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In
the midst of heat Leda abruptly and irrevocably changed.
Thick gray fur covered her body. She strained back against him, her claws
digging into the urine-stained soil, the stubby tail wrapped over her left
buttock. Then she noticed it.
The
Owl was gone.
Tommy
roared his release and she tried to jump away but he was swollen, trapped in
her. She clawed up onto her hind legs and stared at the boy. The Owl was gone.
Nothing was so important as a blood sacrifice. Nothing was that important that
it would drag the Owl from the Stone.
Leda
shrieked. Benny. He found Benny
dying.
She
twisted to snap at Tommy. Shocked and physically damaged, he dropped away
clutching at his bleeding member. Leda charged from the glen.
She
tore out of the forest to the gravel road and plowed to a stop. Carl? She
glanced at the house. Carl would do, if she wheedled and wept.
Fuck
Carl.
Leda
raced down the road. The house was a white blur through leafless trees of
October. She slowed. Anna’s house showed a haze of blue light.
Slinking
off to one side, Leda edged to the young growth of trees that once was a yard.
Three ghosts haunted the shattered remains of a house, trapped there by the
Owl. Toys. Playthings. Powerless against her in life, now they were nothing.
She
darted through the trees, leaping the old mill stream and the burned-out shell
of the millhouse, then arched her body in a race up the mountain.
The
stone eagle screamed a cry and Leda shuddered. Fire streaked from its eyes.
She dodged, but it blasted her against a tree. Leda screamed. She clawed her
way passed it and ran on, through the dying village of Sandy Run. A half mile
further, she then made a wide pass around the Grandfather Stones at the head
of the valley.
They
whispered harsh laughter at her. Leda snarled but her tail was clamped between
her legs. Most of the way to Freeland she ran in terror of the raging i:yu:
O, sacred spirits. Leda jumped, her body arching over a fifty-foot wide
crack in the earth that stank of mine water and death.
The
first tumbled shacks of town flashed by, then a crack factory and what was
left of the car lots. A house groaned, slipping a little deeper into the
abandoned mines. Inside, people screamed, clawing their way out. Seeing her,
they huddled against the building.
Ghosts
and hate. They haunted the whole area. Outside one of the few undamaged houses
Leda dodged a pile of garbage scattered by coyotes.
Something
tickled at the back of her mind. Snarling, Leda shook her head. The shon:gili
asgina, the demon that invoked change
was fighting to control her mind.
Something
was wrong. Missing.
That
bitch, Angela. Angela was supposed to be at the Stone and the little slut had
a party to go to. Her precious Donald was there, but most of the kids who
belonged didn’t show.
An
ugly fear pushed vomit up her throat.
The
fastest way to get to Wilkes-Barre from here was Route 309. The state spent
millions to bridge the cracks and fill sink holes caused by collapsing mines.
She fled down Butler Mountain. It was far safer than trying the mountain.
The
massive Guardian shivered. He crouched at Benny’s right knee, pleading in
quiet tones.
Benny
stood, leaning heavily on the sturdy motorcycle. Moistening his lips, he
closed his eyes and raised his foot.
Pain.
Tasting fresh blood on his lips, Benny snarled, enclosing the cramping
stiffness in a ball of cold fire. He took a breath. Bending slightly, mentally
cursing the weakness of flesh and bone, he used his shaking right hand to
grasp the ripped canvas of his jeans and dragged his leg up high enough to get
his boot onto the starter.
Benny
shoved, and shoved hard. The starter made contemptuous puttering noises. He
tried again, gasping at the throbbing ache movement produced. A murmur of
laughter came from a bunch of partiers. They watched and passed a bottle
around.
Awkward
and embarrassed, Benny eased back into the saddle, reeling and nauseated by
the sharp vibration eating at his testicles and throughout his body. Grudging
it, he cast a beseeching look at the mountains to the east. Then turned his
head from the source of help.
The
Guardian bowed his head, pleading furiously with the Eagle:Woman to permit him
to assist Benny.
“He
has to ask.”
She
smiled through a flood of tears.
“Oh,”
she whispered, “but how I love you, little brat.” The Woman shook her
head. “No, old friend. We can’t interfere with free will.” She turned
away and sobbed into the chest of her Son, the Wolf of God.
Benny
grimaced and rested for a moment. His hand touched the key. Carl was going to
show him how to rebuild the old starter. But that was before Mom lost the
baby.
He
stood, trying again.
In
the passenger compartment of a Deusenburg even more ancient than his hundred
years, the Spider leaned back in the plush cushions, outwardly relaxed. He
smiled genially at the handsome woman who took the seat next to him.
“Dear
my lady VanTur.” He took her hand in his.
Trembling,
hungry lips brushed across the back of her hand. Cindy resisted the urge to
slap Ryan and scrub her hand. Ryan was one of Grace Hylnn’s men. That old
bat would have made a pact with the very devil to get her way. Looking over
Ryan, Cindy wasn’t certain Grace hadn’t. With a grace born of old money
and expensive tutors she eased into the soft, form-fitting cushions of the
limousine. A weakness in her stomach made her stay as far from the ancient
wreck as was polite.
What
a pity he hadn’t stayed along the lines meant by the craftsmen who designed
and built the Deusenburg. Ryan’s comfort came before anything else. How he
disgusted her.
Still,
if the old horror required it, she would give him a ride in the saddle that
would put him in the grave. The rank smell of death and decay swelled her
throat shut.
Anything.
She clenched her hands into fists of rage.
Any dammed thing it took, to return that boy where he belonged.
“I
do not wish to be indelicate, madam.” Loose folds of skin quivering in
silent amusement Ryan cleared his throat. The young and talented Mrs. VanTur
was little more than just that, the keeper of houses of ill repute. He smiled
a hint of mockery. No matter. She held something he greedily craved. Money.
The McAllen/VanTur wealth was beyond his fondest avarice.
Shifting
further away, Cindy nodded a demure smile. Her eyes half closed.
The
old man cleared his throat in a nervous gesture. Folds of skin quivered at
Cindy’s cool look.
“You’ll
have your, ah, reward within the hour. After I have Benny,” she added. Her
words came soft. The implication behind them was murderous.
He
cackled a laugh. Ryan cracked the gold head of his cane on the glass divider
between them and his chauffeur.
“Quickly,
then, Henri. We must not disappoint herself, hey?”
The
chauffeur nodded. Eyes hooded, hiding the virulent hatred. With trembling
fingertips, Pop-Henri Long touched the collar binding his loyalty to Ryan.
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