The Golden Bell Read online

  Fallon hadn’t planned on giving Rain the vine necklace until later, but she was so breathtaking that he couldn’t resist. Her lips parted when he removed it from its velvet pouch and clasped it around her neck, and her breath came faster as he slipped in the matching earrings. Then he drew back a few inches and admired her glowing skin and ruby lips. It was her eyes that gave him pause, though. The shining green hinted of tears, an emotion he hadn’t meant to invoke.

  Slowly, she reached up and closed the distance. A kiss like a soft summer breeze brushed his lips, hesitated, was gone. It shook him more than he expected.

  She lowered her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Unable to bear the currents between them, he raised her face. “The least you deserve.” Vaguely aware of the avid curiosity of the others, he lifted his head and offered his arm. “Are you hungry? There’s a restaurant in the Citadel I think you’d enjoy. I’m starving.” Arranging for her clothes and his other purchases to be sent to her quarters, he led her from the shop, keeping the conversation light until she’d recovered.

  It was mildly embarrassing and satisfying that he’d been able to move her so deeply. While glad she was enjoying herself, he was a little worried. Turning her head with gifts hadn’t been his plan—he was surprised he’d managed to spend what little he had on her so easily. Perhaps the shock of her surroundings had thrown her off enough to make it work, but it had been easy enough to pamper her. Would she grow used to it? Demand it? Needy women made him ill, and he prayed that he hadn’t just created one. On the other hand, she needed clothes, and creating a pleasant mood on her first day had helped immensely.

  He hadn’t been wasting time while she shopped. He’d summoned his personal secretary to him the moment they’d entered the market and caught up on events in his household. He had a suite of rooms next to the vast Citadel gardens, and had arranged for Rain to occupy the room next to him. Security would be easier, and she’d have easy access to a familiar face. The idea that he’d like having her close he ignored.

  Rain tensed as they neared the massive Citadel gates, currently raised for the day. It was not the sight of the multiple rows of iron gates or the long tunnel cut from the blue mountain that was the Citadel that made her stomach flip, though. Guards stood at the gate…Haunt guards. Fully shifted, with wolfish faces and bodies covered with hair, they might have come straight from the cast of Howling III. Each guard wore black pants, boots, and leather vests similar to Fallon’s, though none had his red insignia. Armed with pistols and wicked looking knives (one Haunt even carried a tomahawk at his side and had a rifle holstered on his back) they gave new meaning to intimidation.

  Nausea from the adrenalin dump threatened to embarrass her. Shaking from battle instincts, she shifted her weight to her toes and cursed her new clothes. Stupid fool! How could she have been so easily sweet-talked out of her sturdy jeans and running shoes?

  “Easy,” Fallon said, equal parts command and soothing in his voice. He kept moving toward the portal. “They’re not holding the gate against you.”

  “The last time I saw these things they were tearing my father apart,” she snarled bitterly, unable to stop the low growl rumbling at the back of her throat. She could feel her canines lengthening, sharpening, the change that came without her bidding when in danger. The guards were looking at her, and she knew her eyes were glinting gold. Not that they’d care, since they made her useless little changes look like costume makeup. Her eyes jumped around, looking for handholds in the smooth rock face, searching for the most likely nightmares to plow over if she had to run.

  The Haunt at the gate never took their eyes from her.

  “You’ve been surrounded by us for days now. Your father was one of us. You carry our blood,” Fallon said softly. Ever calm, he watched her as if she were no more deadly than a child with monsters in her closet. He kept them moving toward the gate.

  Pain made her fingers curl as her fingernails thickened, lengthened. “I’m not one of you,” she rasped, the change making speech almost impossible.

  Humor coloring his voice, Fallon glanced at her. “I can see that.”

  She didn’t even think. Turning on him, she aimed for his belly with her deadly nails and tried to shove him over backwards, hooking her foot behind his knee. One shove and she could run, race for the forest portal…

  It didn’t work. Instead, Fallon crushed her to him, shifting her balance so she was plastered to his chest. Fury and fear had her sinking her nails deep into his back, through the leather of his vest. He grunted, and she felt the warm flow of blood seep from the gouges. Shocked, she released him and backed off. Blood stained her hands. Sickened by the sight, she stared at him in misery.

  He grunted again and flexed his back muscles slowly. “We need some ground rules for these arguments of ours, sweetheart.”

  Lost, she turned her head and stared blindly at nothing, her mind a careful blank. As shock calmed her, she felt her body change back to normal.

  Fallon took her arm in a firm grip and strode for the gate while she was still biddable. Loudly, for the benefit of those watching, he said, “If you’re not hungry, all you have to do is say so. I can be dense with women, but even I understand a ‘no’.”

  Heavy with irony, his tone only made her feel lower. Panic attacks with claws could be deadly enough, but she’d never attacked a friend before. Of course, she’d never had a friend to attack, and even now, she wasn’t sure that Fallon was one. That didn’t stop the sickness tearing up her guts, however.

  Fallon didn’t need to hear an apology, not with her bowed shoulders and hidden face shouting it out. A surge of pity mixed with lingering irritation. Her half-change was unsettling. Their kind was either-or, not an odd mix of both states, and by the look on her face as she’d changed she had no control over it. Maybe that had contributed to her fright. In human form, Haunt had human senses, except for sharpened hearing. In Haunt form, they had the keen senses of wolves coupled with superior strength, speed and agility, though they sacrificed the power of speech. Rain seemed to be stuck in between, and it had looked painful.

  She didn’t look up as he guided her up the steps of the citadel and down the stone corridors. Arched windows let in light, showcasing the parquet flooring and colorful castle inhabitants. Five minutes of walking brought them to his private wing and deep into his personal security, security that had been tightened to protect his ward. Briefly wondering what the guards at her door thought of his grim expression and Rain’s bowed head, he took her into her room and walked straight through it, exiting out into her private pleasure garden. Once there, he released her. “I find the sunshine calming. I suggest you remain out here until you’ve settled in.” He accompanied the “suggestion” with a fierce look and left to attend to the holes in his back.

  Rain closed her eyes. Hideously embarrassing, that emotional display of hers. Bad enough it happened in public, but she was still tense from seeing the Haunt soldiers. Logic told her she’d grow calmer around them, but she’d never love them. Fallon was one of them…

  She shivered.

  CHAPTER 5

  He’d left her in a garden. Walled, roughly the size of a school bus, it had a winding path that led to a bench set under a shady fruit tree. A small pool provided a place to gaze. Pear trees had been trained against the walls, alternating with a pink flowered vine she couldn’t identify. Flowering bushes alternated with herbs and mixed flower clusters, providing washes of color. Well-clipped grass formed a soft carpet between the flowers and the walls.

  With a sigh, she slipped off her shoes and padded over to the bench. She was still tired from long months of running, and she’d been too long in the London fog and Alaskan chill. The sun felt good.

  To her surprise, she found brilliant blue and gold fish swimming in the small pond.

  “Pretty,” she murmured. Someone took good care of this place. From what she’d seen, she figured that Fallon could probably afford the best help.

&nbs
p; As if summoned by her speculation, a young woman appeared at the door to her apartment. “Mistress?” Her dusky yellow sarong swayed gracefully as she moved closer, giving a glimpse of her straw sandals. Her matching, sleeveless top hung around her neck with a scarlet cord. A sash of the same color decorated her waist as she paused at the pool. Long dark hair flowed free to her waist, and she had an enviable tan. “My name is Malian. Is there anything you would like? A meal, perhaps? The master said you might be hungry.”

  Rain sighed. “How is his back?”

  Malian was slow to answer, but returned a gentle assurance. “He is fine. In two days, the marks will have healed. But come! The change to the Dark Lands must be difficult. How may I help?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I’m a little hungry. What is this fruit above me?” Rain didn’t feel like putting the girl to any trouble.

  The girl smiled. “Hairy sugar fruit, but it’s not yet ripe. I took the liberty of bringing you a light meal, if you’re interested.”

  Rain sighed again. Well, if the girl was determined to feed her… She followed Malian into the apartment, surprised at the simple elegance. Decorated in ice blue and yellow, with touches of white and plum, it was cool and inviting at once. Two couches faced each other in the sitting area, and a bed with a silken coverlet promised a good night’s sleep. A roomy tub, surrounded by unlit candles, offered a tranquil soak. A mirrored armoire with one glass door showed linens ready for her use.

  Malian had set a wide, flat soup bowl on the table. A delicate, wonderful aroma arose from it as Rain took a seat. Malian poured her some juice from a frosty decanter and smiled. “Allow me to put your things away in the wardrobe while you refresh yourself, mistress. Enjoy.”

  Rain did. The fish soup was in a clear broth, both tangy and sweet. Whatever it was, she would definitely like it again. The yellow juice was also very good. “What is this called?”

  “The juice is nectar from the yellow leaf stalk, mistress, and the soup is called ‘sour pot’. Do you like them?”

  “Definitely. This is good stuff.”

  “I’ll be sure to share that with the kitchen. Tell me, what things do you most enjoy doing? It will be my pleasure to see if we can duplicate them here.”

  Rain thought about it. “I like to take things apart and see how they work. I read science, history and biographies. I do some martial arts, but not really for fun. I like to swim and go fishing…and eating. I always like to eat.”

  Malian laughed. “Well, the eating is easy. We have an extensive library here at the Citadel, and excellent fishing on the bay. As for the other, I think something can be arranged. What would you like to do first?”

  Rain thought about it, thought about the Haunt outside her room. “Uh, the books sound good. Could you bring me a stack? And if you know anyone with a broken gadget, I’d like to have it. Tools, too, if you can borrow some.” She never had a gofer before, but Rain didn’t hesitate to use her services. If Fallon wanted to pay for a servant, fine. He was part of the reason she was stuck here, anyway.

  “Yes, mistress.”

  “Thanks.”

  Rain went back outside to look at the fish as Malian cleared the table. When she was sure she was gone, she took out the Bell and set it. Now that she was here, she could flash back to Earth anytime, at any of the various points she’d set it for. Unwilling to risk the Bell’s music in the garden, she quickly slipped the device back into the casing. She stared at it, considering.

  No money. That was that hardest thing on the run, getting money honestly. Whatever passed for money here, she was almost certain it wouldn’t fly back home. Basic elements like gold and silver or gems she could cash in, but short of stealing them, she was out of luck. Without them, she would be back where she started, scared, tired and hungry. How could she earn some?

  She grimaced. She was going to have to leave her room, see what was in demand, what there was to work with. Her father had believed her inventions would make them rich and now was a good time to test his theory.

  She took a deep breath for courage. She was going to have to face the Haunt.

  She made it as far as the door before chickening out. Always bad with directions, she told herself she’d probably get lost. Maybe she could wait for Malian.

  Unfortunately, it was Fallon who opened the door scant minutes later to find her still dithering. He raised one blond brow. “Going out?”

  “Maybe. I haven’t made up my mind,” she said defensively. She glanced at his midsection, wondering about his back, but her eyes skittered away from his buckled vest. That thing was a subtle form of torture.

  “Allow me to escort you, then. I thought you might enjoy a tour of the grounds before dinner.”

  “Ah…are there a lot of…of Haunt walking around out there?”

  “Yes, but I think I can protect you.”

  She shot him a look for that comment, but maybe he deserved a little revenge. “I’m not a coward.”

  “Aren’t you? Let’s see,” he murmured. He stepped closer and kissed her.

  Stunned, she froze as his mouth brushed hers. More confusing, he stopped there. Lifting his head, he said softly, “Maybe you aren’t.”

  Confounded, she stepped back. “Don’t do that!”

  “Do what?” he asked innocently.

  “That! You know what. Don’t do it again.” More rattled than she liked to admit, she braced to resist if he tried it.

  He shrugged and headed for the door. “You don’t have to feel inadequate, you know. I’m sure you might get better at it with practice.”

  Outrage had her following him, railing as she went. “I don’t need practice! If I did need practice, I wouldn’t get it from you.” Confused, she frowned. That sounded like an admission of some kind.

  His smile was cocksure, designed to enrage. He threw it over his shoulder and walked slowly on.

  Tripping on her skirt, she hurried after him. “If you can’t behave, I want you to stay out of my room. I won’t let you in if I can’t trust you. You’re supposed to be my guardian!”

  There was no one in the hall, and Fallon took advantage of it, backing her to the wall. Bracing his hands on either side of her, he said huskily, “You can trust me.” His eyes dropped her lips. “I promise.”

  She didn’t think he was promising what she wanted, not with that look in his eyes. She shook her head, hating the dizziness in her blood.

  His head dipped closer until she could feel his breath against her lips. “No?”

  She shook her head, realized it wasn’t enough. “No.” It came out wrong, breathy and weak.

  He moved his mouth to her ear and whispered, “Tell me if I change your mind.”

  She shivered.

  Her stomach felt odd as they walked on—fluttery and unsettled. Keeping her eyes from his, she placed her hand on her abdomen. Obviously he wasn’t good for her; he was making her sick. Distracted, she didn’t even realize they were passing by Haunt until about the third one. Terror made her draw a deep breath. Her muscles locked up, tensed to flee.

  Fallon slid his arm around her waist and breathed in her ear. She almost jumped out of her skin.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded in a strangled whisper.

  His hand slid dangerously low on her hip. “Distracting you?” he said in that oh-so-innocent tone.

  She grabbed his hand and threw it off, veering right to an archway with the doors flung open. She didn’t have to look to feel him sauntering behind her.

  It was a bad sign when she could feel a man like that.

  They came to a small field enclosed by a low stone fence. Breathing deeply, she gripped the top and stared out over it. Just beyond it, a series of stone and adobe huts began.

  She felt Fallon’s arms go around her, gripping the wall beside hers. Again, her muscles locked.

  He sighed and let go. “We’ll work on it.”

  She grit her teeth, too angry to answer as he straddled the wall to her left.

  �
��As a man and a warrior, I see something I like and pursue it. I think most men are like that,” he said reflectively, looking over the field. “The feelings confuse you, don’t they?”

  “I have no trouble understanding anger,” she growled.

  He smiled. “You haven’t been pursued by anyone with honorable intentions, have you?”

  Eyes narrowed, she dared him to lie. “You have no honorable intentions. I doubt you’ve ever had a lasting relationship in your life. I’m not a plaything, and I’m not a fool.”

  “No, you’re not. You might know that I’m not a liar, though.”

  “No, I wouldn’t know. When in the last few days that I’ve known you would I have figured that out?”

  “Ah. You need time, and I’m rushing you.” He didn’t apologize.

  She breathed deeply for strength. “I’ve got no interest in a relationship with you, however brief. Don’t tell me you’re desperate for female companionship. I’m sure there’s a few women around here you haven’t bedded. Probably a teen or two who came of age while you were away.”

  “Ouch. I hate to disappoint, but I haven’t been as busy as that. I’ll bet there’s ten women, at least, who I haven’t bedded here.”

  She walked off.

  He hopped off the wall and joined her. “I was joking, you know.”

  “I don’t joke about this kind of stuff. Find some beer buddies to share your gutter humor.”

  He let out a gusty sigh. “I…watch out!”

  She hadn’t been watching where she was going as she turned a corner. Unfortunately, she ran right into a Haunt taking the same curve from the opposite direction. Fallon grabbed her arm to steady her, but it was too late. She’d already gotten a deep lungful of his scent.

  “Achoo!”

  “Rain? Are you okay?” Fallon asked with concern. The Haunt reached for her, perhaps in an effort to help.

  She sneezed twice and backpedaled, tripping on her skirt. She would have landed on her bum if Fallon hadn’t caught her.