Darkness Chosen: Into The Shadow Part 33

"Theyare astonished at how quickly sheas healing, too." Rurik brought a platter of bread, cheese, anchovies, and olives and placed it beside his father.

"Itas her healthy lifestyle," Jackson said proudly.

"Itas the Varinski blood in her," Warlord said.

"Itas another miracle." Ann had been raised in a convent; she knew her miracles.

Karen said, "Iave been thinking about what happened and why. I suppose your own death makes you do that." Odd to speak of such weighty matters, but in this place and with these people it seemed natural. "With the help of the icon, Adrik is the one who created the miracle. He suffered, he repented, and he was redeemed. There is power in redemption."

"Thatas true." Jasha laughed. "But look at Adrik. Heas so uncomfortable, heas squirming. "

He wasa"squirming like a little boy on a hot seat. "It wasnat me," he protested. "It was the Madonna and Karenas mother."

Jackson drank another gla.s.s of vodka. "Abigail would want to do that for Karen."

Karen knew she would never forget the way Jackson had treated her as a child, or that head taken Philas part against her, or that head so brutally informed her of her true parentage. But once he realized his mistake, head been sorry and come through for her. If not for him and his rifle, the Wilders probably wouldnat have won that battle. So Jackson would always be part of her past, and she would make him part of her future.

Warlord glanced at the clock on the mantel. "Where is Firebird?" He was changing the subject, yes. But Karen knew that while he had longed for this reunion with his parents, head been worried, sure they could never forgive him.

Now he wanted to see his little sister. Firebird had been four when he left. She was twenty-three now, a mother, unwed, a college graduate who worked at the neighboras art studio and lived at home with her son.

What would she have to say to her long-lost brother? Would she even recognize him?

"Yes. Where is that girl?" Konstantine rumbled in his deep ba.s.s. "I donat like when sheas out so late."

Rurik laughed. "Itas only eight oaclock."

Konstantine pointed at the window. "Itas dark."

"She probably got caught in Seattle traffic," Tasya said.

"She usually calls me." Zorana shut the laptop and went to the window to look out.

"Call her," Ann urged.

Zorana looked undecided. "I donat like her to think I donat trust her."

"She doesnat think that. She knows you worry, and who wouldnat?" Jasha sounded sensible, like an older brother should sound. "City streets are dangerous, the freeways more so, and now that we have three icons we need only one more to break the pact. That means the Varinskis are a huge threat, anda""

Ann made an alarmed noise in her throat.

Jasha stopped, realizing that his good sense had raised his motheras anxiety level to code red.

Aleksandr looked up from his blocks. "Mama?"

"Iall call her." Zorana started toward the phone.

Konstantine held up one finger. "Wait. She just turned onto the road." The old gray wolfas hearing was keen.

"Mama?" Aleksandr stood up, a big, sparkling grin on his face.

Konstantine looked at his grandson. "He will be a wolf, too. I can tell."

"Not if we break the pact," Ann reminded him.

Adrik stood up, too, paced across to the window, paced across the carpet.

Karen leaned against the couch, content to watch him forever.

She had brought him back from the brink of disaster.

He had brought her back from death.

He believed they were fated for each other.

She believed they were lucky to have met.

It didnat matter which of them was right. They were together for the battle against evil. They were together for eternity.

He was her husband. Her panther. Her love.

Now the car was close enough for her to hear it. It stopped. Parked. The door slammed.

"Mama?" Aleksandr danced across the room, his world right now that his mother had returned. "Mama. Mama. Mama!"

Warlord knelt before him. "Can I pick you up and weall wait for her together?"

Aleksandr opened his arms. "Adrik. Up!"

Karenas eyes filled as Warlord lifted the st.u.r.dy boy. Maybe someday, when she was healed, when the icons were united and the danger had eased, they could have a boy like Aleksandr. At least . . . they could try.

Warlordas gaze met hers, and she knew he was thinking the same thing.

Firebirdas boots sounded on the steps, on the porch.

Adrik opened the door.

"Mama!" Aleksandr squealed, and launched himself into her arms.

She caught him, hugged him tightly, her eyes closed, her shoulders hunched.

Karen didnat know Firebird, had never met her, but it didnat take familiarity to see Firebird was distressed.

Zorana started toward her.

"Hey." Warlord touched his sisteras face. "Whatas wrong?"

She opened her eyes. Looked at him. Stepped back and looked again.

"Do you know me?" he asked.

A slow smile dawned. "Adrik. My G.o.d, Adrik. Youare alive." She walked into his arms and let him hug her and her child. She leaned back and stared as if she couldnat see enough of him. "I didnat think wead ever see you again."

"I couldnat stay away from my little sister"a" Warlord flicked Aleksandras cheeka""and my nephew forever."

Firebird stiffened and yanked herself free. "Donat. Just . . . donat."

"What did I say?" Warlord looked around, bewildered.

"I donat know," Jasha said.

Rurik had been an Air Force pilot, and Karen heard the command in his voice when he said, "Firebird, tell us whatas wrong."

Konstantine leaned forward, and his deep voice trembled as he said, "My dumpling, what did the doctors tell you? Is it my illness? Do you have it? Did I pa.s.s it to you?"

She stepped away from Warlord, leaned against the wall by the door. Her face was gray and drawn. As she looked at each one of them, she shook her head. "No, Papa, I donat have your illness. In fact, thatas impossible."

"What do you mean?" Tasya asked. "They donat know anything about this illness. Anything is possible."

"Not this." As if her knees could no longer hold her, Firebird sank toward the floor. Landed with a b.u.mp. And asked, "Why didnat you tell me Iam adopted? That Iam not related to you? To any of you?" She looked right at Zorana. "Why didnat you tell me Iam not your child?"

In this "devilishly clever, scintillatingly s.e.xy new paranormal series" (Chicago Tribune), New York Times bestselling author Christina Dodd introduces the Wilder brothersa"and the evil thatas haunted their family for centuries. Finally, here is the missing link that could redeem them. . . .

INTO THE FLAME.

Brutally handsome cop Doug Black is determined to find the birth family who left him with nothing but a terrifying inheritance: the ability to change into a savage golden cougar. His search leads him to a woman as fearless and exotic as her name. Firebird Wilder is bitterly familiar with supernatural gifts and flees on discovering his secret, leaving Doug alone once more. But no one can escape a wild cougar on the hunt. When he finds her, the secrets that bind them together can also tear them apart . . .

Turn the page for a sneak peek of the fourth book in the Darkness Chosen series. . . .

Firebird smiled and pretended nothing had changed, when in fact her whole world had twisted on its axis. "Enough excitement and angst for one evening. Itas past Aleksandras bedtime."

"No!" Aleksandr protested.

No matter how tired he was, he always protested. He wanted to be with his family, part of the action, playing, singing, building blocks. Some people probably thought he was spoiled; the Wilder family called him well loved.

Firebird scooped him up and carried him around so he could kiss everyone. Every aunt, every uncle took extra care with him, showing their affection to the child and thus to her. Konstantine raised his arms for Aleksandr and held him close, rubbing his stubbled cheek against Aleksandras hair, and breathed in his essence. "I would have sworn he was going to be a wolf," he murmured.

The sentiment stabbed Firebird through the heart.

Zorana kissed Aleksandr and hugged him as if she couldnat bear to let him go. Firebird knew it was more than just sentiment; Zorana was thinking of the son whoad been stolen from her.

Firebird carried Aleksandr upstairs to the bedroom she shared with her son.

The house was small and old, with acoustics that let everything echo through the corridors.

So Firebird paused in the doorway, waited, and listeneda"and heard Zoranaas low, broken voice say, "Where is my baby? What did they do with my baby?"

Zoranaas plaintive question haunted Firebird, but as she prepared her son for bed, she understood.

How could she not? When Aleksandr was born, Firebird had looked him over. She had thought he was skinny, with long toes and broad shoulders that had given her trouble during the birth, but he was hers, her son, and she would have killed to protect him.

Now Zorana had discovered her baby, the one shead given birth to twenty-three years ago, had been stolen, and she needed to know where he was.

As Firebird looked at her son, sleeping with his hand under his cheek, Firebird knew she would feel exactly the same way.

The trouble was, knowing didnat make the rejection sting any less.

She should wonder about her birth parents, she supposed, but right now she didnat care about people shead never met. She cared only about the family she knew, the battle they faced against evil, and whether she could help them . . . or whether she was nothing, superfluous, a burden.

She couldnat go back downstairs. She was tired and feeling sorry for herself, and embarra.s.sed about feeling sorry for herself, because she wasnat the only one hurting here. She ought to go to bed, but worry buzzed in her mind like a swarm of bees. She would never sleep, so she changed into a tough, warm outfita"jeans, sweatshirt, jacket, boots. Going to the window, she raised it, leaned out, and grabbed the branch of the huge tree that grew so conveniently close.

In her life, shead been up and down it dozens of timesa"to run through the forest, or go to the movies, or kiss a boyfriend. But not recently. Single motherhood had had the effect of keeping her close at home. Her family thought it was because she took her responsibilities to her son seriously, almost too seriously.

And that was true.

But she also feared that if she wandered very far, Aleksandras father would find her. Find them. And the consequences of that were too dreadful to contemplate.

Yet now . . . she was contemplating those consequences.

The tree was hard, frozen in the grip of a Washington mountain winter. The bark was icy beneath her bare hands. The broad branches supported her as she slid toward the ground, and above her, the black night sky glinted with glittering star chips. She landed on her feet and took a long, deep breath of air, the first since the doctor had broken the news.

Someone had traded their child for her. For a changeling, an infant who had come from G.o.d-knew-where.

And now her mothera"or, rather, the woman shead always called her mothera"cried for her real baby.

Firebird walked around the house, crunching the frozen gra.s.s beneath her boots. Quietly, she opened the front gate and strolled down the path toward the vines. Wrapping her arms around herself, she stood looking across the shadowed valley deep in the Cascades.

It stretched long and narrow between two mountains, a fertile plain her father and mother had found and bought for almost nothing, because a series of owners had tried to grow apples or tulips or vegetablesa"and failed. The soil was rich and fertile, but the weather was constantly overcast and wet, with too little sunshine for anything but stunted plants and mildewed fruit. The place had had a reputation as being cursed.

The people in the nearby soggy hamlet of Blythe had sn.i.g.g.e.red about the foolish Russian immigrants.

They didnat sn.i.g.g.e.r now.

Konstantine had planted wine grapes. Zorana had planted a vegetable garden and a small orchard. And as if theyad brought the sunshine, the weather patterns changed. The valleya"and Blythea"seemed protected by a clear bubble that let in the sunshine and just the right amount of rain.

By the time Firebird was born, the Wilders had established themselves in the community. Their artist neighbors gave them credit for improving the climate . . . and sometimes, when Firebird watched Zorana as she sat outside, her face turned toward the sun, a slight smile on her face, Firebird wondered whether it was true.

All her life, this valley had been her home, and when she got pregnant, it had become her refuge.

Now the clear air, the cold temperatures, the relentless familiarity made her face the fact she had avoided all day long.

She had to leave.

As the realization struck her, as she imagined the repercussions, her whole body clenched. She stoppeda"stopped thinking, stopping breathing, stopped moving, in fear and sorrow.

And in the silence that followed, she realized something was . . . not right.

From the time she was an infant, Konstantine had walked with her through the forest, teaching her how to listen, what to watch for, when to take flight and when to stand and fight. He taught her that the world was full of dangers, and only a fool was unprepared. He taught her exactly as he had his sons.