The Hunter's Moon (The Secret Warrior Series) (3 page)

He knelt beside her. Reaching out tanned fingers, he lightly touched her forehead. His gentleness impressed her.

“That’s quite a bump, Miss. My grandmother will know what to do for it.”

Had he actually called her
Miss
? He was
so polite
.

“Morgan can hardly walk.” Jimmy forgot and used her real name, but their false identities didn’t really matter anymore.

The newcomer nodded. “Well, Miss Morgan. Allow me.”

Before she could sputter, Morgan found herself swept up in Tonto’s strong arms. Jimmy carried her pack and trekked at their rescuer’s side as he bore her through the trees like a damsel in distress. Admittedly, she kind of was. Not her usual act.

“I’m Jimmy,” Batboy offered.

“I’m Jackson.”

Morgan assumed he’d be called some Indian name.

He gazed down at her, his lips twitching as if he knew her thoughts. “My Shawnee name is Running Bear.”

“Really?”

“No,” he chuckled. “It’s unpronounceable.”

“Try me.”

“Kitch Wabi Ayapia.”

“Jackson, it is.” Was she imagining things, or did gold flecks shine in his eyes?

“Where did the wolves and panthers go?” she asked.

“Away. For now.”

“A rather mysterious reply.”

He shrugged, but offered nothing more.

Jimmy darted a look around. “Dangerous out here, isn’t it?”

“You have no idea.”

Morgan was beginning to.

Chapter Three

The Fortress in the Forest

Jackson’s sheer strength surprised Morgan. The dude must take his workouts super seriously. Maybe he weight trained by lifting boulders. Good thing he was on their side. If he wasn’t, why bother carrying her through the woods?

Much as she appreciated the knight in shining armor treatment, she was embarrassed to be hauled over the trail. He’d carried her a mile or more. Where was his home, anyway?

Still a little giddy, she gazed up at his face, encircled by tendrils of mist. He looked straight out of a Western movie. All he needed was a horse. Actually, he was pretty darn perfect as he was.

She felt pathetic in comparison. “Have we much farther to go?”

“Not a lot.”

Jimmy easily maintained the pace. The kid was hyper. “Do you live in a log cabin?” he asked their champion.

Tonto smiled down at the boy. “Look the sort, do I?”

“Yep. Did you help build it?”

“Nope. Built long before my time.”

“That old?” Jimmy was impressed. “How long have your people lived out here?”

“Longer than you can imagine.”

Before the kid quizzed him on his ethnic origins and heightened her embarrassment, Morgan intervened. “I don’t want to arrive at your home appearing stricken and alarm anyone. Seriously, Jackson. I can walk now.”

“You’ve got a concussion, Morgan.”

“Slight,” she argued.

“You’ll fall,” Jimmy reasoned.

“I can put one foot in front of the other—carefully.”

“Maybe. With help.” Jackson stood her on the darkening trail and circled an arm around her shoulder.

Granted, it felt good. His every touch sent a thrill through her, but they were getting chummy mighty fast.

This isn’t a date. He’s only assisting you
, she reminded herself.

He guided her along the path, steadying her when she tripped over roots. Without his support, she’d probably sprawl on her face. Not the look she was going for.

“Awesome,” Jimmy breathed out, pointing ahead.

Morgan stopped and stared at the massive timber and stone structure shrouded by mist. “
That’s
your cabin?”

Jackson lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “I didn’t say it was a cabin. You assumed. Welcome to Wapicoli Lodge.”

“Is that Shawnee?”

“Yes. Warrior Lodge. Wapicoli is our clan. Like a family name.”

“Which makes you the warrior clan.”

“Yes,” he repeated softly.

Something about
warrior
clan
and
Wapicoli
sent a chill running down her spine. They certainly appeared ready for battle. “Holy moly. This place could hold off Vikings.”

He pursed his lips, a thoughtful glint in his eyes. “We haven’t actually been attacked by them yet.”

“I doubt there are any Vikings in these mountains.”

“Probably not.”

Morgan was kidding. Judging by his demeanor, Jackson wasn’t entirely, which made her wonder who the heck the Wapicoli had already battled. Did they anticipate a clash with some new threat or an old enemy? The lodge looked ancient, as though it had always been here. Even if the Vikings had made it to America, they couldn’t have journeyed this far inland.

Could they? History wasn’t her strong point.

Maybe Jackson had an Uncle Don kind of humor and was pulling a joke on her while keeping a straight face.

“We studied fortresses in school,” Jimmy volunteered. “Wapicoli Lodge would make a good one.”

Jackson clasped his small shoulder. “Not quite on the scale of a Norman castle, though.”

“No,” the whiz kid agreed, “but, built along the ridge, it commands an impressive vantage point of everything below.”

Dang
, sometimes batboy sounded like a little adult.

Their champion grinned. “Remind me to show you the pock marks from cannon balls sometime.”

“Cool.” Jimmy loved anything battle related, especially historic.

“Which war?” Morgan had no idea.

“The highly uncivil one.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize they fought up here.”

“There’s much you have to learn of the lodge.”

Jackson’s low reply sent another shiver through her.

“Alrighty then.” She inhaled deeply and distractedly. Smoke from the stone chimney in the center of the stronghold scented the air with the tang of a wood fire. A second chimney jutted at the rear.

Apart from the battle proof log walls, what struck her the most was the tree growing next to the lodge. In the top of its leafy branches was a house, minus the roof. And it was a long way above the ground.

Jimmy waved at the tree. “Wow. Look at that.”

The lofty perch provided quite a view of their domain and blended perfectly with the surrounding trees. Camouflaged by the woods and designed as part of the natural landscape, the lodge and treehouse were nearly undetectable by anyone who didn’t know of their existence. She and Jimmy never would’ve found this place on their own.

The kid must’ve thought he’d died and gone to heaven. “Dude, the tree house totally rocks. Can I climb it?”

“Later, Jimbo. The sun’s going down.”

“I’ve got a flashlight in my backpack. And night vision goggles.”

He wasn’t kidding.

“Still too dangerous—” A loud flapping overhead, like sails whipping in the wind, intruded on Jackson’s warning.

Morgan jumped at the accompanying cry and glanced up. It was almost too dim and misty to see, but she’d swear a humongous bird circled overhead. There was no mistaking the ember-red eyes flashing fire. She’d think it was a pterodactyl from
Jurassic Park
, only she detected black feathers. The wings must span twelve feet or more.

Did eagles or condors get this big?

Scratch that. Their eyes didn’t flash like a neon sign.

In a millisecond, Jackson had an arrow on the string. He sent the missile arching heavenward and clipped a piece of the tail feathers. How he shot that high into the sky, she didn’t know. He was one amazing archer.

It worked. The menacing creature wheeled away with a parting screech.

She returned her disbelieving stare to him. “What in God’s name was that?”

“A thunderbird. They hunt at twilight. Snatch animals. Children. Even attack adults if they’re real aggressive.”

“Seriously?”

“That one would tear you apart. Sometimes they hunt during the day in stormy weather. It’s why they’re called thunderbirds.”

Jimmy tucked in close to his hero, regarding him with reverence. “Dude, you shot that arrow like a mile. You’re an Indian Robin Hood.”

“You think?” Jackson smiled. “Tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to shoot a bow, Jimbo.”

“Uncle Don taught me, but I want to be like you.”

“Excellent. We’ll hone your skill. The Wapicoli could use another archer.” He spoke as if they were staying indefinitely.

Puzzled, Morgan walked on with his support. Jimmy trotted at his heels the remaining distance to the fortress home. She eyed the wooden totem standing at one side. All along the colorful painted pole were wolf carvings, mostly faces, with gaping jaws and fangs; others were carved with their mouths shut. In some instances, the entire beast was displayed, its legs stretched out. What or who was it chasing?

Watchful eyes seemed to follow her. A shiver prickled down the nape of her neck.

Jackson shifted his gaze to hers. “Totems are not native to this region, but hey, we like to carve.”

“You’re brilliant at it.”

A smile flickered at his mouth. “I didn’t do all of this myself.”

“No. The place looks as old as the hills, and you’re—”

“Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen in January.”

As she’d figured. “I’m turning seventeen next week on the twenty-fifth.”

A pensive look came into his eyes. Did he think her older, or much younger?

“We’ll have a special party for you, Morgan.”

“Will I still be here then?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.”

With no further explanation, he led the way up the wide stone steps to the front porch. Above the wooden door stout enough to withstand a battering ram were yet more wolf carvings. They stared down at her as if they held the secret to an age-old mystery.

Perhaps they did.

Goosebumps scattered over her from head to toe. Where was she?

Chapter Four

The Silent Shadow

What was it with the Wapicoli and wolves? Did they belong to some kind of cult?

Morgan sat uneasily on the leather couch in front of the crackling blaze in the large main room of the lodge. Carvings of wolves embellished the wide mantel above the massive stone hearth and the thick wood framing both sides of the fireplace. Deer, buffalo, and elk were among the animals depicted in the design—chased by wolves. Only the hawk and eagle could fly away. The bears were untouched, regal, even. Noble brothers.

Colorful weavings of animals, wolves being the most prominent, hung on the stout log walls. One scene portrayed a great wolf and panther battling for supremacy. Wolves were
every freaking where
. No doubt, more lurked in the carvings and tapestries in other rooms.

Maybe the occupants of Wapicoli Lodge just really liked bloodthirsty predators. Not a comforting thought.

However, Grandma Miriam, as Jackson referred to the older woman with flowing silver hair, was all kindness. The witch in
Snow White
had seemed nice at the start, too, though, Morgan recalled. That apple thing hadn’t turned out well. And there was
Hansel and Gretel
and the witch with the candy house. She’d recently seen the movie remake of that twisted tale.

“Here you are.” Her brown eyes lit with warmth, Miriam held a basin of aromatic, minty water. Feathers dangled from her handmade earrings and multi-colored glass beads decorated her fringed leather jacket and long blue skirt.

Were those dyed porcupine quills sewn in with the beadwork? Morgan couldn’t be sure.

What the holy heck
—

A screech and flapping overhead jerked her attention to the speckled brown owl perched on one of the beams of the high ceiling.

The white heart-shaped face, the ridge of feathers above the bill resembling a nose, and black eyes like slits in a flat mask were startling. Not to mention the unnerving cry that shot through her aching head. He didn’t appear particularly pleased by her presence, either. Likely, wanted her out of this room.

Should she take cover?

Before she rolled under the coffee table, Miriam shushed the ruffled bird, then offered her a reassuring smile.

“Miyathwe will not harm you. He is a tame owl, our
neeakah
, friend.”

Maybe toward the family
. Morgan wished she had a helmet for protection if the crazed owl started dive-bombing her.

He unfluffed his puffed-up feathers and settled back down on his talons, but stared unblinkingly at Morgan. The owls in
Harry Potter
had seemed friendlier. But this was real life.

She shifted her focus to Miriam who lightly sponged her sore hands and face with a cloth dipped in the fragrant liquid.

The scent was pleasing and the water soothing. “Smells good.”

“Yes. This is an infusion of monarda, or bee balm, as you may know it,” Miriam explained.

Morgan didn’t.

“It’s a medicinal herb, also used for tea.” The healer dabbed sweet-smelling ointment on her bruised forehead and the scratches crisscrossing her palms. “The salve is made from yarrow root, plantain leaves, violets, and petals of the bramble rose. I have a room at the back of the lodge where I dry herbs and prepare them. Use more of this whenever you need.”