Beauty's Beast(38)

“Enough!” Nagi bellowed. “I go! But none of you will ever cross the Ghost Road. When you leave this world you come to me.”

Alon knew it was true, and it only enraged him more. He struck again but Nagi was already gone.

“Hurry,” cried Aldara. “Before their souls leave the Living World.”

The Ghost Children raced back the way they had come. Upon reaching the battlefield they stopped in unison. Their spiny quills drooped in dismay at the multitude of drifting souls.

Below the souls the Skinwalkers lay strewn across the grass. Upon the hill the Spirit Children had crumpled. Nothing stirred but the souls of the dead, glowing brightly, hovering near their mortal forms, confused by the sudden severance between the body and spirit.

“There are so many,” whispered Owen.

Alon felt a desperation creeping in to drown him. How could they return them all?





Chapter 18



Alon turned to his sister. “Aldara, take Nagi’s forces to the Niyanoka. Return the souls to the Seers first, then the Dream Walkers, because they can heal the injured. Then see to the rest. Hurry.”

Aldara pointed across the field. “Mom and Dad first. Promise.”

“Samantha, then Mom and Dad.”

“Yes. Hurry.” Aldara shouted. “Nagi’s forces to me. We will take the Spirit Children.” She turned to smoke and shot off to the hilltop with Nagi’s followers hurdling along behind her. An instant later they transformed to their human appearance on the hilltop, fanning out over the fallen.

“Owen, Ophelia. Take the older ones to the Buffalo Skinwalkers. Callie, to Mom near the largest buffalo. Cody, find Dad and then you have the bears. Restore the healers first, understand? Then work on the others.”

“Nick and Norma, you two work on the ravens. If they are not injured, tell them to fly to the Spirit Road and turn the souls back so we can restore them. Daniel, Darya, you have the buffalo. Quick now.”

Alon divided the others into quadrants. Then he returned to Samantha’s body. Still in his fighting form, he lay her gently down upon the grass. Her naked shoulder showed ragged tears in her flesh, and blood matted her dark hair. Where was her soul?

He glanced about, finding her hovering above the head of her body, staring down at him. Samantha’s soul sparkled as bright as a welder’s torch and with the same brilliant white glow. This was a holy soul, one who walked the Red Road. She would find instant welcome into the Spirit World, while he was doomed to the Circle of Ghosts. They could not be soul mates, for they would never spend eternity together.

Alon seized her soul in his fist and plunged it deep into her injured body, sorry for the pain she endured but unwilling to let her find the peace and joy she had already earned.

Selfish, he knew, for if he really loved her, he would let her go.

He pressed his ear to her chest and listened. An instant later her heart began to beat, strong and steady.

Aldara knelt beside him in her fighting form, her claws digging into her fur as she pressed them to her knees and rocked.

He peered up at her, his vision blurry from the tears. “I sent you to the Niyanoka. The Seers, Michaela and Blake?”

“Done,” she answered. “And Mom and Dad. Callie and Cody found them.”

Alon stroked Samantha’s hair with his big, hairy paw, praying for her return, but her eyes remained closed.

He turned to Aldara to ask her why Samantha would not wake and caught her removing her ghostly hands from Samantha’s body.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping her.”

He drew Samantha into his arms, holding her to his chest with a desperation that choked him. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No. Look. She’s waking.”

He glanced down to find Samantha’s eyes fluttering.

“She’s bleeding again,” said his sister. “Get her to Blake. I’ve restored him and he’s already organizing the healers.”

Alon bounded up the hill to the headquarters of the Spirit Children, desperate to find Samantha’s brother and see her restored. When he arrived, Blake was on his feet. Having suffered no injuries, he recovered quickly from the separation, as Aldara had said. Several Niyanoka were coming around, retrieving weapons, pointing them at him. Alon turned so they would not hit Samantha. He had to get her to Blake before she bled to death.

“Hold fire!” shouted Blake. “Hold!”

The Spirit Children did as their War Chief ordered, lowering their weapons but still clutching them in preparation for new orders. All about them Ghost Children, in both fighting form and in the buff, were striding from corpse to corpse and thrusting ghostly hands into each. Fallen Spirit Children convulsed and roused, waking from the dead.

“Where shall I put her?” asked Alon.

“Is she...”

“No. Restored. She’s hurt.” He flipped back her cloak to reveal the gashes on her shoulder and upper arm. The one on her neck was obvious.

Blake led him to a healing circle, set up, he suspected, prior to the conflict in preparation for the inevitable injuries. Alon laid her on a buffalo robe and stepped back.

“What happened to us?” asked Blake.

“Nagi tore the souls from your bodies. He tried the same on us but we are immune to his powers.”

Blake adsorbed this.

“Because they have no souls,” said a tall handsome man behind Blake.

“Quiet, Mr. Healy.” He faced Alon again.

Healy? Could that be Jessica Healy Chien’s father, the one who disowned his only child for marrying a Skinwalker? Alon wondered what fate awaited Samantha for fighting with the Toe Taggers.

“Nagi?” asked Blake.

“The Ghost Children defeated him.”

“How?”

“Later. Your sister first.” Alon turned to go. Blake’s hand rested on his shoulder.

“Aldara?” he whispered.

“Working on the others. Many are injured.”

“My father is still on the field.”

“I’ll find him.”

“Your parents, Nicholas and Bess?”

“Restored.”

Blake’s shoulders sagged, but whether from news of Bess’s recovery or that Aldara was safe, he was not certain.

Blake turned to stare down the hill to the valley. The fallen lay strewn before him like rag dolls. He covered his mouth in horror.

Jessie Healy Chien charged up to Alon and clutched his arm. “Save him, quickly, before I lose him forever. My daughters! Quick!”

Beyond her, Alon saw the fallen wolves unattended. Alon turned to follow her.

“No,” said Healy, clasping his daughter’s shoulders. He swept an arm, indicating the fallen Niyanoka. “The Spirit Children first.” He directed his next comment to Blake. “Order him to see to us before the Skinwalkers.”

Had the man really just commanded that his son-in-law and grandchildren be left to die? Had he just given the War Chief of the Niyanoka an order?

Alon met Blake’s troubled gaze. Blake could not really direct him to do anything, but Alon waited to see what he would do.

“Go,” said Blake.

“Blake,” cried Healy. “Our people first!”

Alon billowed down the hillside to find the wolves, lying neglected between the buffalo and the bear. Just as he had ordered, his troops restored the healers first.

Sebastian was already on his feet and healing the wounded alongside a gathering of buffalo. Alon materialized in fighting form. Sebastian called to him.

“You are Alon?”

He turned to face Sebastian, wishing he was in his human form for this first meeting, dressed in a sports coat instead of bloody, matted hair and bristling quills. Alon used both hands to try to smooth the fur at his temples. It was the best he could do.

“Yes.”

“Where is my daughter?”

“With Blake. He is seeing to her injuries.”

“My wife?”

“Is well.” He wished his words were not garbled by his teeth. “I gave orders that the Seers be restored first to keep the souls from crossing to the Spirit World. Your son works on the injured Niyanoka above.”

He nodded, then he glanced at the wolves, before returning his attention to Alon. “Tell your forces to carry the wounded here to us.”

“Yes, sir.”

Alon turned to go, distracted by the many souls trying to cling to the bodies they had once inhabited.

“Son?”

Alon hesitated, blinking in surprise as the greatest of the bears, the War Chief of the Skinwalkers and the father of the woman he loved, extended his hand.

Alon reached, saw his own clawlike appendage and flushed with shame, but he clasped Sebastian’s forearm.

“You fought well.”

Alon broke away with a murmured thanks. He had expected many things from the War Chief of the Skinwalkers, frontal attack being foremost. But he had not expected thanks.