible fur.  She was an owl; an
owl she'd remain.  And if the caller would leave her alone
she'd be supremely content.
     Lately something new had been nagging at her, something
besides the caller, something tiny but perpetually demanding.
Worse, every so often she sensed the owl as a being apart
from her.  Such episodes lasted only momentarily but they
disoriented her, distracting her from the hunt.
     She hooted four times--low, mournful cries proclaiming
her ownership of the hunting grounds and establishing that
she was an owl.  Twice more she hooted, hoping to banish the
urge stealing over her, an urge that came more and more
often, the urge to fly to the great stone building, perch on
the top of a tall apricot tree nearby and listen to the
caller.  An urge she found impossible to resist.
     As soon as her claws gripped the apricot limb, she
stared with her round yellow eyes at the light shining in the
building while the calling crept insidiously inside her.
Come back, it demanded.  Leave the owl, return to yourself.
You’re Marti, not an owl.  Marti.
     She knew she was Marti but she was also an owl.  One and
the same--Marti/owl.
     Come back.  Your body is dying.  If you body dies, so
will your child.  Curtis’ child.
     She wouldn't listen; she refused to understand.  And
yet, deep inside she knew what the words meant.  Deep inside
where an abyss of terror and pain waited to engulf her if she
ever forgot she was an owl.
     With a frantic flapping of her powerful wings, she
swooped from the tree and flew into the night.
     How many nights passed before the caller and the tiny
demander linked?  She didn't know for she was an owl and owls
have no concept of time other than day and night.  But the
linkage was strong enough to force her to the apricot tree at
dusk, before her nightly hunt.
      Marti, Marti, come Marti, the baby is dying.  You must come
back.  Now!  Hurry!  The call vibrated through her,
mingling with the insistent throbbing demand from the tiny
other until she couldn't bear the pressure.
     With a sickening wrench, Marti split away from the owl.
It flew off into the shadows but she spun the other way,
falling, falling, falling into the light inside the stone
building.
     Marti opened her eyes.  Two faces hovered above her.
Her mother.  Jael.
      Marti?  Jael mind-sent.
     A spasm of abdominal pain gripped Marti and she clutched
at her stomach.   Hurts, she told Jael.
     Your baby’s trying to be born.
     Baby.  Her baby.  No longer could she shore up the
fragile dam she'd constructed against the devastating flood
of truth:  The stalker.  The gun.  Curtis dying.  She wailed,
a terrible cry of pain and grief and rage.
      The baby, Jael reminded her.  Think of you baby.  The
baby belongs to Curtis, too.  Try to be strong for the baby’s
sake.
     Another abdominal spasm transfixed Marti.  She gripped
Jael's hand hard.
    
     Nicholas is flying your cousin Jennifer here from San Francisco,
Jael told her.  She’s a doctor; she’ll help you.
     Marti knew Jennifer was a doctor but the pain was so bad
she didn't think anything could help her.  Please make the hurting
stop, she begged Jael.  Ask mama to give me one of her potions.
     We can’t give you anything because the baby’s coming early.
Whatever you take will affect the baby and it might be harmed
if Druse gave you medicine for your pain.
     For a moment Marti hated the baby for putting her
through such agony.  Hated the baby and Curtis, too, for
giving her the baby, then dying and leaving her alone.
She focused her attention on the baby and retreated in
confusion and shock at the blast of terror she felt.
Something’s wrong, she told Jael.
     Everything’s all right.  You’ll forget the pain when you
hold your baby in your arms.
     Marti recoiled at the notion of holding whatever it was
she'd encountered inside her. It’s not a baby.  Tears wet
her cheeks.  Beasts mated, not Curtis and me.  We were beasts.
A grinding, overwhelming spasm interrupted her
attempt to explain.  Searing pain filled her body and mind
until nothing else existed....
 
     Jael stared in revulsion at the thing Jennifer removed
from Marti.  She'd seen monsters born before but this one was
the most grotesque of all.  It lay on the sheet-draped table
next to the bed, the after-birth still attached.  Thick hair
covered most of its misshapen male body, a body barely
recognizable as human.   Thank God it had never drawn breath.
     "There's another coming."  Apprehension, then shock rang
in the doctor's voice.  "Oh, Christ!"
     Jael bit back a scream as the tiny muzzle of a beast
pushed out from Marti's birth canal.  She heard Jennifer's
teeth grit together as the doctor nerved herself to ease the
rest of the small furred body free.  Another male.  It opened
its eyes, snarled weakly, revealing needle-sharp teeth, and
began to cough.
     Aware it was choking from mucus in its air passages,
Jael involuntarily reached for the creature, ready to help it
breathe as she would any newborn.
     "No."  Jennifer held the beast cub away from her.  When
the placenta slid out, she laid the creature on the table
next to its dead twin, warning, "Don't touch it."
     Jael bit her lip as the thing struggled in vain for air.
She glanced at Druse who was staring aghast at the creature
who was her grandchild.  Beast or not, how could they stand
back and let it die?  Jael opened her mouth to say so when
the doctor's gasp distracted her.
     "Good God, here comes another!" Jennifer cried.  "A
litter of the damn things."
     The tiny naked buttocks of a third male appeared in the
birth canal.  Perspiration beaded Jennifer's forehead as she
worked to bring down the legs and then ease free the baby's
head.
     "Human," Druse whispered.  Her eyes rolled up and she
crumpled to the floor in a faint.
     At the same time, Jennifer handed the baby to Jael,
saying tersely, "Hemorrhage."
     Jael, hurriedly clearing mucus from the infant's throat,
was aware of the blood pouring from Marti and the doctor's
frantic efforts to stem the bleeding.  Futile efforts.
Helpless to alter what was happening, she agonized as Marti's
presence in her mind faded.
      A baby boy, Jael told Marti.  You have a son.
     She could only hope her mind-send didn't come too late
for Marti to understand.

 

 
                          Chapter 13

     Jael paused just inside the study door, two-year-old
Elias balanced on her hip.  Waino sat behind the desk with
twelve-year-old Sara and Zach standing on the other side,
facing him.  Sara tossed her dark hair, disarranging the
smooth pageboy.
     "I don't care what anyone says, Susan wouldn't ever,
ever hurt me."  Sara glared at her twin brother.  "I bet you
tattled."
     Zach shook his head.  "I never did."
     Jael intervened.  "I was the one who told Waino."
     Both Sara and Zach swung around to stare at her.  Jael
eased the door shut, crossed to the leather couch and sat
down, shifting Elias to her lap.  He shoved his thumb into
his mouth and leaned against her.
     "It's none of your business what I do," Sara muttered.
     "That's quite enough, Sara."  Waino spoke curtly.  "When
any child in Volek House deliberately defies a safety rule
it's everyone's business."
     "I'm not a child!"  Defiant to the last, that was Sara,
her nature as dark as her hair.
     "Since you've shown you're not to be trusted," Waino
said, "you'll stay away from Susan altogether."
     "But she likes me the best," Sara protested.  "Better
than anyone else.  And she's as harmless as a baby.  As
harmless as Elias here.  What's wrong with me being alone
with her?"
     Waino sighed.  "Susan's brain may be permanently
damaged, she may have no more intelligence than a two-year-
old, but she's still a stalker, with stalker instincts.  Can
you deny she hates shifters?"
     Sara grimaced.  "Cousin Arno scared her.  Otherwise she
wouldn't have tried to bite him."
     Waino fixed his pale gaze on Sara.  "The rule is that no
child is ever to be alone with Susan.  You were aware of the
rule and deliberately broke it.  Since you can't be trusted,
you will not visit her again, even with an adult accompanying
you."
     Sara glared defiantly at him.  She'd never been an easy
child, Jael reflected, even as a baby.  Zach's sunny
disposition made him a family favorite from the first--not
so Sara.  Perhaps she'd sought Susan's company because she
felt no one else, except for Zach, wanted her around.
     Dark Sara and golden-haired Zach hardly looked like
brother and sister, much less twins, but they'd always been
close.
     "You just wait!" Sara cried.  "As soon as I'm eighteen
and get my money, I'm leaving Volek House forever."   She
whirled and ran from the study, Zach trailing after her.
    Waino looked at Jael and shook his head.  She knew the
Eastman twins had inherited half their father's estate, the
money held in trust until they were eighteen, with their
half-brother Oscar Eastman as executor.  Oscar had never once
visited them, his only acknowledgement of their existence was
the yearly financial statements he sent to Ivan, the twins'
legal guardian.
     "Rebellion everywhere," Waino said.  "Rebellion and war.
I heard on the radio this morning that Russia has sent troops
to subjugate Finland.  For over one hundred years we Finns
bowed our necks to Russian rule.  In 1917 the World War set
us free.  Now, a mere twenty-two years later, another war
threatens Finland's freedom.  Russians--pah!"
     Elias slid off Jael's lap, climbed down from the couch
and toddled over to Waino, leaning against his leg and
smiling up at him.  Though for some reason Marti's son
mistrusted males, he made an exception for two of them--Bren
and his grandfather.
     "Gr'pop sing!" the boy demanded.
     Waino picked Elias up and sat him on the desk.  "Sing
what?" he asked.
     "Sing lohi," Elias said.
     The word, Jael had learned, was Finnish for salmon.
What Elias requested was the tale of a maiden who turned
herself into a fish rather than marry a man she didn't love.
Elias couldn't possibly understand the meaning of the song,
in Finn or English, but it was his favorite.
     Waino cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair.
He began in Finnish, not quite singing, not quite chanting,
but a peculiar combination of the two that always held Jael
spellbound even though she understood very little Finn.
     Elias, sitting on the desk, swayed back and forth in
rhythm with his grandfather's cadence.  Near the end of the
song, when the maiden escapes her unwanted suitor for the
second time, Waino switched to English:
      "Oh, poor old Vainamoinen
       Poor dim-witted old conjurer
       You held Aino in your hands
       In your hands you held the maiden
       You saw but a giant fish, a salmon
       Only a salmon for your dinner
       In the fish that slipped between your fingers
       Slipped back into the lake's blue water
       You could not see Joukahainen's sister
       In the slippery silver salmon
       Poor dim-witted Vainamoinen
       Aino will never be your bride."
     "Lohi, lohi, lohi," Elias chanted after Waino stopped.
"Aino, lohi, jarvi, jarvi."
     Waino, chuckling, nodded at him.  "That's right, Aino's
the salmon in the lake.  What a smart boy you are!"  He
lifted Elias, hugged him and set him on the floor.
     Jael beamed at them both.  Elias was her heart's joy.
Though she'd never forget Marti, caring for the boy had eased
the pain of Marti's death.  To her relief, Elias seemed to
have inherited none of his mother's strange abilities or
disabilities.  Rhythm--singing, dancing and music--fascinated
him.  When she practiced with Bren, it amazed her to watch
Elias imitate Bren's T'ai Chi Ch'uan movements.  Already the
child was better than she'd ever be.
     As she rose and reached for Elias's hand, the gate
buzzer rang.  Waino flipped a switch and spoke into the
house-gate intercom.
     "Who is it?" he asked.
     "Your prodigal stepson," came the answer.
     "Leo!"  Waino jumped up and pushed the activating
mechanism to open the gates.  "Leo's come home," he said as
much to himself as to her.  "Come home at last."
     Jael, surprised to find her heart hammering, covered her
confusion by picking up Elias.  Why on earth should she be
affected by Leo's return?  He might have kissed her goodbye
all those years ago but the kiss had meant nothing to him.
Nothing to her, either.  Nothing at all.
     "Leo," Elias said, trying out the new word.  "Leo."
     "Uncle Leo," she told him, wishing her pulse would stop
fluttering so crazily.
     Jael found herself following Waino as he hurried to the
front door,  She stopped abruptly.  No.  She wasn't anyone
Leo cared about; it wasn't her place to stand on the steps in
welcome--that right belonged to his mother.  She climbed the
two flights of stairs to the tower room where, she knew,
Druse was amusing Susan.  Since Susan flew into a tantrum if
anyone tried to make her leave the tower, the women took
turns spending time with her there.
     "Leo's home," Jael told Druse.
     Tears gathered in Druse's eyes even as a smile lit her
face.  "Leo!"
     "I'll stay with Susan," Jael told her, handing Elias to
Druse.  For some reason the child's presence always upset
Susan.
     Susan smiled uncertainly at her after Druse and Elias
left.  "Leo," she said, much as Elias had earlier.  "Leo?"
     "Leo's your friend, just as I am," Jael assured her.
She picked up a piece of drawing paper and pretended to
admire the childish scribblings.  "What pretty colors."  As
usual, the paper was covered with every red color in Susan's
crayon box, from deep pink to magenta.
     "Red," Susan chanted.  "Red, red, red."  She sat cross-
legged on the floor, careless of the way her skirt hiked up
onto her thighs, and rummaged through the wooden crayon box.
     Because her brain damage had left Susan with no more
sense of modesty than a two-year-old, they'd tried to dress
her in slacks but she wouldn't wear them.  Nor did she like
pajamas.  If a garment didn't have a skirt, Susan refused to
put it on.
     Somewhere in her twenties, she'd once been an attractive
woman, with even features, glossy dark hair and a generously
curved figure.
     Far prettier than I could ever be, Jael thought.  Even
now, lacking in wit though she is, Susan's better looking
than I.
     Holding up the stub of a bright red crayon, Susan smiled
in triumph.  "Red."  She grabbed a blank sheet of paper and
slashed the crayon back and forth across it.
     Jael sat on the floor and watched her, thinking of
Waino's warning to Sara.  Most of the time Susan's behavior
was on a par with Elias's.  Was it true something darker
lurked underneath her childishness?  Jael shook her head.
Marti's explosion had maimed Susan permanently.  Even if
stalker impulses remained in a corner of her shattered mind,
Susan lacked the mental capacity to carry them out in any
dangerous way.
     It would have been better for us all, Susan included,
she thought, if Marti had killed her.
     Hearing the door open, Jael started to turn but just
then Susan thrust the red-smeared paper at her.  "See?" Susan
asked brightly.  "All dead."
     With the paper in her hand, Jael swung around.  Her
breath caught and her mind roiled in confusion at the sight
of the man in the doorway.  What was Leo doing here when he'd
scarcely had time to greet his family?  It surely couldn't be
because he wanted to see her!  Or could it?
     His scowling gaze slid over her and fixed on Susan.
Susan stared at him wide-eyed.  Gathering her wits, Jael
rose and stammered, "Hello, Leo.  Welcome home."
     "Leo," Susan muttered.  "Don't like Leo."
     "The feeling's mutual," Leo snapped.
     The harsh tone of his voice alarmed Jael.  "Susan's
harmless," she said hurriedly.
     Leo flicked her a bitter glance.  "Stalkers are never
harmless."
     Susan got onto her hands and knees and crawled rapidly
toward Leo.  Remembering this was the way Susan had attacked
Arno and belatedly recalling that Leo was a shifter, Jael
cried, "Get out, Leo!  Now!  Hurry!"
     Watching Susan, he didn't move.
     "She'll try to bite you," Jael warned, trying to
intercept Susan.  The woman scuttled away from her, angling
toward Leo.
     Leo smiled thinly, a deadly humorless smile that chilled
Jael.  His hands clenched and unclenched.  She darted between
him and Susan, more afraid now for Susan than for him.
     "No, Susan," she said firmly.  "Bad girl."
     Susan ignored her.  Leo shoved Jael aside so roughly
she staggered into the wall, watching helplessly as Susan,
still on all fours, lunged at him.  He swiveled, lashing out
with his foot.  His kick caught Susan in the side.  She
screamed in pain as she sprawled on the floor.
     The door slammed open and Waino hurried in.  "Don't be a
damn fool, Leo," he warned.  "You'll have the servants on the
stairs goggling in a minute.  Volek House can't stand any
more gossip."  He laid a hand on Leo's arm.
     From the floor, where she crouched by the moaning,
weeping Susan, Jael saw Leo shake off Waino's arm.
     "Either come with me," Waino said coldly, "or I'll call
the whole damn tribe to haul you out of here while the
servants gawk.  Is that what you want?"
     "I saw him."  Leo's voice was so low Jael could barely
hear him.  "Saw the goddamned stalker bastard kill Quince.
Kill my brother."
     "Harming Susan's like hurting a baby," Waino told him.
"And it won't bring Quince back."
     "Christ, you've even named her."  Disgust colored Leo's
words.  He stared down at Susan for a long moment and then,
to Jael's relief, turned and strode from the room.
     "Bad," Susan sobbed.  "Bad Leo."
 
     Leo didn't go near the tower room again and, as the
weeks passed, the household settled down, absorbing Leo and
the two children he'd brought with him into the family.
Victor, his son, was a sturdy dark-haired five-year-old and
Jody, Quincy's daughter, the same age, was a delicate blonde.
     Shy at first, the children warmed to Jael after they
began practicing T'ai Chi Ch'uan with Bren, her and Elias.
     "I like it here," Victor told her in late November.  "I
wasn't sure if I would at first but now I'm glad Leo brought
us home."
     He never called his father anything but Leo and Jael
wondered why.  Not that it was any of her business.  The less
she had to do with Leo, the better.
     Jody, more reserved than Victor, didn't admit she liked
it at Volek House until Samara, realizing the girl had a
talent for music, began teaching her to play the piano.
     "Someday we'll be on the radio," Jody confided to Jael
just before Christmas.  "Me and Vic and Eli, we'll play and
sing on Major Bowes and everybody will clap for us."
     On the day before Christmas, Jennifer and her husband
Elton came to visit, bringing Jennifer's twin, Lily, with
them.  Jennifer, obviously pregnant, refused so much as a sip
of the customary Christmas Eve champagne but Lily drank her
share and her twin's as well.  Before dinner, she cornered
Jael in the music room.
     "I like you," Lily told Jael, her words slightly
slurred as she stroked the scars along the left side of her
face.  "You're not pretty, either.  So I'm going to tell
you."
     Jael knew she was no beauty, but she didn't enjoy having
it pointed out to her so bluntly.  "Maybe we'd better join
the others," she said.
     Lily put a hand on her arm.  "Wait.  Want to ask you
something.  Jenny's no good to ask, but you can understand.
There's a man."
     Jael sighed inwardly.  There was always a man.  She
didn't want Lily to confide in her; Lily wouldn't if she
wasn't muzzy from the champagne.
     "You know how I got these scars?" Lily asked.  Without
waiting for an answer, she plowed on.  "Jennifer did it.
She's a firestarter, you know.  She got mad at me and set me
on fire when we were small."
     Marti had once intimated something of the sort so Jael
wasn't surprised but the bitterness in Lily's voice made her
uneasy.  "I'm sorry," she mumbled.
     "So'm I.  Men don't like women with scarred faces.  But
Clint's different.  Maybe it's 'cause he's scarred worse'n I
am.  He says I'm beautiful.  In all my life no one ever told
me that.  No one but Clint."
     Jael tried to find something innocuous to say.  An echo
was the best she could come up with.  "Clint has scars?"
     "He fought against Franco in Spain till his plane was
shot down and they sent him back to the States."  Lily smiled
dreamily.  "Clint's a war hero.  He didn't have to fight but
he thought it was his duty.  Jenny doesn't know about him
yet.  Don't tell her 'cause he's my secret for now."
     "I won't," Jael assured her.
     "Maybe I'll marry him," Lily said.  "If he asks me.  Do
you think he will?"
     Jael nodded, aware that was the response Lily needed.
She could hardly blame Lily.  No man had ever called Jael
Steinmetz beautiful.  If one ever did and she could believe
him, she'd probably be as eager to marry him as Lily was to
be Clint's wife.  But Jael didn't expect any man could find
her beautiful.  The thought depressed her.
     "I think I hear the dinner bell," she said.  "We'd
better go."
     Later that night Jael helped place the children's
presents under the tree in the foyer before she went up to
her room.  After making certain Elias was asleep in the
adjoining bedroom, she lifted a clean cotton flannel
nightgown from a dresser drawer and paused, staring down in
distaste at the garment.  Plain and practical, just like she
was.
     On the outside.  Nobody knew about the inner Jael, a
woman filled with dreams and longings.  She sighed.  No one
ever would know, either.  About to slip into the nightgown,
she paused.  No, she wouldn't wear it, not tonight.  Wrapped
in tissue paper in the bottom drawer was a pair of green silk
pajamas Marti had given her three years ago, a present she'd
never worn.
     Green goes with red hair, Marti had insisted.  You’ll be
gorgeous.
     Jael smiled sadly.  No one would ever take Marti's place
in her heart.
     She unwrapped the pajamas, the soft silk clinging to her
fingers, the emerald green shimmering in the lamplight.  When
she had them on, she gazed at her image in the dresser mirror
and shook her head.  Gorgeous wasn't the right word.  Or even
close.  On the other hand, she didn't look as ludicrous as
she'd feared.  She was simply a skinny red-haired woman
wearing bright green pajamas.
     Remembering that matching silk slippers had come with
the pajamas, she searched the drawer, found the slippers and
slid her feet into them.  Whatever she might look like, she
had to admit she felt elegant.
     All dressed up, she thought, with no place to go.
Except to bed.  Alone.  Where she wouldn't sleep.
     Jael squared her shoulders.  To hell with going to bed.
She'd go down to the study, find a book and read until dawn.
She opened the door, glanced up and down the corridor and
frowned.  What was Sara doing up at this hour?
     Almost immediately she realized Sara was heading for the
tower stairs.  That would never do.  Jael hurried after her,
catching Sara as her hand turned the knob on the door to the
stairs.
     Sara shrank away.  "I wasn't going in the room," she
said defensively, brandishing a small wrapped package.  "I
was just going to open the door a little and leave my present
for Susan inside so she'd find it when she woke up."
     Jael considered.  "Why not let me take the present up to
the room?" she said.  "That way you won't get into trouble
and Susan will still find your gift in the morning."
     "I guess I'll have to."  Sara's tone was sullen.  She
handed Jael the package with ill grace.
     "Leaving a present for Susan to find is a nice thought,
Sara."
     "I want her to know I'm her friend.  But how can I when
Cousin Waino won't let me see her?"
     "I'll speak to him.  After all, Christmas is a special
day, isn't it?"
     Sara brightened a little.  "I hope he listens to you."
     "I do, too.  Goodnight, Sara."
     Jael waited until she was certain Sara meant to return
to her room before she opened the tower door and climbed the
twisting stairs.
     Susan slept in the tower because she was terrified to
leave the room.  Only there did she feel safe.  She slept
alone because the women had gotten tired of taking turns
spending the night in the tower.
     Druse had tried giving Susan a mild sleeping potion in
the evening to make certain she wouldn't wake, find she was
alone and be afraid.  This worked so well it was done every
night.  Once she slept, whoever was with her left, bolting
the door from the outside so Susan was locked safely in the
room until morning.
     Not a perfect solution, perhaps, but an effective one.
     At the top of the stairs, Jael reached to pull back the
bolt, then stopped, staring.  The bolt hadn't been shot,
someone must have forgotten.  A good thing she'd come up
here.  It was unlikely Susan would leave the room on her own
but not impossible.  Jael shuddered to think of her falling
down the stairs.
     Opening the door quietly, Jael started to reach in to
leave the present without entering but a muffled sound caught
her attention.  Was that a sob?  Was Susan crying?  She eased
inside and shut the door.
     Why was it so dark?  Had the night-light burned out?
Maybe Susan was crying because she was afraid of the dark.
Jael listened to the strange noises coming from across the
room where Susan's bed was and suddenly fear swooped down,
paralyzing her.  Susan didn't sound like that.  Something
else was in this room.
     She forced herself to move, to feel along the wall to
the right of the door for the light switch.  As she flicked
it on, Susan gave a muffled, gurgling cry.
     Leo, naked except for his trousers and the amulet around
his neck, stood beside Susan's bed.  Susan, her nightgown
pulled up so it covered her head, sprawled on her back across
the bed.  Blood stained the sheet underneath her.  Jael ran
across the room, pushed Leo aside and freed Susan's face,
yanking the nightgown down to her cover her nakedness.
     Sitting on the bed, she gathered Susan into her arms as
she would have a child, cuddling her, speaking soothingly.
"Jael's here, Susan.  I won't let anyone hurt you.
Everything's all right.  All right."
     She concentrated on calming Susan, ignoring Leo
completely, refusing to even think of him.
     At last Susan's sobs diminished, finally even her
sniffling stopped as she sank back into her drug-induced
sleep.  Jael eased Susan's head onto the pillow, rose and
pulled the disarrayed covers into order.  Then she turned and
looked for Leo, expecting him to be gone.  Instead, he was
leaning against the wall by the door.
     With one last glance at the sleeping Susan, she marched
across the room until they stood face to face, reached over
and opened the door.  "Out."
     He grasped her wrist and yanked her through the door
with him, kicking it shut.
     Jael jerked free of him.  "You raped her."  Contempt
laced her voice.
     He didn't deny the accusation.  "I meant to kill her.
I might have if you hadn't shown up."
     "How brave.  First rape, then murder.  Of someone who's
mentally no more than a child."
     Leo ran a hand over his forehead.  "I got to thinking
about how Quince died.  I should have saved him."  He grabbed
her shoulders and shook her.  "Do you hear me?  It's my
fault!  I should have been with him."
     She smelled the whiskey fumes and realized he'd been
drinking more than champagne.  Careful, she told herself.
He's bad enough sober--God only knows what he might do drunk.
Her first concern was to get him away from Susan.
     Hard though it was to put aside her rage and contempt,
she forced calmness into her mind and her voice, trying to
think of him as nothing but a patient.
     "Come downstairs with me," she said, coaxing and firm at
the same time.  "You need to rest."
     "Rest."  His bark of laughter held no amusement.  "I
haven't rested in years."
     To her surprise, tears filled his eyes and rolled down
his cheeks.  "I looked and looked, I searched everywhere but
I couldn't find the other one.  That little bitch Cosette
took him.  Left me Jody and took him.  Rafe, that's his name.
Took Rafe.  Quince's son.  Lost."
     Jael tried to make sense of this.  "You mean Jody has a
brother named Rafe?"
     "Her twin.  Lost.  I failed."  His hands dropped from
her shoulders.  "Failed Quince all over again."
     Jael took his arm.  "Come with me," she urged, pulling
him toward the steps.  He didn't resist.
     Once they reached the corridor, she led him to his room.
He simply stood there staring at the door so she opened it,
intending to shove him inside, shut the door and hurry back
to Susan in the tower.
     The tide of darkness caught her unawares.  She'd been
free of it for so many years that she'd almost forgotten the
danger haunting her.  "No," she gasped, "Oh, please, no." And
then she was engulfed, her mind and will, her very soul
swallowed by the shadowy crimson evil....
 
     Leo stared at Jael in consternation as she pushed him
inside his room, closed the door and smiled at him.  He
wished his head was clearer.  What the hell was happening?
A minute ago he would have sworn she was the same skinny old
maid he remembered from the past.  But now--now....
     Had her hair always been such a glorious auburn?  Her
green eyes so seductive, her lips so full and inviting?
Where had those rich curves come from, the plump breasts and
soft flare of hips?
     And her scent--potent and compelling, driving him wild.
He reached for her, he couldn't help himself.  The silk of
her pajamas slid soft under his fingers but its feel paled in
comparison to the wonder of her bare skin as she shrugged off
the jacket, then stepped from the pants.
     He'd never seen such a beautiful woman.
     Her fingers coaxed his trousers from him until he stood
as naked as she.  Then she raised her face to him, offering
her lips.  He kissed her, tasting sweetness mixed with a fire
that burned through him, stopping time.
     Sometimes he knew the bed was under them as they
coupled frenziedly, sometimes he thought they lay in the
grass under the moon and sometimes he feared she'd taken him
to the dark underworld where only shamans dared to go.
     He was in her, a part of her, he was consumed by her,
the flames of hell danced in her eyes, he was afraid of her
and yet he couldn't get enough of her.

                          Chapter 14

     Jael opened her eyes and found herself lying on her left
side looking at the pale rectangles of the windows.  Early
morning.  She blinked in confusion.  Surely those windows
should be on the other side of her bed and, besides, she shut
her blinds at night.
     Behind her on the bed something--my God, someone!--
stirred, murmuring inarticulately.  A man.  Terrified, Jael
eased from the bed, shocked to find she was naked.  She
stood staring in consternation at the sleeping man in the
bed.  Leo!  She'd been in his bed.  She was still in his
room.  How had she gotten here?
     Bright green caught her eye--her pajamas.  She crept
around the end of the bed, retrieved the pajamas from the
floor and slid into them, frantic to leave before Leo roused.
Her hand on the doorknob triggered a brief burst of memory.
Night.  In the hall.  Opening Leo's door.  Then darkness, the
terrible, evil darkness.  Then nothing.  Until morning.
Until now.
     She slipped through the door and came face to face with
Griselda, who stopped, looking at her curiously.  Heat
flooded Jael's face--what could she say?  How could she
explain?
     "Good morning," Griselda said.
     "No," Jael blurted in embarrassed humiliation.  "I don't
think it's a good morning at all."
     Griselda raised her eyebrows.
     "It's not what you think," Jael began and paused,
remembering what had happened last night before the darkness
enveloped her.  Susan!  She must go to her.
     "Please," Jael begged Griselda, "would you get Elias up
and look after him for awhile?  I have to go to the tower."
     "I'll enjoy taking care of my grandson.  But surely you
mean to get dressed before--"
     "No, no, I have to go to Susan first.  I'll explain
later."  Jael ran to the tower stairs.
     Samara came into the tower room while Jael was bathing
Susan.  "I thought it was my turn to be with her today,"
Samara said.  Then her glance took in Susan's bloody sheets
and nightgown and she frowned.  "I would have sworn Susan had
her period two weeks ago."
     Haltingly, then with growing anger, Jael told her what
Leo had done to Susan.
     "Bad Leo," Susan muttered when she heard his name.
"Bad, bad."
     "Yes, I'm afraid he was," Samara said.  "But--"  She
paused and shook her head.  "Let me take over, Jael.  You
need to rest if you've been with Susan all night."
     Jael was too upset to correct her.
     Once she reached her own room, Jael hurried into the
bathroom, ran the tub half-full and scrubbed herself until
her skin felt raw.  She winced at the bruises she found in
unexpected places and bit her lip when she washed the
soreness between her legs.  She might not recall what had
had happened but it was all too clear what the evil darkness
had forced her to do.  With Leo.
     Since she couldn't put off telling Waino, when she was
dressed, with a scarf around her neck to hide what looked
like bite-marks on her throat, Jael went to find him.
     Druse told her that because the sun wasn't out to bother
him Waino had gone for a walk on the grounds.
     "He's probably in the pine grove," Druse added.  "Better
take an umbrella, it looks like rain."
     Jael found Waino sitting on a windfall that hadn't yet
been cut up for fireplace wood.  He nodded when she eased
down next to him.
     "I buried them over there," he said, gesturing.  "Where
that sapling's growing.  I transplanted it to hide the
grave."
     She knew he meant Elias's brothers and closed her eyes
for a moment, not wanting to be reminded of those poor little
creatures.
     Waino sighed, his shoulders slumping.  "I'm too old to
dig any more graves."
     Jael cleared her throat.  "I made a promise to tell you
if the darkness ever came over me again."
     He straightened, the dark glasses he always wore
outdoors hiding his pale eyes so she couldn't be sure of his
expression.
     "I'll start with last night, when I found Leo in the
tower room with Susan," she said and went on until she came
to waking in Leo's bed in the morning.
     When she was finished Waino said nothing for a long
time.  Her anxiety drove her to her feet.  She began to pace.
He rose and touched her arm to halt her.
     "I couldn't help what happened," she cried.  "Please
believe me."
     "I never doubted you.  People can't change their
ancestors.  I can't.  Voleks can't.  Neither can you, Jael."
     She stared at him.  "What do you mean?"
     "I suspected your heritage years ago, when you first
mentioned the dark shadow that periodically controlled you.
I wondered then if Wolf had been drawn to you by a force he
didn't realize was guiding him.  After what you've told me
just now about you and Leo, I feel certain Wolf didn't make a
random choice.  Perhaps we'd better sit down again."
     After Jael seated herself on the log again, Waino sat
next to her and took her hand, studied her palm for a moment
and released it before speaking.  "Yuba Steinmetz was not
your birth mother."
     His words fell hard and cold on Jael's heart.  Were they
true?  She longed to deny it but all she finally said was,
"Who was my mother if Yuba wasn't?"
     "I believe she was a New York woman with psychic powers
and that she was plagued by the same evil spirit who haunts
you.  Your true mother and you are blood descendants of that
dark spirit, otherwise it wouldn't be able to control you so
easily."
     Her throat tightened in fear and she glanced over her
shoulder as though expecting to find malevolent shadows
lurking under the pines.  "But what does this have to do with
Wolf finding me?" she asked at last.
     "If what I believe is true, you are Wolf's daughter by
that New York woman."
     Jael drew in her breath.  Wolf's daughter?  How could
she be?
     "Wolf died without realizing who you were," Waino went
on.  "He didn't know the woman had borne his child.  In fact,
he fervently hoped she hadn't.  You see, the spirit tricked
both Wolf and the woman into a union neither wanted.  It
needed a child to further the blood line so it would be able
to extend its control to another generation.  And, of course,
the father had to be a Volek.  Because of Sergei."
     Thoroughly bewildered, Jael shook her head.  "I don't
understand."
     "I can only surmise that long ago Sergei Volek crossed a
very powerful witch, one who vowed revenge on him and his
line forever.  Her power still animates her vengeful spirit,
a spirit dwelling in the underworld.  This evil spirit came
close to conquering Wolf on his last shaman journey.  When I
showed Beth the shaman's path I trembled for her safety but
Beth encountered no malevolence--possibly because a female
Volek is of no interest to the spirit."
     "Are you saying this witch's spirit is the darkness that
forced me to do its bidding?  To free Quincy and to--to lie
with Leo?"
     "Yes.  I believe it intends the downfall of the Voleks
unto the last generation."
     "But I won't live forever.  It can't--"  Jael broke off,
her hand covering her mouth.  "Oh my God!"
     Waino nodded.  "So now you understand the reason you and
Leo were forced to mate."
     "I won't!" she cried.  "I refuse!"
     Waino shrugged.  "In the end, one way or another, I fear
you will.  If not this time, then another."
     Jael shuddered, knowing she had no control over her
actions once the darkness enveloped her.  The thought of
being forced into Leo's bed again turned her stomach.
     "We can arrange a marriage between you and--" Waino
began.
     "No!  Never!"
     "Whatever you wish.  We'll hope that because you as well
as Leo carry Volek blood the witch's influence over the child
may be weakened.  After all, Voleks have survived for many
centuries."
     For whatever comfort that is, she thought sourly.
     "Try not to blame Leo too much," Waino added.  "He was
as driven as you."
     "Not when he raped Susan.  I can never forgive him for
that."
     "Maybe not.  But I can understand his hatred of her.
Stalkers murdered his grandfather, his father and the one he
loved best in all the world, his brother."
     "Why must there be stalkers?" she cried.  "Or shifters?"
     "To learn the answer, Voleks must return to their
beginnings.  But it seems every time one tries to reach
Russia, he's prevented.  Perhaps the Voleks have to learn
more about themselves and about stalkers before going to the
home of their ancestors, perhaps the Volek who will reach the
source hasn't yet been born."
 
     After lunch, while Elias napped, Jael took the
opportunity to lie down on her own bed.  She fell asleep.
     Greenery surrounded her, she was in an alien forest where
all the trees welcomed her.  “We will tell you,” they murmured.  
“Because you are a Volek we will show you the path to knowledge.”
Leafy branches bent down, urging her to climb onto them and be 
lifted into the heart of the oldest tree where lay the secret of the
earth.
     Before she could obey, the greenness was smeared with blood-red
and a crimson-robed witch sprang up where the branches had been,
a cowl hiding her head and face.
     “You are mine, forever mine,”  the witch whispered.  “Earth
knowledge is not for you, never for you.  Or any Volek.  The Voleks
will never learn why, all their attempts have been in vain.  Will be
in vain.  Forever.”
      “No!” Jael tried to cry.  She couldn’t speak.
     Sinister laughter echoed in Jael’s ears as she fought to free
herself from the witch’s control.  When the witch threw back her
cowl, Jael cringed from the grimacing skull.  A red-headed woodpecker
flew from one of the eyesockets and flew into a blood-smeared tree, the 
oldest tree, where it pecked ferociously at the trunk.
	Jael watched in helpless horror, knowing the bird would destroy
the tree’s heart and the secret knowledge within, dooming the 
Voleks forever……

     She woke with a start, her heart racing and found
herself in her room.  Someone was knocking at her door.
Still half in the dream, she stumbled from the bed, opened
the door and drew in her breath.
     "I'm returning your slippers," Leo said, handing them
to her.
     For a moment she gaped at him, unable to understand.
Then reason returned.  She took the slippers wordlessly and
started to close the door.  He edged into the opening and
entered her room.  "We need to talk."
     Jael shook her head and backed away from him until she
came up against her bed.
     "For Christ sake, woman," he growled, "I'm not going to
hurt you.  Sit down and listen."
     She perched stiffly on the edge of the bed.
     "As a rule I steer clear of alcohol," he said.
"Yesterday I broke that rule.  I'm sure you find that no
excuse but it happens to be the reason I lost control.  I'll
always hate that stalker female in the tower but if I hadn't
been drinking I'd have stayed away from her."
     When Jael said nothing, he strode to her, grasped her by
the shoulders and pulled her to her feet.  "Do you
understand?"
     Jael swallowed, her heart pounding in fear mixed with an
emotion she didn't dare identify.  "I understand," she
managed to say, "but that doesn't mean I approve of what you
did."
     He smiled one-sidedly.  "To the stalker, you mean?"
     How she hated him!  "I know I was in your bed," she
snapped, "only because I woke up there.  Whether you believe
me or not, I don't recall any--any details."
     He released her, his eyes narrowing.  "If it weren't for
finding those damn green slippers of yours I'd have trouble
believing it was you in my bed."
     What had the witch made him see? she wondered, pushing
aside the thought of how wantonly she might have unknowingly
behaved.  "According to Waino we were both forced into bed
together.  If you want more of an explanation, you'll have to
speak to him.  Please don't come to my room again."
     "I have the feeling I'm missing something important," he
said.  "That we both are."
     She shook her head.  "Just get out."
     He stared at her, reaching to touch a curl of her hair.
"Red," he said, seemingly to himself.  "And your eyes are
green.  But--"  He broke off, sighed, then turned on his heel
and left.
     Bear his child? she thought, slamming the door shut
behind him.  Bear Leo's child?  She hoped it wouldn't happen,
doing her best to convince herself the idea filled her with
nothing but revulsion.
 
     Jael delivered a red-haired daughter on August 15, 1940,
and called her Yuba after the only mother she'd ever known.
Two days later Susan bore a son.  Griselda insisted on naming
him Daniel.  Both children were given the Volek surname and
both seemed normal.
     Because Susan was incapable of even understanding she
had a baby, Jael nursed Daniel as well as her own child.
Griselda helped her with the boy, taking over his entire care
once he was switched to bottle feedings.
     "His mother killed my son," Griselda said.  "It's only
fair that she give me her son in return."
     In December of 1941, when the babies were eighteen
months old, Griselda decided that this Christmas must be for
Daniel and Yuba.  A happy Christmas.
     "Volek House has seen too many sad times," she told Jael
on the morning of the seventh.  "I hope they're over.  On
Christmas day I intend to unveil my crystal and look into the
future; I've kept it covered ever since I came to live here.
Do you know, before I met him, I asked the crystal to show me
my lover and I saw Arno in it?  I couldn't understand why
there seemed to be two of him and I became confused when I
met Ivan first because I wasn't in love with him."  She
smiled in reminiscence.  "Poor Ivan, he was even more
confused for awhile."
     Knowing Griselda's origin, Jael asked, "Was that in
Germany?"
     "No, in France.  During the World War.  Arno was in the
ambulance corps and Ivan was a soldier."  She sighed.  "I
keep forgetting that because of all the fighting going on in
Europe these days, my war now has to be called the first 
World War."
     Before noon, Arno came dashing into the foyer, where
Griselda, Jael and the older children were sorting through
boxes of decorations from Christmases past.
     "The Japs attacked Pearl Harbor!" he cried.  "They've
attacked us, damn it!  Come and listen to the radio."
     Nicholas flew in the next morning with Reynolds, landing
at the small family airfield near the grounds.
     "I have an announcement," Nicholas said after dinner, as
soon as the servants had left for the night.  Beth and Bren
were amusing the children in the downstairs playroom but the
adults, Jael included, were still gathered around the dining
room table.
     "Really we have an announcement," Nicholas amended.
"Rey and I are enlisting."
     Arno's fist crashed down on the table, rattling the
spoons and coffee cups.  "No!  Not you, Reynolds!  War is
dangerous, war is hell--for any man--but a hundred times more
so for a shifter.  I ought to know; I spent the worst night
of my life in a no-man's-land trench in France fighting the
urge to shift because shifting meant certain death.  I came
damn close to losing."
     "I was thinking of the OSS," Reynolds said mildly.
"They ought to be able to find a niche for me--after all, my
own brother accuses me of being a sneaky SOB."
     "That's because Rey talked to some general in Washington
about getting into the OSS even before the attack on Hawaii
yesterday," Nicholas said, grinning at his brother.  "He's as
good as in and he didn't say a word to me until I told him
last night that I was going to try for the Army Air Corps.  I
suspect he meant to sneak off without so much as a goodbye."
     Arno shook his head.  "The OSS puts men in damn
dangerous situations."
     Reynolds' fingers touched his amulet, hidden under his
shirt.  "Sowilo's kept me safe ever since my first shifting.
Don't worry, Arno, I'll get by okay."
     Jael knew Sowilo was the rune etched onto Reynolds'
amulet.  She didn't understand the meaning of any of the
runes but Waino had assured her they were very powerful
symbols if each rune was matched correctly to the person
wearing it.  That person must also believe implicitly in the
rune's power.
     Without meaning to, without wishing to, she glanced at
Leo and saw, in her mind's eye, his naked chest with his
rune-etched amulet nestled between his male nipples.  Ashamed
of the warmth gathering deep within her, she bit her lip.
She hated the man, why did these mental images of him
persist?
     Leo half-rose, reached across the table and grasped
Reynolds' hand.  "Good luck, Rey," he said.  "I hope you're
right about getting by."
     "We'd best damn well pray he is," Arno muttered.
     "You'd do better to worry about Nick flying around
up there at thirty thousand feet," Reynolds said.
 
     Eighteen months later, his brother's words came back to
Nicholas on the night of August first as he flew with his
six crew members at ten thousand feet over the English
Channel, heading for Germany in a B-17 with a belly full of
bombs, fifth in the formation of eighteen Fortresses.  He
chuckled, thinking how rarely he took old Rockin' Ruby up to
thirty thousand feet.
     "Bomber's moon tonight," Hank, his co-pilot said over
the intercom link, waving a hand at the bright glow of the
full moon.  "Trouble is, that makes it a flak and fighter's
moon, too."
     And a shifter's moon, if you're a Volek, Nicholas
thought, wondering where Rey was tonight.  The last he'd seen
his younger brother, two months ago, Rey was getting ready to
parachute into France on a mission so damn secret he couldn't
talk about it.  But the moon wouldn't bother him, unlike poor
old Quincy, Rey never did have much of a problem with his
shifting.
     "I hardly ever think about it," Rey had told him the
last time he asked.  "Not even when the moon's full.  Maybe
it's like having a low blood count--I've got a low beast
urge."
     Shifters attracted the best-looking girls, though, no
doubt about that.  Rey, quiet as he was, had girls falling
all over him.  Nicholas couldn't really complain, since he
benefitted by the overflow.  There were always plenty of
girls.
     As for himself, he'd always liked the moon.  Sometimes
he imagined he could feel its silver rays piercing his skin
and penetrating to his bones, fizzing like champagne through
him, making him drunk on moonlight.  Lucky he wasn't a
shifter, chances were he'd have a high beast urge.
     "Flying over the Black Forest tonight," Bos, the
navigator, said.  "Better take Rockin' Ruby up high enough so
the ghosties and ghoulies that hang out there don't get us."
     "Mother always told me I'd regret not going to Harvard,"
Hank said.  "They never taught me about the Black Forest at
Penn State."
     "And you're a better man for it," Optie, the rear gunner
put in.
     "Schwarzwald," Bos said.  "Black Forest.  The very sound
curdles the blood."
     "You curdle mine," Hank told him.  "The last thing we
need is some crazy German hex."
     "I thought hex stuff was Dutch," Optie said.
     "Pennsylvania Dutch," Hank told him.  "They're German."
     "Yeah?"  Optie sounded skeptical.
     "My grandma was one of them," Hank admitted.  "When
I was a kid she filled me full of superstitious junk till ma
caught on and made her stop."
     "Give me a for instance," Optie challenged.
     "Okay, try this next time a girl turns you down.  Mind
you, this isn't exactly grandma's version.  Prick your left
little finger and put a drop of your blood in the gal's
drink.  The next prick you feel will be her grabbing yours."
     "Hey, all right," Optie said.
     "That's one of the good ones," Hank went on.  "Most are
bad omens you have to watch out for--funny how that stuff
sticks in the mind.  To this day if I lose a button when I'm
putting on a shirt in the morning I can't shake the feeling
the whole fucking day'll go wrong."
     "Shit!"  Optie's exclamation was heartfelt.  "Why'd you
have to go and tell me about losing a button?  I popped one
when I got dressed tonight."
     There was a long silence.  Nicholas shrugged away the
chill that momentarily raised the hair on his nape.  Shamans
like Cousin Waino might have the ability to cast stones and
read omens in the patterns that formed but losing a button
off a shirt had nothing to do with omens.
     "Optie," he said, "you better make damn sure when you
put your drop of blood in some babe's drink that she knows
how to sew on buttons."
     The crew laughed a little too hard at his mild ribbing,
a sign they were all on edge.  Why the hell shouldn't they
be?  They might call Rockin' Ruby their delivery wagon but it
damn well wasn't milk they were toting to Stuttgart tonight.
     Tension rose in Nicholas when the squadron leader warned
they were nearing their target.  It had been too easy so far.
Nothing's going to go wrong, he told himself.  Just because
it usually wasn't, why shouldn't it be a piece of cake all
the way?
     Despite his uneasiness and the probing searchlights,
Rockin' Ruby's bombardier dropped her load over Stuttgart
without interference.  Nicholas started to circle to get back
on course with flak bursting underneath the plane in bright,
deadly explosions.
     "Messer at three o'clock," Optie said tersely.  "Gonna
get the bastard."
     Before Nicholas was halfway into the turn he felt
Rockin' Ruby shudder.
     "Enemy at ten o'clock," Mac, the second gunner,
reported.
     Rocking' Ruby lived up to her name, dropping jarringly.
We're hit bad, Nicholas thought, dimly conscious as he fought
to regain control of the plane of the maintenance crewman
frantically adjusting dials.
     "Power loss."  Hank's voice was grim.
     Nicholas hadn't completed the turn that would get them
back on the course home.  "Where are we?" he asked Bos.
     "Near as I can tell, heading for the Black Forest."
     They were still losing altitude.  Nicholas clenched his
teeth, fighting to keep the plane in a shallow glide away
from the city.  When it became obvious to him they weren't
going to regain power he ordered the fuel tanks jettisoned.
     If he was lucky enough to hit farm land they might stand
a chance of walking away from a crash landing but he couldn't
be sure what the hell the plane would hit.  Trees weren't
good.  He'd give it a try but he was damned if he'd risk the
crew.  Using the chutes they stood a fair chance of getting
down alive, though they'd sure as hell be taken prisoner.
     "We're going down," he told them.  "Flak's behind us--
prepare to jump before we get too low."
     "Goddamned button," Optie muttered.
     One by one they called out their names before they
jumped.  All except the navigator.  The pilot had the
authority to order the crew to jump but each man had the
right to choose to remain aboard.
     "You still here, Bos?" Nicholas asked.
     "So far so good," Bos told him.  "Keep her nose up while
I look for a clearing."
     "You're a damn fool."
     "Makes two of us.  But don't worry, I'm a survivor.  I
have every intention of getting home to write my great war
story."
      Hours seemed to pass as Nicholas struggled to keep the
plane from diving, from plunging nose first into the ground
and killing them both.  "Just a little longer, Ruby, baby,"
he muttered.  "Take it slow and easy, that's a good girl."
     "Nothing but fucking trees as far as I can see," Bos
reported.
     Suddenly the moon was gone, there was only darkness
ahead.  Metal crumpled, crunching, he heard Bos swear, the
plane jolted, bounced, and finally slammed onto the ground.
     Nicholas roused to darkness and the sound of water
dripping.  His head hurt like hell and he couldn't for the
life of him figure out where he was.  He stared at a thin
shaft of silver light to his left and slowly comprehended he
was looking at moonlight.
     Bomber's moon.  The plane.  Flak.  Crash.
     The truth shot through him.  They were down.  Behind
enemy lines.  He tried to move and found his left leg pinned.
Fear gnawed at him as he smelled gasoline and realized the
dripping wasn't water but what was left of the fuel.  If he
didn't get out of here he'd be roasted alive when she went
up.  Where was Bos?  Was he all right?
     He tried to call to him but found he couldn't.  Putting
a hand to his face he felt the sticky wetness of blood.  Head
wound?  He yanked at his leg and gasped at the pain slicing
through him.
     He was trapped.  Facing death.  He was helpless.
     No!  He was a Volek; Voleks never gave up.
     The broken plane shifted, settling and the sliver of
moonlight moved, shining directly on his face.  He stared
through the rent in the canopy and reached with all his being
for the brightness of the moon.

                          Chapter 15
 
     Bos struggled to his feet, amazed to find himself on the
ground, still in one piece.  Must have blacked out, he
thought dazedly.  Groggy, he leaned against a pine trunk and
looked around.  The bright moonlight showed him the smashed
plane some twenty feet away--he'd evidently been thrown clear
on impact.  Damned if he remembered; the last thing he
recalled was telling Nick he saw nothing but trees ahead.
     Where was Nick?   Bos shouted for him.
     No answer.
     Christ, could Nick still be inside the plane?  Bos
pushed away from the tree and stumbled toward the wreck
calling Nick's name, the stink of gasoline strong in his
nostrils.  He'd gone only a few feet when he saw a dark
figure climbing from the wreckage onto a smashed wing.
     Thank God!
     "Here I am, Nick," he yelled.
     The figure turned toward him and Bos froze in position,
blinking to clear his vision.  Did he see a muzzle?  Fur?
     The figure leaped from the crumpled wing, landed on all
fours and snarled at him.  Bos inched backwards.  What the
hell was he looking at?  It sure wasn't Nick and yet he would
have sworn the thing climbed out of the plane.
     When it rose on its hind feet, lifted its muzzle to the
moon and howled, panic drove Bos into full retreat.  He ran
as fast as he could, momentarily expecting to be overtaken
and savaged by the beast.
     As he tripped over a root and sprawled onto brown pine
needles, the sky lit up, he heard a deafening roar and a
blast of heat rushed over him.  Scrambling to his feet, he
looked back.  Flames rose high--the plane was burning.  The
beast was nowhere in sight.
     Realizing the flames would bring the local Nazis
running, he took a deep breath and tried to pull himself
together.  Whatever the creature was, it hadn't run him down.
In fact the beast had done him a favor by chasing him away
from the wreckage before the gas exploded.  As for poor old
Nick--chances were he'd never gotten out of the plane.  It
didn't make sense to go back and look for a dead man.
     If Nick had died bringing them down safely, he owed it
to Nick as much as to himself to escape the Germans.  And he
damn well would!  He was a navigator, wasn't he?  He had maps
in his pocket, didn't he?  Though he was behind enemy lines,
Switzerland wasn't so far as to be impossible to reach.  If
he couldn't make Switzerland, he certainly ought to be able
to reach France.  True, France was occupied by the damn Nazis
but he'd have the chance to contact the resistance for help
in getting back to England.
     Studying the maps by the light of the fire, Bos
calculated the plane's position when it crashed.  Finally he
nodded.  When he got far enough from the fire to see them
clearly, he'd check his direction by the stars but meanwhile
he thought he knew which way to go.
     He'd recovered enough, despite his bruises, so he was
able to hike purposefully but the image of the beast haunted
him, making him glance apprehensively over his shoulder.
What was it?  Not a wolf.  Not a bear.  Some kind of monster
he'd never before seen.  But nothing he'd ever read about the
Black Forest mentioned strange beasts.  Besides, the beast
had come from inside the plane.
     What was he to believe, then?  That a beast had been
hiding in the cramped quarters of the B-17 ever since they
left England?  Or that Nick had somehow changed into a beast?
Bos shook his head.  Preposterous!  He couldn't believe in
either possibility.  And yet he was almost sure he hadn't
been hallucinating.
     If he didn't start moving the locals would take him
prisoner.  Shelve the beast mystery, Bosworth, he told
himself, and concentrate on getting the hell out of here.
     With luck he'd make it over the mountains into
Switzerland.  Or, at the worst, France.  Even occupied,
France was preferable to Germany.  He spoke fair German so
once he found a change of clothes he might be able to pass
for a native if anyone challenged him before he crossed the
border.
     Assuming the beast didn't kill him first.
 
     The beast loped between the pines, fleeing the foul
stench of the smoke rising from the burning plane.  Away from
the human who'd fled from him, as well.  He knew he must
avoid humans.  They weren't prey and they were dangerous.
     His head no longer ached and, though his left leg still
hurt, he realized it was healing rapidly.  A vague feeling
troubled him; he seemed to recall being in a plane.  Had he
always been a beast?  The thought vanished as the pines
closed around him and bloodlust began to sing through him.
     Free!  He was free at last, running through the woods
with the moon bright overhead.  When he was far enough from
the smoke to follow the forest scents clearly, he'd hunt.
Excitement rose in him.  Hunt under the moon.  Forever.
     By the time he picked up deer scent his leg had ceased
to throb.  He followed the scent, slowing, puzzled and upset,
when human scent began to overlay it.
     More than one human, he found as he went on cautiously.
He would have veered away completely but another smell, the
hot blood of a fresh deer kill, enticed him, banishing
prudence as it flooded his mind with redness.
     Many humans.  Twelve.  No, thirteen, one separate from
the rest, this one mixed with the blood and deer scent.  He
trailed the single human until he caught sight of an antlered
head rising arrogantly between the trees.  He stopped
abruptly.  What was he seeing?  The body of the deer, dead
beyond a doubt, lay on the ground by the feet of the being
cloaked in deerskin, a being with the head and horns of a
deer.  The hair rose on the beast's ruff as the thing stooped
and yanked an arrow from the deer's chest.  He didn't like
what he saw, didn't trust the mingled scent of deer and
human.
     Despite the deer hair and horns, he was sure the being
standing in the moonlight was a human male.  A human who'd
killed the prey the beast had marked for his own.  He snarled
his anger.
     The man dressed as a deer whirled to face him, then bent
to grasp the bow and quiver of arrows at his feet.  Realizing
the man meant to kill him, the beast leaped at him, knocking
him to the ground.  Unable to control his rage, his fangs
sliced through the deer skin and tore out the man's throat.
     Once he was certain the man was dead, he leaped away
from his kill, shaking his head at the bitter taste of human
blood fouling his mouth.  He wanted no part of human flesh.
Yet at the same time the tang of blood excited him, blurring
his mind, clouding his judgement, making him eager to tear
chunks of bloody meat from the deer's carcass.
     No, he told himself, there are other humans nearby.
Leave the deer.  Hunt down another.  He rose onto his back
legs, fighting the urge to slake his bloodlust with the deer.
He turned his back on temptation and slipped between the
trees only to be brought up short before he'd gone more than
ten feet by the heavy, alluring scent of a female.
     Human female, he warned himself.  Not your kind.  No
proper mate.  But he was drawn toward her all the same,
creeping forward until he glimpsed a human female, naked in
the moonlight, wearing a silver crescent on her head.
     When she saw him she drew in her breath, her eyes
glittering brightly.  She spoke to him and he didn't
understand her words but her gestures told him she wished him
to come with her.
     What did she want?  Why wasn't she afraid of him as the
two human males had been?  As he hesitated, her voice began
to plead and her gesturing grew more urgent.
     The mating urge rose in him, thick and hot, compelling
him to follow, even though he realized immediately that she
was leading him toward the other humans.  Eleven.  All
females.  All naked.  They were sitting cross-legged in a
clearing around a small circle of glittering stones.  They
acted no more afraid of him than she did.
     The crescent-crowned female stepped into the circle and
lifted two goblets from the ground.  Raising her arms she
held the goblets high as though offering them to the moon.
Her chant coaxed him into the circle and wound around him
like a silken rope.
      The moon, the moon, she seemed to say.  The moon is all.
     Unable to prevent himself, he threw back his head and
howled his own paean to the moon.  As chant and howl mingled,
becoming one, a strange compulsion gripped him.  The
crescent-crowned one was the moon; she must be obeyed.
     He watched her when she lowered the goblets and set one
on the ground in front of him, watched her while she raised
the other to her lips and drained it.  Understanding what he
must do, he dropped to all fours and lapped the liquid from
the goblet on the ground, feeling his mouth washed clean of
the unpleasant after-taste of human blood.  Gradually a
pleasant lethargy crept over him, slowing his movements.  At
the same time, he felt all-powerful.
     While those outside the circle chanted soft and low,
she knelt before him, holding out her arms in offering.
Offering herself.  The mating urge had never left him but its
edge had muted.  He no longer wanted to sink his talons into
her flesh, to hold her in place with his fangs while he
mounted her fiercely.  This was no casual mating.  They were
within the circle, male and female, binding themselves to one
another and to the moon.
    As gently as he could, he grasped her with his taloned
paws, turning her rounded buttocks toward him until she was
in the proper position for mating.  He mounted her slowly,
easing inside her softness and heat as slowly as he could.
He was large, she was small and he found it difficult to
penetrate her but she helped him, wriggling back against him
until at last the barrier that held him at bay was breached.
     As he plunged deep inside her, he was dimly aware the
chanting outside the circle grew louder and faster, matching
his rhythm as he thrust within her, lost in the driving need
for fulfillment.  But even at the height of his urgency he
remembered not to use talons or fangs.
     When it was over, he collapsed on the ground beside her.
As he rested a whisper in his head warned him he must escape
these humans, must flee into the woods and hide himself from
them.  Humans, female as well as male, were dangerous.  He
tried to get onto all fours but she, lying next to him,
touched his shoulder with her delicate fingers and he
subsided, grim knowledge seeping through him.
     He was truly bound to her.  Not merely during the mating
but now.  Forever.  He could never harm her and, unless she
ordered him to, he couldn't leave her side.
 
     "They're bringing a man in, sir," Pierre said.  "He was
passed on to the underground by a Rhine fisherman.  Claims to
be an American pilot.  But the fisherman says he spoke German
at first.  We thought you ought to take a look at him so we
can decide who and what he really is."
     Reynolds nodded.  "I'll see him."
     While he waited, he arranged the room for interrogation,
bright light on the visitor's chair, the rest of the room in
semi-darkness, himself hardly more than a dark figure behind
the desk.  When the door opened, he regarded the tall
and slender fair-haired man with interest.
    "Sit down," he ordered, speaking in English.  When the
man obeyed, he said, "Who are you and how did you get into
France?"
     "First Lieutenant Alan Bosworth, sir," the man said,
squinting against the brightness of the light.
     Reynolds noted a regional accent to the man's English.
New England, he thought.  But spies could be very clever, as
he'd discovered.  He waited.
     The lieutenant, if that's what he was, cleared his
throat.  "They told me you were American, sir.  Are you?"
     Reynolds raised his eyebrows.  "I'm asking the
questions."
     "If I'm going to give more than my name, rank and serial
number, I have to be sure."
     "It seems to me the burden of the proof's on you.
You're not in uniform or wearing dogtags."
     "I didn't want to take a chance on winding up in some
stalag so I latched onto civilian clothes as quick as I could
--stole them off a clothes line.  Then I buried everything
that could identify me as American."
     Reynolds sat watching him, not speaking.
     The man sighed.  "Okay, I'll take a chance.  What choice
do I have?  The underground won't help me unless you vouch
for me, right?"
     Reynolds' nod was curt.
     "I was a navigator on a B-17 based in England.  On
August first my squadron flew a night bombing run on
Stuttgart and a couple of Messers knocked out Rockin' Ruby.
The crew jumped except for the pilot and me--we rode her down
until she crashed somewhere in the Black Forest."
     Reynolds sat forward abruptly.  "Rockin' Ruby?"
     "That's what we called her."
     "Who was your pilot?"
     The man frowned at him.  "Nick.  Captain Nicholas
Volek."
     Reynolds gritted his teeth.  "What happened to him?"
     "To Nick?  I wish I knew.  I was thrown clear when she
slammed into the ground.  I don't think Nick was.  Then she
went up in flames.  He must have been trapped inside.  But--"
His words trailed off.
     Nick dead?  Reynolds didn't want to believe it.  He
wouldn't believe it.
     Returning his attention to the lieutenant, he snapped,
"You were about to add something.  What was it?"
     "You'll think I'm a Section 8 case."
     "Damn it, man, tell me!"
     "Just before the wreck caught fire, I thought I saw some
kind of a beast climb out and jump off the wing."  The
lieutenant stared defiantly at him.  "I even thought it
growled at me."
     Reynolds hung onto enough control so he rose slowly to
his feet instead of leaping up abruptly.  He forced a
disinterested calm into his voice.  "What kind of a beast?"
     "Like nothing I ever saw before or care to see again.
Scared the shit out of me."
     "Why do you say you think you saw it?"
     The lieutenant's eyes narrowed.  "Stands to reason there
couldn't have been a beast, doesn't it?
     Reynolds blinked, thinking fast.  "If you did see an
animal, possibly it was a bear or something else native to
the Black Forest disturbed by the crash.  You could have been
mistaken about it crawling from inside the wreckage."
     "Maybe."  The lieutenant's tone was cautious.  "But it
wasn't a bear because bears don't howl.  This thing did.  And
I heard the howling again later that night.  Far away, thank
God."
     "Let's forget about the beast--it's not important,
lieutenant.  You are.  We'll do the best we can to get you
back to England as soon as possible."
     Bosworth sighed.  "Then you do believe me."  He relaxed
in his chair.
     "As to who you are, yes.  The beast--"  Reynolds
shrugged.  He shifted the focus of the lamp shining on
Bosworth, walked around the desk and held out his hand.
     When Bosworth rose and shook hands with him, Reynolds
hoped the beard and mustache concealed his resemblance to
Nick.  No one here knew his real name and he had no intention
of telling it to Bosworth.
     "Thank you, sir," Bosworth said.
     "Glad I could be of help."  Reynolds walked with him to
the door, shut it behind him and leaned against it.
     Nick.  The beast.  Was it possible?  Their father had
believed Nick wasn't a shifter, not even a latent one as
their mother had been.  Still, they'd inherited shifter blood
from both parents.  Voleks tended to survive, no matter what
the cost and, judging from what Bosworth had said, Nick must
have had to shift or die.
     Where was he now?  Had he shifted back to wander, naked
and confused, in the Black Forest?  Or worse, was he already
a German prisoner?  Reynolds clenched his fists.  He had no
choice but to slip across the Rhine and search for his
brother.  After he boned up on the Black Forest.
     It took his resistance group two days to find a
Frenchman they trusted who'd lived in the forest.  By that
time Bosworth was gone, passed along to another group trained
in slipping English and American airmen across the channel.
Reynolds wondered how many times the lieutenant would repeat
the beast story.  Still, who except a Volek would believe
such a tale?
     A Volek or a stalker.  A cold chill ran along his spine.
Not because he worried about a stalker hunting Nick in the
Black Forest but because Bosworth could attach the Volek name
to the beast if he did tell about it.  Reynolds shook his
head.  Plenty of time to worry about that problem after the
war.  Finding Nick was the issue at hand.
     Reynolds invited Guy LeGuin into his office, offered him
a cup of coffee and a package of Lucky Strikes before
settling back into his desk chair.
     "Monsieur LeGuin, my friends tell me you used to live
across the Rhine before the war," he said.  "We think an
American plane went down in the Black Forest, southwest of
Stuttgart.  I'm interested in anything you can tell me about
that area of the forest."
     Guy opened the pack, took out a cigarette and smelled
it appreciatively before lighting it.  "Ah," he said after
taking a long puff.  "As I recall, the country in that part
is very high, very heavily wooded.  Mostly pine forest, you
understand, with few roads."
     Reynolds nodded encouragingly.
     "Men who know how to hunt game for food might survive
hiding out there without being caught by the Boche," Guy
continued.  "Especially now, in August.  Except for the
witches, it would be quite safe."
     Reynolds raised an eyebrow.  "Witches?"
     Guy waved a hand.  "Me, I don't know what is true and
what is not but I will tell you what I can.  It may be you've
heard of those the Boche call--so as not to offend them--'the
good ladies of the night.'  They're half-women, half-beasts
who follow the huntress Gertha in the Wilde Jagd, the Wild
Hunt.  Death, raw and vicious, follows in their wake.  But
they hunt only in the cold months.  In the summer, it is
said, these demons change into witches who haunt the wildest
parts of the forest."
     "Did you ever see these so-called witches?"
     Guy shrugged.  "Whether I believe in them or not, I
believe a man can't be too careful.  When I lived in the area
I took care not to look for them."
     Reynolds slid a map across the desk.  "Note the X.
That's where we think the plane crashed.  If you were an
airman grounded in enemy territory and wished to hide from
the Germans, where would you go?"
     The Frenchman studied the map for a moment and then his
finger moved slowly away from the X, tracing a southwesterly
route.  "Here and here are the high wooded places, best for
concealment.  Few people brave these spots since they are
hard to reach.  And also, you understand, because of the
witches."  He lit another cigarette from the butt of the
first, watching Reynolds carefully.  "I notice you don't
laugh at my warning of witches, n’est ce pas?”
     Reynolds smiled thinly.  "I never laugh at what I don't
understand, no matter how strange.  Who knows, it might be
true."
     Guy nodded sagely.  "A man of wisdom."
     "Have you heard what it is the witches do in the
summer when they're not hunting?"
     "Me, I don't know for certain but one supposes they cast
malignant spells as witches do everywhere, spells to ensnare
and bedevil the innocent."
     Reynolds asked a few more questions about possible safe
crossings over the Rhine, then thanked Guy and saw him to the
door.
     "Remember," Guy said, pausing on the threshold, "that
Gertha herself controls the witches and, winter or summer,
the urge to hunt remains in Gertha's blood."
     The beast also loves to hunt, Reynolds thought as he
closed the door.  His fingers stroked the amulet hidden under
his shirt.  Beasts like the one I refuse to be.
 
     During the last week in August, Reynolds, wearing
clothes he'd been assured would pass as ordinary in Germany,
slipped across the Rhine at dark onto a wild and overgrown
shore.  He'd studied the maps so thoroughly he felt entirely
sure of his bearings.  Almost immediately he began to climb.
When he was well hidden among the pines, he settled himself
under a tree and waited for the waxing moon to rise high
enough to cast sufficient light for him to travel easily.
     He might be on a fool's errand; his brother might be
long gone from the Black Forest.  But he had to make the
search himself, search until he was sure Nick wasn't
wandering in this alien woods, lost and helpless.  True,
Bosworth had made his way to the Rhine and crossed it into
France but Bosworth had his navigator's maps with him and his
navigator's training to guide him.
     And Bosworth hadn't shifted into a beast under the full
moon.  God, poor Nick--all alone in enemy territory with no
clue to what was happening to him.  One shifting experience
had been more than enough for Reynolds and he'd had his
father, Waino and Arno to counsel him afterward.
     After he joined the OSS he'd been taught enough of
languages so he got along pretty well in French, German and
Italian but his brother spoke only English and the smattering
of Russian and French they'd picked up from their father and
mother.  If Nick ever needed his help he needed it now.
     How good it felt to be among the pines again.  Their
aromatic fragrance reminded him of childhood camping trips
with his father and brother and Hawk.  With Leo and Quince.
So long ago.  Before Hawk's death.  Before a stalker had
murdered his father and Quince.  Of those three, only Hawk
had died in the way a man might choose.
     If he survived the war, would his own death be at a
stalker's hands?
     Don't be morbid, he warned himself.  On your feet, get
going, how much more moonlight do you need?
     When he heard the distant beat of a drum, the position
of the moon told him it was after midnight.  He'd been
climbing steadily for several hours, hampered by the poor
light.  He halted, turning a fraction at a time and stopping
to listen until he was certain he'd separated the sound of
the beats from their faint echo.  Choosing his path
carefully, he did his best to move quietly toward the source,
at the same time catching a trace of smoke on the night
breeze.
     Gradually the drum grew louder and finally he saw the
gleam of a small fire between the trees.  Since the smell of
the smoke, now mixed with the mouth-watering scent of
roasting venison, was so strong, he thought he must be safely
downwind from the drummer and the fire.  He wished he knew if
that made any difference.
     Waino was a noita, a Finnish witch, so he could hardly
doubt witches existed.  Since he wasn't sure about Black
Forest witches, it was safer to assume they were as real as
Waino.  And yet, talented as Waino was, he wouldn't
necessarily be aware of someone creeping up on him.  Cheered
by the thought, Reynolds advanced with more confidence.
     He stopped while still in the shadow of the pines, well
back from the fire, counting the white-robed and hooded
figures standing in a circle between him and the fire.
Eleven.  The drummer was crouched inside the circle so he
wasn't able to get a good look at him.  Or her.  If Guy's
tales had even approached the truth, all the hooded figures
and the drummer should be women.
     Something else was in the circle with the drummer, lying
at her feet.  Something large and dark and, he thought, fur-
covered.  Could it be?  His heart leaped with both hope and
fear.  He might have found Nick but he'd never really
believed what he'd meet would be his brother's shifted shape.
     If it was Nick, how in hell could he communicate with a
beast?  Sliding a hand up his chest, Reynolds eased open the
first three buttons of his shirt, freeing the amulet.  His
forefinger traced the rune Sowilo as he watched the chanting
white-robed figures.
     All had both hands raised at an angle over the drummer
and the beast in the center of the circle.  Their voices were
too low for him to make out any words, so he inched closer.
The drumming gradually increased in volume and rhythm, rising
to a crescendo and then ceasing abruptly.  The chanters
stopped as well.  For a long moment the night was completely
silent.  Then a faint humming, more felt than heard, tingled
along Reynolds' nerves.  He felt as though an electric charge
had passed through him, leaving every hair on his body erect.
     "I am the source," the woman inside the circle cried in
German.  "I am the source and the power.  The power rests
within me.  Within me lies the power of life.  I hold life in
my hands.  With my hand I touch my dark companion.  I command
he who walks in darkness.  The beast is bound to me.  Rise,
oh darkness."
     Reynolds saw the beast rise to his feet, first all four,
then his back legs.  Standing like a man, he towered over the
women of the circle.  His muzzle pointed directly toward
Reynolds and his lips drew back over his fangs in a silent
snarl.
     Reynolds froze, careful not to move a muscle, certain
now the beast was his brother and also aware the beast sensed
his presence.  He gripped the amulet, waiting.
     The circle opened, the woman inside stepped past the
others with the beast at her side.  Bound to her as she'd
said?  Bound by what Guy had dubbed malignant witchcraft?  He
didn't know shit about witchcraft.  With all his heart,
Reynolds wished Waino was here beside him.
     The woman halted, her eyes, glittering in the moonlight,
fixing on Reynolds, hidden though he was in the shadows.  Her
arm raised, she pointed.
     "Kill the intruder," she commanded.
     The beast snarled, dropped to all fours and leaped
toward him.  Reynolds yanked off the thong holding the amulet
and, in a desperate lunge, flung it over the head of the
beast.
     "Nick!" he shouted.  "I'm your brother!"
     The force of the beast's charge knocked Reynolds to the
ground.  He stared up at white fangs inches above his throat
and knew he'd lost.

                          Chapter 16

     "Brudder? " a woman's voice demanded.  "Brudder?"
     With the full weight of the beast pinning him to the
ground, Reynolds could barely gasp, "Ja, brudder."
     As he said the words, the beast slid off him, sprawling
sideways onto the ground where he writhed in pain.
     "Was ist los?” the woman cried.
     Reynolds got to his knees, bending over the beast,
relieved that the amulet had worked.  "He's shifting shape,"
he told her in German.  "It hurts him."
     Moments later, he eased an arm under his moaning
brother's head, murmuring, "Take it easy, Nick.  You're
almost there."
     Nick blinked up at him.  "Rey?" he mumbled.  "Rey?"
He looked down at his nakedness.  "What the hell--?"
     Reynolds helped him sit up.  "You shifted, Nick."
     All the women edged closer to stare at the beast who
had turned into a man.  Reynolds peeled off his shirt and
handed it to his bewildered and embarrassed brother who tied
the sleeves around his waist before he got to his feet, using
the shirt as a concealing apron.
     "Do you see?" the woman drummer asked the others in
German.  "It is as I predicted.  He is the one we have waited
for, the One Who Changes."
     "Where am I?" Nick asked Reynolds.  "What the hell's
going on?  The last I remember was my plane going down."
     "Later.  I'll tell you what I know later.  First let me
try to find out what's happening here."
     Reynolds advanced to the woman drummer and bowed
briefly.  Best to be polite to a witch.  "My name is Reynolds
Volek," he said.  "The brother of Nicholas, who you've named
the One Who Changes.  He doesn't understand your tongue so I
must speak for him.  I should also tell you he won't remember
as a man what he did while a beast."
     The woman pushed back the white hood covering her head
and shadowing her face.  Reynolds caught his breath as golden
waves of hair tumbled past her shoulders to her waist.  She
was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.  And one of the
angriest.
     "Do you tell me your brother won't remember Thalia, the
woman he is bound to for all eternity?"
     "I'll ask him," he said placatingly.
     He turned to his brother.  "Her name's Thalia, Nick, and
she seems to think the two of you are bound to one another
forever."
     "There's something about her--"  Nick paused, his eyes
never leaving Thalia.  "I wish I could remember."
     "Though he doesn't understand why," Reynolds said
diplomatically, "my brother feels drawn to you."
     Her anger faded visibly.  "I knew he would sense the
bond."  She strode to Nick and put a hand to either side of
his face, gazing deeply into his eyes for a long moment.
Then, as though the two of them were alone and not surrounded
by eleven women and one man, all avidly watching, she gently
pulled his head down until their lips met.
     Nick, seemingly as oblivious as she, wrapped his arms
around her, gathering her close as he kissed her with
passionate enthusiasm, releasing her only when she pulled
away from him.  Even then, he caught her hand and held it.
     Thalia smiled at Reynolds.  "We speak without language,
as we did when he was a beast."
     She cocked her head, her gaze traveling over Reynolds
until she was staring into his eyes.  He felt as though she
was searching his very soul.  "There is also a beast inside
you, the brother, nicht what?"
     Hypnotized by her glittering eyes, he nodded numbly.
     Thalia's smile gleamed with triumph.  She turned to the
waiting women and announced, "Sisters, our moon plea has been
truly answered.  It is forbidden that I share he who is my
heart with you but I have no bond with his brother."  She
gestured toward Reynolds.  This man is also One Who Changes
and he is yours."
     Before Reynolds realized what they meant to do, all
eleven women rushed toward him.  The first one to reach him
clutched his arm and said fiercely to the others, "It is my
right to be first.  The rest of you draw lots."  She flipped
back her hood, revealing sleek dark hair, and gazed meltingly
up at Reynolds.  "Ah," she murmured, pressing against his
side, "you are very handsome."
     Only then did he understand what was expected of him.
How the hell could he get out of this mess?  He glanced at
Nick who merely shrugged.
     "Nick," he said urgently, "we're behind enemy lines.
Every second we remain here increases the danger.  We've got
to get going."
 
     Thalia frowned, feeling the sudden tension in her mate,
tension produced by the urgent message from his brother in
a tongue she didn't understand.  Obviously Reynolds was
trying to drive a wedge between her and Nicholas.  Never!
     Energy crackled within her from the cone of power they'd
raised from the earth before the brother appeared.  She eased
her hand from Nicholas's grasp, glided to his brother, spread
both hands across his bare chest, closed her eyes and
summoned the energy, letting it flow from her into Reynolds.
     He cried out and jerked away from her.  Too late.
Reeling backward, he sprawled onto the pine needles,
shuddered, and lay still.
     Nicholas ran and knelt beside him.  Thalia glided to his
side and waited.  After a time Reynolds opened his eyes.
Nicholas and Minna, the one who would be first with him,
helped him to his feet.  When it was clear that Minna could
handle Reynolds without help, Thalia took hold of Nicholas's
hand again, drew him away from his brother and touched her
lips to his.  He resisted momentarily but his arms closed
around her when she pressed her body against him.
     The desire sizzling between them fed on her earth-energy
and expanded, sweeping them into the circle and bringing them
together in a violent mating orgasm.
 
     Reynolds, flat on his back, stared up at the dark-haired
naked woman straddling him while she fondled his prick.  He
wasn't sure who she was, he was damned if he could remember
where he was but, fully aroused, he didn't much care.  He
groaned with pleasure when she raised herself to fit his
prick inside her and gave himself up to enjoyment.
     It was over all too soon.  He closed his eyes as she
eased off him.  Vaguely he realized something wasn't right
but there seemed to be a hiatus he couldn't span between what
was happening and what he ought to remember.  Before he
managed to order his thoughts, he felt a weight on his legs
and opened his eyes.  Another naked woman, this one younger
and prettier, smiled at him before she bent to take his limp
prick into her mouth.
     It didn't stay limp long.  And this time he rode on top.
     When he finished he dozed, only to be roused by still
another woman.  After a while, dazed and exhausted, he lost
count.
     Nicholas, dressed in a hooded white robe, shook him
awake at dawn.  Reynolds sat up and looked around.  The two
of them were alone in the pine grove.
     "I had the damnedest dream," Reynolds began.  "You'll
never believe--"  He broke off, alarm tensing him.  Pine
grove, yes, but not in California.  This was Germany.  The
Black Forest.  "Christ, Nick," he said, "what the hell
happened last night?"
     "Thalia jolted you with something.  It knocked you on
your ass but you sure came back in a hurry."  Nicholas shook
his head.  "You screwed all eleven of them."
     It hadn't been a dream.  No wonder he felt wrung out.
A rustling between the trees drove him to his feet.  Danger!
     Nick put a hand on his arm.  "It's only Thalia.  She's
waiting for us."
     Reynolds yanked on his pants and grabbed his shirt.
     "Do you want the amulet back," Nick asked.
     "You'd better keep it for now.  There's no time to
waste; we've got to get over the Rhine into France."
Reynolds glanced through the pine branches at the rapidly
brightening sky and swore.  They didn't dare risk crossing by
daylight.
     "Thalia will help us."
     Reynolds looked at him skeptically.  As he followed his
brother he thought that so far all Thalia had done was use
them as studs for reasons he didn't understand.  Why had she
forced him to service all the women except her?  Because he
had been forced.  He knew better than to think he could screw
eleven women in one night.  Whatever she'd done to him had
shut down his mind and juiced up his body.
     He didn't go around fucking indiscriminately--and never
without condoms.  No Volek worth the name wanted to leave a
changeling growing in some poor, unaware woman.  Witch or
not, he meant to set Thalia straight before he and Nick left.
     As they approached her, Reynolds saw she was wearing a
robe like Nick's, her beautiful golden hair in one long braid
down her back.  The bird perching on her shoulder flew into a
pine when they came close.
     "I take you to She Who Waits," Thalia said.
     "We haven't time," Reynolds protested.
     "You will come."  It wasn't a question or an order.  She
simply stated a fact.
     Annoyance rising, Reynolds shook his head.  "There's no
time.  But before we leave I have to warn you that if any of
you women have a child as a result of last night, the child
might be a shifter."
     "We hope to have babies," she said, "and we hope they
will be ones who change."
     "Thalia, shifters are dangerous.  You don't realize--"
     She raised an imperious hand.  "I know more than you,
Reynolds Volek.  She-Who-Waits has told us what must be done
and we obey.  She brought you here for us, don't you yet
realize that?"
     He stared at her, aware he'd never make her understand.
"Look, we can't stay here," he said.  "If we're captured,
Nick and I--"
     "No one will capture you.  Not here."
     Reynolds scowled.  "Nick and I are hiking down to the
Rhine.  Now."
     "You surely will be caught if you try to cross the
river during the day," she said, nodding her head at Nick,
dressed in the white robe.  "Look at him."
     "I'll find him other clothes."  He started to turn away,
determined not to be trapped in any more of her nets.
     "We can't leave until dark," Thalia said.  "You know
that as well as I."
     He swung around to face her.  "We?  You're not coming
with us."
     "Nicholas and I were bound when we called down the moon.
We cannot be parted.  If he goes, I go."
     She held out her hand to Nick and he clasped it, drawing
her to his side.
     "Look, Nick, I've tried to explain to her that she can't
come with us."  Reynolds did his best to keep his voice calm,
his tone reasonable.  "It's too dangerous.  We'll be lucky to
make it ourselves."
     "I can't leave her."  Nick spoke flatly.  "I won't go
without Thalia."
     Reynolds knew when to give up.  Once his older brother,
generally easy going, dug his heels in, nothing could budge
him.  He changed the subject.  "Thalia wants us to meet
someone called She Who Waits," he told Nick.  "Since we can't
cross the river until dark, I suppose we might as well."
He turned to Thalia.  "Where are the others?" he asked.
     She smiled slightly.  "Your companions of the night?
I've sent them to the house we share.  Do you wish to say
goodbye?"
     Ignoring the question, he said, "Is She Who Waits at the
house, too?"
     "She isn't like us; she doesn't need shelter."  Without
another word, Thalia released Nick's hand and set off,
walking briskly, seeming to follow a path invisible to
Reynolds.  Nick strode after her, leaving Reynolds to bring
up the rear, wondering what the hell they were getting into
now.
     The sun rose before they reached a stand of tall pines
whose massive trunks suggested the trees had stood as long as
the mountain they grew on.  Light filtered sparsely through
the thick canopy of needles overhead.  Thalia paused in the
gloom under the trees so he and Nick halted, too, watching
her while she chanted in an unfamiliar language.
     After a time she fell silent and appeared to be
listening.  Reynolds heard nothing.  He saw nothing except
a sprinkling of green motes shimmering in the air as they
danced around her.  Nick, he noticed, was staring at the
green shimmer with awe that changed to fear as some of the
motes danced toward them.  He gripped Reynolds' arm, his
fingers digging in.  That was the last thing Reynolds
remembered.
     Embrace the dark brother.  Become one with the dark
sister.  It wasn't a whisper, wasn't a voice at all but a
thought, circling in his mind as though it was his own.  But
how could it be his thought when he couldn't grasp the
meaning?
     You and yours, together with the dark ones, must tread
the predestined path.  Together, not alone, for you are one
half, the dark ones the other half.  Only together can you be
whole.
     He strained to understand for he believed the meaning of
life lay concealed within the words.
     Beware the one who heals only to rend….
     Reynolds found himself standing in the small clearing
near last night's fire, the warning burning in his mind.
Beware…..
    Nick, looking as bewildered as he felt, stood beside him.
Thalia knelt several feet away, picking through the contents
of a duffle bag.  She shook out a skirt and laid it aside,
then a pair of trousers made of some rough cloth.  Dazed, his
thoughts in chaos, Reynolds could see what she was doing but
was unable to focus on the meaning.  When he glanced at the
sun he was shocked to find it overhead.
     "Christ, it's noon," he muttered.  "Where did the time
go?"
     "Noon?"  Nick shook himself like a dog coming out of
water.
     "I have men's clothes for Nicholas," Thalia said to
Reynolds, holding up the pants.
     "That's for you," he said to Nick, able at last to
gather his wits.
     They left the clearing after a meal of cold venison and
ripe berries, dark and sweet.  By then Nick wore the shirt
and pants of a farmer, while Thalia's skirt, blouse and
drab kerchief transformed her into a fair imitation of a
farmer's wife.  By carefully walling off what had happened in
the ancient grove, Reynolds was able to concentrate on the
job ahead--getting the three of them down the mountain and
then across the Rhine without being caught by a stray Nazi
patrol.
     And that was only the beginning.  He knew it would be
even more difficult to ease Thalia and Nick safely out of
France to England.
 
     Four years and four months later, the war over, Nicholas
and Thalia, now married, arrived at Volek House.  Reynolds
returned a week later, just in time for Christmas dinner.
     They found a few changes.  The children had grown--Yuba,
and Daniel, the youngest, were now six and didn't remember
Reynolds and Nicholas.
     Bren and Beth had married and, urged on by Jennifer and
her husband, Bren was in his second year of medical school at
Stanford.  The war had added to the Volek wealth.
     Everybody was at the house for Christmas, even Lily's
new husband, Clint Montrose, a tall thin man with a terribly
scarred face, though he came late in the evening and hardly
spoke to anyone.
     Reynolds waited through the holidays, waited until
Jennifer and Lily and their families were gone and the
household had settled into a regular routine.  On the third
of January, after the servants had left for the night, he
gathered the adults around the dining room table, bribing the
older children to keep the younger ones amused in the
playroom.  Zachary and Sara, now nineteen, were invited to
stay.
     "I hope Uncle Rey tells us what he did in the war,"
Zach said.  "I was hoping to find out for myself what it's
like but the draft board never got to my number."
     Sara scowled at him.  "You'd probably have turned into a
beast in the middle of a battle and, zap, no more Zach."
     He grinned amiably.  "I haven't shifted yet.  Maybe I
never will."
     Sara shrugged.  "I'll bet that's what they all said
before it happened."  Personally, she hoped he never would
but she knew that was unlikely.  Voleks were shifters, they
couldn't get away from it.  They could learn to control
shifting but there was no real escape.
    Two weeks ago she'd overheard Nicholas telling Arno how
he'd turned into a beast after his plane crashed in Germany.
And Nicholas wasn't even supposed to âÑåÑ a shifter.  Neither
was she.  She'd rather kill herself than have it happen to
her.  Even the thought of shifting turned her stomach.  She
didn't know how she could bear it when Zach shifted.
     "I had an unusual experience in Germany," Reynolds began
and everyone immediately fell silent, listening.
     "Nick shared this experience.  Unfortunately, neither of
us understand what happened.  Maybe you will."
     As soon as Sara realized Rey wasn't just telling some
gory old war story, she hung on every word, as fascinated as
Zach.  She cast occasional interested glances at Thalia as
Rey went on, reevaluating Nick's wife when she heard Thalia
had led them to She Who Waits.
     Embrace the dark brother.  Become one with the dark sister.
Sara shivered as the words echoed in her mind.  What
did they mean?
     Zach was blond, she was brunette.  That made her Zach's
dark sister.  And Victor was dark while Jody was fair.  But
they were only cousins so he couldn't be a dark brother.
Anyway, that was too simple to be the answer.  Wasn't it?
     Without taking her eyes off Rey, Sara leaned closer to
her brother.  "Do you think he means me, Zach?"
     His only answer was a strangled groan.  Sara turned to
stare at him.  Zach's pain-contorted face and the desperate
way he clutched his stomach terrified her, parching her
throat so no sound emerged when she tried to scream.
     She grabbed at his arm but he flung her off and began
tearing at his clothes.
     Across the table Arno shouted, "Zach!"
     It was then Sara realized what was happening to her
twin.  Bile flooded her mouth, gagging her.  She leaped to
her feet, knocked her chair backwards and stumbled over it in
her hurry to flee.  She grabbed at the sideboard to steady
herself and her arm brushed against the ebony box containing
the silver-handled carving set.  As she stared at it, she
found her vision becoming tinged with red.  All rational
thought faded.
     When she turned toward the table with the sharp-edged
carving knife in her hand she peered through a red mist as
she searched for her prey.  There!  There he was, the one
who'd betrayed her by shifting, the one she must kill.  Would
kill.  She raised the knife and lunged.
     "Look out!" someone shouted.  Too late.  The sharp blade
plunged into the beast's back.  Blood matted the ugly, dark
fur.
     Hands pinioned her arms as she tried to yank the knife
free to stab him again and again and again.  Voices babbled
as two men dragged her away.  She heard one word repeated
many times.
     "Stalker."
     They brought her to another room.  Through the red haze,
she glared at a white-haired old man and a younger one with
gray streaks in his dark hair.  The younger man grasped her
by the shoulders.  "Sara, what happened?"
     She heard the words but they didn't make sense.
     "Don't waste your breath, Ivan," the older man said.
"Until she comes out of it there's no more use trying to talk
to her than to a beast."
     Knowing she must escape, she tried to break free of the
man holding her but he tightened his grip.  "You're not going
anywhere, Sara."  His voice was stern rather than angry.
Stern and sad.
     He wasn't a shifter.  Neither was the old man.  Blood
kin, possibly, she had no way to tell.  But the fact they
were in the same house with a shifter was enough to taint
them.  If she could, when she could, she'd kill them, too.
     The door opened and a young man came into the room.  Not
related to the other two, she decided, because he looked too
different.  There was a word for him, yes, she had it,
Chinese.  He was Chinese.  And not a shifter.
     "Beth sent me, told me to try using ch'i energy," the
Chinese man said.  He looked at the old man.  "She said she
needs your help for a journey."
     The old man nodded and left the room.  The Chinese man
picked a straight-backed chair from against the wall and
placed it next to her.  "Sit down, Sara," he said.
     When she didn't obey, the man gripping her shoulders
forced her down onto the chair, then stepped back, watching
her.  The Chinese man eased behind her and she half-turned to
watch him, knowing she could trust no one in this house.  But
all he did was rest his hands lightly on top of her head.
She tried to shake them off but failed.
     Between them the two men were stronger than she.  If she
fought, she'd get nowhere so she submerged her instinct to
struggle and sat as quietly as she could, waiting for a
chance to escape.
     The man behind her, his hands still resting on her head,
began to hum a single, monotonous, sustained note.  She meant
to ignore the sound but the humming was insidious, working
its way inside her mind to blur her thinking.  Despite her
desperate attempt to keep her defenses intact, she began to
relax.
 
     Years before, when they'd decided to keep Susan in the
tower, Waino had transferred Liisi's noita belongings as well
as his own from there into the secret basement room reached
through the passageway in the study.  The brickwalled room no
longer resembled Quincy's prison, nor the trysting place
where Marti and Curtis had first come together as beasts.
     Ancient tapestries covered the bricks, the round silk
rug lay in the exact center of the floor, Liisi's brass-
studded chest sat against one wall while other chests held
shaman garb.  Drums and bells hung from gargoyle carved
wooden posts.
     Beth, wearing only the deerskin tunic that had once
belonged to Grandmother Liisi, glanced around the dimly lit
room before seating herself in the middle of the blue silk
rug.  She had brought back Zach's rune, Ehwo, from a journey
made years ago.  Would poor Zach live to wear it?
     The stalker heritage of Sara and Zach's nameless
grandfather had been passed to Sara, something no one had
realized until she'd tried to kill her shifter twin.
Stalker or not, Sara was one of their own, she shared their
blood.  Voleks do not kill Voleks.  But Sara had to be
rendered harmless and there was no way to accomplish that
without a visit to the underworld.
     Beth was the only one who could make that journey.
Wolf was dead and Waino was too old.  They must find a shaman
to follow her when she grew too old, but so far none of the
children of Volek House showed any talent for shamanism.  So,
despite the danger of bearing another shifter, she and Bren
must have a child.  She sighed.  Fond as she was of Bren,
she'd never been able to forget Curtis.  He was the one she
should have married; he should have fathered her child.
     Beth watched Waino lift Sergei's drum from one of the
posts and, chanting, run his fingers over the drum, feeling
the tiny row of sharp fangs, the bright wisp of human hair
and the rust-colored scrap of cloth before handing the drum
to her.
     Holding two circlets of bells bound to deerskin, he
began to pace slowly around the outside of the rug, shaking
the bells.
     Beth lifted the bone drumstick with its head of sable
fur, closed her eyes and brought it down onto the drumhead,
once, twice, three times, before slipping into the steady,
muffled trance beat.
     She breathed deeply, then exhaled until all thought
fled with the air from her lungs, until nothing remained but
the tinkle of bells and the drumming.  There was no house, no
room, no body, only the shadow hole gaping dark and sinister
before her.  She plunged through.
     Early in her training, Waino had told Beth that each
shaman visits a different underworld, for the human body and
mind shapes each shaman differently.  Though the body is left
behind, the journeying shadow soul has lived in that body and
absorbed experiences from it.  The only consistent feature of
the journey for all is the dark river that must be crossed by
the shaman, what Waino called the River of Tuonela.  Hell's
River.
     When she emerged from the shadow hole, the river lay at
her feet, its rushing silver waters deceptively peaceful.  In
the river's depths, she knew, lurked monsters.  There were
but two ways to cross to the other side.  She could change
into a creature able to swim safely among monsters or she
could wait for the boat and take her chances with whatever
might be rowing it.  Even now a boat, this time a red and
gold gondola, approached her.
     The rower appeared to be a handsome young man but this
was a place where appearances were not to be trusted.
     "Your fee?" she asked when he swung the gondola to the
bank and motioned to her to climb aboard.
     "Nothing you would regret paying, oh beautiful one."
His voice was soft and deep and soothing.
     "That's no answer."
     "One kiss, perhaps."
     "You well know the living may not kiss the dead."
     He smiled.  "I must have some small token from you."
     Though the drum was no more with her than her body, she
felt it under her hands and so she smiled back at him,
willing to bargain.  "I will decide what the token is to be.
Agreed?"
     He considered.  "Human.  It must be human."
     "As you say, so shall it be."
     "Step aboard, oh fair one, and I will sing you across."
     Showing hesitation was dangerous, so she boarded the
gondola, seating herself, her attention focused on the
gondolier, aware she wouldn't be safe from him until she was
off the boat and on the far bank.  He burst into song as he
pushed away from the bank and the boat spun into the river's
current.
     To the shadow soul, all languages are the same so she
understood the words he sang without any difficulty.
     "I am he, I am he,
      The lost one, the loved one
      Look in your heart and you'll see
      What was once lost can be won
      Look at me..."
     Before her eyes he changed.  Not into a beast or a
monster but into something far more dangerous to her.  He
became Curtis.
     "I love only you," he declared, kneeling before her,
letting the boat drift unheeded.  "Marti lured me away but
you were the woman I truly loved."
     He wasn't Curtis, she told herself.  And yet--he could
be.  After all, Curtis was dead.
     "Touch me, my love, kiss me," he begged.  "I've waited
so long for you.  I've waited forever."
     Drawn by his words, words she'd always longed to hear,
she leaned forward, more and more certain he was actually
Curtis.  His lips were inches away, lips she'd always longed
to feel pressed against hers.  They'd never kissed but now,
now....
     A far-off tinkle of bells broke the spell.  She drew
back hurriedly, terrified at how close she'd come to kissing
whatever it was that rowed her.  He wasn't Curtis, no matter
how much he looked like him.  He'd taken on Curtis's
appearance to trick her and she was appalled to realize how
near he'd been to succeeding.  Once she voluntarily kissed
anything in the underworld, her shadow soul could never
return to her body, dooming it to death.
     "My token," the Curtis image demanded.
     "When we reach the opposite shore."  She felt for the
drum but couldn't find it.  Her lapse had cost her dearly.
      I need you, spirit-sister, she called.  Sister fox, spirit-fox,
help me.
     She felt a tuft of fur in her fingers.  Red fur, fox
fur.  "I have your token," she told the gondolier, not quite
looking at him, no longer able to bear his resemblance to
Curtis.
     Without a word, he swung the boat toward the far shore
and began to row.  Within moments the gondola brushed against
the bank.  She rose.
     He barred her way with the oar.  "My token."
     She handed the fur to him.
     He fondled it between his fingers, then smiled at her, a
terrible evil smile.  "We agreed on human.  This is not
human.  I claim my kiss."
     She backed away from him, falling onto the seat once
again.  He bent over her, reaching for her.  Curtis, yet not
Curtis.  Not Curtis at all.  Death.

 

 

 
  
                          Chapter 17

     Beth had faced death before.  In a way, she had died in
order to become a shaman.   How else could the flesh have
been boiled from her bones to discover if she possessed the
extra bone, the secret bone that only shamans have?  Where
else but in death could she have found Fox, her spirit-
sister?
     Wolf's spirit had stood beside her during her
initiation, encouraging her, holding back terror.  But she
was alone now, there was no one to help her.  Showing fear or
weakness would doom her all the sooner.
     "You're not Curtis; I won't kiss you," she declared.
"If I tried to fool you it was because you tried to trick
me."
     Curtis's features melted away.  Underneath was the face
of a woman.  The hair changed to a deep, burnished red.
"No Volek will trick me ever again," the woman said.
     Beth fought terror.  The red-haired witch!  Waino had
warned her about this malevolent spirit who hated all Voleks,
the spirit who'd trapped Wolf in the underworld--almost
fatally.  How could she possibly escape?
     The woman reached for her with long skeleton fingers.
Beth tried in vain to find a spell to stop her.  There were
none; there was no way out.
     When the shimmer of silver slipped between her and the
bony fingers, Beth thought at first it was the witch's doing.
Then the shimmer became two silvery eyes that gazed into
hers.  As they vanished, Beth felt the shape of the drum
under her fingers.
     Who had helped her?  Grandmother Liisi?
     Hastily, she pulled the wisp of bright hair free of the
drum and dropped it into the witch's grasping hand.  "Human,"
Beth said.  "You know who it belongs to."
     The witch rolled it between her fingers and muttered a
curse.  The oar she held dropped and she faded into a red
mist.  Beth leaped from the boat onto the bank.
     The lock of hair had been Jael's, cut by Waino long ago
to decorate the drum.  Beth understood why now.  To thwart
the spirit of Jael's witch grandmother.  But for how long?
She must hurry!
     A dark forest loomed ahead.  When she reached its edge,
she saw seven paths leading in different directions.  As she
tried to decide which to choose, one of the tiny fangs
dropped off the drum onto the fifth path.  She picked up the
fang and started along the path.
     Soon the towers of a castle thrust above the trees and,
after a time, the path ended at a moat guarding the castle.
She'd hardly had a chance to wonder how she was to cross
when, with a great creaking, a drawbridge lowered and crashed
into place in front of her.  She raced across the wooden
planks, through the open gates and into the castle's maw.  A
dwarf dressed in chain mail materialized and beckoned her to
follow him, leading her to a massive dining hall where
twenty-four helmeted men and women sat around a vast circular
table.
     Recognizing the symbols on their helmets, she knew
immediately they were the twenty-four runes.  When the dwarf
leaped onto the table and threaded his way through trays of
food and flagons of wine to stand at its center, she decided
he represented Wyrd, the blank rune.
     Which rune was the right one?  Some had already been
used and could be eliminated:  Iwaz; Elhaz; Sowilo; Ehwo;
Gebo.  As she thought the names, five of the helmeted figures
rose and left the room.  That left nineteen to choose from
because somehow she knew Wyrd was not to be considered.
     She walked to the table and paused beside Dagaz.  Across
from her, Ingwaz leaned to embrace Berkano and she took this
to be a sign she should dismiss the two of them.  Dagaz
offered her an apple.  She couldn't accept any offering, nor
must she eat or drink if she wanted to return to her body, so
she smiled and shook her head.
     Next was Laguz, who ignored her.  She hesitated, then
moved on to Othalo who was lifting a goblet of wine.  The
tiny fang she carried in her hand slipped from her fingers,
sailed through the air and dropped into the goblet.  Othalo,
not noticing, raised the goblet to drink.  The fangs, Waino
had told her, came from Marti's second-born triplet, a
monster who had died at birth.
     As Beth watched apprehensively, Othalo downed the wine,
set the goblet on the table, took off his helmet and thrust
it at her.  Then table and all vanished, leaving the room
empty except for the dwarf who stood in front of her
gibbering and trying to snatch the helmet from her.
     She ran from him, racing toward the castle entrance and
the drawbridge.  He followed her.  She was half way across
the drawbridge when a slimy green monster crawled from the
moat onto the far bank and blocked the bridge, making escape
impossible.  With the dwarf behind and monster ahead, she
was trapped.
     Setting the helmet firmly onto her head to free her
hands, she snatched the scrap of cloth stained with the blood
of Marti's stillborn first triplet and threw it into the
dwarf's face.  It clung to him, growing and changing into a
hideous warty gray fungus that covered his face, blinding
him.  Seeing him try in vain to pluck it off, she turned to
the monster.
     It belched forth a fiery blast, warning her what would
happen if she dared to come closer.  Reaching for the
remaining fangs attached to the drum, Beth gathered them into
her hand and flung them toward the fire-breathing monster.
Some landed in the moat but five reached the ground.  Where
each of the five touched down an armor-clad knight on
horseback sprang up.  At once, from all sides, they attacked
the monster with their swords.
     The monster twisted this way and that, ignoring her as
it tried to evade the sword thrusts.  Beth dashed across the
remaining planks, leaped onto the bank and ran into the
woods, careful to follow the path.  When she reached the
river, the boat still waited.
     She boarded warily.  When nothing happened, she picked
up the oar and poled across to the other side.
     The next she knew, she lay on the blue silk rug with
Waino standing over her and the drum next to her.  In her
hand she clutched a rune.  A silver rune.  Never before had
she returned with a rune made of silver.
     "Othalo," Waino said.  "Othalo means to evaluate the
beliefs of one's ancestors.  Appropriate.  And silver.  Also
appropriate for a stalker.  We'll take a silver chain from
Liisi's chest to string it on."
     Beth sat up wearily.  "I met the witch," she said.
     Waino sighed.  "I kept hoping she'd ignore a female
Volek."
     "She meant to kill me.  I'm afraid of her."
     "As well you might be.  You're lucky to have bested
her.  How did you?"
     "Jael's hair clipping stopped her.  But next time--"
She paused, shivering.
     "We'll worry about that later.  I know you're exhausted
but it's best that you put the chain with the rune attached
around Sara's neck.  You understand why."
     She nodded.  The rune had been given to her.  In passing
it on to Sara, she could use the power derived from her
successful underworld journey, use that power to force Sara's
acceptance and understanding of Othalo.
     With the shifter runes it hadn't mattered because
shifters were eager to wear the protective amulets.  Sara,
though, might not want to stop being a stalker.
 
     Sara found it impossible to block the soothing, healing
energy flowing from the Chinese man's hands to her.  Against
her will she was lulled into calmness, the red fading from
her mind.  She felt no alarm when a woman slipped quietly
into the room, she didn't struggle when the woman approached
and fastened a silver chain around her neck.  But when the
pendant on the chain fell hard and chill onto her chest, Sara
jerked free of the man's hands and leaped to her feet.
     She looked around dazedly.  Waino, Ivan and Beth stood
staring at her with worried frowns.  Bren was just leaving
the room.  Sara's hand rose to grasp the pendant on her
chest.  What was it?
     "You're wearing the rune Othalo," Beth told her. "Do
you understand what I'm saying?"
     Fear paralyzed Sara.  "A rune?  Why?  I'm not a
shifter!"
     "She's come back to herself," Waino said.
     Sara turned her gaze to him.  "What do you mean 'back
to myself?'"  Her voice trembled.
     "What's the last you remember, Sara?" Waino demanded.
     She bit her lip.  "We were in the dining room listening
to Reynolds tell about She Who Waits."
     His eyes narrowed.  "Is that all?"
     Sara nodded.
     "Sit down, Sara," Waino ordered, "and listen to me."
     Since her knees felt like they might give way at any
moment, she didn't argue.
     "I'm sure you remember that Bren, Ivan, Beth and I were
in the dining room along with the rest of the adults.  I'll
tell you what we saw.  While Reynolds was talking, without
any warning your brother began to shift.  You jumped up,
grabbed a carving knife from the sideboard and stabbed Zach."
     Sara gaped at him, too shocked to speak.
     "It's true.  Ask Ivan.  Or Beth.  Or any of the others
who watched you."
     "But I don't--I wouldn't--not Zach..."
     "When he shifted, Sara, in a sense you did also--to a
stalker.  We dragged you in here to try to calm you down.
Until Beth slipped the rune around your neck, it was obvious
you didn't recognize any of us any more than you realized
Zach was your twin when you plunged the knife into his back."
     Her hands flew to her mouth as she began to accept the
truth of Waino's words.  "Oh my God!  She huddled in on
herself and began to rock back and forth on the chair.  "My
God, my God.  Zach!"
     She sprang up and looked around frantically.  "Where is
he?  Where's my brother?"
     When Beth put an arm around her, Sara burst into tears.
She heard the door open, raised her head from Beth's shoulder
and caught a blurred glimpse of Bren coming back into the
room.
     "Zach's alive," Bren said.  "Jennifer and Elton are with
him.  They were still in the valley, visiting her parents,
and rushed over as soon as Arno called.  So Zach's got two
doctors looking after him.  And luckily the knife blade
was steel, not silver so he's wounded but not poisoned."
     "You say I stabbed him."  Sara's voice was thick with
tears.  "I stabbed my own brother and I don't even remember
doing it."  Horror contorted her face.  "I'm a stalker.  A
killer.  Of Voleks.  Oh, God, I don't deserve to live."
     She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Waino.
He drew her to the wicker settee where he made her sit beside
him.  "Sara, we need you.  I heard what you asked Zach just
before he changed--do you recall what it was?"
     She searched her mind.  "I--I think I asked him if he
thought I was the dark sister.  The one Reynolds spoke of."
     "Perhaps you are.  Perhaps stalkers are the dark
brothers and sisters of shifters.  Perhaps what the
disembodied entity in the German forest meant was that
stalkers and shifters must learn to accept, instead of kill,
one another.  The advice of She Who Waits has convinced me
that Voleks will never understand their heritage until the
two, stalkers and shifters, unite.  Only then will a reason
come clear, the purpose for which each was created.  For
there must be a purpose."
     A long silence fell, broken by Ivan.  "In Russia," he
said, "my father believed the answers lay hidden in the
Russian forests where Voleks originated."
     Waino nodded.  "Sergei was very likely right.  On New
Year's Day, Thalia and I had a long talk about She Who Waits.
This entity of the German forest is the last of its kind in
Germany and Thalia insists She Who Waits is slowly dying.
But Thalia has a feeling there may be other earth spirits
somewhere to the east.  Quite possibly in Russia."
     Sara, numb with anguish, listened to his words without
taking them all in.  But she grasped enough to decide what
she must do.
     Holding the silver rune in her hand, she looked at Beth.
"Will this keep me from turning into a stalker?"
     Beth nodded.  "Just as Zach's amulet will protect him
against shifting.  In addition, Othalo will help you find
your spiritual heritage.  Your rune is complementary to
Zach's for Ehwo provides the means to reach a spiritual
destination.  Ehwo also brings two forces together toward a
common goal."
     A thrill of hope ran through Sara.  There was a purpose
for her to fulfill, after all.  For her and for Zach.  If he
lived.
 
     On the third of June, Samara woke to find a note had
been shoved under her door during the night, a note signed by
both Zach, now healed completely, and Sara.
     "We're on our way to Russia to find the earth spirits
and learn why there are stalkers and shifters.  We believe we
were born to do this--please don't try to bring us back."
     Despite a strong doubt it would be possible for the
twins to enter Russia during these unsettled times, and a
fear of what might happen to them if they did succeed in
crossing the border, the family decided Zach and Sara must be
allowed to try.
     By this time, the two German wives, Griselda and Thalia,
had grown close.
     "Thalia has persuaded me to exercise my talents,"
Griselda told Jael as the two of them worked together in the
kitchen during the afternoon of July Fourth.  "I don't know
whether I should have listened to her or not."
     The servants had been given the day off, so Jael and
Griselda were preparing the picnic supper to be served
outside on the grounds.
     "Does that mean you've uncovered your crystal?" Jael
asked.
     "Among other things.  But so far the crystal hasn't
shown me anything.  Maybe I've lost my ability to read it.
When I lay out the tarot, though--"  Griselda broke off and
shook her head.  "I don't like what the cards tell me."
     Jael paused in the middle of cutting up potatoes for
salad to look at Griselda.  "What do they tell you?"
     "Do you understand the tarot at all?"
     "I'm afraid not."
     Griselda wiped her hands on her apron before starting to
peel the hard-boiled eggs.  "As you know, my mother was half
Rom so I have gypsy blood.  For many, many years the Rom have
used tarot cards to tell fortunes.  When my mother taught me
the meaning of the tarot she discovered I had a feeling for
the cards.  I'm ashamed to say I exploited that talent to
support myself.  Misused it.  Lied to the people whose
fortunes I told."  She shrugged.  "One learns early that
people won't pay to hear about misfortune."
     "So you spoke of tall dark and handsome men and happy
voyages?"
     "I told them what they wanted to hear."  Defensiveness
crept into Griselda's voice.  "But that was long ago and
possibly forgivable since I had to lie or starve.  I might
never have unwrapped the cards again if Nicholas hadn't
married Thalia and brought her home.  I don't blame her; it's
not her fault.  In fact, she's become a good friend.  Still--
there it is."
     "Did you use the cards to tell her fortune?"
     "Thalia?  No, not her.  The Saturday before Easter
I brought the pack with me into the morning room and was
looking through them, thinking about my mother.  If you'll
recall, Lily came to the house that Saturday to bring Easter
gifts for the children.  When she found me with the cards she
insisted I tell her fortune then and there.  Nothing I could
say dissuaded her and so I gave in, thinking it could do
little harm."
     Griselda set the last peeled egg aside and rinsed her
hands under the faucet.  After drying them on a dish towel,
she picked up a bunch of celery, broke off a stalk and began
slicing it with a paring knife.
     "Do you want to talk about it?" Jael asked.
     "Yes and no.  I'd rather not but I have to tell someone
or go crazy thinking about what I saw in the cards.  I don't
want to burden Thalia when she's expecting, and I'd rather
not mention it to Arno."  Griselda's smile was apologetic.
"That leaves you."
     She put down the knife and looked at Jael.  "There are
various ways to read the cards--I used a lay out of ten plus
the significator, the card that represents the subject.  In
Lily's case, this was the Queen of Wands which I removed from
the pack and laid face up on the table.  Before going on,
I asked her to think of the one question she hoped the cards
would answer but not to tell me what it was.  Then, after I'd
shuffled the deck and had her touch it, I laid the first ten
cards out face up in the pattern I prefer."  Griselda sighed.
"If only I'd had the sense to refuse."
     Jael set the potato salad aside and leaned on the
counter, listening.
     "The first card was The Moon," Griselda went on, "so I
knew something in her life was seriously disturbing Lily.
However innocently she may have formed her question to
herself, lurking underneath would be a tormenting uneasiness
that had to do with deception.  The next card was the High
Priestess, showing hidden influences at work against Lily.
The third, the Three of Swords, reversed, told me what was
long past in her life--loss, disorder, confusion.
     "The Ten of Cups, reversed, was fourth.  This meant in
Lily's recent past there'd been a family quarrel.  Next, the
Nine of Swords, a grim card, predicted what the future might
hold--the death of a loved one.  The Chariot, reversed,
followed it, indicating what definitely would come to pass--
vengeance and perverse desires.  The seventh, the Ten of
Pentacles, reversed, gave an inkling of Lily's fears: Family
misfortune.  Never in my life have I read a gloomier fortune.
     "The eighth card showed the attitude of someone close to
Lily.  By now I wasn't surprised to see it was the Ace of
Swords, indicating great hatred.  Lily's hopes rested on the
next card, The Tower.  Here was the one positive card.  She
hoped for a change, a change for the better.  But the last of
all, the final card, warned me her hope was in vain.  This
card, The Devil, read in conjunction with the others, meant
violence would be the final outcome."  Griselda held out her
hands.  "What could I tell her?
     Jael shook her head.  "Certainly not that good luck and
happiness lay in wait."
     "I balked at saying I could see nothing but misfortune
ahead but I knew Lily must be warned.  Finally I told her the
cards predicted that someone close to her wished her ill.
Since there was no way to know who it was, she must be
careful and remain alert to danger at all times.  She wasn't
happy with the reading but she didn't seem unduly distressed
until I mentioned that vengeance played a part in the ill-
wishing.  Before I could stop her, she swept the cards off
the table onto the floor and stalked from the room."
     "The fault doesn't lie in the cards," Jael said.  "Or in
you."
     "I should never have consented to do the reading.  I've
even had nightmares since then where a dark and terrible
figure leans over me, gloating.  He looks like the symbol on
The Devil tarot, beast-headed, with horns, bat wings and
taloned feet--evil incarnate.  I fear for Lily, I really do."
     "Fear what?"  Cecelia's voice startled them for they
hadn't seen her enter the kitchen.  When neither replied
immediately, Cecelia added, "Does it have anything to do with
what I just heard over the radio?"
     "What was that?" Griselda asked.
     "Something about a vampire bat in our valley attacking
people at night."
     Griselda glanced at Jael before turning to Cecelia
again.  "Vampire bats?"
     "They're native to the tropics where they suck the blood
of animals.  Don't ask me what one is doing in California."
Cecelia shuddered.  "I've never been able to tolerate bats."
     Griselda's description of the creature in her nightmares
echoed in Jael's mind.  Bat-winged. Coincidence?  It must
be.  "Was this bat supposed to have sucked human blood?" she
asked, grimacing.
     "Apparently it did because there were bite marks on the
victims' necks."  Cecelia frowned, looking at Griselda.  "But
if this is the first you've heard of the bat, what's the
reason you're afraid for Lily?"
     "I read the tarot for her and didn't like what I saw,"
Griselda said, flushing.  "I didn't mean to broadcast it."
     Cecelia studied her.  "These readings of yours--how
accurate are they?"
     Griselda moved her shoulders uneasily.  "Usually pretty
close to the mark."
     "I want you to tell me what you think Lily has to fear,"
Cecelia said.  "This isn't an idle request.  Jennifer's
worried about her twin sister."
     "Someone close to Lily seeks vengeance.  The cards also
showed possible death of a loved one, hatred, perverse desire
and violence."
     Cecelia raised her eyebrows.  "Who seeks vengeance?"
     Griselda shrugged.  "They aren't that specific."
     "Jennifer believes Clint's lying about fighting in the
Spanish Civil War," Cecelia confided.
     "But those scars," Jael said.  "Where else would he have
gotten such horrible scars on his face?  And why lie about
it?"
     "I don't know.  Jennifer distrusts Clint; she was
against Lily marrying him but finally had to accept him or
lose Lily.  The man is odd--he hardly ever goes anywhere and
then only in the evening.  They had an evening wedding, if
you recall.  But that's no reason to condemn Clint.  Still,
if you don't mind, Griselda, I intend to tell Jennifer about
the tarot reading."
     Griselda nodded unhappily.
 
     The picnic was a success.  The five children raced
wildly about the grounds afterward, excited about the
fireworks Nicholas and Reynolds planned to shoot off from the
family airfield after dark.
     As the evening shadows lengthened, the two older
children, Victor and Jody, begged to be allowed to go outside
the grounds to help with the fireworks but they had to be
satisfied with watching them from the balcony off the tower
stairs along with the younger kids.  Since the protective
lattice of wrought-iron prevented anyone from falling off the
balcony the children needed no more than minimal supervision.
Jael offered to stay with them.
     When the first of the rockets burst with an ear-cracking
bang, showering brilliant green stars into the air, Elias
edged closer to her.  Jael pretended not to notice, aware he
dreaded being teased about being a scaredy-cat by the others.
Though he  wasn't abnormally fearful, he was easily startled
by loud noises.
     After a few minutes, accepting the bangs, he left her
side to join the others at the stone railing.  Despite Jael's
fondness for her daughter, Elias had a place in her heart no
other child could ever fill, for he was all she had left of
Marti.
     As rocket after rocket rose to scatter its brilliance
into the night, the children ohed and ahed and clapped,
Victor demonstrating his new-found ability to whistle between
his teeth.  Elias seemed as enthusiastic as any of them so
she was surprised when he suddenly edged backwards until he
reached her.  He tugged at her hand urgently until she bent
to him.
     "Something bad out there," he whispered in her ear.
Feeling him tremble, she dropped to one knee and put her arms
around him.
     "Where is this bad thing?" she asked softly.
     "In the night."  Elias gestured vaguely.  "He hurts in
my head."
     "Is it a man?"
     He shook his head.
     "What, then?"
     "Don't know.  Bad."  He buried his face in her shoulder.
"Make him go away."
     Jael reached to tap Jody's shoulder.  When the girl
turned to look at her, Jael said, "Elias is sick, I'm taking
him to his room.  Watch the little ones, please, Jody."
     Jody nodded and turned back to the the fireworks.
Holding Elias's hand, Jael led him down to the second floor.
She found Samara, asked her to go up to the balcony to be
with the children, then took Elias to Waino.
     He was, as she knew he'd be, in the study.  Fireworks
held no thrill for Waino.  Seating herself on the leather
couch, she gathered Elias onto her lap.
     "Elias tells me he senses something bad in the night,"
she said.
     Waino got up from his chair to come and kneel in front
of the couch.  He took one of Elias's hands in his.  "You're
a brave boy to tell Jael," he said.  "Can you tell me what
you mean by bad?"
     "He hates people."  Elias whispered.  "He hates me."
     "Does he know you sense him?" Waino asked.
     "I think so.  But he can't get me, not in the house."
     "That's right, he can't get you.  I'll make sure he
can't.  What's he look like?"
     "All black."
     "His skin, too?"
     Elias thought about it.  "I don't know.  I dream about
him in the night sometimes."
     Jael nodded.  "Elias had a terrible nightmare on
Christmas.  Since then he's had bad dreams off and on for
about a month.  I didn't realize they were anything more than
nightmares."
     "In my dreams it seems like he can fly," Elias said.
"Only he wasn't flying when I was on the balcony."
     "Was he inside the grounds?" Waino asked.
     Elias hesitated.  "Maybe once.  Not tonight, though."
     "Is he like an animal?  Like a beast?"
     "No.  He's mostly like a man only he isn't.  When I was
on the balcony he was watching Cousin Nicholas and Cousin
Reynolds shoot off the fireworks but mostly he was watching
Cousin Thalia."
     Waino rose to his feet and strode to the door.  "Arno!"
he shouted.  "Ivan!  Leo!"  When no one immediately appeared
he swore.  "Am I the only man in the house?"
     "I'm here," Leo called from the staircase.  "What's the
matter?" he asked as he approached the study.
     "Warn Reynolds and Nicholas something's watching them--
and get Thalia back here in a hurry."
     "Something?"
     "Evil's out there--how the hell do I know what form it
chooses to take?  Hurry!"
     "A stalker?"  Anger edged Leo's words.
     "No," Waino said, "but I'm afraid whatever it is may be
even more dangerous."

 
                          Chapter 18

     Black mask in place, with only his eyes and mouth
showing, he eased from the house on a warm August night.  It
was late, past midnight, because his wife was getting more
and more difficult to lull to sleep.  He was certain she had
no inkling of the truth but she'd grown increasingly anxious
over the past several months.  She had no reason to be--if
anyone was safe from the terrors of the night, she was.  At
least until after their child was born.
     He'd been frustrated time and again in his plans to
eliminate the other, the one he'd hated all these long and
difficult years.  Time after time she'd put off visiting
them.  But last night his wife had mentioned they'd be seeing
her sister at Volek House in October, because everyone was
invited to a Halloween party for the children.
     Halloween.  Most appropriate.  His lips twisted into a
malevolent smile, revealing abnormally long and pointed eye
teeth.
     His wife's sister was in for the shock of her life.  The
last shock.  Their first meeting had been at a college
Halloween party and he'd been dressed like Count Dracula.
Would she remember that meeting?  It was her fault that he'd
never been able to forget it, just as his wasted and
miserable years had been her fault.  But finally he'd come
into his own.
     When he passed the Volek House he scowled.  Someone in
there knew what he was; more than once he'd felt them recoil
from his presence.  One of the children, he suspected.
Sooner or later he'd have to identify which of them it was
and eliminate him or her.  He paused.  The child would be
asleep now.
     Strong as his influence was, he wouldn't be able to
induce the child to come to him--too many locked doors and
gates lay in between them.  And he couldn't enter.  The child
must have alerted the Voleks because, since the last time
he'd been invited onto the grounds, someone had set a
protective spell that prevented him from crossing over the
wall.
     He couldn't bring the child to him, nor go to the child
but that didn't mean he was helpless.  If the child sensed
him, then the child could be reached.  He circled the outside
of the wall, taking note of any light visible through a
window on the second story.  Then he closed his eyes and sent
the call.
     Come.  Rise from your bed.  Rise and turn on your light.
Then open your blinds.  Do not turn off the light until I tell
you to.
     He circled the wall again, stopping when he saw a light
where none had shone before.  Counting windows, he memorized
the location, then sent another call.  Close the blinds.  Turn off
the light.  Go back to bed.  Forget what you’ve done.
     The light dimmed.  Went off.
     He knew which bedroom; soon he'd know which child.
Turning away, he glided toward the new county campground in
the foothills.  Not too many campers knew about it yet but,
for his purposes, the fewer the better.
     He'd learned the hard way that patience saved trouble,
so he waited in the shadows of the trees, gazing at the three
tents pitched far apart.  Unlike houses, he didn't have to be
invited into a tent.  Overhead a quarter moon rode low in the
sky.  A dying camp-fire winked red.  In the distance an owl
hooted four times and fell silent.  Nothing stirred around
him.
     Assured everyone slept, he glided to the nearest tent,
eased the flap aside and entered.  A man and a boy sprawled
on the ground in sleeping bags.  He lay a hand on each of
their foreheads. Sleep, he ordered. Do not wake.
     Because young blood is sweetest, he chose the boy
first, careful not to drain him before moving to the man,
where he satisfied his hunger, again careful not to kill.
Dead bodies invariably brought trouble.
     He was home before dawn.
 
     Reynolds strode into the study where Nick and Ivan were
sitting behind the paper-strewn desk poring over the
quarterly financial statement of McDee Enterprises.
     "Remember Rockin' Ruby's navigator?" Reynolds asked
Nick.
     Nick looked up and nodded.  "Good old Bos.  I heard he
got shot up on his next mission.  Lost part of a foot, I
understand."
     "Yeah, he was invalided out of the Air Corps and
apparently spent his convalescence writing about his war
experiences."
     Nick grinned.  "I'll be damned.  He always claimed he
meant to."
     Reynolds slapped a book onto the paper-covered desk.
"Here it is, hot off the press.  One of my OSS buddies sent
me an advance copy.  He took the time to mark a few pages
he thought might interest me."  Reynolds opened the book and
thrust it at Nick.  "Here, read what good old Bos has to say
about the night Rockin' Ruby went down behind enemy lines."
     Nick scanned the page, his pleased expression fading.
He turned to the next page, read on for a bit, then looked up
scowling.  "Son of a bitch."
     Ivan eased the book away from Nick.  "A Night to Remember
by Alan Bosworth."  He glanced at the marked pages
Nick had read.  "Jesus," he muttered when he finished.  "This
Bosworth might just as well have stuck a shapeshifter label
on your forehead, Nick."
     Reynolds closed the book with a snap.  "We can't do a
damn thing about it without calling more attention to the
Voleks, so we'll just have to hope no one believes such a
unlikely story."
     The door opened and Samara looked in.  "Am I
interrupting anything vital?"
     Ivan motioned her inside.
     "I don't know if you realize it," she said, "but two of
the servants, Landra and Maud Bailey, didn't come in this
morning," she said.  "Landra just called to tell me they
didn't want to work at Volek House any longer."
     The three men glanced at one another.
     "Landra says we're too close to the campground where
that little boy was found dead last week.  She's afraid to
come here, even to collect her pay.  From the way she acted
you'd think we were responsible for what happened."
     Ivan sighed.  "There's always been gossip about the
Voleks--with cause.  Now we're being blamed for a death we
had nothing to do with."
     "Why should anyone blame us?"  Samara was indignant.
"The Times Deltasaid the coroner's report indicated the boy
had been bitten on the neck and then bled to death from the
wound because he was a hemophiliac.  He must have been bitten
by that bat they've been talking about on the radio."
     "Waino's sure it's not a blood-sucking bat," Ivan said.
"He keeps muttering about the undead, whatever that means."
     Nicholas thumped the cover of the book.  "We've got
enough problems with Bos shooting off his mouth in print.
Whatever's out there sucking blood, we'd better find a way to
get rid of it before any more deaths get totted up onto the
Volek account."
     Ivan shrugged.  "I've got a feeling that's easier said
than done."
 
     In September, lessons began for the children in the log
schoolhouse on the grounds.  This year the Voleks had hired
an older man, Claude Simmons, retired from teaching in the
Sacramento public schools.  He'd recently moved to Tulare, a
town within reasonable driving distance.  The children liked
him and he seemed to enjoy his five pupils from seven to
twelve.
     Near the end of the month, he stopped by the house after
class to talk to Jael, who acted as liaison between him and
the Voleks.
     "I believe Elias to be a bright boy," Mr. Simmons began,
"but he's having trouble concentrating on his lessons."  He
paused to look searchingly at her.  "To be frank, Elias seems
unduly nervous.  I thought at first it might be because I was
a stranger but he's adjusted to me quite well.  I wondered if
anyone had considered having the boy examined by a doctor?"
     "That's an excellent suggestion, Mr. Simmons."  Jael
forced enthusiasm into her voice.  "I appreciate your concern
and I'll speak to the family."
     After he left, she sat alone in the morning room.
While it was simple enough to glide over Elias's problem
while speaking to the teacher, actually doing anything about
the boy's increasing fears was extremely difficult.  As for a
doctor--what would she say to one?  That Elias sensed evil in
the night and was afraid?  She shook her head.
     "What's the matter?"  Leo spoke from the open doorway.
     Why did he always have to startle her?  She stared at
him lounging against the door frame, obviously at ease, while
her heart hammered in triple time.
     "What makes you think anything is?"  Annoyance tinged
her words.
     Leo held up a hand, palm outward.  "Peace between us,
all right?"  He sauntered into the room, closed the door and
dropped onto the wicker settee, facing her.  "I overheard you
talking to the teacher.  On purpose, I admit.  You know Arno,
Reynolds and I have been taking turns patrolling the grounds
at night.  All three of us agree there's something out there.
We can't tell what it is but it sure as hell keeps us on
edge.  Elias evidently gets a much stronger sense of what
prowls the night and what he senses is taking a toll on the
poor kid."
     Jael's annoyance disappeared.  She leaned forward,
intent on what he was saying.
     "Last Saturday I took Elias outside the gates to play
catch," Leo went on.  "This was in broad daylight--about one
in the afternoon--but he was so tense with anxiety he fumbled
the ball almost every time.  This from a kid who's a natural
athlete and graceful as they come.  He relaxed a little after
we came back inside the gate and wandered into the barn.  He
loves cats--reminds me of how his mother used to spend hours
in the barn playing with every kitten she could find."
     Jael smiled, recalling Marti's fondness for cats.
     Leo's yellow gaze focused on her.  "Anyway, we got to
talking.  Do you know that whatever walks the night calls to
him in his dreams, telling Elias to unlock the doors, unlock
the gate and come to him?  Elias must fight the compulsion
almost every night."
     "I know."  She sighed.  "As you're aware, he sleeps in
the room Marti used--the one connected by a door to mine.  At
first I simply locked his door and my door and put the keys
under my pillow.  But now he insists each night that we tie a
long string around his ankle, run it through the connecting
door and tie the other end to my wrist so that if he does get
out of bed, I'll feel the jerk on my wrist and wake up."
     Leo shook his head.  "I had no idea it'd gotten so bad.
I'd let him sleep with me but I know Elias trusts you more
than anyone."
     Jael bit her lip.  "That's what's so hard!  He trusts me
and I can't help him.  Every day he looks more haunted and I
can't do anything to stop what's happening.  Waino's
protective charm keeps the evil physically outside the walls
but even he can't prevent it from calling to Elias."  She
thrust her hands toward him in desperation.  "A ten-year-old
boy shouldn't have to suffer--what can I do?"
     Leo reached out and clasped her hands.  "Don't give up.
I promise I'll find a way to confront the night walker and
bring an end to this torment."
     He released her hands, sprang to his feet and strode
from the room.  Jael stared after him, her feelings mixed.
Though she couldn't forgive Leo for what he'd done in the
past, she found herself admiring his courage.  And, if she
were to be completely honest, she'd also been warmed by his
touch.
 
     By October thirty-first, not a servant remained at Volek
House and the family was unable to find anyone willing to
work there.  Three more "bite deaths", as the newspapers had
taken to calling them, had everyone terrified.
     Bosworth's book was on its way to becoming a best seller
and the book had been reviewed in the Los Angeles and San
Francisco papers.  Their mention of the Volek name and quotes
from the relevant pages didn't help matters.
     Grandfathers of local people told tales of howling at
night and horribly mauled bodies.  And, though the sheriff
who'd been a friend of Sergei Volek was long dead, his second
wife was still alive and full of stories about how "those
Voleks" paid her husband to close his eyes to unexplained
murders.  And, as she invariably added, "worse."
     Living in what felt almost like a state of siege made
the adult Voleks more determined than ever to have their
Halloween masquerade party for the children.  Since no one
outside the family had been invited, at least the kids could
enjoy themselves for one evening.
     Jennifer McQuade Evans and her twins would be there from
San Francisco, though her husband was at a medical meeting in
Chicago and so couldn't make it.  Lily McQuade Montrose, near
term with her pregnancy, was coming, accompanied by her
husband, Clint.  Since they lived in the old McQuade house
they didn't have far to come--no more than a couple of miles.
     "For twins, Jennifer and Lily aren't together much,"
Jael remarked to Samara on Halloween morning as they
decorated the entry with orange and black crepe paper.
     "Since they were separated at three, they weren't really
together as children," Samara said.  "Lily lived with her
parents in the house the senior McQuades built for them right
next to their house at the south end of the valley.  Jennifer
lived here."
     Jael remembered what Lily had told her.  "Lily said
Jennifer burned her when they both were three and that's
where her scars came from."
     Samara sighed.  "It's true.  Jennifer's a firestarter
and when she was a child she couldn't control it.  Every time
she got angry or frustrated, a fire started.  After Lily was
burned, Jennifer came to live with us because I found a way
to control her.  Wolf was finally able to make a shaman
journey and bring back that ruby salamander she always wears.
It's her amulet.  Jennifer and Lily didn't really live
together until college.  They were quite close then and
afterwards.  Until lately.  Marriage can separate even the
closest of twins."
     Something in Samara's voice made Jael believe when she
spoke of marriage she meant more than just Jennifer and Lily.
Deciding to ignore that, she went back to the McQuade twins.
"Perhaps the scars are what drew Lily and Clint together
originally."
     "I know Lily always believed her scars were much more
disfiguring than they actually are.  Perhaps she thought no
one would want her unless he was as marred physically as she
thought she was.  As for Clint--well, I hardly know him.  He
keeps so much to himself that none of us do.  You can hardly
blame him--everyone wants to avoid the Voleks these days."
     Later, when Griselda came to help with the decorating,
Jael thought she seemed unusually distracted.  Finding
herself along with Griselda in the living room, she asked
what was wrong.
     "It's the crystal."  Griselda's voice trembled.  "I told
you I uncovered it.  Last night I woke and saw it glowing.
The only other time the crystal glowed for me was when I saw
Arno's face in it--before I met him.  So I slipped from the
bed and hurried to the table where I keep it.  I wish I
hadn't."
     "What did you see in the crystal?"
     "Volek House.  No, that's wrong.  I mean I didn’t see
Volek House.  It was as though I was in a plane looking
down--I saw the grounds and the pine grove but the house
wasn't there.  It was gone, vanished as though it had never
been."  Griselda shivered.  "I was so frightened I woke Arno.
But by then the crystal had gone dark again and there was
nothing to see."
     "What does it mean?"
     "I wish I knew.  Lately I feel hatred and fear all
around us--I don't go into Thompsonville to shop any more.
What have we done to be so disliked?"
     Jael spread her hands.  "We're Voleks."
 
     After a light supper, the children insisted on donning
their costumes.  Jael straightened Yuba's green-spangled
crown and wondered again why her daughter had insisted
everything she wore had to be green.
     "'Cause it's the right color," Yuba had told her when
she asked.  "I'm the green princess, like you said--don't you
remember?  I'm the one who's going to find the heart of the
forest."
     Jael blinked in confusion.  When had she told Yuba that?
Though she often spoke of how the Voleks came from the
Russian forests, she didn't recall exactly what she'd said.
Yuba's words brought back a bad dream she thought she'd
forgotten.
     Elias had decided to be a ghost.  Realizing that to
drape a white sheet over him with holes for his eyes and
mouth would make it hard for him to bob for apples, Jael had
cut the sheet so it went over his head and settled onto his
shoulders.  The separate white hood she fixed could be easily
removed when he played the games.
     As they were leaving the bedroom, Yuba said, "I feel
sorry for Susan up there all alone in the tower.  She never
gets to have any fun."
     "You know Susan's afraid to leave the tower room," Elias
said.  "If you're scared, nothing's any fun."
     His words struck Jael's heart.  Not because of Susan,
who'd be sleeping soundly by eight o'clock, but because she
knew Elias was talking about himself.
     Before they reached the stairs, Leo, dressed in
buckskins and moccasins, with a feather stuck in his hair,
joined them.  He was never far from Elias's side these days.
Which meant she was thrown together with Leo more than she'd
choose to be.
     "I see one ghost and one green princess," he said.  His
gaze traveled over Jael's costume.  "Do I get three guesses
about you?" he asked.
     "You won't ever, ever guess," Yuba told him.
     "Do I win something if I do?"  Leo looked at Jael as he
spoke and she felt herself flush.
     "Mr. Simmons gives us a gold star," Yuba said, "but I
don't think mama has any."
     Jael took a deep breath, shaken by what she'd seen
glinting for a moment in Leo's eyes.  She'd chosen her
costume on a whim, partly because she thought it would amuse
Elias, then had to spend an inordinate amount of time
figuring out how to make it.  The color, oddly enough, became
her and the flowing lines of the gown concealed her
angularity.
     "I suppose I can find a gold star somewhere if I
have to," she said.
     "You're not a queen or a princess because you don't have
a crown," Leo said.  "I'm not sure about all those odd little
decorations on your dress but I know they aren't feathers so
you can't be a bird.  I've seen that same color in the sky
when the sun sets and sometimes when it rises but you're not
either sunset or dawn."
     By now Yuba was giggling so hard she couldn't walk
straight so Leo scooped her into his arms to carry her down
the stairs.  She adored her father.  Once she'd grown past
babyhood, Leo had taken an interest in her and they'd become
friends.  Jael wished he could give the same easy affection
to Daniel, his son by Susan.
     "That's three guesses, sort of," Elias said.
     "It doesn't count," Leo protested.  "I said what she
wasn't."
     "Okay, what is she?" Elias demanded, grinning.
     "Well, I think the decorations are supposed to be
scales," Leo said.  "If I'm right, that means she's some kind
of fish.  Now exactly what is that color?  Got it--salmon
pink.  So she must be a salmon.  Right?"
     "So far," Elias informed him.
     "You mean there's more?  Wait--something's coming
back to me.  One of those old Finnish tales Grandma Liisi
used to tell us when we were little.  I remember somebody
changing into a salmon."  He set Yuba onto her feet in the
entry.  "Who was it?"  After a moment he shook his head.  "I
can't recall any more."
     "You got it mostly right," Elias admitted.  "She's Aino,
who changed into a salmon so she wouldn't have to marry
Vainamoinen."
     Leo nodded.  "Yes, now I remember."  He glanced at Jael.
"Even life as a fish was better than marrying the wrong man.
I should have guessed, shouldn't I?"
     Until that moment, it hadn't occurred to her how he
might interpret the reason she'd chosen to dress as Aino.
For that matter, why had she chosen the costume?  Simply to
amuse Elias?  Or was there a darker reason, a hidden urge to
get even with Leo?  Confused and unhappy, she couldn't meet
Leo's gaze.
     "I wouldn't mind being a salmon," Elias said.  "I think
fish must feel real safe under the water where no one can see
them except other fish."
     Jael did look at Leo then and saw her worry over Elias
reflected in his face.
     Jennifer's arrival with Anita and Charles broke the
tension.  Almost immediately, seven-year-old Charles and
Daniel, both dressed as pirates, got into a pretend fight
with their sharp wooden swords, a fight that became
overenthusiastic.  Though the protective cork over the sharp
tips prevented any real injury, Jennifer confiscated the
swords and, by the time the boys were calmed down, it was
time for the games to begin.
     Much later, Lily came in alone, explaining that Clint
was parking the car.  Shortly after that, Jael noticed that
Elias was nowhere in sight and that Leo was also missing.
     Warning herself not to get alarmed, she checked the
two bathrooms downstairs, then Elias's and Leo's rooms and
the upstairs bathrooms.  No Elias.  Or Leo either.
     A chill slithered along her spine as she gathered up her
long skirts and ran down the stairs.  Frightened as he was
lately, surely Elias wouldn't have gone outside alone.  And
Leo would never have taken him into the dark.  But where else
could either of them be?
     Making up her mind, she hurried to the back door, opened
it and stepped into the night.
 
     Because he couldn't see very well through the eyeholes,
Elias took off his hood and dropped it.  Then, after he'd
tripped over the sheet twice, he stopped and discarded the
rest of his costume.  He didn't want to be outside alone in
the dark but he'd been compelled to leave the house when the
call came, a call stronger and more demanding than in his
dreams.
     Terror-stricken and reluctant, he stepped into the
shadows between the pines.  He had never liked the grove,
even in daylight, and always avoided it.  Now he could not.
Deep in the pine grove, the caller waited.  Elias knew he
walked toward death but he was helpless, unable either to
stop or to retreat.
     He climbed over a windfall and, as he jumped down on the
other side of the log, he noticed something sickly-white
shining to his left, around a small tree.  He paused to
stare.
     Ghostly hands?--paws?--beckoned to him, eerie voices
weaved through the demand of the evil caller.
     Brother, we will help you.  Brother, come to us, blend
your spirit with ours.
     Elias gaped at the sickly glow, afraid and uncertain.
     He comes for you.  Hurry, brother!
     Taking a deep breath, Elias made up his mind.  Anything
was better than the dark evil.  He turned away from the call
and ran toward those who claimed him as their brother.  Ran
to the shining, plunged into it, and grasped the trunk of the
little tree.  Instantly the call faded and disappeared.  A
quiver ran through him as he felt a snakelike something
slither into his mind, another insidious something creep into
his body.
     We three are one, brother, now and forever.
     Before Elias had time to understand, he saw the caller
and froze in panic.  Was the evil one's face truly black or
was it a mask?  Was he wearing a black cape or were those
giant wings?  As the thing swooped down on him, he saw sharp,
deadly fangs.  Clinging to the tree, Elias closed his eyes.
     When nothing happened, he opened them.  The evil was
still there, circling him, reaching for him.  But, as he
finally realized, unable to touch him.
     His brothers had saved him.
 
     Though Leo knew Elias had left the house, he had no idea
which way the boy had gone and he wasted precious minutes
searching before he found the white hood of the ghost costume
near the pine grove.  He eased between the trees, hackles
raised, aware something dark and evil waited in the grove.
He hesitated to call Elias's name, feeling it would do no
good.  The boy was under compulsion or he'd never have gone
outside so it was unlikely he'd be able to answer.  Shouting
for Elias would only alert the dark one.
     When Leo spotted the rest of the costume, his lips drew
back over his teeth in a snarl of rage.  He flung off his
buckskin tunic and grasped his amulet in his hand.  Dangerous
as it was, he had no choice.
     Jael gasped in horror when, in the moonlight filtering
between the pine boughs, she saw Leo, stripped to the waist,
yank the leather thong over his head and fling his amulet
aside before he tore off the rest of his clothes.  She
watched, frightened but fascinated, as he shifted, loped
deeper into the grove and disappeared from sight.
     Collecting her courage, she followed him, pausing to
scrabble among the brown needles for the amulet.  Leo
wouldn't have shifted unless he believed only the beast could
withstand the evil that threatened Elias.  To her, the beast
was almost as terrifying as that evil but, carrying the
amulet, she forced herself to go on.  Elias, her heart child,
needed her.
     Behind her, she heard a woman's voice screaming a
name over and over.  "Clint!  Clint!  Clint!"  Was it Lily?
     Then another woman shouted.  Jael plunged ahead, coming
to an abrupt halt beside a decaying log when she heard the
beast's fearsome growl.
     To her left a gleam caught her eye but her attention was
claimed by the horror in front of her--the beast, confronting
a dark, inhuman figure.  She was dimly aware that the shouts
behind her were louder and closer but her whole being
remained focused on the two monsters.
     So suddenly he seemed a blur in motion, the beast sprang
for the dark one's throat.  The dark one leaped sideways,
soaring into the air.  He vanished, reappearing above the
beast and swooping down to land on the beast's back.  The
beast roared in rage, writhing and twisting in an attempt to
fling him off.
     Screaming, Lily burst from between two trees and ran
toward the fighting monsters.  Jael tried to catch her arm to
stop her but Lily evaded her.  In doing so, she tripped over
the log and sprawled onto the ground, dropping the stick she
carried.  Jael flung herself to her knees beside the moaning
Lily, her gaze still fixed on the struggle.  To her distress,
darkness seemed to flow over the beast, hiding him from her
view.  He was losing the battle.
     "No!" she cried.  "No!"
     "The sword," Lily mumbled, as footsteps pounded up,
"take the sword."
     As Jael tried to make sense of Lily's words, Jennifer
loomed above them. "Where is it?" she asked.
     "I lost it."  Lily's voice was barely audible.
     Jennifer scanned the ground, pounced on the stick Lily
had dropped, jumped over the log and ran toward the fight,
stick in hand.  Before she reached them, the dark evil rose
to meet her.  The beast, Jael saw with despair, lay
motionless on the ground.
     "Go ahead, loose your fire at me, Jennifer McQuade."
The dark one's laugh shivered through Jael.  "Your fire may
have burned me those many years ago at another party, but I
am not the same as I was then.  Fire can't touch me.  Nothing
can touch me.  I am invulnerable."
     "I know how you've changed."  Jennifer spoke calmly but
intensely.  "What you only posed as then you've now found a
way to become.  Fire may no longer burn you but fire can and
does cleanse a house and all that house contains.  Your
house.  You're doomed.  Do you smell the smoke on the night
wind, vampire?"
     Vampire!  Even as the word echoed in her mind, Jael
realized Jennifer had spoken his true name.
     The vampire stood motionless for a long moment.  Then he
smiled, revealing terrible fangs.  "Yet you will die before
me, Jennifer."  He advanced toward her.
     Jael held her breath.  For an instant Jennifer didn't
move, then she stepped back with one foot.  As he lunged at
her, she stepped forward and thrust hard with the stick she'd
retrieved, jabbing him in the chest.
     To Jael's amazement, he flung up his arms, gave a
terrible shriek and staggered backwards, the stick protruding
from his chest.  Jael saw then it wasn't merely a stick but
one of the toy pirate swords the boys had carried.
     As the vampire toppled onto his back, Jennifer's
husband--not in Chicago at all--rushed up and rammed the
second wooden sword into his chest.  The vampire convulsed
and lay still.
     Jael pushed herself to her feet and wobbled on shaky
legs to where the beast sprawled on the ground.  Kneeling
beside him, she draped the leather thong with the amulet over
his neck and stroked his furred head.
     "Leo," she whispered, "please live.  I've had enough of
being a salmon."
      Then she looked up and saw a small shining creature
walking toward her.  Elias, gleaming bright, flickering like
foxfire.
     As she stared at him, speechless, fearing what the glow
around him might mean, Elias said, "My brothers found me.
They saved me."
     Head whirling, Jael pictured Waino gesturing toward the
unmarked grave in this pine grove where he'd buried the two
monsters that had shared Marti's womb with Elias.  No one had
ever told the boy he was the only survivor of triplets.
     "The three of us are one now," Elias added.  When he
smiled she thought she saw tiny pointed teeth in place of his
own.
     Jael fainted.

 
                          Chapter 19

     By the time the other Volek men arrived, the beast,
still alive, had shifted back.  First Lily, obviously in
labor, then the unconscious Leo were carried to the house
where Jennifer and her husband looked after them.
     Though Jael was dazed and shaken, once she recovered
from her faint she was able to walk back unaided, one arm
around Elias.  Since by then he looked perfectly normal,
teeth and all, she convinced herself she'd imagined what
she'd seen and heard.  Or almost convinced herself.
     Elias was safe.  The vampire lay dead, vanquished.  Leo
would live.  But Lily was dead.  For no medical reason
Jennifer and her husband could discern, once her baby girl
was born, Lily whispered, "Name her Krystal," then shut her
eyes and never opened them again.
     At dawn, bedraggled and exhausted, the adults sat around
the dining room table drinking coffee.
     "I agree that the vampire seems to be dead," Waino said.
"But in order to make certain he can never return, his body
must be exposed to the sun before we bury him."
     No one challenged him.
     "That was pihlava you used," Waino added.  "I should
 have thought of rowan wood."
     "One sword was rowan, one ash," Elton Evans corrected.
"The references differed so I made one of each, just to be
sure."  He shook his head.  "When Jenny first mentioned
vampires to me I thought she'd gone round the bend.  But I
finally decided nothing else fit what was happening and I
began to research the damn things.  There's a surprising
amount of vampire lore and it was hell trying to dig nuggets
of truth from a veritable mountain of superstition."
     "I don't think Elton was really convinced," Jennifer put
in, "until this evening when he used Lily's key to enter
their house and went into the basement.  After he forced the
lock on what Clint called his workroom, he found the long box
of dirt where Clint rested during the day."
     "I had to be sure before I set the place on fire," Elton
said.  "It's not every day I risk an arrest for arson."  He
sighed  "Poor Lily, she tried so hard to keep believing in
him but near the end she found it impossible.  That's when
she came to Jenny for help."
     Jennifer bit her lip, glancing at the old kitchen cradle
next to the table where newborn Krystal was sleeping.  "Lily
didn't want to live once she admitted to herself what Clint
had become.  Oh, God, if only I hadn't called up fire and
burned him on that long ago Halloween night."  She covered
her face with her hands.
     Elton put an arm around her.  "You did it to keep him
from raping Lily.  How could you know, how could anyone know
what he'd eventually become?" He glanced around the table.
"How does a man become a vampire?"
     No one answered.
 
     Rather than solving their problems, ending the vampire's
reign of terror brought new trouble to the Voleks.  The
sheriff's office asked probing questions about Clint
Montrose's sudden disappearance and his wife's death during
childbirth on the same night the Montrose house burned to the
ground.  Though the sheriff couldn't prove a crime had
occurred, local gossip grew more malicious than ever.
     No one would work for the Voleks and even the children's
teacher, Mr. Simmons, gave notice he wouldn't be able to
return after the Christmas holidays.
     Because it was too difficult to take care of them
without help, the family donated most of their livestock to a
Catholic orphanage, keeping two cows, one horse and fifteen
chickens.  The women divided the housework.
 
     A thick tule fog ushered in 1948, wrapping the valley in
its chill gray shroud for the first three days of January.
Nicholas had been planning to fly to San Francisco but the
fog made flying impossible.  Even driving was dangerous.
     On the evening of the third the women were gathered
around the kitchen table planning the month's schedule of
cooking, cleaning and washing when Reynolds came in.
     "Have you told them?" he asked his wife.
     Thalia shook her head.
     "Don't count on Thalia," he said, "because once this
damn fog lifts, she'll be coming to San Francisco with me.
We'll stay in the McDee suite at the Mark Hopkins until we
find the house we want."
     "You mean you and Thalia are moving to the city
permanently?" Samara asked.
     "Nick, too," Reynolds said.  "Why stay in a place where
everyone hates you?  We'll still have family around--Jennifer
and Elton and their kids live in Frisco."
     Jennifer had taken Lily's baby with them when they left
in November, planning to adopt Krystal.
     "I assume Nicholas will fly up but I imagine you and
Thalia will drive," Samara said.
     Reynolds nodded.
     "I'd like to send Yuba and Daniel along with you,"
Samara went on.  "Jennifer invited them to spend a week with
her twins and I think this is a good time."  She glanced
inquiringly at Jael.
     "Yuba and Daniel are both eager to go," Jael said.
     "Good idea," Reynolds said.  "The kids need to get out
in the world more.  Once Thalia and I are settled we'll
invite them all for weekends and show them there's more to
life than being shut behind stone walls."
     Everyone was glad to see the sun the next morning.
Since Bren's classes at Stanford resumed in a few days, Beth
and Bren left to drive to Palo Alto.
     It's like an exodus, Jael thought as she returned to the
house after seeing them all off.  I wonder who'll be next to
go?
     It wasn't her day to be with Susan or to cook.  Her
chores were confined to the second floor and, since tomorrow
was wash day, included changing the bed linen.  She moved
methodically from room to room, hesitating only when she
reached Leo's.  He hadn't been at breakfast nor had he come
to wave goodbye to his children, which meant he was probably
still sleeping.
     Glancing at her watch, she shook her head.  Ten o'clock,
time for him to get up so she could strip his bed and remake
it.  She tapped on his door.
     "Come in."
     Jael entered.  Leo, fully dressed, stood by the windows.
He turned to look at her.
     "You took long enough to get here," he said.
     She did her best to conceal her surprise that he knew
she'd been assigned second floor chores today.  Why did he
always manage to put her off balance?
     "I take the rooms in order," she said.
     "How was I to know which end of the hall you'd start
from?"
     Jael shrugged and began to strip his bed, hoping he
couldn't tell how agitated she was.  No matter how hard she
tried to stay calm, cool and collected, she couldn't be
anywhere near Leo without her heart pounding.
     "I've put off saying anything," he began, then stopped.
     She glanced at him.  "About what?"
     "Us.  That night in the pine grove--I'd already started
to shift back when you knelt beside me.  Groggy as I was, I
heard what you said about the salmon."
     Jael's face flamed.
     He skirted the bed, grasped her arm and turned her to
face him.  "You told me then that you wanted me.  I'm
inclined to be stupid about some things and I know we got off
on the wrong foot a long time ago.  It's taken me a couple of
months to find the courage to admit that I want you, too."
His hands gripped her shoulders.  "We're getting married.
I'm not asking you, I'm telling you.  And I don't want to
hear any nonsense about it."
     If he hadn't immediately kissed her, making her forget
everything but him, she might have argued.  But she didn't
think so.
     The rest of the day passed in a daze for Jael.  Leo
announced their plans at the evening meal and the discussion
of where and when the wedding would take place lightened
everyone's spirits.
     That night she tossed restlessly, wishing she hadn't
been so adamant about sleeping alone until they were married.
She was still awake when Elias pushed the connecting door all
the way open.
     "What's the matter?" she asked, sitting up.
     "We have to go outside.  Now."  He spoke urgently.
     "But it's after midnight.  Why--?"
     "My brothers told me.  Hurry!"  He turned toward her
door and she realized that he meant to leave the house
whether she did or not.
     She slid from her bed, grabbed a robe, followed Elias
into the hall and almost ran into Leo, wearing only pajama
bottoms.  "I was coming to get you," he said.  "Something's
wrong, I can feel it."
     "We've got to go outside," Elias insisted, tugging at
her arm.
     "But why?" Jael cried, looking from him to Leo.  "What's
wrong?"
     Leo shook his head.  "I don't know.  It's just a
feeling."
     "Jody and Victor are downstairs," Elias said.  "Come
on."
     Deciding to humor them, Jael said nothing more until
they reached the kitchen where they found Jody and Victor
opening drawers and cupboards.
     "What's going on?" Jael demanded.
     "Griselda came to my room," Jody said, "and told me to
get the children out of the house.  I woke Vic, then we heard
Elias warning you when we went past your room, so I realized
he already knew."  She pulled a flashlight from a cupboard.
"I found one, Vic, let's go."  She started for the back door
with Victor trailing her.
     Griselda burst into the kitchen.  "I can't make Arno get
up!" she cried.  "Please help--"
     Her words were cut off by a grinding roar.  The floor
lurched under Jael's feet, sending her staggering into Leo,
who held her steady.
     "Earthquake!" he shouted.  "Everyone outside!"
     As he pulled her with him, Jael looked for Elias and saw
Leo had him tucked under his other arm.
     Leo led them over the heaving, shuddering ground to the
open field near the barn, ordered them to stay there and ran
back for Griselda.  Jael forced herself not to scream at him
to stay with them where he'd be safer.
     A moment later she and the others were thrown to the
ground by a violent lurch.  Without attempting to stand
again, she gathered the terrified children close to her,
though she was as frightened as they were.
     A great rumble and crash all but deafened her.  In the
thin light from the moon, she stared in horror as huge chunks
of rock split away from Volek House and smashed into the
ground, sending sprays of dirt high in the air.  The tower
tipped to one side and fell with an awful grinding crash.
Only belatedly did she remember poor Susan must have been
inside the tower room.
     What had happened to those trapped upstairs?  To Arno,
Ivan, Waino, Cecelia, Samara, and Druse?  And how great an
area did the quake affect?  Jael prayed her daughter and
Daniel were safe in San Francisco.
     As for Leo, she couldn't bear to think he might be dead.
Clinging to the children, she watched numbly as Volek House
shattered into ruins.  Disappearing, just as Griselda's
crystal had foretold.
     If only they'd understood.
     When Leo came stumbling through the dust, dragging
Griselda with him, Jael burst into tears of relief.
     Later, gathered with the survivors inside the nearly
intact barn, Jael tried to soothe the distraught Griselda
while, by lantern light, Leo did his best to calm the two
terrified cows.  Elias, petting a kitten, seemed less
disturbed than the other children.
     "I thought for sure we'd all be killed," Jael heard
Jody say to him.
     "I didn't," Elias said.  "My brothers told me a long
time ago that if I didn't want to, I wasn't ever going to
die."
     "You don't have any brothers," Victor said.  "And
everybody dies when they get old."
     "Just 'cause you can't see my brothers doesn't mean I
don't have any," Elias said.  "They can see ahead and they
tell me what to do."
     Victor raised disbelieving eyebrows.
     Before Jael could react to what Elias had said, an
ominous shudder ran through the barn.  Everyone tensed.  The
tremor lasted only a few seconds, doing no damage, but it
plunged them into fear once again.  They spent the rest of
the night braced for aftershocks but no more occurred.
     At dawn, Jael followed Leo, who'd already searched the
ruins for survivors with Jody's flashlight and found no one.
Her breath caught as she took in the full horror of the
destruction.  Volek House had been reduced to a pile of
rubble.  No one who'd been inside could possibly be alive.
     At midmorning, Rodney McQuade, Jennifer and Lily's
father, who lived at the south end of the valley, rode up on
horseback.
    "My God," he said, surveying what had been Volek House.
"It's even worse than I thought when I looked across the
valley and didn't see the tower.  I tried to get you on the
phone but no go, so I rode over.  Your house must have sat
smack on top of the quake's center.  We hardly have any
damage--just a few of Tanya's glass ornaments busted, that's
about all."
     He glanced around, frowning, then back at the six of
them.  "Where are the others?"
     Leo told him.
     "Terrible, terrible," Rodney muttered.  "Only good thing
is so many weren't home."
     "Was San Francisco hit hard?" Jael asked.
     He shook his head.  "Didn't even feel it, so the radio
says.  The quake struck mostly in our valley and maybe some
in the foothills.  First bad one we ever had that I know of.
The Indians used to say the giant walked here in the old
days--that's what they thought caused quakes.  But, say, I'm
standing here blabbing like a fool when I ought to be getting
you folks over to our place."
     "The tower landed on the garage," Leo said.  "Smashed
the cars to hell."
     Rodney glanced at the corral.  "Think that horse of
yours has calmed down enough to stand being hitched to the
old wagon?"
     They left the rubble of Volek House behind to jolt
across the fields in the wagon.  As they neared Rodney's
house, they passed the blackened ruins of what had been his
parents' home, where Clint and Lily had lived.  Jael averted
her gaze.
     They found temporary refuge with Tanya and Rodney while
what remained of the Volek place was searched for those who'd
died in the earthquake.  Little could be recovered.  Leo
brought back Wolf's old shaman drum and a small brass-studded
trunk that had been in the basement room and somehow
survived.
     A week after the funeral for the seven dead--six Voleks
and the stalker, Susan--Leo and Jael were married in a quiet
ceremony at the McQuades.  The next day they flew to San
Diego to look for a house for themselves, Griselda and the
children.
     "If it was just the earthquake, I'd be inclined to
rebuild," Leo had explained.  "But the way everyone's turned
against the Voleks, I no longer feel the valley's my home.  I
couldn't live in Los Angeles, and I don't want to try San
Francisco because I think the family is better off not all
clumped together."
     Jael agreed with the idea of separation and also
understood the bitter memories that made him dismiss Los
Angeles.  After all, she'd been there, too.
     They found a large house high in the hills north of
San Diego, a house that overlooked the Pacific.  The view was
spectacular and Leo approved of the well-fenced grounds and
the absence of near neighbors.
     Once they were settled, Beth visited and spent hours
with each child.  Jody, she was sure, was not a shifter and
she doubted that Victor was.  Yuba might have some as yet
undeveloped power but wasn't a shifter.  Daniel, she
suspected, might be.  Stalkers couldn't be predicted ahead of
time--at least not by her.
     "Elias," Beth said, "has changed tremendously.  When he
was younger I didn't see any shaman potential in him.  Now I
do.  I'd like to begin training him."
     Jael was distressed by Beth's words.  Though he never
spoke of his brothers again, it frightened her to admit how
different Elias was since the night of the vampire.  But she
agreed to the shaman training.
     "On weekends and holidays, only," she added.  "Leo and I
have made up our minds the children are going to live as much
like normal kids as possible.  We'll enroll them in private
schools and send them to summer camps.  Elias as well as the
others.  Daniel, too, for that matter.  We'll worry about him
shifting when he gets closer to puberty.  As for any of them
turning into stalkers--"  She shrugged.  "We'll deal with
that if and when it happens."
     Griselda, sunk in grief-stricken apathy since Arno's
death, found solace in the ocean.  She spent long hours
pacing along the beaches and basking on the sand.  Her only
other interest was her grandson, Elias, who was equally
fascinated by the ocean.
 
     By June of 1955, when he was eighteen, Elias often rose
early in order to enjoy the nearly deserted beach with his
grandmother.
     On the fifteenth, shortly after sunrise, they climbed
down the precipitous cliff path not far from their house
to the strip of sand below.  Patches of fog still clung to
the shore but it promised to be a warm and sunny day.
     "I see your professor's waiting for you."  Elias
gestured toward an older man with his pants legs rolled up
who was walking barefoot along the water line.
     "He's not my professor."  Griselda sounded flustered,
Elias thought.
     "He would be if you wanted him," he said.  "And I think
you do, only you won't admit it."
     "I'm too old."
     Elias grinned at her.  "He doesn't think so and neither
do I."  Her flush amused him.
     Two years ago he'd discovered that if he put his mind to
it, girls were easy to get around.  You could do just about
anything you wanted to with them once you learned the right
technique.  He decided he could give the professor a few
tips.
     Guys were harder to con until you learned what their
weaknesses were.  He could spot a weakness now before he'd
known anyone an hour.  In addition, almost all guys wanted to
be something other than what they were.  Girls did, too.
     Except for Yuba.  She liked being herself.  He used to
tease her about being the green princess but she was growing
up and no longer fussed and fumed at him.  Almost fifteen,
she was already beautiful with her rich coppery hair and
clear green eyes.  He liked what Yuba was as well as she did.
Someday he'd tell her.  Someday he'd take her.  But she
wasn't old enough yet.  When they did come together it
would be far from ordinary, just as he was far from ordinary.
     Elias enjoyed being himself, different from anyone else
in the entire world.  It amused him that no one knew exactly
how different he really was.
     Once they reached the sand, his grandmother set off in
the opposite direction to the professor's and Elias followed
without comment.
     "You're quiet this morning," she remarked after a time.
     "I'm trying to decide how to con you," he said.
     Griselda chuckled.  "Why not just tell me what you
want?"
     "Not to go to Stanford in September.  Or to any other
university.  I've had enough of school.  Because I'm a Volek
doesn't mean I have to become a college graduate."
     She was quiet for quite a while but he resisted the
temptation to say more.  He'd stated his position and,
besides, there was power in silence.
     "What are you planning to do?" she asked at last.
     He relaxed.  Grandma was on his side, as he'd been
almost sure she would be.  With Jael and Leo hammering away
at him, he needed an ally.
     "Buy a van," he said, "travel and learn what I need to.
Just my guitar and me.  Alone."  He never was really alone
but that was one of his secrets.
     "I'll help you, if you'll help me," she said.
     "You're on.  What can I do for you?"
     "Be on my side when I tell Leo and Jael that I'm going
to Germany with Nicholas."
     Elias was dumbfounded.  "To Germany?  I know that's
where you came from but you always said you hated Germany."
     "My dislike was mixed in with how I felt about my
father.  But he's long dead and, besides, Nicholas and I
aren't going anywhere near where I was raised, our
destination is the Black Forest.  Nicholas has unfinished
business there.  I happen to think he needs a German-speaking
companion for the journey and, bless him, he didn't argue."
     "This is just a trip, right?"
     Griselda shrugged.  "Who knows how long Nicholas will
stay?  Or how long I will?  It's what I want to do, Elias.
You keep teasing me about the professor and, yes, I know he's
interested in me.  But the possibility of having an affair
with him doesn't excite me nearly so much as going home
again."
     "I thought you  were home.  Here."
     Griselda shook her head.  "Home was where Arno was.
With him gone, this country's no longer home to me."
     Even as he promised to back her decision to the hilt,
Elias hadn't quite mastered his surprise.  He'd been sure he
understood his grandmother completely but she'd fooled him.
Very few people did that.  Next time he'd best remember not
to take anyone for granted.
 
     In 1957, Victor, with a master's degree in business
administration, took his place in McDee Industries.  The
following year, Jody, a research chemist, began working in a
McDee sponsored laboratory in San Diego.
     The same year, Daniel, eighteen, shifted at home one
summer's night and almost immediately shifted back when Leo
placed the rune-etched amulet from Beth around his neck.  He
had no problems afterward and went on, with Yuba, to
Stanford in September.
    At the University, the two of them, with their cousins,
Anita and Charles Evans, formed a spare-time music group they
named The Runes.
     When, in October, Elias called Yuba to say he'd be in
the area near the end of the month, she invited him to sit in
with The Runes when they played their first gig.
     "You mean he agreed?" Anita asked when Yuba told the
group what she'd done.  "Elias actually said he'd play?"
     Yuba nodded.  "And for free."
     "But he's famous," Anita protested.  "He's so good he'll
make the rest of us sound awful."
     "He'll draw a crowd, that's for sure," Charles said.
"The place'll be jammed."
     Daniel grinned.  "Maybe a little fame'll rub off on us.
I don't know about you guys but I'd like to see The Runes go
places."
     Yuba nodded.  "We need to become well known.  I've
thought about it a lot and this group might eventually be our
ticket into Russia--as a cultural exchange."
     "Culture?  Us?  Three guitars, a bass and so-so voices
singing folk songs?"  Charles whooped with laughter.
     Yuba scowled.  "How the hell else do we get there?  The
family has never heard a word from Sara and Zach--we don't
know if they're dead or alive.  It's up to us to find out--in
Russia.  And complete the search, if they haven't.  But you
know and I know it ain't easy to get behind the Iron
Curtain."
     "I'm with Yuba," Daniel said.  "It's our duty as Voleks
to plan our lives with only one goal in view--Russia.  Also,
folk songs  are part of a culture.  And I think we sing better
than so-so."
     "I don't disagree about Russia being our goal," Charles
said, "but we sure as hell ain't Elias.  The four of us
altogether don't have half his charisma.  Or talent."
 
     Elias arrived at their apartment on a Saturday morning.
Since the gig was that night, they'd risen early and were
lounging around drinking coffee when he showed up.
     Greetings over, Elias announced, "I wrote a new song on
the way here.  We'll do it tonight."
     They gazed at him, stunned.
     "Hey, we've got hours to practice," Elias said.  "Don't
worry, the audience'll love it."
     "Maybe you ought to do your piece solo," Charles said.
     Elias shook his head.  "This is a Volek song.  For all
of us.  Besides, I've written part of it to be sung by a
girl.  I'll show you."  He opened his guitar case, tuned up
and struck a few chords before beginning the song:
     "My gown is the moonlight so cold, so cold
      My veil is the white valley mist
      My dowry a dark tale best left untold
      If my ruby lips you would kiss, would kiss..."
     Elias broke off and looked at them.
     Everyone applauded.  Yuba jumped up and hugged him.  "I
love it.  And I love how you sing from the heart."
     "The secret is to believe in the words while you're
singing," he said, keeping an arm around her.  "With this new
one it's easy because I wrote it about us.  About the
Voleks."  He let her go to resume playing and sang the rest
of the song, ending with:
     "The mystery within me is dark, that is true
      I carry a burden of shame
      But still I have feelings and love just as you
      I take pride in my family name..."
     Elias stopped singing but continued to play the melody
softly.  "I'm giving this song to The Runes for your
signature tune," he said.  "Every group needs one."
     The gig was a huge success, the song a smash hit that
led to the first record ever cut by the group.  Elias stayed
on a week, being perfectly charming to those who thronged to
meet him.  Yuba, completely charmed by him, as she always
was, found herself miffed because he didn't pay more
attention to her.
     He kissed her lightly when he left, a cousinly kiss, to
her chagrin.  "Soon," he whispered into her ear, his warm
breath making her shiver with longing.
     She had no idea what he meant.
     It wasn't until early in November that Yuba read one
of the autographed brochures Elias had given to some of his
admirers.
     "Become one with Elias," the blurb read.  "Experience
life's greatest marvel with Elias.  "You know him, you love
him.  Over the Thanksgiving holiday, join with Elias for the
First Gathering, a celebration of song, an evocation of
mystery.  You will sing, you will dance and you will--
CHANGE."
     "I sent to the box number he listed in Sacramento for
details," her girlfriend, Cindy, told Yuba.  "It sounds just
super.  I can hardly wait for Thanksgiving."
     "Where's the concert?" Yuba asked.
     "Oh, it's not a concert, it's a Gathering.  Everyone
participates, that's what's so exciting.  And it's not in
some dreary theater or even a bowl, it's in the foothills,
near some ancient ruins."
     "I didn't know we had any ancient ruins in California,"
Yuba said.
     "Well, you're wrong.  See, it says so right here."
Cindy shoved a pamphlet in front of Yuba and read:
"...ancient family ruins..."
     Yuba blinked.  No, she thought.  He wouldn't.  She took
the paper from Cindy and scanned the directions for getting
to the site.  "...near the small town of Thompsonville..."
     She stared in disbelief, the word he'd capitalized in
the brochure taking on sinister connotations.  What in God's
name did he mean by CHANGE?  In the ruins of Volek House.
     Had Elias gone mad?

 
                          Chapter 20

     Yuba stared at the distant peaks of the Sierras, their
snow-capped tops reddened by the setting sun, and wondered if
Daniel was right.  She could be making far too much of
Elias's "Gathering."
     "Poor Little Fool" was playing on the car radio, Daniel
singing along with Ricky Nelson as he drove.  Daniel had
taken one look at Elias's brochure and laughed.
     "Smart man--he probably made sure to give the brochures
to the best looking chicks.  They'll get changed all right.
Should be a fucking great weekend--for him, anyway."
     "Do you really think sex is all he has in mind?" she'd
asked.
     Daniel had grinned.  "What else is there?  I'm planning
to major in it, myself."
     Yuba knew her half-brother's conquests were numerous.
Her cousin Charles, too, seemed more interested in girls than
classes.  Was Elias as hepped on sex as they were?  Since she
wasn't a male, she couldn't be sure.  Still, it seemed to her
that, even if he was, Elias could have any girl he wanted
without the slightest effort.  His tan skin and blonde hair
were striking enough--add talent, charisma and fame and Elias
was a knockout combination.  God knows she felt it.
Especially when he sang.
     Nothing to be embarrassed about.  He might be a cousin
but not a first cousin, after all.  Anyway, she'd always had
a secret yen for Elias.
     Anita, going steady with a pre-law student, had confided
to Yuba that there was nothing more wonderful than sleeping
with the man you loved.  Maybe.  But so far she'd never been
tempted.  Sex just to say you'd done it didn't interest her
and she wasn't quite sure what love was.
     At the moment she was more concerned about The Runes
improving and refining their talents than she was about
herself.  They'd have to be a hell of lot better than they
were now if they meant to use the group as a possible ticket
into the USSR.  She thought a few more musicians might help
but she hated to go out of the family to find them.
     Static drowned Ricky Nelson's voice as they outdistanced
the station's range.  Daniel stopped singing and flicked off
the radio as he turned off the main highway onto the county
road leading to Thompsonville.
     "The overflow's bound to prove interesting," he said.
"Elias can't screw them all."
     She grimaced.  "Get your mind above your belt for once
and answer my question.  Why did he choose the ruins of Volek
House?"
     Daniel shrugged.  "Atmosphere, maybe.  Why worry about
it?  We'll find out tonight."  He frowned.  "You going to be
all right?  I can't tell exactly what Elias has in mind--this
could turn into an orgy."
     "I still remember Bren's speeded-up T'ai Chi Ch'uan
defense moves, if that's what you mean."
     "Look, I'll stick with you until I'm sure there won't be
trouble.  But yell if you need help.  Okay?"
     As they came closer and closer to the ruins, Yuba tensed
with mingled anticipation and uneasiness.  Neither she nor
Daniel had been back since the earthquake ten years ago.
They'd gone from Aunt Jenny's in San Francisco directly to
their new home in San Diego.  Since she hadn't seen the
destruction with her own eyes, it was hard for her to believe
Volek House was no more.
     They topped a rise and she looked down at the valley.
The setting sun touched the remnants of old orchards and
groves with its ruddy rays.  But the tower of Volek House no
longer thrust above the trees.  The stone castle was gone,
vanished as though it had never been.  She blinked to ward
off tears.
     They descended into the valley, passed cars clustered in
a field and swung into the rutted private drive.  Massive
iron gates leaned drunkenly from stone gate-posts.  As Yuba
gazed at the snarling marble wolves atop each post, chilling
childhood memories surfaced.
     The mysterious woman who lived in the tower.  The woman
who was Daniel's mother.  Yuba had never seen her.
     The frightening Halloween when Krystal was born.
Krystal's mother and father died that night, the father in
some awful manner.  A taboo topic the adults never spoke of.
     The car bumped along a weed-choked drive beneath the
branches of giant valley oaks.  Daniel was forced to stop
when heavy undergrowth blocked the road; Yuba reached for the
door handle.
     "Wait," Daniel said.  "I want to turn around so we're
facing out."
     As they left the car, she smelled wood smoke.  A camp
fire?  The sky darkened as they picked their way through the
brush in the thickening dusk, climbing over rubble until the
beckoning gleam of flames and the murmur of voices led them
toward what appeared to be a cleared space.
     Yuba pushed through the last of the bushes and halted,
staring.  Stones from the ruins had been piled together to
create a massive throne, an empty throne.  Other stones
formed a low, gigantic ring, enclosing the fire and those
gathered around it.  There was no way to enter the ring
except by climbing over the wall of stones.
     "I think this area was once the circular drive in the
front of the house."  Daniel's voice was subdued, leading
Yuba to believe he was as taken aback as she at the strange
scene before them.
     Why this elaborate set-up?  What did Elias have in mind?
She hadn't told any of the adults about his Gathering because
it seemed like tattling.  Now she wondered if she should
have.
     Though she hadn't noticed him coming, all of a sudden
Elias appeared on the wall in front of them.  She stood
transfixed, gazing at him.  Standing above her on the stones,
he seemed larger than life.  A thrill of expectation tingled
through her when his gaze fastened on her.  He'd never looked
at her quite like this.  Was hungrily the right word?
     "Cousin Yuba, come to join me," he drawled.  "How
fortuitous.  And here's Cousin Daniel as well."  He bowed
slightly and made a sweeping gesture inviting them to enter
the ring.
     Theatrical but innocuous enough.  Why then was the hair
prickling on her nape?
     "Well?" Daniel said when she hesitated.  "You're the one
who talked me into this trip."
     Yuba walked slowly toward the ring of stones, somehow
aware that nothing could keep her from Elias.  She'd been
meant to come here from the beginning.
     As soon as she was close enough, Elias reached down for
her hand to help her up and over.  As he was about to touch
her she almost jerked away, overcome by the strange sensation
she was offering him more than her hand, more than she
realized.
     Moments later both she and Daniel stood inside the ring
of stones with about fifty others--more women than men, she
realized, and none over twenty-five.  Elias had deserted
them.  She looked for him and saw him leaping up the stone
steps onto the throne with his guitar slung around his neck.
     He struck a few chords and began to sing, his voice
embracing the audience much as the ring did.
     "He's got a mike up there and speakers strategically
planted," Daniel muttered.  "I can't even spot the wires.
Clever."
     The song was "Tom Dooley," a ballad everyone knew, and
Elias encouraged the audience to sing with him.  He segued
into one familiar folk song after another, everybody
singing along and enjoying themselves.  When he intoned,
"Repeat what I say, repeat after me," while continuing to
strum the guitar softly, even Yuba was seduced into obeying.
At first.
     She got as far as repeating, "I want to change.  Show me
the way," before she realized what she was doing.  She
stopped chanting and glanced at Daniel, who'd been beside
her, and found he'd moved away to stand beside a pretty girl
with a tumbled mass of dark hair.  They both were repeating
Elias's words.
     Soon Elias had everyone chanting, "Change!  Change!
Change!"
     Yuba, though feeling left out, resisted the temptation
to join them.
     Elias began a new song, one she'd never heard before.
Against her will, the melody captivated her.  The words,
speaking of love, of longing, of a coming together that was
wondrous beyond imagination, created a need within her, a
yearning to know love, to experience what Elias's song
promised.  What Elias promised.
     She found herself walking toward the throne, toward him,
and tried to stop but she couldn't break the spell his voice
cast over her.  Other women drifted in the same direction.
     He continued to sing, urging, seducing, until she
reached the base of the throne.  The song ended but the music
went on weaving its magic and she heard her name threaded
between the notes.  She was the only one invited.
     Yuba climbed the stone steps, her gaze on Elias.  How
magnificent he was.  Master of all.  And he'd chosen her.
She and she alone was the chosen one.  An expectant delight
heated her blood.  He promised her more than life itself.
With Elias she'd experience everything there was or ever
could be.
     Elias stopped playing and shouted, "Change!"  The word
echoed from the hills, assaulting those who listened.
     He grasped her hand and drew her to his side, turning
her so she looked down at those below.  She felt no surprise
to see a pack of beasts rutting with one another.  Hadn't the
Master ordered them to change?
     Elias set aside his guitar.  His arms enfolded her.  His
kiss burned like a brand, marking her for all time as
belonging to him.  Passion flowed hot as fire through her
veins and she abandoned herself to his lovemaking, eager to
be a part of him, to make him a part of her.
     Unyielding rock lay beneath her but she was immune to
her surroundings.  Clothes cast aside, the touch of his bare
skin against hers excited her beyond bearing.  Only Elias
existed and she was his.  Forever.
     A crimson curtain swept over her, sudden and
obliterating as a tule fog.  Wrapped inside it, she could
feel nothing, hear nothing except the commanding whisper
inside her head.
     I have other plans for you, blood of my blood, plans
that do not include this Volek spawn.  He cannot have you;
he has intruded on what is mine.  Push him away.  You can.
You will.  With my help you are stronger than you know.
Push him away and leave this place. Now.
     Yuba struggled against the command, fought to be
mistress of her own will.  Fought to return to the man she
loved more than herself.
      Do as I tell you!  The voice lashed her mind, whipping
to shreds her feeble attempt to disobey.
      Who are you? another voice demanded.  Elias's voice.
In her head.  Speaking to She who commanded.
     Rage that didn't belong to her zigzagged through Yuba,
thrusting her into action.  Aware, yet not in control of what
she did, Yuba shoved Elias aside and jumped to her feet.
When he tried to grab her she twisted into a T'ai Chi Ch'uan
position--Golden Cockerel Stands On One Leg--and, moving
swiftly, kicked him in the stomach, flinging him backwards.
     She swooped to retrieve her clothes, leaped down the
stone steps of the throne, vaulted over the low wall and ran
for the car.  Once inside, she jerked her wallet from the
rear pocket of her jeans, extracted the spare key and jammed
it into the ignition.
     When she reached the main highway, Yuba drove north.
She was halfway back to Palo Alto before the compulsion to
flee left her and she was in control of herself again.  Only
then did she realize all she had on were her bikini panties.
As she yanked her teeshirt over her head, grief twisted her
heart.  She'd lost Elias.
     Then she remembered Daniel and guilt overwhelmed her.
Yet she couldn't go back.  She didn't know who she was more
afraid of, the witch or Elias.  Both of them had claimed her,
the witch completely against her will.  But Elias's
strangeness frightened her, too.  He, as well as the witch,
had invaded her mind.  She needed time to sort out her
feelings for him.
     She'd heard about the witch all her life, heard how her
mother was haunted by the fear the witch would return to
possess her, mind and body.
      "I'm frightened for you, too," Jael had said more than
once.  "Frightened that she'll come to you one day and force
you to obey her destructive commands."
     It wasn't as though she hadn't believed her mother's
repeated warnings but she'd never really worried about it
happening to her.  No one, she'd felt, could control her.
     She'd been wrong.  Putting distance between herself and
Elias might keep her from falling under his spell again, but
the witch could find her anywhere.  At any time.  She'd never
feel safe again.
     "Mama," she whispered, "Oh, mama, I'm so scared."
     Her mother was hundreds of miles away and she was
driving in the opposite direction.  Besides, her mother
couldn't do anything about the witch.  No one could.
     But poor Daniel needed to be rescued from the terrible
Gathering.  Had he actually turned into a rutting beast with
the others in the circle or had it been Elias's control of
her that made her believe she saw beasts?
     Who in the family might be able to rescue Daniel from
Elias's Gathering?  Not Anita.  Or Charles.  Of the adults,
the only person who knew Elias well was her mother.  And
maybe Beth, because of the shaman training she'd given him.
     Yuba doubted that either of them realized how
dangerously Elias had changed, but she had to do something.
     Her mother's only weapon was her love for Elias.  Yuba
shook her head.  Love wasn't the answer.  She loved him and
yet she feared him, too.  She decided to drive to Beth's.
 
     Beth reached the ruins of Volek House near dawn and
parked near the private drive.  Gathering Wolf's shaman drum
and a sable pouch containing other journey necessities, she
left the car and marched along the overgrown drive toward the
ring of stones Yuba had described, the sorcerer's ring.
     Her original shock at Yuba's story had quickly changed
to anger at Elias for twisting the shaman knowledge she'd
taught him, using it as a tool to trap and manipulate the
innocent.  Now fear for him was mixed with her anger for she
knew he tampered with power he didn't completely understand,
power that could be fatal even to a skilled shaman.
     Elias had the ability to become a shaman but he'd never
taken his initial journey.  Unless and until he did, he was
as dangerous to himself as he was to his victims.
     Much as she loathed and feared the malevolent spirit
who'd challenged her on her next to last journey to the
underworld, Beth had to admit the witch had saved Yuba from
Elias's meddling.  For her own sinister purposes, no doubt.
But, for the moment, Yuba was safe.
     Unlike those still inside the ring.  Beth couldn't enter
that ring without Elias's invitation but she had no intention
of asking him for one.  Rather than being invited inside the
ring, she meant him to come to her.
     Sighting the stone ring, Beth skirted it until she
reached the pine grove on the other side.  There she stopped
and, with a pine branch, carefully swept aside the brown and
dried needles until she came to bare earth.  Opening the
sable pouch, she took out the blue silk rug that had been
inside the brass-studded trunk saved from the quake.  She sat
in the center of the rug, facing the throne, and fitted on a
deerskin head band decorated with wolf teeth.  Then she
pulled on wristlets hung with bells and took up the drum.
     Removing a human thigh bone from the sable bag, she
bowed her head and closed her eyes.
     Hear me, spirit of my master.  I did as you ordered and
preserved a part of you, this bone I now hold.  I use your
bone with deep reverence, oh spirit.
     Opening her eyes, she slipped into the proper breathing
pattern, focusing on nothing but her inner self.  After a
time, without her conscious will, her arm holding the bone
rose and came down.  Bells jingled as the head of the femur
fell lightly on the skin covering of the drum.
     She might not be able to cross over the stones but her
monotonous, steady drumbeats, accompanied by the faint
tinkling of the bells, slipped through the sorcerer's circle.
 
     Occupied with the girl writhing beneath him, Elias
didn't hear the drum until its compelling rhythm had already
settled into his bones.  Because he was so near climax he had
to struggle to pull free.  He leaped to his feet, ignoring
her moaning pleas and the insistent throbbing of his own body
as he searched for the drummer who summoned him.
     Though the sound was subtlely different, he knew the
drum and therefore the drummer.  There she was, in the grove.
He'd been aware he was running a risk.  But, because he
needed to bind Yuba to him for all time, he hadn't cared.
He would have completed the binding if that damned witch
hadn't interfered.
     In his heart he'd suspected Beth would come to confront
him once she discovered what he was doing.  But he was damned
if he'd go to her.  And yet he found himself slowly
descending the rock steps until he stood on the ground.
      Brothers?  he asked silently.
     They didn't answer him.
      Brothers, help me!  he demanded.
     We can do nothing;  you must answer the call, they told
him.
     He discovered they spoke the truth.  No matter how hard
he tried to keep from walking toward her, the drumbeats drew
him irresistibly toward their source.  Giving up the fight,
he ran to the wall and vaulted to the top.  For a moment he
stood staring at her, then he jumped down, outside the
circle.
     Beth's eyes seemed to look at him but he knew she didn't
see him, though she was aware of his presence.  He tried to
speak but no words came.  Slowly, inexorably, the drum drew
him where he had no wish to go--onto the shaman rug that
covered the shadow hole, the entrance to another world.
     Whether he wished to go or not, she was forcing him to
the place he'd always dreaded.  Naked and alone, without any
shaman garb, he was about to make his first journey into the
underworld.  He was defenseless.  Except for the weapon she
knew nothing of.  His brothers.  Providing they'd be able to
help him in that strange and dangerous place.
     Suddenly the pine grove and everything familiar
vanished.  He stood by himself on the bank of a dark, swift
flowing river.  He remembered Beth's words when she was
training him:
     "You must cross this hellish river and yet you can't
cross until you're a proven shaman.  Until the flesh is
boiled from you to discover whether or not you have the extra
bone, the magic bone."
     Elias was aware that only his shadow soul stood on this
underworld river bank but it felt as though his body was here
as well.  The body soon to be flung into a kettle and boiled.
He shuddered.
     His brothers had warned him he lacked the magic bone.
His talent and his power came from the three of them united,
not from himself alone.  He could never be a shaman.
     A silvery mist coalesced beside him.  Silver eyes stared
at him.  He knew it was Grandmother Liisi's spirit, knew,
too, that she saw the truth.
     Three-That-Are-One, you cannot return to your world,
she warned him.  Here, you will die in the kettle unless you
use what power you have to save yourself.  You have little
time for already they come for you.
     The mist thinned, drifted away and was gone.
     Elias, shivering, stared into the dark river, wondering
just how the hell he was supposed to save himself.  There was
little use to plead with his brothers because they were as
anxious as he to escape death and would certainly help him if
they could.
     Why had he, with their encouragement, courted doom by
misusing his talent?  He stared at the seething waters of the
river, aware it was far too late for regrets.
     Hell's River, Waino had called it.  River of Tuonela,
the Finnish word for death's dark domain.  He wished his
grandfather was here to help him.  A name sprang into his
mind.  Aino.  The reluctant maiden from one of the old tales
Waino used to tell him.  Too bad he didn't have Aino's
ability.
     Brother, we share you thought.  We look for a way.
     Elias sprang to attention.  Was there hope after all?
A shimmer of movement caught his attention, something
drifting toward him.  Coming for him.  To boil him.
     Aino changed into a fish, his brothers told him.  So can 
you.
     It was no good to ask how, that was up to him.  He
closed his eyes and pictured himself as very small, sitting
on his grandfather's lap listening to the story of Aino and
Vainamoinen told in Waino's sing-song voice, sometimes in
English, sometimes in Finn.
     As a child he'd always imagined the maiden Aino hadn't
become an ordinary fish but had changed into a woman-sized
salmon, big as Jael.  Now he'd make an even larger fish, a
huge silvery salmon, strong and smart and vicious enough to
take on anything in Hell's River.
     Find your body.  Quick!
     Obeying his brothers without question, Elias reached for
his body, following the silvery connecting cord, searching,
searching.  Finding.  Not slipping into it for he could not.
But, with his brothers' help, bringing the body with him back
and back and back, changing the body as he traveled.
     With a great splash, a gigantic salmon dived into the
sinister waters of Hell's River.
 
     Beth's drumming stopped abruptly.  Elias's body,
stretched out on the rug beside her, was gone, vanished into
thin air.  She didn't understand what could have happened.
If he failed the shaman test, his shadow soul would die in
the underworld.  Here, his body would also die, but would
remain in this world.
     It was impossible for him to have reentered his body
without her knowledge.  The body itself was powerless if
missing the shadow soul--it couldn't move, much less run
off.  Where had the body gone?
     The sound of many babbling voices--some cursing, some
shouting--drove her to her feet.  A few of those inside the
sorcerer's ring were already climbing over the stones,
released from their compulsion to remain inside.  Whatever
had happened to Elias, he was gone from this world or his
spell would have remained intact.
     Hastily Beth returned the rug, headband and bells to the
sable pouch, tucked the drum under her arm and hurried toward
the car.  Once she'd stowed the shaman gear safely, she'd
come back and look for Daniel.
     She'd rescued him and the others from Elias's fearful
Gathering but, in the doing, somehow she'd lost Elias for all
eternity.

 

                          Chapter 21

     Yuba leaned against a wall in the Moscow Intourist
lounge, the special air terminal room for foreigners, and
wondered if the other six members of The Runes were feeling
as disoriented as she was.  The Aeroflot flight from New York
had been long, Moscow time wasn't their time and every sign
they saw was written in those strange Cyrillic letters.  Most
of them had mastered enough phonetic Russian to get by, but
none of them knew the Russian alphabet.
     Worse, after all their time and effort, the Moscow
airport might well be the end of their journey--this far and
no farther.  Any time now that official who'd scanned every
passport and then taken their visas would check the visas
against his original list and realize one of the names was
different.
     It had taken seven years for The Runes to become well-
known enough to get on a USSR cultural exchange list and five
years more before they were accepted.  Unfortunately they'd
had to replace one member of the group a little over four
months ago.  The change had been okayed by Washington but the
Soviets hadn't replied yes, no, or maybe--they hadn't said
anything.
     The group's contact in Washington had finally decided to
allow them to make the trip but warned they might have a
problem once they reached Moscow.
     "You may think Washington red tape is endless," he'd
told them, "but you haven't seen anything yet.  Good luck."
     The lounge door opened and a slim dark-haired woman in a
gray uniform entered.  Not only was she attractive but
something about her looked vaguely familiar although Yuba was
sure she'd never seen her before.
    "Privyet," the dark haired woman said.  "Hello.  You are
the Americans, The Runes?"
     She couldn't have missed that they all wore tags with
the group's name pinned to their jackets but Yuba politely
said, "Da."
     "I am Tara Domevich, your guide and interpreter."  The
Russian woman spoke English with only a slight accent.  "If
you will follow me, please."
     They trailed after her, Yuba in the lead.  For years now
she'd been the group's unofficial spokesperson and leader,
mostly because no one else wanted the job.
     To Yuba's relief, Tara settled them in a small room
with enough seats so all seven of them could sit down.  She
was exhausted.
     "There is some confusion with the visas," Tara said.
     "I'm sure they're all in order," Yuba told her.
     "The names, they are not the same," Tara said.  "Perhaps
you can explain."
     Yuba took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  "The
Soviet Embassy in Washington was notified that we've replaced
one member of the group since our original application was
filed."
     "Ah."  Tara nodded.  "You will tell me the new name,
please."
     "Mac--that is Raymond McElroy--replaced Anita Evans.
The rest of us are the same.  Krystal and Charles Evans,
Yuba, Daniel, Francine and Shan Volek."
     "Why was this replacement?"  Tara asked.
     Keep your cool, Yuba warned herself.  "Anita Evans got
married and pregnant, in that order.  We need a flute-player
for many of our songs so we found ourselves another
flautist."
     "Which of you is he?"
     Eighteen-year-old Mac rose to his feet, smiled at Tara,
bowed and sat down again.
     "Thank you.  I will return."  Tara strode from the room.
     They slumped in the chairs, too tired to talk.  Yuba was
dozing when Tara finally came back.
     "The problem is solved," she said.  "Come, I will take
you to the Intourist Hotel."
 
     Two days later, their successful Moscow concert at the
Variety Theater behind them, Tara shepherded them aboard the
train to Leningrad.  By now Charles was doing his charming
best to seduce their guide and Yuba was amused to notice that
Tara, while not overtly rejecting him, made certain she was
never alone with Charles.
     "Give up, cuz," Yuba advised him.  "Could be your line
only works with the home gals.  Besides, I think she prefers
Mac."
     Charles snorted.  "That'd be robbing the cradle--Tara's
my age, thirty, or close to it."
     "Maybe she's mothering him, then."  Yuba gestured toward
Tara and Mac, seated together, deep in conversation.  "Or
else trying to make sure we're not palming off a secret agent
on her."
     "If Tara was older," Krystal put in, "or Mac younger,
they could almost pass for mother and son.  Haven't you
noticed how much they look alike?"
     Yuba realized Krystal was right.  All the Voleks had
Russian genes, of course, but Mac wasn't a Volek.  She'd met
him for the first time four months ago.  The Runes were on an
eastern seaboard concert tour when he'd come up to her in New
York and handed her an envelope.
     "If you ever need another flautist," he'd said, "my
name, address and phone number are in there.  And I'm good."
     One or another of the group were always being handed
names and addresses for all sorts of reasons.  There wasn't a
trash can handy so Yuba tucked the envelope into her purse,
planning to chuck it later, but she'd forgotten.  Two nights
after that, just before they were due to leave for Boston,
Anita announced she wasn't going along but was flying home to
her husband instead.
     "Sorry," she'd said.  "Much as I hate to leave you in
the lurch, I just can't take even one more concert.  This
pregnancy's making me so nauseated that sooner or later I'm
going to vomit on stage."
     Yuba remembered the guy who'd handed her the envelope
and, in desperation, figured he was worth a try.  She called
Mac, he was at the hotel in less than an hour, they listened
to him play and took him on.
     Thinking about it now, she realized she actually didn't
know very much about Mac except that he was as good on the
flute as he'd claimed.  He'd said his parents were dead and
he was on his own but that was about all.  It was certainly
possible he had Russian ancestors.
     "Mac's never talked that much to me," Krystal added.
     "He doesn't ever talk to me," Francine chimed in.  "Not
since I asked him if he'd registered for the draft before he
joined us.  I don't think he did."
     Francine and Romel, Thalia and Reynold's twenty-two-
year-old twins had been very close and Francine hadn't yet
gotten over Romel being drafted and sent to Viet-Nam.
     "Hey, lay off, Mac's all right," Shan said.  "And he's a
damn sight better on the flute than Anita ever was."
     Yuba smiled at Shan, the living image of his mother,
Beth.  It had always amazed her how different his brother,
Juha, looked--as Chinese as Bren.  At twenty, Shan had been
the youngest of the group until Mac joined them.  Of the
original Runes, only she, Daniel and Charles were left--old
timers at thirty.  Soon they'd be over the hill.
     But, damn it, they had gotten The Runes to Russia.  The
Voleks had finally returned to the land of their ancestors.
As nearly as Yuba could pinpoint the location from listening
to the tales Reynolds remembered hearing from Wolf and her
mother's recollection of what Waino had said, the Voleks
originated somewhere in the forests near what was now the
Finnish border.  Near where St. Petersburg--now Leningrad--
had been built.
     Her task was to persuade Tara they needed to renew
themselves by visiting the wilderness northeast of Leningrad.
But that would have to wait until after the concert in the
city.
 
     Yuba had taken Moscow in stride but when Tara led them
on a walking tour of Leningrad its beauty caught at her very
soul.  From the impressive gilt-winged cast iron gryphons on
Bank Bridge to the massive grandeur of the Winter Palace,
everything fascinated her, demanding more attention than she
had to spare.
     Though they'd missed the white nights of mid-June when
the sun never sets except for a half hour of twilight, July
offered almost as many daylight hours.  The lack of true
night plus so many magnificent vistas kept Yuba off balance.
She even found the aging Hotel Evropeiskaya, where they
stayed, charming.
     "Some call Leningrad the City of Bridges," Tara had told
them in advance, "and some the City of Islands."
     Yuba saw why.  Multiple bridges spanned the Neva, a wide
river forking through the city and connected by numerous
canals.  The many waterways created islands much as the
Hudson River and its branches made an island of Manhattan.
And, like Manhattan, Leningrad was situated on a large body
of salt water, the Gulf of Finland.
     On the day of the first concert, Yuba left the hotel for
an early morning stroll only to find Tara at her side.  It
was difficult to get away from their guide so Yuba accepted
her presence.
     Tara led her to the memorial of the city's founder.
On an enormous block of granite, Peter the Great faced the
Neva, his right hand pointing at the river.  Staring at the
imposing statue of Peter, whose rearing horse trampled a
serpent, Yuba regretted that the city's name had been changed
from St Petersburg.  Peter had created magnificence when he
planned and built his city.
     "The horse is Russia," Tara said, "and the serpent
represents the forces that were opposed to the reforms of
Peter the First.  There are always those who resist
progress."
     Yuba shrugged.  More of the party line.  They were all
tired of hearing it, but she supposed Tara wouldn't be
trusted to be an Intourist guide if she weren't a good
Communist.  She also saw her chance to twist Tara's words and
use them for her own purposes.
     "I'm not against progress," she said, "but there are
times when I long to go back to a simpler time."  She gave
Tara what she hoped was a disarming smile.  "In fact, all of
us Runes feel that way--that's why we choose old folk tunes
for our music."
     "We, too, appreciate the music of the people," Tara
said.
     Yuba nodded.  "I could tell that by the enthusiastic
response in Moscow.  When an audience applauds from the heart
we really do give our all for them.  If the people of
Leningrad like us as well as those in Moscow, I'm afraid
we'll be exhausted after the second concert.  At home we go
into the wilderness and camp for a few days afterwards,
letting nature renew us.  There's healing under the trees."
     Tara was silent for a time.  "I understand," she said at
last, so softly Yuba scarcely heard her.  "Perhaps something
can be arranged."
     A moment later she pointed out a trim gray cruiser,
bristling with guns, sailing on the Neva past Peter's statue.
Armed progress, Yuba thought cynically.
 
     That night's concert at the Komsomol Theater was a foot-
stomping success.  "Big Bad John" proved to be the favorite,
especially after The Runes sang the words in Russian the
second time around.  Its success surpassed even the Russian
folk tunes they played.
     Riding back to the hotel afterward in the Intourist van,
Yuba found herself sitting next to Tara.
     "I find myself most moved by the song you sing at the
end of the concert," Tara said.  "Here, as you did in
Moscow.  The words about the mystery, the burden of shame--"
To Yuba's surprise, Tara's voice broke.  Their guide usually
presented such a blank facade that she seemed emotionless.
     "It's our theme song."  Yuba spoke reluctantly, reminded
anew of Elias, who'd composed both words and melody.  She'd
never forgotten him; she never would.  In a way she didn't
understand, he'd become a part of her, keeping her from
taking or wanting any other lover.  Keeping her a virgin.  At
thirty.
     Yet she knew he was gone beyond recall.  Not dead but
lost to this world forever, as Beth had described it.
     "It is, perhaps, a family song?" Tara persisted, her
voice now under control.
     "In a way."  Yuba had no intention of revealing anything
more than she had to.  "A family member wrote it."
     "One of you?"
     Yuba shook her head.
     "The name Volek," Tara said.  "It is Russian.  Wolf, it
means."
     "I know."  Yuba hoped her cool and terse reply would
discourage Tara.
     Another silence.  "We will travel to Lake Onega after
tomorrow," Tara said at last.  "There, on the Island of
Kizhi, is the most ancient inhabited site in Russia.  I
think you may find this of interest."
     Was she imagining it, Yuba wondered, or did Tara
emphasize the last sentence?
 
     After the second concert in Leningrad, The Runes
attended a party in their honor at the Vostochnyi Restaurant.
Vodka flowed freely but they were not heavy drinkers.
Krystal, Shan and Daniel, controlled shifters, never touched
alcohol.  Charles, after his traumatic discovery that he was
a stalker and the painful training sessions in which Beth
taught him to submerge his urge to kill shifters, rarely
touched anything more than a single drink, usually beer or
wine.  Yuba and Francine by choice also limited themselves to
one glass of wine.
     So only Mac tried to match the Russian vodka drinkers.
And failed ignominiously.  After midnight, seeing how near he
was to passing out, Yuba tried to steer him from the
restaurant.
     "Don' wanna go," he mumbled, resisting her.
     The Russian man next to him grinned and poured Mac's
glass full of vodka.  Mac reached for it.
     Tara hand swooped down, intercepting him.
"Dastatichna!" she hissed at her compatriot.  "Enough!"
She gripped Mac's elbow.  "Up," she ordered.
     Yuba took hold of his other arm and the two of them got
Mac on his feet and outside into the lingering twilight of
the northern summer.  The moon, close to full, looked odd in
the still-light sky.  To her distress, Mac, noticing the
moon, flung back his head and howled.
     "Stop that!" she snapped.
     He laughed.  "Jus' like m' grandpa, pa always said.
Like a g'damn wolf."
     Aware of Tara's curious gaze, Yuba tried to disguise the
chill that shuddered through her.  "In American slang," she
said, trying to be casual, "a man who runs after women is
called a wolf."   That must be what Mac meant, after all.
     Mac pulled away from both of them, staggered a few feet,
then turned to face them, one arm thrust forward, his
forefinger waving from right to left as he made the guttural
childhood imitation of a machine gun's noise.  "Mowed 'em
down.  'S what grandpa did for a living."
     Yuba marched up to him, grabbed him by the shoulders and
shook him.  "That's quite enough, Mac."  She glanced at Tara.
"Will you help me get him to his room?"
     Tara shook her head.  "Mac's not going to his room.
None of us are.  We leave Leningrad tonight.  The van is
packed with camping gear--we'll put him there.  I'll watch
over him while you bring the others."
     "But our belongings are--"
     Tara cut her off.  "Are safe.  If you wish to find what
you seek in the woods, we must leave now."
     Yuba stared into Tara's dark eyes.  What did this
Russian woman mean?  What should she do?
     "Trust me."  Tara's whisper was barely audible.  She
turned, detached Mac from the lamp post he clung to and
strode off, pulling him with her.
     Yuba walked slowly back to the others, her mind in
chaos.  Though Yuba wasn't certain what either of them meant,
Tara's request was as disturbing as Mac's drunken
revelations.  Still, whatever reason Tara might have for her
amazing offer, wherever she was taking them, Yuba knew they'd
go with her.  She'd seen enough of the USSR to understand
foreigners couldn't simply slip away on their own without
serious consequences.
     However slim it might be, Tara was offering them a
chance of sorts and it might be the only possibility of
finding what they'd come for.
 
     Boris, the man who'd been their Leningrad chauffeur,
was gone--Tara drove the van.  She insisted that Yuba sit in
the seat next to her and ordered Francine to keep an eye on
Mac who was sprawled on the floor between the seats.
     "Tell me immediately if Mac wakes or--"  Tara paused.
"Or if he acts in any way differently," she said at last.
     Ignoring where the others sat, Tara pulled away from the
parking area and drove through the city and beyond, to the
northeast.
     The next morning, dazed from too little sleep, they took
a boat to Kizhi, a treeless island in Lake Onega.  The
island's ancient onion domed churches of the Transfiguration
and the Intercession and an unadorned bell tower, all
fashioned of wood joined without nails, were beautiful and
intriguing.  But it wasn't the churches that made the hair on
Yuba's neck prickle.  Something about Kizhi spoke to her but
she couldn't determine what it was.
     "Long before the churches were built, this island was a
pagan center."  Tara's words were directed at Yuba.
     Why would Tara believe that she'd care about the
island's history?  She didn't.  And yet perhaps she should,
perhaps pagan was a key word.
     "There are no trees here."  Yuba's words sprang from her
without thought.
     "Once trees grew on this island.  Pine, birch, larch,
fir.  The trees of the northland.  After most of the trees
were cut down, those who lived here in early times found
sanctuary elsewhere.  In the deep woods.  Where next we go.
But I thought you must set foot on Kizhi first.  To
understand."
     After they returned to the mainland, Francine caught
Yuba's arm, keeping her from climbing into the van.  "Did you
feel the vibes on that island?" she demanded.
     At first surprised at Francine's words, Yuba decided she
shouldn't be.  Francine was Thalia's daughter and Thalia was
a witch.  Why shouldn't Francine have inherited her mother's
sensitivity to the earth?
     "I felt something," Yuba admitted.
     "Yeah, but what?"
     "I wish I knew."
     Tara drove along a nearly deserted road, passing nothing
but a few lonely dachas with their distinctively carved
window frames and then only swamps and trees.  At last she
turned from the highway onto a narrow overgrown track that
soon deteriorated into two ruts and finally ended in what
must have once been a clearing.  Since then a grove of young
birches had sprung up, their graceful white trunks and pale
green leaves a contrast to the huge and dark evergreens
surrounding them.
     Yuba's murmured, "How lovely," earned a smile from Tara.
     "The birch is our national tree," Tara said.  "But what
we seek is not here.  We must travel deep into the pines."
     Yuba sympathized with the chorus of groans that rose
from the others.  She was exhausted.
     "I've never been so tired in my life," Krystal
complained.
     "Nevertheless, we must go on."  Tara opened the van door
and climbed out.
     Mac, still miserably hung over, stumbled from the van
and leaned on a fender, squinting his eyes against the
sunlight.  "I'll never drink another drop of vodka," he
mumbled.
     "You must hold to your vow."  Tara spoke sharply.  "It's
not safe for one such as you to drink alcohol; you must keep
your mind clear at all times."
     Mac swallowed convulsively, staring at her while Yuba
tried to decipher the meaning of Tara's warning.  One such as
Mac?  What on earth did Tara believe he was?  She was afraid
to ask.
     After they all shouldered either backpacks or rolled
sleeping bags, Tara led the way into the shadowed green under
the pines.  Larches and firs, too, Yuba supposed, though she
wasn't able to identify either kind of tree other than
knowing they were evergreens.  She seemed to breath in
renewed energy along with their aromatic scent.
     They walked for so long that Yuba fell into a waking
doze and was jolted to complete awareness only when Tara
stopped and announced, "Here will be our camp."
     Excitement blossomed in Yuba as she looked about her at
the ancient trunks of the trees.  Interlaced boughs shut out
much of the light, shrouding them in green gloom.  Even among
the towering California redwoods she'd never been in a forest
that seemed so beyond time.
     "The moon is up."  Daniel spoke softly.  "And full."
     He and every other shifter would, she knew, feel the
presence of moon even though the trees prevented them from
seeing it.
     Tara told them to lay their sleeping bags in a circle
and oversaw their placement.  Mac, Yuba noted, was put
between Tara and Charles.  Deliberately.  Why?  She was on
Charles' other side and Francine on Tara's opposite side.
This left the three shifters lying next to each other.
Coincidence?  It couldn't be anything else.  Or could it?
     "We need rest," Tara said, "but we can afford only two
hours, no more.  I will wake you then."
     Though she, like the others, hadn't eaten for half a
day, sleep overcame Yuba the moment she crawled into her
sleeping bag.
     "Yuba!"
     With her mother's urgent call ringing in her ears, Yuba
sat bolt upright, her heart pounding in alarm.  She stared
blankly at the trees surrounding her, then recalled where she
was.  In a Russian forest.
     Deciding she'd been dreaming, she was about to lay down
again when movement caught her eye.  Mac was easing from his
sleeping bag.  He rose cautiously, paying her no attention,
his gaze fixed across the circle.  His lips lifted over his
teeth in a soundless snarl.  Then, without warning, he
launched himself at Krystal.
     "Mac!" Yuba shouted, shoving herself free of her bag and
springing to her feet.  "Mac, stop it!"  She rushed after
him, unable to believe her eyes as she saw his fingers close
around Krystal's throat.
     Tara and Charles reached Mac at the same time she did.
Charles's arm caught him around the neck in a choke hold,
yanking him off Krystal.  As he did, Tara pulled something
from under her shirt and slipped it over Mac's head.  Yuba
dropped to her knees beside Krystal who was coughing and
retching.
     The commotion had roused everyone.  Intent on
discovering what had happened, Yuba left the terrified and
weeping Krystal in Francine's care.  She found Mac pinned to
the ground by Charles.  Tara crouched beside Mac, her hand on
his chest, over his heart.  Coming closer, Yuba saw that a
chain hung around Mac's neck.  If a pendant was attached to
the chain it must be under Tara's hand.
     "I know what you are."  Tara spoke only to Mac, her gaze
holding his.  "I know, Raymond McElroy, because you and I
share a common affliction, one you must learn to control."
     Glaring at her, Mac said nothing.
     Without taking her eyes from him, Tara said, "Gather
around, you Voleks, gather and sing your song to him.  Sing
until the truth of the words fills his heart and he knows who
and what he is."
     Not understanding but responding to the urgency in
Tara's voice, Yuba motioned to the others and they obeyed--
even Krystal, with Daniel and Shan supporting her.
     "My gown is the moonlight, so cold, so cold," Yuba
began.  One by one they joined her, Charles singing, too,
though he didn't release his hold on Mac.  Tara's voice, low
and intense, weaved through their song.
     "You are one of them, Mac.  You are not only one of The
Runes, you are a Volek.  Feel blood call to blood.  Volek to
Volek.  You are bonded to them, to each and every Volek.  We
do not kill blood kin, Raymond McElroy.  I do not, Charles
does not, you will not.  Blood kin, Volek kin.  The words of
the song are yours, are mine, are theirs.  The Volek heritage
is two-pronged but we are all one.  Shifters and stalkers
alike.  All one."
     Tara knew.  She knew because she was a Volek.  Yuba felt
no surprise.  The truth had eased into her as they sang.
     "Sing Mac," Tara commanded.  "Sing with those who share
your dark heritage, sing the words, for they are about you.
Sing.  Sing.  Sing."
     Yuba's heart lifted when she heard Mac's hoarse tenor
join in.  Then Tara, too, sang with them, uniting them all,
Volek voices drifting between the massive trunks, penetrating
into the remote fastnesses of the ancient forest, imploring
voices rising up through the green branches and floating over
the trees, singing in the night that was not made of
darkness.
     And then something answered.

 

 

 

                          Chapter 22

     A musical note of piercing beauty rang through the
forest, a note unlike any Yuba had ever heard from an
instrument or a human voice.  As one they stopped singing to
listen.
     Francine raised her face to the dark boughs above.
"We hear," she said softly.  "I hear and open my mind as a
channel as did my mother before me."
     As Thalia had communicated with She Who Waits in the
Black Forest, Yuba told herself.  It was Thalia who had
enabled Reynolds and Nicholas to understand She Who Waits.  A
moment later every thought was wiped away as something spoke
within her.
     You are late in coming.  Perhaps too late.  For I am alone.
     Yuba cringed at first from the mind communication, then
realized how delicate the touch was, how unlike the violent
possession of the witch who haunted her.  There was nothing
to be seen except green motes dancing about them.  She took a
deep breath, did her best to calm herself as she gathered her
courage.
      Who….What are you?  Awe tinged her question.
     I am a being composed of earth’s energy..the same energy that 
dwells in each of you while you live.  But unlike a human I have no
body; I am entirely energy.  Long and long ago we were called
earth elements by humans.  Some thought of us as forest demons.
With cause.  We were still young and youth is cruel; wisdom and 
compassion come only with experience.
     We are Voleks, Yuba said, and we are cursed.  We’ve come to
you to discover why.
      A mist of sadness from the energy being seeped into her.  You
call yourself Voleks and others like you are the result of a failed
experiment.  We meant well but our plans went awry.
	Earth is a living organism and we were formed from its energy
before any other life began.  Before time began.  For long and
long we believed we were immortal.  Then life sprouted around
us….in the seas, from the ground.  Plants.  Animals.  And humans.
We were fascinated by the variety of this ephemeral life; we found 
humans amusing, never realizing the potential danger they 
represented.
     We cannot live near humans and survive.  Before we discovered
this many of us died, our energy returning to the source as does yours
when you die.  Those of us who retreated to the forests became 
survivors but we never really healed.  We were like humans of your
day who suffer from radiation sickness.  Unhealthy ourselves, we
began to fail in our purpose…keeping earth healthy.
     Being pure energy we’re unable to reproduce, unable to create
others.  Seeing no other alternative, we decided to try to incubate
halflings within humans, hoping these halflings could learn from us.
     But if you had no bodies, Yuba protested, how was that possible?
     We have the ability to change, to create temporary, functional
bodies that resemble anything we wish them to…plants, animals,
humans.  After our retreat to the trees, we sometimes amused ourselves
by appearing in human guise to the lone man or woman who ventured 
into the forest and then sporting with them.  The sport was one-sided for 
the human usually died or went mad.  We were purposefully cruel, 
meaning to frighten humans into keeping away from us.
      When we decided on the experiment, some of us formed male bodies
for ourselves, some formed female.  And we mated with humans.  We soon
discovered the disadvantages of a female body..nourishing a halfling to
viability took too long and used too much of our energy.  Therefore, most 
of our matings were with human females.  We planned to lure the halflings
into the woods when they were mature enough and train them to take
over our duties.
     But the halflings were flawed.  Worse, they were flawed in mutually
destructive ways.  The many we fathered on human women had our ability
to change shape…but they became mindless beasts when they did.  Those
few who were fathered by human males lacked the ability to shift shape.
Instead, they nursed an implacable hatred for their halfling brothers who
could and killed them whenever possible.
     We were appalled.  Perhaps we should have eliminated them all but we 
couldn’t bring ourselves to take lives we had delibereately created.  We tried
desperately to find a way to salvage our creations but by the time we learned
the secret of melding the two into one who could be taught, the halflings
had dispersed and many of us had died.  Now I am the only one of us left.
      She Who Waits? Yuba asked.
     Again she felt the being's sadness. The one you call by that name is no more.
I am alone.
     We descendents of your halflings have returned to you,  Yuba said.   Teach us.
     I will try.  Though you are few, three of one kind, three of the other, I am but
 one and that is not enough.  If I can teach the one who 
questions and the one who channels how to help me, 
perhaps we will be sucessful.
     Francine was the channeler, Yuba told herself, and then
belatedly realized she must be the questioner.
     Come with me.
     Yuba found herself walking briskly, along with Francine,
away from the campsite into the trees.  Evidently the being
had summoned only the two of them.  She fought back her fear.
From the cradle on, she'd been told by her mother that her
purpose in life was to learn why the Voleks were afflicted.
Against all odds, she'd reached her goal, she'd found the
reason--only to discover there was more to be learned.   She
shouldn't be afraid of knowledge.  But she was.
     When Francine grasped her hand she started, then gripped
Francine's fingers firmly, gaining confidence from the human
contact.
     The being spoke.  Stop here.   Continue to hold one to the
 other while you put your backs to the trunk of this tree. 
Green motes danced before a large trunk to Yuba's left.
     She and Francine obeyed.  Green drifted into her mind,
the cool green of a spring morning, soothing her.  She
pictured the green fields of the California valley where
she'd lived as a child.  There she'd been safe.  Safe at
home.  Safe.  Just as she was safe here.
     Then something touched the top of her head and sizzled
through her like an electric current.  The hair rose all over
her body but she experienced no pain.  After a moment, an
hour, a lifetime, the feeling vanished.
     You have been augmented.  Return to the others and
collect their charms against changing.
     Suddenly she and Francine were at the camp, though Yuba
had no memory of coming back.  She glanced at Francine and
saw her own bewilderment reflected on her cousin's face.  But
the next moment, as though they'd discussed it ahead of time,
they walked away from one another--Yuba toward Daniel,
Krystal and Shan.  The shifters.  She knew without being told
that Francine was assigned to Tara, Charles and Mac.  The
stalkers.
     No one resisted or argued when Yuba lifted the amulets
over each of their heads.  Had the being already told them
what they must do? she wondered as she placed the three
leather thongs around her own neck.  She had no doubt
Francine was doing the same with the stalkers--taking only
two amulets because Tara had given hers to Mac.
     Numbly, Yuba watched the shifters writhe and change into
fearsome beasts, saw hatred shine in the eyes of the
stalkers.  Without fear, certain they wouldn't harm her, she
laid her right hand briefly atop the head of each snarling
beast and rested her left hand on it.  Something passed from
her to them.  Francine, she knew, had touched each stalker's
head with her right hand over her left.
     Yuba herded the beasts toward the stalkers and, when
they were close enough, without words, without touch, she
forced the beasts to stand on their back legs and thrust
their taloned front paws toward the stalkers.  She knew
who each was and how to match them:  Krystal to Tara; Daniel
to Mac; Shan to Charles.  When the stalkers reached out with
reluctant hands, Yuba was aware Francine was forcing them to
grasp the shifters' paws.
     Now all that remained was for her and Francine to crouch
underneath the extended arms and, after crossing their own
arms, clasp each other's hands, left to left and right to
right.
     She eased down, started to reach for Francine and fell
into a crimson pit of nothingness.
      Never!  The witch's voice raked needle-sharp across her
mind.  You are mine; you will obey only me.
     Terrified, Yuba struggled to resist.  So much depended
on her.  Too much.  She must not give in to the witch.
     You will release the beasts, the witch ordered.
     If she did, Yuba knew, the beasts would savage everyone.
Including her.
      You will not be harmed, blood of my blood.  I have
further use for you.  Release the beasts.  Now!
     She'd be betraying her kin.  Killing them.  Horrified,
Yuba fought against the overwhelming compulsion to obey the
witch.  Bit by bit her resistance crumbled.
      Being, help me!  she cried
     It cannot help; I am stronger, the witch told her.  You
will do as I say.
     The witch would win, Yuba thought despondently, just as
she had before.  Ten years ago the witch had forced her away
from Elias, away from the only man she'd ever love.  Anger
burned through her, renewing her determination not to give
way.
     "Elias!" she screamed.  "Elias.  Hear me, Elias,
wherever you are.  Help me, Elias."
 
     Lohi, deep in Tuonela's river, lunged to the surface.
Yuba had called him.  And, because she was the only one who
had any claim on him, he'd heard.  His gigantic silver body,
scarred from innumerable battles with monsters who shared the
malignant waters with him, leaped up, testing the air for a
second before splashing back into the river.
     In that second he'd learned what he needed to know.
Yuba was threatened by someone from the underworld.  From the
world that was and was not his.  Someone he'd come against
once before when she'd wrested Yuba from his embrace.  The
witch spirit.  He had good reason to hate her.
     His body was forever that of a salmon and, as Lohi, he
couldn't leave the river.  But he'd learned much about the
monsters he'd bested in fierce battles.  Some of them could
and did crawl on land.
     Though he could, if he wished, shift part of himself
into one of those monsters, that part of him would be locked
helplessly inside the monster until it returned to the river.
Still, he had no other way to search for the witch.  And when
he did find her he wouldn't be able to help Yuba unless he
forced the witch to come to the river.  To him.
     Nearby was a suitable creature, a huge and ugly yellow
frog armed with a dagger-sharp coiled tongue that dripped
venom.  Long ago he'd survived the poison and bested the
frog in battle.
      Brothers, he said, we must control the frog, find the
witch and lure her to the river.  And we must make haste.
     He felt something slip from him and slither into the
frog.  One of his brothers.  They'd never separated one from
the other before and he wasn't sure why they did now.
     As Lohi he watched as the yellow frog leaped from the
water onto the far bank and hopped rapidly toward a scarlet
tower that thrust up like a bloody finger in Tuonela's drab
landscape.  At the same time he looked through the frog's
eyes, seeing what the frog saw, knowing what the frog knew.
     The blood-red tower encased the witch.  The tower was
her body, unscalable, impregnable.  She was impossible to
reach.
      Do not despair, his remaining brother told Lohi.  The
one of us who controls the frog will find a way.
     The frog's gigantic leaps brought it to the foot of the
tower where it squatted, blinking malevolent yellow eyes.
Its cavernous mouth opened and a call boomed out.
     "Foul spirit, a Volek arrives to challenge you.  Are you
brave enough to come forth?"
     When there was no answer, the frog, in a booming voice
that echoed from the gray rocks, said, "You cower behind
scarlet walls, oh foul spirit, because you fear Voleks.  Fear
that a Volek will best you.  Your silence proclaims your
cowardice.  You are craven.  A coward."
     "...coward..." the echo repeated.
     "Cow-ard," a raven cawed as it flapped over the tower.
"Cow-ard."
     The stealthy wind of Tuonela picked up the refrain,
whispering, "Coward, coward, coward," as it wove around and
around the tower.
     Without warning, a dark slit appeared near the tower's
top.  An evil red effluence flowed from the opening, hissing
and bubbling as it covered the frog.
     Perception faded and vanished even before the frog
disintegrated. Brother! Lohi cried, fearing his brother had
been destroyed with the frog.
      Wait, his remaining brother counseled. You have long
been a breathing creature and even I drew a few faltering
breaths before they put me aside to die.  We are vulnerable,
you and I.  But he has never breathed and, though the witch’s
knowledge is vast, she does not know this.  Wait and be prepared.
It may be that my brother and I can bring about your heart’s
desire.
     Lohi had no idea what he meant.  His body was forever
that of a salmon and his spirit was sealed inside the salmon
body, to swim in Hell's River forever.  Immortal.  Wasn't
immortality the true heart's desire of every human?
      You will go, his remaining brother told him.  I will stay
and our first-born brother will rejoin me here in the salmon
body.  You saved the two of us from our lonely grave,
you gave us life and love, you made us understand what 
it meant to be human.  Yet he and I are not human.  We
will enjoy immortality in this river far more than you.  
Trust us now as you did that October night in the woods
at Volek House.
     I’ve always trusted you, Lohi said.  But what…?
Before he had the chance to ask questions, he felt his first-
born brother summon him--from where, he didn't know.  At the
same time, his remaining brother forced him from the salmon
body and out of the river.
     Not only his shadow soul but his entire spirit was
sucked into a swirling red chaos of malignancy.  With horror,
he realized he'd become a part of the witch.  He shielded
himself as best he could against her murderous rage but she
tore down his defenses one by one.
     Then suddenly she and the redness faded like a bad dream
and he found himself inside a human body.  Sharing a human
body.  Seeing what she saw, knowing what she knew--but not
controlling.  Sharing.
     Elias! Yuba cried.  You saved me from the witch!
     His brothers had joined him to Yuba in the only way the
two of them could ever be together.  They'd known better than
he that she was and had always been his heart's desire.
     Questioner, complete the circle of healing, an alien
voice commanded.
     Yuba's awareness left him as she willingly accepted the
order.  Elias, though apprehensive, didn't try to interfere.
Without comprehension, he saw three pairs of beasts and
humans holding hands and watched while Yuba crouched under
their outstretched arms and crossed her hands, clasping the
crossed hands of another woman.
     He felt energy flare around him, tingling through their
shared body, soothing and cleansing, energy that brought an
understanding to body and mind.  The eight bodies, the eight
minds, were one.  Not only one with each other but one with
the surrounding trees, plants and animals.  With every living
thing.  One with the earth beneath their feet.
     As one, their knowledge expanded.  They'd already been
told why they'd been born and they'd been shown how to
overcome the obstacles that blocked the fulfullment of their
destiny.  Now they learned how to heal.
     Eight were far too few for earth's needs, but eight were
a beginning.  As well as healers, they must be teachers and
recruiters.  Not only of others like themselves but of
ordinary humans, healing and passing on knowledge until
everyone on earth understood the oneness.
     As the intensity of the energy faded, Elias cringed at
his past selfish misuse of his powers.  Little as he deserved
a second chance, he'd been given one.
     At Yuba's expense.
     Yet maybe he could earn his keep.  The witch took
control of Yuba when she wished but he'd banished her when
his spirit joined with Yuba's.  He was not blood of witch
blood, as Yuba was.  Together, they'd continue to defeat that
foul spirit.
 
     When Yuba felt the departure of the forest energy being,
her hands fell away from Francine's.  She rose, removed the
thongs from her neck and dropped each amulet over the head of
its owner, nodding in satisfaction as the beasts shifted to
their human selves.  When she was certain the stalkers were
once more controlled, she sighed in relief.
     Her sigh was echoed by Tara's.  "At last we're united,"
Tara said, tears filling her eyes.  "If only my mother could
have lived to know her struggle was not in vain.  She was a
Volek, you know.  She was Sara Volek Eastman."
     Yuba stared at her.  "Though I was told they disappeared
in Russia, I never knew Sara--or Zachary either."
     "Zachary was killed soon after they entered the country
from Finland.  My mother never got over his loss.  I
sometimes feel she married my father only to conceive a child
who could be taught about the Voleks, taught to work from
within this country to help other Voleks come here.  I was
their only child.
     "My mother, fearing I might be a stalker, as she was,
taught me what I must do when and if it happened and she
bequeathed me her amulet.  I'm fortunate enough to be able to
control myself without the amulet.  I'm glad it worked for
Mac."
     Both women turned to stare at Mac.
     "I had no idea I was a stalker," he said huskily, his
hand clutching the amulet.  "Thank you, Tara, for bringing
back my sanity.  Thank you all for making me a part of this.
I don't know much about my background, only that my
grandmother claimed my grandfather was a part of Dillinger's
gang back in the thirties.  I never thought that was
something to brag about."
     "My father searched for years for his brother's lost
son, Rafe," Yuba said.  "You must be Rafe's son.  Welcome to
the clan, cousin."
     Yuba turned to Tara.  "Not only Mac owes you.  We all
owe you more than I can say.  Without you we wouldn't have
found the being who is the last of its kind.  We'd have left
Russia as ignorant as we entered.  Ignorant and bitter
because of our heritage."
     "Ah, but it is a heritage to be proud of," Tara said.
     Yuba nodded.  "A heritage we must try to live up to."
     I meant to try like hell.  Better late than never.
The words were within Yuba, a part of her and yet not a part.
After her start of surprise, joy began a dance in her heart.
     Elias?  Her thought was tentative.  Hopeful.  She knew
he'd come to her earlier and banished the witch but she
hadn't dreamed he was still with her.
     I’m here, Yuba.  For better or worse.
     Forever!  Her thought was exultant.
     Not unless you’re immortal.  And thank God you’re not.
Forever’s too long, love.  But we’ll be together till death sends
our combined energy back to the source.
     And even then, she rejoiced, we’ll be a part of one another.
Part of the whole.

     "Please," Tara said.  "Can we sing our song one last
time before we leave?"
     Krystal began it, her clear sweet soprano adding a
poignancy to the words.  The others joined in one by one.
When they came to the last line, Yuba repeated it once more
after the rest stopped singing.
     "I take pride in my family name..."
     Elias's pleasure surrounded her warmly.  I’d all but
forgotten I wrote that song for you.  Yes, you, Yuba, even
then.  But only now, only through you, do I understand the
truth in it.  At long last Volek is a name to be proud of.

 
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