The Lost Wolf's Destiny. Karen Whiddon
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Draining her cup, she set it down on the table with a loud clatter and waited with barely concealed impatience for him to come out with whatever he was trying to say.
Instead he placed his own cup down and pushed to his feet. “You do understand that we will have to do numerous tests on your daughter?”
“Tests? What for? She’s had enough tests. Why would a faith healer need tests?”
He regarded her with a patient smile, as though humoring her. “I understand. But we still must do tests in order to learn where to focus our healing energies.”
Crossing her arms, she shook her head. “I’ll be happy to furnish you with the results of everything she’s already had done. But no new tests.”
For a moment something dark blackened his kind eyes. Then he dipped his chin, as if disappointed. Maybe she’d imagined it. “As you wish, Ms. Daphne. We’ll speak more on this later.”
Once Jacob turned away, Savannah materialized. She might have even been standing in a shadowed corner of the room. “Come with me,” she said.
“Thank you for your time,” Jacob said, clearly dismissing her.
Pushing to her feet, her unease settling like a sour ball in her stomach, Blythe left.
Once they reached her room, Savannah opened the door and stepped aside. As soon as Blythe entered, she came back, pulling the door closed behind her.
“See, I told you it wouldn’t take long,” Ginger said softly, smiling. “Your daughter didn’t even wake up while you were gone.”
“Hailey,” Blythe corrected automatically. “And she’s ill. Can you make sure we’re not disturbed in the morning? I want to make sure she gets her rest.”
At the question, the younger woman’s smile faded. Pointing to what looked like a walkie-talkie sitting on the nightstand, she backed away. “Use that if you need me for anything. There are all the necessary toiletries in the bathroom. Now, have a good night’s rest, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.”
Again without answering Blythe’s request, she’d made her own demands. Then, before Blythe could question or acknowledge, Ginger stepped out into the hall and closed the door.
Pushing away the doubts and fears that threatened to overwhelm her, Blythe gently shook her little girl awake.
“Sweetheart, we need to clean up,” she murmured. “Then we’ll get you into your pajamas.”
Still half asleep, Hailey nodded. Blythe shepherded her into the bathroom and began filling the tub.
As the water rose, Hailey blinked. “I don’t wanna take a bath,” she protested. “I’m hungry and thirsty and I want to eat and then play.”
Her droopy eyes and flushed face told a different story. “You need a bath,” Blythe said, her voice firm. “After we’re both clean, I’ll see what I can find for us to eat, okay?” After all, if there was nothing in the room, she could use the walkie-talkie to call Ginger.
Only partially mollified, Hailey nodded.
Later, after they were both clean and dressed in brand-new, soft cotton pajamas in exactly the right sizes, Blythe located a small refrigerator, partially hidden underneath the desk with a curiously lightweight chair. Inside she found juice, water and diet cola, as well as various healthy snacks. She grabbed a roll of string cheese and a bottle of water and carried it to Hailey.
While her daughter ate her snack, Blythe turned down the bed. The sheets appeared to be of a good quality and looked as though they’d been pressed.
Impressed, she shook her head. This place could pass for a hotel or resort, if not for the weird attitudes.
“Is it dark outside, Mommy?” Hailey asked, stifling a yawn.
“Yes, baby.” Blythe answered automatically, turning back the comforter and patting the bed. “Let’s try to get some sleep so we’re rested in the morning. We’ve got to be wide-awake so the nice man can try and help you.”
Hailey’s eyelids were already drooping. “Okay,” she murmured, crawling up and laying her head on the pillow. “Cover me up, please,” she ordered.
Climbing in beside her daughter, Blythe smiled. “I’ll cover us both.” She leaned over and kissed Hailey’s baby-soft cheek. “I love you, sweetheart.”
“I love you, too, Mama.”
Heart full, vowing to dream of hope, Blythe clicked off the light.
* * *
Damn. Guilt and shock and yes, the ever-present simmering flame of anger filled Lucas. The place still looked the same, he thought, coasting slowly past the immense wrought iron gates as though he was merely a curious biker, riding the back roads on his Harley. Pushing away the instinctive dread that coalesced in his gut, he studied the deceptively peaceful house through the black iron fence.
And he forced himself to remember the exact layout of Sanctuary. As if he could ever forget. That particular image was burned in his brain.
The urge struck him, hard and fast and furious, to give his bike the gas, spinning the wheels, and roar off into the sunset. Of course, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. It was time he paid back the debt he’d incurred fifteen years ago by failing his sister.
Continuing on, his powerful motorcycle rumbling beneath him, he circled the western edge of the property. Either Jacob had gotten careless, or he truly wasn’t worried about intruders, because here the fence was gone. From the looks of the deteriorating rubble, it had come down years ago.
Once, there had been perimeter cameras, and barbed wire, and patrolling guards. Despite all that, Lucas had managed to escape, his desperation and sorrow fueling him.
Then, the place had been a veritable fortress. Now, fifteen years later, apparently Jacob had no such worries, whether about people escaping or breaking in. Which meant either he had all of his followers completely brainwashed or he hadn’t managed to snag another abomination, as he’d called Lucas.
Until now. Until the little girl and her beautiful mother. They were like him, which was why they were in such grave danger.
He sighed. Somehow, Jacob had convinced them to come willingly, unaware of what kind of a monster the publicly pious man truly was. Lucas could well imagine the spiel, the honeyed lies flowing freely as Jacob promised healing and hope for the clearly exhausted mother and her seriously ill child.
Again, Lucas saw the woman’s face, as clear in his mind as if he knew her. Once more, his wolf came alert, the strong tug of something—attraction?—apparently affecting not only the man, but the beast, as well. Not good. And not only irrelevant to his mission, but a distraction he didn’t need or want. He had revenge on his mind, not lust.
Shaking his head, he forced his thoughts back to Jacob Gideon, the devil incarnate. Who knew what Jacob really meant to do, what experiments and torture he planned to inflict on the helpless small child, all in the guise of healing? If they were anything like what he’d done to Lucas, his own son, and to Lilly, his own daughter, they would be brutal. Truth