the moment she completed the symbol, darkness caught him and pulled him into the vortex. “I’ll have my revenge,” he vowed as the darkness melted over him like molten lava.
Chapter 1
The Present
Katrina Sanecki picked up her pace on the jogging trail. She could hear someone behind her. The person had followed her for a quarter of a mile. Odd, she couldn’t hear footfalls, but the heavy breathing was unmistakable. Close. Too close. Somehow, all around her, the hot feel of it prickled her bare neck. And she could feel eyes watching her. Goose bumps slid down her arms and legs.
She shot a quick glance behind her. The full moon loomed over her and… Her breath caught as she saw phantom yellow eyes hovering beyond the thick oaks and hedges. A lot of them. She realized it was the hazy lights of the Washington Zoo, looming in the night. The zoo bordered the south end of Rock Creek Park. She let out a shuddering sigh of relief.
Her imagination was running wild tonight. She shouldn’t have come here after dark, but she’d had to work late and finish some reports, then get ready for her hot date. Lately, her guy had turned into an animal in the bedroom, and she liked walking on his wild side. She smiled at the thought of what the night would bring, then her smile died as the rising frantic cry of the animals drifted toward her.
Birds screeched. Monkeys screamed. Lions roared… The breathing. Still there. She hadn’t imagined it. Oh, God! Where was this pervert hiding? She couldn’t see him but, like the zoo animals, sensed him.
She swallowed the lump of fear choking her and sped up. Her legs churned as fast as they could go. Her heart hammered her chest.
The breathing closed in on her…
A rumble split the air, a beast’s attacking howl.
The growl tore through her like claws. She screamed as something hit her from behind and knocked her to the ground. This isn’t happening. Dear God. She’d never been this afraid in her life. She couldn’t struggle, it pinned her to the ground.
No. No. No. She tried to scream, but fear closed off her throat. Then it was too late. Darkness took away the pain.
Fala Rainwater gulped back rising panic and felt the night, alive, teeming, lapping up the campfire flames on the sacred mound. The fire thinned the frigid, damp air, lacing it with cinders and the odor of burning birch. Birch, the wood of choice for switches. Well, wasn’t this a beating? Nah, it was much worse than any spanking she’d ever experienced. She gasped for air and wished she was anywhere but here.
Her pulse thudded in her ears as she looked beyond the fire at the circle of Patomani elders surrounding her. The sacred council of twelve women seemed entranced as they watched the ancient wedding ritual unfolding before them.
Even though it was the dead of winter, beads of perspiration soaked Fala’s forehead. A braid corralled the straight black hair, which hung down to her waist. Beads woven into several strands around her face stuck to her temples and cheeks. The weight of the ceremonial wedding robe draping her shoulders felt like cement rather than doeskin. The feather fringe and tassels rippled down around her soft kid boots. She felt one feather’s sharp point poking into the back of her knee. Legend had it that the feathers were from a Thunderbird god who plucked one every day for a year and left them by a burning fire for the Patomani women to make the wedding robe. Right now, she wished someone had shot the Thunderbird and roasted it, feathers and all.
Beside her, Akando Chasing Deer, her soon-to-be fiancé, didn’t look at all nervous. Firelight glinted along Akando’s black-beaded braids, which hung down his back. It wasn’t that he was unattractive. A New York ad agency would pay a fortune for the high cheekbones, stubborn square chin, long-lashed dark eyes and muscled male body. The wedding robe he wore, identical to hers, covered his powerfully built body and hid its perfection. A finer male specimen didn’t exist, she had to admit. All the Patomani women on the reservation lusted after him—except herself, of course. The irony was not lost on her. She’d be married to this man in minutes. Bound to a man she didn’t love. Didn’t even care for. She saw the self-satisfied, devouring look in his eyes, and she wished she could melt into the fire and disappear into another dimension.
Fala listened to an elder playing the ceremonial flute. The haunting music rose up toward a massive glowing moon that peered down at her. Hands down, the largest moon she’d ever seen in her life. It soared over the tops of the oaks and encased the mound in an oppressive blue brilliance that eclipsed everything, watched everything, gripped everything in its path. Its closeness felt as if it would crush her at any moment.
Meikoda, her grandmother, stepped out of the elder circle, holding the blessing mat. Firelight danced along her ancient face and radiated a gorgeous burnt sienna, the same color as Fala’s skin. They also shared a dimple that hollowed the middle of their square, proud chins. Where Fala’s brows were jet-black, gray shadowed her grandmother’s deep-set eyes.
Meikoda held the mat above her head and glanced toward the full moon. She chanted a spell as she lowered the mat to the ground before the fire. Slowly her gnarled hand unrolled the ancient braided material.
Fala’s eyes met her grandmother’s. The heavy wrinkles weighing down the elder’s eyelids lifted, and the light behind the striking eyes enthralled Fala. They drew her into the unnatural shade of blue, neon, only brighter, wider. They were the strange blue of a dawning sky, alight with the radiance of Mother Sun. They were the eyes of ancient wisdom, portals to eternal magic.
Fala shared the same eye color as her grandmother, and the force of Meikoda’s gaze warred with her own. Fala blinked and quickly lost this battle and her concentration.
Meikoda’s energy struck Fala, and she rocked back on her knees from the impact and sucked in her breath. Okay, she got the warning: Don’t move. Don’t give into your fear and run from the sacred mound before the ceremony is complete. She really didn’t want to be another disappointment to her grandmother, and it took all of her willpower to stay kneeling.
Meikoda flicked the mat’s edge and gently picked up an ancient bowl carved in the form of two bears, their noses touching. White mist spiraled up from the hot potion and flowed over Meikoda’s gnarled hands as she raised the bowl heavenward. She closed her eyes and spoke an ancient incantation. “May blessings from the seven stars bind you for all eternity and the light of our Great Bear Maiden seal the union. Drink from the sacred bowl and be one.”
Fala knew that Meikoda chanted to the Warrior Bear Maiden, known to humans only as the constellation Ursa Major. Since the Dawning, the Great Bear Maiden had always been the totem of her tribe and the gateway to the source of their white magic and that of the Tsimshian’s power.
After a moment of reverent silence, Meikoda handed the bowl to Fala first.
Fala’s hand trembled as she drank from the bear on the left. The bitter liquid burned her throat, then she handed the vessel to Akando. Their fingers touched and he allowed the moment to linger until her eyes met his, eyes that glistened with greed and hunger. He grinned at her, then without taking his gaze from her, raised the bowl to his lips and drank.
Heat from the fire tugged at her, and she shook all over. Her vision blurred. Her head fell back and she collapsed on the ground. All she could see was that damn moon. The magnetic pull of it flayed her skin from bone, going deeper and deeper into her. The atoms of her body strained against the sensation of being torn apart. A strange lifting sensation engulfed her, then her spirit departed her physical body. It churned over her in a brilliant orb.
Akando fell next to her. His spirit roared out of him, bursting into an orange glow not as bright as her own. Fala heard the watching crowd gasp in wonder.
Their spirits, attracted by the energy of one another, drew closer. Before they melded, Fala’s spirit paused and hovered there.
Rainbow-colored rings surrounded the orbs as they undulated, swelled, surged, receded and waved in an age-old mating dance. Fala’s unwilling spirit avoided Akando’s thrusts to reach her.
“Fala, let your reluctance go,”