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Shifter's Destiny
Anna Leonard


Nothing can stop a shape-shifter fulfilling his legacy…except desire! Libby was only looking to escape when she took her little sister and fled the malevolent cult they once called family. She didn’t expect the mysterious shape-shifter who offered them his help. Josh knows he wants Libby from the moment their eyes meet – even though their union would be forbidden by his kind.And with his community closing in, Josh will have to summon all of his strength to protect the sisters from harm. His love for Libby may not be his destiny, but could he be her true knight in shining armour after all?










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www.millsandboon.co.uk/ebookxmas (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/ebookxmas)







There was something about the older sister that intrigued him.

Josh eyed her carefully. Wide dark brown eyes and dusky skin, a full mouth and a proud Roman nose that was somehow more enchanting than any upturned pug or cute button could ever be. His gaze travelled lower. Her long-sleeved tee didn’t disguise a rounded chest, neither too large nor too small but just about right for cupping in his hands, and a long waist that tapered to hips his fingers itched to span. And those legs, stretched out in front of her…

He’d already felt how those legs felt wrapped around him, her lower half molding to his as they moved. He’d had people—other women—on his back before, but they had never been a stranger. Never a stranger with eyes that heated his imagination as much as his body.

“I don’t suppose you’re a virgin?” he asked suddenly.


Dear Reader,

“Write something with weres!” my editor said, staring at me intently.*

“Werewolves have been done really well. So’ve werecats. And I know someone who wrote a were-guppy story. What’s left?”

“You’ll think of something. Guppies aren’t sexy. What’s sexy?”

Horses. Horses, as every girl knows, are sexy. They’re freedom. Power. Independence. And, as every rider knows—stubborn as their cousin the mule.

And just like that, the mustang was born: fierce, independent, magical… proper cousins to their namesakes, the wild horses of America.

And, I discovered, a proper hero for a girl who needs help.

So if you’ve ever watched a herd of horses thundering across a field, ever grabbed a handful of mane or the leather of reins… or just wished hard that you could… this book’s for you.

Enjoy!

Anna Leonard

*All right, the conversation didn’t happen exactly that way. But almost.




About the Author


ANNA LEONARD is the nom d’paranormal for fantasy/horror writer Laura Anne Gilman, who grew up wondering why none of the characters in her favorite Gothic novels ever seemed to know a damn thing about ghosts, vampires or how to run in high heels. She is delighted that the newest generation of heroines has a much better grasp on things. “Anna” lives in New York City, where either nothing or everything is paranormal…

Both can be reached via www.sff.net/people/lauraanne. gilman or http://cosanostradamus.blogspot.com.




Shifter’s Destiny

Anna Leonard







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For B. True friend, and hero-on-call.




Prologue


The smell of salt in the air normally invigorated him, made him willing to crawl out of the warm bed and see what the day would bring. But that morning he woke wishing instead for the sweeter smells of fresh grass and warm horseflesh, the sound of female voices and clattering hooves, instead of male shouts and the thump of a winch rising and lowering as the catch was brought in.

The wish settled deep inside him and became an itch, a dissatisfaction he couldn’t quite identify.

It’s time.

Josh groaned, and rolled over to shove his face into the pillow. No, he was going to sleep a little while longer. Long day ahead, and he needed a few more minutes of sleep.

It’s time, the voice sounded again, and he realized, with a jolt, that the voice wasn’t telling him to get up.

It was telling him to go home.




Chapter 1


The sun was high overhead, and the Saturday flea market was in full swing.

“You like? It’s twenty dollars, but for you, sweetie, eighteen. No? All right, fifteen!” The vendor held up the brightly patterned silk scarf, letting the breeze ripple it invitingly.

The girl he was addressing gave the scarf a longing look, but shook her head, backing away from the table. Just that hesitation had cost her—she looked around, frantic for a moment, and then hurried to catch up with the woman who, not realizing that her companion had stopped, strode through the crowded flea market several paces ahead. The woman’s gaze darted back and forth, scanning the crowd as though she was looking for someone—or looking to avoid someone.

“Libby?” the girl called, her voice high and thin with worry.

Elizabeth stopped, looking back with alarm that subsided when she saw her sister was not in trouble. “Maggie, come on! Stay with me, baby.” Elizabeth’s voice was calm and soft, but it carried through the crowd, and there was a note of tension running through it that her sister heard as clearly as a shout, and obeyed immediately.

“I’m sorry,” Maggie said, running forward and slipping her hand into her sister’s. “I’ll stay close, I promise.”

The two girls were obviously related; both of them were slender, with long legs, although the preteen Maggie’s were more coltish than her older sister’s. Long black hair, braided in Maggie’s case and pulled into a long ponytail for Elizabeth, and wide-set brown eyes with a vaguely exotic cast, further stamped the family resemblance. Their looks hinted at Spanish blood, or Arabic: an exotic edge that spoke of distant lands and warmer climates than their current New England location. Although they wore plain jeans and unadorned sweatshirts, and Maggie had the same backpack over her shoulder as half the kids around her, something more than their looks set them apart from the others milling around them; something obvious, but difficult to identify.

It was a way of looking around, of observing without being part of the crowd, a difference that identified them—if an observer knew—as residents of an enclave that some cynics called a cult, or a commune, but most people simply called the Community.

Good folk, neighbors would say if asked. Founded, oh, near fifty years ago, wasn’t it? Bunch of them came and bought old farmland, built it up nice with houses and gardens and a proper downtown with stores and whatnot. Pay their taxes on time, send their kids to the local schools, mostly. They don’t seem to like technology much, but otherwise perfectly normal. Not a cult at all, no. No, there was nothing particularly strange about the Community.

Six months ago, Elizabeth would have agreed with them. Now, she was less certain.

“We have to hurry,” she told Maggie. “They saw us come in here, but they can’t keep track of us so long as we keep moving.”

Maggie nodded, and the two moved on, weaving through the shoppers and sellers, moving around the overladen tables and backed-in vans that filled the parking lot of the makeshift flea market.

“Here, this way.” They slipped behind an oversized van near the end of one row, between two racks of brightly tie-dyed summer dresses, and found themselves at the far end of the lot. Behind them, the bustle and noise of a warm Saturday afternoon. In front of them, a muddy field, cars parked in a squared-off pattern. To their left was the bulk of the local regional high school, a redbrick-and-chrome building. To their right, a large and dense-looking wooded area, green with new spring undergrowth and full-branched evergreens, enclosed by a mesh fence with official-looking signs posted at regular intervals. There was one place where the mesh was torn, exactly the right size for a high school student—or a slender adult—to slip through.

Elizabeth studied the distance between them and the fence, and then looked down at her sister. “Do you think you can make it, baby?”

Maggie set her jaw, judging the distance, then nodded. “Just keep up,” she said with bravado that Elizabeth knew was faked. Her sister had been sick recently, her body wasn’t as strong as it used to be. She got tired too easily now, needed more rest, more often. But they couldn’t afford to rest, not yet.

“Just nonchalantly at first,” her sister advised. “Walk like you’re just stretching your legs, no hurry, no worries, okay? Come on, follow me.”

They stepped out off the pavement, the muddy grass sucking at their shoes, their backpacks slung over their shoulders casually, as though they were just walking back to their car after a morning of shopping.

“Going somewhere, Libby?”

The two girls stopped cold, Elizabeth instinctively putting her arm around her younger sister as though to protect her from the man walking toward them. Damn.

A flicker of movement caught her eye, and she saw two other men circling around them, as though to herd them somewhere. Somewhere they definitely did not want to be.

Maggie let her backpack slide down her arm, taking the weight in her hand as though to use it as a weapon if need be, and shifted her weight, mimicking her sister’s movement.

“Really, Libby,” the first man said, exuding compassion. “Look at poor Maggie, she’s exhausted. Don’t do this to her. Why don’t you tell us what’s wrong? We’re your family, we’ll help you. Isn’t that how it’s always been?”

Elizabeth’s shoulders tensed, but she otherwise didn’t move. “Go to hell, Jordan. You’re no family of mine.” All of her family, save Maggie, were dead.

“Oh, Libby.” Jordan was in his late forties, a handsome man in jeans and a dark blue polo shirt. He could have been someone’s father, heading to a soccer game or baseball practice. But his gaze was intent, steady and cool, like that of a jailer. “Why do you insist on doing this? Come home with us. I know that losing your parents was a shock—”

“Leave my parents out of this.” The pain of that loss was still bone-deep, six months later, but it only made her more determined to go nowhere with these three. “If they knew what was going on…”

Jordan looked hurt and surprised. “Elizabeth, nothing is going on! Nothing except this foolishness. Please, my dear. It’s been a terribly stressful time, everyone knows that, but you’re overreacting. Let us take care of you, you and Maggie both.”

The other two men moved closer, blocking any chance of escaping into the crowd. They were dressed like Jordan in weekend-casual clothing, sturdy hiking boots under their jeans. If it came to running, Elizabeth and Maggie, in sneakers, might be able to escape… if they could run at top speed. Elizabeth didn’t let herself look at her sister, didn’t dare glance down at the leg that was still weak, after her bout with the terrible illness that had taken their parents earlier that year. She would not show fear, not in front of these men.

But the truth was there. Maggie would never be able to keep up.

Maggie leaned in against her sister, so that an observer might assume she was seeking reassurance—or offering it. “I can do it,” she whispered, as though knowing exactly what her sister was thinking. Knowing Maggie, she did. Her sister was only thirteen, but she knew far too much, for her age. “I don’t want to go back with them.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath, still holding Jordan’s gaze. Neither of them were going back. The thought of the sleepy little village where they had grown up, once the source of only happy memories, was enough to make Elizabeth ill. There was only death and fear there, now.

She gauged the distance again, and her heart sank. Maggie, she thought, as hard as she could. Maggie, be ready….

Jordan saw both their gazes flicker toward the trees, and shook his head sadly. “Elizabeth. Maggie. Don’t be idiots. You’d never make it, and then we’d all be out of breath and cranky. That’s not good. Our van is right over there, why don’t we walk over there like civilized people, and let the Elders sort all this unpleasantness out?”

“The Elders can bite me,” Elizabeth said through gritted teeth. Before he could respond, she darted toward Jordan as though intending to tackle him. He flinched, and she pivoted away from him, daring him to catch her, even as Maggie was sprinting for the dubious safety of the woods. Good girl, Elizabeth thought. Good girl, run!

Even as she cheered inwardly, one of the other men lunged at Maggie as she went past him, grabbing her by the elbow and jerking her off her feet.

“Get your hands off her!” All thoughts of distracting Jordan fled, and Elizabeth went after the man holding her sister, intent only on freeing her from that hard grip. She had barely taken two steps when her arms were caught behind her back, stopping her forward motion and preventing her from taking further action. She swore, and struggled, trying to free herself.

Jordan’s breath was warm in her ear as he said, gently, “There’s no need to make a fuss, Elizabeth. Just—”

Elizabeth had no intention of going, quietly or otherwise. Leaning forward with all of her weight so that he had to lean back to steady himself, she gave a quick prayer that his grip would hold, and then kicked back with both feet, aiming up for his groin. The move sent her off balance, as expected, but she landed a solid blow and had the satisfaction of hearing him grunt in pain, and feeling his grip on her weaken. But her satisfaction was short-lived as he grabbed her long ponytail with a hand and yanked hard enough to bring tears to her eyes.

“Stupid, Elizabeth. Very, very stupid.” All pretense of gentleness gone, he nodded curtly to the third man, who went off, Elizabeth assumed, to get their car. The man who had grabbed Maggie now had his arm around her neck in a choke hold. Their pose might, from a distance, look like a friendly roughhouse move, older brother to bratty little sister, except for the white-faced expression of fear on Maggie’s face. Elizabeth felt her heart racing painfully, and all she could think was that she had failed; failed her parents, failed her sister, failed everyone and everything important to her.

An ordinary-looking black van pulled up to the edge of the parking lot, its wheels churning the grass into more mud, and the driver got out and slid open the side doors. Nobody seemed to notice, going about their buying and selling and socializing like it was any normal weekend. Maggie’s eyes closed, and she looked like she was about to pass out.

Elizabeth’s heart squeezed tight, and a sense of panic swamped her, worse than the pain of her hair still being held fast in Jordan’s fist. She could not allow them to take Maggie. Whatever else happened, she could not let them have her sister.

Trying to dig her heels into the mud, she prepared herself to make another attempt to get free, now that it was two against two. The odds were still bad, but she had no choice. Once they were in the van…

Even as she was trying not to imagine what would happen then, there was a thudding noise, distant but coming closer rapidly, as though a lone drummer had gotten lost from his band and was heading their way. The noise shouldn’t have even registered, and yet it set up an answering reverberation in her bones, starting in her spine and sliding down to her knees. Rather than making them weak, though, it seemed almost to give her strength.

It also distracted Jordan. He swore, and the grip on her hair loosened so that Elizabeth was able to turn her head just enough to see a huge white form barreling from the trees, heading straight for the man holding Maggie.

The drumming filled her ears until she could hear nothing else, not the buzz from the crowded flea market behind them or Jordan’s cursing, and all she could see was the inevitable impact about to happen.

Sure enough, the white form slammed into the two figures even as Elizabeth cried out in horror. The man went sprawling, the white figure rearing over it, coming down with hooves—hooves, it was a horse—even as Maggie rolled out of the way; free, if muddy.

Maggie was safe.

Sound came back in a rush, and Elizabeth heard Jordan shouting an order to the man driving the van, and felt him reach for something at his back. A gun? A phone? She couldn’t take the chance. She used her elbows and the back of her head, ignoring the tearing pain of her hair being yanked out long enough to scramble free, falling onto her hands and knees in the muddy grass. She looked up, pushing the tangles of her hair from her eyes, and saw the horse pivot on its hind legs away from the now-downed man and come after Jordan, ignoring her completely.

“Maggie?” She scrambled forward and gathered her sister to her, then got them both to their feet. “Sweetie, run!”

Her sister, the knees and butt of her jeans now covered in mud and grass stains, managed to scramble forward and start running, Elizabeth staying just behind her in case she fell. She would carry Maggie, if that’s what it took.

They’d only managed a few yards when the drumming noise got louder behind them. Elizabeth let herself take one look back, and saw the white horse come up alongside them, slowing down to keep pace with them. Somehow, instinctively, her hand was grabbing at the coarse hairs of the horse’s mane, and pulling herself up onto its back in a move she’d read about in books, but had never done herself before now. The horse’s back was broad, and her legs ached immediately from the effort of staying on, but she managed it, however gracelessly.

The horse moved forward, reaching Maggie, who had not paused in her flight. Elizabeth put down a hand, and Maggie grabbed it, like they had practiced the move for years, and she hauled her sister up. The horse checked itself midstride until Maggie was safe, clinging to her waist, and then lengthened its stride again.

And then they were traveling impossibly fast, the drumbeats sounding beneath them, hooves muffled against the ground, leaving Jordan and his companion behind. Elizabeth ducked forward against the thick neck of the horse, pulling Maggie with her and flinching in anticipation of bullets from the gun Jordan might have had. The warm, musty smell of the horse reached her nose, bringing an odd sort of comfort, and then she felt the muscles underneath her bunch up, tensing in anticipation of something….

Instinct and a distant sense of anticipation made her clench her legs even tighter around the horse’s barrel-shaped ribs, and cling to the thick mane under her fingers, even as Maggie strengthened her grip around her waist and the horse’s ears flicked forward, intent on the fence ahead of them.

And then the tensed muscles released, and the horse lifted as though, for an instant, they were flying, sheer power taking them over the mesh fence and landing with a surprisingly soft, if jarring, thud of hooves against dirt. Elizabeth barely had time to release a surprised “whoof” of breath before they were out of the open air and into the cool, shaded depths of the woods.

Within minutes, the sounds of civilization faded, replaced by the occasional burst of birdsong that paused as they passed, and then started up again. The horse’s gallop changed to a steady, almost careful trot, but Elizabeth kept her face down and her hands tight in the horse’s mane, acutely aware of her sister’s arms around her waist. She didn’t dare look up or try to control the horse, for fear of dislodging that precious, precarious cargo, or falling off herself. Her legs were sore from gripping the animal’s sides, and her arms ached from holding on, and her scalp stung from where Jordan had pulled her hair, but all she could think was don’t fall off. Don’t let Maggie fall off.

Her heartbeat slowed slowly, her breathing less raspy-sounding in her own ears, but the fear remained a constant, expecting any moment to hear Jordan’s voice shouting behind them, the roar of the van as it tried to follow them. But with every stride forward they took, and the lengthening of silence, Elizabeth dared hope that they had made good their escape.

The trees were thicker together now, and the horse had slowed to a cautious walk, allowing Elizabeth to relax her legs a little, and sit up enough to see where they were going. They were following what looked like a deer path—she didn’t dare twist to look behind her, but it was unlikely anything wider than the horse would be able to follow them. If Jordan and his men came, they would have to do so on foot, and they could not keep up with a horse, even if they managed to get past that fence.

For the moment, they were free.

“You okay, baby?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Her sister’s voice came back, shaken but strong. The arms around her waist gave a reassuring squeeze. “I might throw up once my stomach catches up with us, though.”

That made Elizabeth laugh a little, the way Maggie intended. Her sister was always there with a joke or tease, no matter how bad things got. It was one of her many gifts.

The ground sloped downward slightly, and then evened out into a clearing. The horse, tired, or just finally bored with carrying riders, stopped, its head dropping low. The message was clear: end of the trip. Elizabeth felt Maggie slide off, and, once she was certain her sister was safe on the ground, unclenched her fingers from the mane and swung her leg over the horse’s back, sliding carefully down to the ground. The horse stood steady throughout, and she patted it on the neck, feeling a layer of sweat on the surprisingly soft, warm skin. “Thank you.”

The horse snorted as though it understood, and she stepped away, testing her wobbly legs and trying to hear if there were any sounds of pursuit.

The only noises were birds twittering and calling in the branches overhead, and the quiet trickle of water somewhere nearby. Maggie, contrary to her threat, was not throwing up. Elizabeth stood still and let out a deep breath. It wasn’t safety, not really, but it was closer than she’d felt in months.

“Where are we?” Maggie asked, looking around in wonder at the huge trees surrounding them.

Elizabeth had to stop and think for a moment. They’d ridden their bikes from home, and abandoned them by a middle school in the hopes that someone would take them and muddy the trail. Obviously, that hadn’t worked. They’d walked west from there, the rest of the morning, and had ducked into the flea market to get something to eat when she’d caught sight of Jordan following them. In the mad dash after, she hadn’t been paying too much attention to the surroundings, but…

“I think it’s a reservoir preserve,” she said. “State land.” If so, that was better than she had hoped for—the treed area would be large enough that they should be able to evade being observed, at least until she figured out their next move. And even if there was a road through it, only state vehicles would be allowed in. Hiding in here would give them a little time to breathe. She didn’t think she had really relaxed since the day before, when the notice from the Elders had come.

Being summoned before the Elders wasn’t a huge deal—it could have been anything, from wanting to discuss the plans she had submitted six months before to enlarge the bakery she owned, or discussing what would happen to the house she had shared with her parents, now that they were gone. It was too large for only two people, and there were others in the Community who could have used the space. That was all the normal course of events, the sort of thing the Elders would summon her to discuss.

But she had known, the moment she opened the envelope, that it had been none of those things. She wasn’t gifted the way Maggie was, but she’d had a dream the night before, and the sense of menace had been centered on a white square of paper—the same paper she held in her hands, mere hours later.

Her parents were dead, victims of the terrible flu that had swept through the Community at the beginning of the winter. Cody—her best friend—was dead, just a week past. One by one, everything, everyone who mattered, had been taken from them. She didn’t know why, but she knew it for a fact; and that Ray, who led the Elders, was at the heart of it. Ray wanted Maggie for himself.

Her dreams were certain of that. They just didn’t know why.

“So where did you come from, big guy?” Caught in her memories, Elizabeth barely listened to her sister talking to the horse, until the younger girl let out a gasp.

“Maggie? Wha—”

She turned and looked at her sister—and by inclusion, looked at the horse, too.

It was white, she had noted that already. Sleek and muscled, as tall at the shoulder as she was, with a thick golden-white tail and shaggy mane, and large brown eyes looking directly at her, a darker golden forelock falling over its forehead and above that…

Above that…

Her brain stopped, refusing to formulate the thought, refusing to acknowledge what she was seeing.

“Libby.” Maggie’s voice, hushed with awe. “It has a horn!”




Chapter 2


Once Elizabeth caught her breath, she said the first thing that came into her brain.

“There is no such thing as a unicorn.”

The words sounded perfectly reasonable, and sane, and confident. Considering that her sister had her arm around the neck of a horse—very definitely a horse—with a foot-long, spiral-shaped, pointed horn in the middle of its forehead, Elizabeth wasn’t sure she believed her own words. But she repeated them anyway. “There is no such thing as a unicorn. It has to be a fake, some kind of a con or scam. Or it’s a mutant deer.”

It didn’t look anything like a deer, or a moose, or even a mule. It was definitely a horse. And that was definitely a horn.

So it had to be a fake. If she touched the horn it would be plaster, or plastic, somehow glued onto the horse’s head. Or grafted, some kind of surgical measure… Who would do such a thing? A circus or a sideshow? Maybe. That was the most reasonable guess. Sideshows did that kind of thing all the time, didn’t they? She had been to one, once, when Maggie was very little, a traveling circus, with cotton candy and carnival rides. They’d had a bearded woman and a so-called mermaid in a tank, so a unicorn would fit perfectly.

Yes. That made sense. Elizabeth nodded once, satisfied. If it belonged to a circus, no matter if the horn was fake or a freak of nature, then it was probably valuable. There might even be a reward, but no matter how much they were going to need money, they couldn’t afford to take advantage. They needed to stay out of sight, away from anyone’s attention, until she had time to think things through, and figure out what to do.

And if it was a scam of any sort, they really couldn’t afford to be caught up in it. Especially not if the person who was running it came looking for his or her animal, causing trouble. Elizabeth would go to the police, if she had to, but not as part of someone else’s problems. They’d take Maggie away from her for sure, then.

And if they took Maggie away, it would be easy for Ray, as an Elder, to claim custody. Elizabeth knew, bone-deep, that if he did that, she would never be allowed near her sister again, that Maggie would never be free. There was no evidence to support that—Ray had never done or said anything threatening—but she knew.

But the only people who might have believed her were dead, now. Only she was left to protect Maggie.

Her sister, not sharing her worries, was busy petting the creature, cooing into pointed white ears that flickered back and forth as she spoke.

“Maggie… be careful,” she warned, watching the horn come dangerously close to her sister’s body as the horse leaned into the hug. Even if it was fake, that tip was probably sharp.

“It won’t hurt us,” Maggie said, stubbornly hugging the beast. “It helped us! Didn’t you, guy?” She rested her face against the white neck. “You saved us. Like Prince Charming’s noble steed. Only where did you leave Prince Charming?”

The horse made a noise like a snort, and shoved Maggie—gently, but enough to make her stagger, as though responding to her question with indignation.

“Maggie, please step away from the horse. I agree, it helped us, but it’s still a strange animal and outweighs you by a considerable amount.” Her sister had never met an animal that she couldn’t charm, but Elizabeth saw no reason to tempt fate.

Maggie made a face, but complied, giving the beast one last pat before taking several steps away. The horse watched her, but stayed where it was. “You think they’ll find us again?” Her voice was matter-of-fact, but her body tensed as she spoke.

Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to reassure the younger girl that everything would be all right, that they were safe, but she had never directly lied to her little sister, not in thirteen years, and she wasn’t going to start now. “Not if we’re smart. We need to figure out how to get to the other side of the reservoir, somehow, and then we can find a bus station. Once we’re farther away, they won’t be able to find us again.”

She hoped. Her only plan had been to get as far away from the Community as possible, and find someone who wasn’t cowed by Ray, someone who would listen to them, and protect them. But now… Elizabeth looked around, noting that the light that had been slanting through the trees was fading, all too aware of the fact that they had no idea where they were—any direction she chose could lead them right back into Jordan’s clutches, or leave them wandering deeper into the woods, away from the bus station that was their only chance to get away.

Jordan was a smarmy bastard, but he was right—Maggie was still exhausted. She needed to rest, and have a good meal, something more than the hot dogs they had gotten at the flea market, and… things they weren’t going to find, standing here like ninnies. Elizabeth mentally counted the money they had left, and flinched. There was enough for bus tickets out of state, and another meal or three, but not much more than that.

“I just need to figure out which way leads to the next town over.” She didn’t even know what town they were in right now. She had lived here her entire life, all twenty-six years, and once she got outside a ten-mile radius of her home, she was lost. What the hell had she been thinking, abandoning everything without a plan?

Panicked. She had been panicked, and knew, the same way that she knew the summons was bad news, that Ray was counting on her to be her usual practical, pragmatic self. Think-it-through Libby, her dad always called her. Think-it-through Libby would never have yanked her sister out of school and abandoned everything they owned on an hour’s notice, on the basis of a series of bad dreams and a gut feeling.

But she had.

The horse took two steps forward, so graceful it seemed almost to float more than walk, and, bypassing Maggie, circled around Elizabeth. She turned to watch it move, only to stagger herself when it pushed at her from behind with its shoulder. She had been right; it was solid muscle, and she had to take several steps forward to keep from falling over.

Up close, the horn was clearly attached to the forehead with more than glue, and when she—with daring that amazed her—reached out to touch it, the sensation under her fingertips was that of solid bone, smooth and cool and heavy.

With that touch, a wall of memories fell on her. She could almost hear her mother’s laugh, see Cody’s bright, fearless smile, smell the scent of her dad’s cologne….

No. Those were memories of better times, happier times. If she let them come back now, she would break down and then Maggie would be lost.

The horse, as though sensing her thoughts, stepped closer, pushing her again with the exact same amount of force behind the shove, and she got a definite sense of being told to get a move on.

“That way?” She felt insane, asking an animal for directions, but… maybe not so insane, after all. She looked at Maggie, who was looking at the beast intently. Her sister nodded.

“I think so. It wants us to go… that way?” Maggie pointed in the direction the horse—the unicorn, all right, Elizabeth admitted it, the unicorn—was pushing her.

It shoved her again, and she took the third step of her own accord, almost numb at this point. “What the hell. You got us here, maybe you can get us out.”

There was so much that was crazy in her life, what was taking directions from a unicorn, at this point? The thought almost made her laugh. Almost.

Maggie slipped her hand into her sister’s, and they walked forward along the indentation in the grass that indicated a deer path, the unicorn following behind. Its hooves barely made any noise on the dirt, now that it was walking rather than galloping. Elizabeth glanced behind, unable to help herself, and those wide brown eyes met hers in an almost human glance. It was taller than they were, its head above their shoulders, so it would be able to see anything coming ahead of them. More, its chest was broad and muscled, and its hooves were weapons able to take out anything coming up from behind them. Trust me, that dark gaze seemed to say.

The sense of safety she had felt earlier returned, and she nodded once in response, and then turned her attention back to the barely visible track winding through the trees.

They walked in silence a few strides, but Elizabeth could feel something building within her normally sunny-tempered sister. She waited, patiently, and finally it burst out.

“They’re not going to give up, are they? Why, Libby? Why won’t they just let us alone?”

All Elizabeth had told her sister as a reason for their flight was that the Elders wanted to separate them, place Maggie in another household, a real family, not just a sister who worked too many hours to raise a teenager. Elizabeth hadn’t mentioned any of her other fears, the ones that seemed insane in the daylight, but so very real when shadows surrounded them. Cody might have been able to banish the fears, with his laughter and his optimism, but Cody had hung himself on the tree behind his house, six days ago. Eight days after Elizabeth had confided her dream-stirred worries to him.

Maggie knew, anyway. Maggie always knew. Like Elizabeth’s dreams, only more so.

Maggie Sweet was special that way.

“I don’t know,” Elizabeth said now, in response to the question. “I wish I did, but I don’t. We’ll stay together, baby. Just like I promised you.” When their parents had died, at the shared grave among so many other graves, she had sworn that she would always be there, that she would not leave Maggie alone.

“Okay.” As simple as that, and to Maggie, the world was right side up and stable. Elizabeth wished, not for the first time, that she had her sister’s faith in her own abilities.

Cody had told her once that, if she put her mind to it, she could grow wings and fly. But Cody was dead. The police, called in from the nearest town, said he had committed suicide, too depressed by the spate of deaths in the Community to go on. Elizabeth knew better. No matter what, no matter how many friends they lost, he would never have done that, would never have gone without a word to her. Not after what she’d confessed to him. But nobody would believe her, thinking her stressed and grief-stricken.

If she had insisted, if she had uttered a single word about her fears, her dreams of something terrible about to happen, Ray would have had all the excuse he needed to take Maggie away from her.

Elizabeth didn’t know how long or how far they walked, but her feet were beginning to hurt, and Maggie was clearly fading.

“We’re going deeper in, not out,” her sister said, her fingers tightening around Elizabeth’s hand. “Is that okay? Shouldn’t we be going out?”

“I think it’s taking us around the reservoir,” Elizabeth said. “It must… smell water, or something. Or maybe it’s going back to its stable… it’s okay, Maggie. We don’t want to go back the way we came, so anything is better than that, right? Look, see those yellow flowers? They’re called lady’s slippers. They’re orchids. Do you remember? Mom had a pillow she’d made, it had those embroidered on it.”

Maggie scrunched her face, trying to remember. “It was green? On the rocking chair?”

“That’s right. The dog ate it, when you were, oh, about nine.”

“Poor Mickey.” The memory, as she’d hoped, made her sister laugh, and forget her exhaustion for a while. “He always ate everything, and Mom would get so mad…. I miss them, Libby. I miss them so much.”

Elizabeth’s heart ached. “So do I, baby.”

Their parents hadn’t been young—Maggie was a surprise late child—but the flu epidemic that swept the Community shouldn’t have taken them, not both of them, healthy adults still in their prime. So many people who should not have died, and yet they had, young children and adults alike.

Six months since those deaths, and the pain was still as raw as if the funeral had been yesterday. How much worse was it for Maggie, almost fourteen years younger, without the memories to console her? Elizabeth did her best, with photographs and stories, but eventually it would all be a faded blur, especially now that the photographs, like everything else, had been left behind. Elizabeth had taken a few photos, quickly pulled from frames and stuffed into her bag, but it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough.

Stories would have to fill the gap.

“You were too young to remember, the year that Mickey tried to jump the fire with everyone else during Winterfair. He almost made it, too, except his tail drooped too much, and he got all singed. You’ve never seen such an embarrassed-looking dog, his tail all bandaged, so every time he wagged it, he swatted someone….”

The stories flowed from her as they walked, the smell of warm dirt and pine in the air, the pine needles and dirt soft underfoot. It couldn’t have been all that long, in reality—maybe two hours, if that, since they’d been approached by Jordan and his men—but the light kept fading, the angle of the setting sun not making its way through the tall branches, until it became difficult to see where they were going. Maggie was leaning against her more than before, and she was about to tell her to get back on the horse’s back, when it tapped her—gently, carefully—on the shoulder with its horn, and then nudged her off to the left.

They left the path, faint as it was, and walked through a line of trees and down a small decline. Up ahead, as though waiting for them, there was a clearing, about ten feet in circumference, where the tall evergreens formed an almost perfect circle. Inside the circle there was a pile of leaves and soft branches piled in the middle.

“It looks like a bed,” Maggie said. “I think we’re supposed to sleep here?”

Elizabeth looked back at the horse, who stared back at her. “It’s not exactly Motel Six.”

“A lot cheaper,” Maggie said, for once being the practical one. “And we’re here.” She knelt down in the pile, testing it with her hand. “It’s actually soft,” she said, surprised. “And dry.”

“Is this where you sleep?” Elizabeth asked the horse, and then felt like a proper idiot. It might have a horn, and it might be leading them somewhere, but expecting it to suddenly answer her… She needed sleep as much as Maggie did, clearly. She hadn’t slept, really slept, in almost a week. Certainly not since they’d cut Cody’s body down from the tree.

“Thank you,” she said to the horse, anyway. “For… everything.”

Maggie was busy arranging their knapsacks to act as pillows, trying different positions to see if she could see the sky through the branches overhead. She was clearly taken with the idea of spending the night out of doors.

Sleeping in the woods wasn’t Elizabeth’s idea of comfort, but it was smart. Jordan wouldn’t stop looking, but he only had a few people with him, and searching the entire forest would take too long, especially since it would be dark soon. He couldn’t afford to bring in more people, or ask for help, since they would want to avoid any official attention as much as she did. Maybe even more. Cody’s death had been investigated by the police, if briefly. Having his best friend turn up missing a week after his death might send up official warning flags, make someone outside the Community take notice.

Anyway, nobody would believe that she’d keep Maggie outside all night, not when she’d been so sick. Jordan would be looking for her in town, under shelter. If they could sleep here, and get started early in the morning, when he’d be asleep, they could maybe slip past him.

It was the best plan she could come up with. And Maggie was already curled up in the makeshift nest, half-asleep from exhaustion but still trying to see stars through the overhead canopy of leaves. Elizabeth took off her jacket and draped it over the younger girl, then curled up next to her, snuggling for comfort. Maggie was right, it was surprisingly soft and comfortable. As her eyes closed, almost against her will, the last sight she had was their rescuer, a pale glimmer in the dusk, standing guard, his head up and alert to any sound or movement beyond the circle.

Reassured and oddly comforted by the sight, she slept.

Ever since the first wave of flu deaths hit the Community back in the autumn, Elizabeth’s dreams had been filled with faceless shadows moving around her, the sense of being caught in a whirlpool, spinning her around and pulling her down to some dire fate. It was all silent, as though the sound had been sucked out of the world already, except for her sister’s breath, labored and wet. It was the sound of a flu victim, trying to breathe, and no matter how terrifying the dream, waking to hear that noise in reality terrified Elizabeth more. Even now, when Maggie looked like the picture of health, the slightest hitch in her breath or faintest cough sent Elizabeth into a vague panic.

She had always dreamed, and always remembered her dreams, even as a small child. When something good was going to happen, or something bad, or merely a change in the air—she had known that her mother was pregnant with Maggie weeks before her mother realized, and had known that the small baby growing there would change her life forever. But she had never had nightmares—not until almost a year ago, when she woke screaming with the sense that something was lurking, just out of sight, waiting to catch her, to rend her apart with its claws. Nothing concrete, no specifics—only with Maggie’s birth had she ever known what change was coming, specifically. Only a sense of dread and distress that she could not shake, and could not prevent.

When her parents died, Elizabeth expected the nightmares to stop. Instead, they intensified. The night before Cody’s death, the dreams had been even worse: Maggie’s pale face alternating with Cody’s laughing one, and then her parents cold in their coffins, and a sense of menace no longer lurking in the shadows, but in midleap, claws outstretched. She had woken, not screaming but crying, her chest burning as though she’d been running all night, and been unable to go back to sleep. She had lain in bed for hours, waiting for the sun to come up, until the message came that Cody had been found, dead. She had not truly slept since then, unable to relax even in her own bed.

Tonight, curled up under a roof of trees while armed men searched for them, effectively homeless, guarded by an impossible creature and the future terrifyingly uncertain, Elizabeth slept, and dreamed not of menace, but of joy. In her dream, she stood under an open vista of clear blue skies and white-capped mountains, and felt the presence of peace and love around her, embracing her.

It was somewhere she had never been, a peace she never felt even in the best of times. Yet even within the embrace of that peace there was an uncertainty inside her, a sense that something would go wrong; that this contentment wasn’t meant for her. Not if she couldn’t take care of Maggie, make sure that Maggie was safe.

The dream faded, and she felt herself waking up in slow, comfortable stages: the warm crackle of their bedding underneath, the faint dampness of dew on her skin and clothing, the reassuring sound of Maggie’s occasional sleep-snort and the press of her body still curled under Elizabeth’s protective arm. Maggie was still safe. For now.

The light was dim around them, filtered through the leaves and barely enough to see by. Elizabeth guessed it was a little before dawn. At home, before everything changed, this had been her favorite time of day; before the controlled chaos of opening the bakery and getting the day’s orders started. Libby’s Loaves had been her own domain, her contribution to the Community at large. How proud she had been of it!

Her mother had taught her how to bake bread, back when she was Maggie’s age. There was another bakery in the Community, but it was Libby’s Loaves that everyone wanted for their table—she left the pastries and cakes to Asha and her husband, who owned the other shop across town.

She hoped they understood the meaning of the recipes—and the deed—she had left under their door, just before she and Maggie had left.

Those thoughts led to the awareness that they needed to be up and moving soon, and no time for reminiscences or regrets. Sliding her arm away from Maggie carefully, to keep from waking her just yet, Elizabeth got up from their makeshift mattress and looked around to see if the horse had stayed with them, overnight, or had wandered off as mysteriously as it had appeared. They hadn’t even thought to tether it—not that there had been anything to tether it with, since there had been neither bridle nor lead rope to use. Still…

The circle they had slept in was horse free. Elizabeth admitted to a sinking feeling of disappointment that didn’t make any sense. Whatever the animal was—horse, deer, fake or real—it wasn’t theirs, and while it had been amazingly, almost miraculously helpful, she couldn’t count on that help continuing.

“Just you and me again, baby,” she said, turning to wake Maggie and get her ready to walk again, and yelped in shock at the man standing across the clearing from her, watching her with a steady gaze.




Chapter 3


Her yelp woke Maggie in a rush, the teenager sitting upright and looking automatically in the direction her sister was staring. Maggie let out a startled noise as well, scooting backward on her knees to where her sister stood, instinctively seeking protection from this stranger. Fleetingly Elizabeth rued the loss of the little girl who was open and friendly to everyone, even as she was putting herself between this unknown man and her sister.

Better that Maggie be cautious. Better that Maggie be safe.

“Who the hell are you?” she asked, trying to see if there was anyone creeping up behind them without taking her eyes off the immediate threat. He wasn’t very tall, with broad shoulders and a wide-set stance that made her think of gunslingers in old Western movies, and was dressed in faded black jeans and a dark red pullover. His hair was honey-blond, his skin tanned, as though he spent most of his time outdoors, and his eyes, watching her, were a deep, dark brown that stirred something in her, some sense of familiarity, of long-lost comfort. She distrusted the feeling immediately.

“Hush,” the stranger said, in a voice that was low and raspy, as though he was recovering from a sore throat, or didn’t speak often. “Those men are in the woods, looking for you again, and your shrieks carry like a siren.”

Elizabeth felt her jaw drop open, and then closed it again with a snap. The worried look in those eyes softened the harshness of his words, and the fact that he knew what was happening, and seemed intent on helping them…

Her ability to trust had been severely strained over the past few months, and there was nothing that said this man was any different than Jordan and his cronies, but… she had to make a choice right then and there. She chose to trust him.

“It’s all right, Maggie,” she said as quietly as she could. “Just be still.”

The stranger stood there, listening to something, then all of a sudden he seemed to relax, and Elizabeth felt herself breathing more easily, too.

“They’ve gone back to their cars,” he said, as though talking to himself, not them. “Getting you out of here is going to be tricky, now, but staying isn’t going to work, either.” His already square jaw firmed even more in annoyance. “Damn it, I don’t have time for this. If I get you out of here, you’re on your own.”

Elizabeth wanted to make a sarcastic retort to that, but she was still too shocked, and afraid to antagonize the one person who had been willing to help them, whatever his reasons.

“Who are you?” Maggie asked. “Do… do we know you?” Her voice had an expectant quality, as though half hoping for a reassuring response.

The man hesitated, as though not wanting to answer, and then grinned. It wasn’t a friendly grin, or a reassuring one. “We met last night.”

“We met…” Elizabeth stared at him blankly, and then Maggie shrieked in excitement, immediately clapping her hands over her mouth when they both looked down, horrified at the noise.

“You were… Oh, my God, you were the unicorn!”

“Maggie, don’t be ridiculous,” Elizabeth said automatically, even as her sister got to her feet and walked toward the stranger.

“You are, aren’t you? That is so cool, totally amaze!”

Even as she was shaking her head, trying to come up with some other explanation, Elizabeth was amused at her sister’s words. For a while there, before the flu struck, everything had been “amaze.” “Totally amaze” was Maggie’s highest praise.

“Are you a unicorn who turns into a man, or a man who turns into a unicorn? I think you’re prettier as a unicorn.”

Elizabeth bit back a grin at the man’s rather startled and somewhat annoyed reaction to her sister’s artless question and statement. She didn’t agree at all with Maggie’s assessment—the horse had been a handsome animal but the man was… well, he was a handsome animal, too, she admitted.

“Maggie. That was rude.”

Her sister looked at her, eyes wide. “How is it rude?”

“Ah…” She looked helplessly at the stranger, who scowled back at her. “Men aren’t pretty. They’re handsome.” They also didn’t magically transfer from man to horse, or back again, but knocking Maggie’s fantasy would be cruel, right now. If that was how she dealt with the stress, it was harmless enough. He seemed willing to go along with it, despite the scowl, so that was either a point in his favor or really creepy—and that still didn’t get to the question of how this man knew them, or…

“Was the horse yours? We’re terribly sorry, we didn’t mean… It appeared when we needed it—we would have returned it, if we knew where it came from….”

There was no way that she was going to explain to this man how his horse had literally rescued them. She knew what had happened, but the words couldn’t come out of her mouth.

“Libby, I told you! He is the unicorn!”

“Maggie…” It was one thing to indulge Maggie’s fantasies, but Elizabeth wasn’t sure how far she wanted to go with that.

“It’s true! You know I know!”

Maggie’s voice had a strained, pleading quality to it. Her sister wasn’t the sort to make up stories—she didn’t need to. But this was asking too much for even Elizabeth to believe.

Josh fought down his growing irritation, unable to believe that he was standing there while two females argued over his identity. Hell, he couldn’t believe that they were even having that argument. No sane human being could believe in unicorns at all, much less one that shifted between human and horse form; it was the stuff of legends and myths, not reality. Were they insane? Had he stumbled upon a pair of escapees from a mental hospital? If so, they were two seriously good-looking patients: the girl was still coltish and awkward, but her sister had an elegance that only added to her striking good looks. And those eyes… When she had turned and he’d gotten his first real look at those dark, almond-shaped eyes, something inside him had plummeted all the way from his head to his knees. He suspected it might have been his brain.

The last thing he needed in his life right now was complications—more complications, he amended ruefully—and time was wasting. He needed to be on his way. And yet, something had made him come to their rescue… and that something wouldn’t let him leave them stranded here, even though every bit of horse sense he had was telling him to go, now.

He had spent all night standing watch over them, listening to them sleep, the way a herd stallion would watch over his mares. The need to protect them was still strong enough to override his own instinct for self-preservation, his need to be moving, to follow the tug in his gut before it destroyed him.

“Damn it, the last thing I need are two females on my back.” Literally. Although they’d both stayed on quite well—long and lean, like natural riders. He felt a burn start at the thought of a woman riding him, and beat it down fiercely. Bad enough that he had to deal with this damnable rut, he wasn’t going to let it overtake his larger head, too.

The rut demanded that he move, that he find his mate, and complete the natural cycle of the Mustang. So why had he come to help them, stayed with them—why the hell had he allowed them to see him in both forms? He was nearly thirty, old enough to know better, damn it, not act like some fool yearling.

“It’s my fault,” the younger one—Maggie—said suddenly, as though hearing his thoughts. “I called you.”

“Maggie!”

The older girl—woman—sounded scandalized.

Maggie refused to be silenced. “He deserves to know, doesn’t he? I didn’t mean to, I was just so scared when those guys showed up, and then he was within reach, and…” The girl shrugged helplessly, and he revised his estimate of her age—she couldn’t be more than twelve or thirteen. No wonder his instinct kicked in; she was barely a yearling herself. But what did she mean—called him?

“It’s a gift,” she said, hearing his thoughts again, somehow. “I’ve always been able to do it. Call animals, I mean. Libby doesn’t want me to tell anyone, because people get scared, but you should know. Because I’m sorry. It’s one thing to call an animal, but not a person. That’s not polite.”

Josh felt like someone had punched him in the chest. “You called me. Right.” Nobody called him; he was broken to no damned halter. No Mustang ever answered to any call but their own desires.

“I did.” She sounded almost insulted that he didn’t believe her. “I didn’t mean to, but you were there and you heard me, I guess. You don’t believe me. That’s okay, nobody ever does. Watch.”

She turned away from him, a defiant tilt to her shoulders, and stared into the limbs of the tree above them. He turned to the older girl—a young woman, closer to his own age than her sister—but she was watching Maggie with a worried expression on her face. Because she was crazy, both of them were crazy? Or because the girl was about to do something that worried her? He turned back to watch the younger girl, waiting for an answer.

“There,” Maggie said, speaking up into the tree. “Hello, little one. Come down here, please?”

He got the feeling that she was speaking out loud for his benefit, not her own, and then all thought fled as a large reddish-brown squirrel jumped down from the branches and scurried across the ground to wait at Maggie’s feet, beady black eyes bright, plump tail fluffed in anticipation, perched on its haunches as though awaiting further instructions.

“Be careful,” he found himself warning her. “It might have rabies, or…”

“It doesn’t,” she said confidently, and bent down to pick the squirrel up. It not only allowed her to handle it, but the rodent also ducked its head under her hand as though anticipating a caress. He would have sworn it was a domesticated pet, except that there was no way…

“All right, Maggie,” her sister said. She sounded tired, still worried, but amused at the same time. “You’ve proven your point. Now put greykins down—you know full well that even the gentle ones carry germs and ticks, and all sorts of things that you can’t protect yourself from.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Maggie said, and let the squirrel go. It paused, as though disappointed, and then its natural caution resumed and it scampered up the nearest tree, an outraged chittering floating down back to them.

“It didn’t like being summoned,” he said dryly, his mood made worse, not better, by proof of her claims. He had been yanked off his course by a teenager’s whim?

“Oh, it’s just cranky,” Maggie said airily. “Squirrels are always cranky. Are you? I’m sorry, I really am. I just never thought the animals minded so much, being summoned—they never seem to object.” Her expression changed as she suddenly considered that they might, indeed, object.

“I’m not an animal.” Was he annoyed? Josh thought that he might be, now that he’d had proof shoved in his face; this slip of a girl had managed to pull him away from his own agenda, tangling him up in whatever was going on with her and her sister without so much as a by-your-leave or pretty-please.

Still. Remembering the man who had been threatening them, the cruel grip on the woman’s hair, the way the other man had twisted Maggie’s arms… he couldn’t regret coming to their aid, no matter how he had ended up there.

But it ended now. They were safe, and he had his own plans to follow through on. Plans that carried their own urgency.

“Maggie.” The older girl, Libby, sat on a fallen tree trunk and shook her head at her sister in dismay. “You’re hopeless.”

Despite his annoyance, there was something about the older girl that intrigued him even more than her unusual sister. He eyed her carefully. Tall and lean, he had noted that already. Striking more than pretty. Lovely long dark hair past her shoulders, loosed from the ponytail, and now tangled with leaves and twigs like a dryad. Wide dark brown eyes and dusky skin, a full mouth and a proud Roman nose that was somehow more enchanting than any upturned pug or cute button could ever be. His gaze traveled lower. Her long-sleeved T-shirt didn’t disguise a rounded chest, neither too large nor too small but just about right for cupping in his hands, and a long waist that tapered to hips his fingers itched to span. And those legs, stretched out in front of her…

He’d already felt how those legs felt, wrapped around him, her lower half molding to his as they moved. He’d had people—other women—on his back before, but they had mostly been his own herd, cousins and second cousins, the occasional human who knew their secret already. Never a stranger. Never a stranger with eyes that heated his imagination as much as his body.

“I don’t suppose you’re a virgin?” he asked suddenly.

Her jaw fell open, and a blush stained her cheeks, visible even in the morning light. “No.”

She was quite certain about that and he shrugged inwardly. Oh, well. It had been a long shot, anyway.

“And you said I was rude?” Maggie asked, her eyes wide with astonishment.

He didn’t explain why he had asked, but scowled at them again. “So why were those men after you, anyway?” He didn’t care, really. But it was a way to put them on the defensive, rather than mocking him, or asking questions.

Libby stared at him, her scowl not quite a match for his own, but close. “We appreciate your assistance,” she said, not answering the question, “but we need to be on our way now.” Her tone was frostily polite, a verbal slap. “I don’t suppose you could point us in the direction of the nearest police station? Then you can find your horse and be on your way.”

Apparently, she was less convinced than her sister of his dual nature, or just determined to be contrary. Josh wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or annoyed. Not that he went around announcing himself to strangers—to anyone—but he didn’t like being doubted, either.

But this gave him the perfect excuse to leave. Why then, suddenly, did he not want to?

“Libby, I told you!” Maggie looked as though she was about to stomp her foot on the ground, very much like a frustrated yearling.

“Hush, child,” he said. “Your sister is quite right, you two need to be on your way, before your hunters come back. I’ll finish the job my… horse started, and get you out of the woods. But after that you’re on your own, understand?” He looked at Maggie as he said that, and she nodded once in understanding. There would be no more summoning of him, however she had actually done it.

Did he believe that she could call animals, control them? Even if he denied that she had influenced him at all—he still wasn’t comfortable with the idea—he had seen a sample for himself, and… really, who was he to question other people’s oddities? The Mustang family was nothing more than legend and fairy tale to most folk, but he was quite real. A girl who could talk to the animals was commonplace, compared to his bloodline.

“There’s a stream down that way—” He jerked his chin toward the slope. “You might want to wash up there, make yourself a little more presentable.” Unable to stop himself, he reached out and plucked a twig from Libby’s tangle of hair, holding it up in front of her face as evidence. “A comb or brush wouldn’t hurt, either, if you have one.”

She pursed her mouth as though about to say something, then shook her head and sighed, reaching down to pick up her backpack, a rugged olive-drab thing scuffed enough that it might have seen actual military service at some point. Maggie giggled, for the first time sounding like a girl her age, and picked up her own knapsack, a bright blue one that looked like it should be holding schoolbooks and lunch, not… whatever she had crammed in there. A toothbrush, he hoped.

He needed to reclaim his own pack, stashed in a tree when he had shifted to go to their rescue. Thankfully, clothing on his two-legged form merged into four-legged hide somehow, but the things they carried, even in pockets, the magic did not recognize. Even his wallet and spare change had to stay in his pack at all times, or risk being magicked out of existence. He was used to improvising, after a shift. He ran a tongue thoughtfully across his teeth, and grimaced. He really wished he had his toothbrush with him right now, though.

Libby took her sister’s hand and led her through the circle of trees. He couldn’t see them anymore but he could hear them—and scent them. If they ran into trouble, he could be there in an instant.

Not that he was still protecting them. Damn it.

“He’s cute.”

“Maggie, go dunk your head.”

The stream wasn’t deep enough to actually bathe in, and the water was cold enough to feel sharp against her skin, but Elizabeth washed her face and rinsed her mouth, rummaging in her bag for the travel kit she had shoved in there the day before. “And don’t forget to brush your teeth.”

He was cute, their grumpy rescuer. She was a breathing heterosexual female; she wasn’t going to not notice that. But he was also clearly impatient to be rid of them, and she wasn’t going to rely on a stranger, not when even those she’d called family had turned on them, the town she’d been raised in had gone dark and threatening. No, it would be best to take his help and then be gone themselves, as fast as possible.

Wash-up done as best she could, Elizabeth got out a brush and sat down to attack her tangled hair. Her father used to call her hair black silk, but right now it felt more like wool, rough and gritty, and in dire need of carding. Thankfully, once she picked out the leaves and twigs the worst of it was quickly tamed, and she braided it. Her sister’s wash-up finished with considerably more splashing and face-making at the cold, and she motioned Maggie over to sit, cross-legged in front of her, while Elizabeth redid her braid in the same fashion. The stranger—she didn’t even know his name!—was right; they needed to look presentable, if they were going to try to make the police believe them.

That gave her pause, fingers holding three strands of hair motionless as she realized what she was planning. Was she really going to go to the police? She was, yes.

“Libby?”

“Yes, baby,” she said, her fingers moving again, tying off the braid with a scrunchie from her pocket.

“He was the unicorn. He really was.”

“Maggie…”

“He was.”

She couldn’t see her sister’s face, but she could hear the halfhearted pout in the words. A man who changed into a unicorn. A were-unicorn?

Elizabeth tugged slightly on the braid, to indicate that she was done. Her baby sister talked to animals. She herself dreamed the future, however confused and clouded. Did she really have room to deny the possibility of weirder things out there?

“Then where were his clothes, when he changed? And… how can he be smaller than the horse? The laws of physics, baby.”

“Libby…” Now her sister sounded exasperated, staring out across the creek. “It’s magic.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Okay,” she said, neither agreeing nor denying anything her sister said. “Come on. Let’s go back before whoever he is gets tired of waiting, and leaves us here.”

The self-appointed guardian was pacing back and forth when they got back, not worried so much as… alert. Elizabeth had a sudden flash of a stallion, proud and wild, standing on a cliff, looking out across the plains, then the image was gone, and it was just the three of them, surrounded by pine trees and danger. He gave them a once-over, and nodded.

“This way.”

There was no conversation as they walked, accompanied by the early morning sounds of birds and other small animals. Maggie was good and kept her attention focused on where they were going, so not a single creature kept them company—at least, not obviously. The daylight grew brighter, and Elizabeth felt more and more aware of the fact that she had slept in her clothing. There were pine needles in her socks and down the back of her shirt, and her jacket was still damp from the dew, and she just felt unbelievably grimy and wrinkled. At this point, she would trade all the sleep she had managed last night, even with the good dreams, for ten minutes under a hot shower.

Soon they heard the distant whoosh of cars passing by, and an airplane flying overhead, breaking into the peaceful silence of the reserve. Elizabeth felt her body tense at the reminders of civilization, and then the trees thinned, and they came to a high wire fence, blocking them in.

It was twice the height of the fence they had gone over on the other side of the forest, and there were jagged curls of barbed wire on the top. How were they supposed to get over that?

“This way,” the man said, gesturing to a small slice in the fence.

Elizabeth wondered how their guide knew about it, or if he had made it himself, but thought better of asking.

“They should repair that,” Maggie said primly, even as she was slipping through, her bag held low to fit through. Elizabeth went next, and then their guide followed, having to maneuver his broader frame carefully to avoid being snagged on the wires. The fence was at the top of a small grassy rise alongside a paved two-lane road, lined at intervals with telephone poles.

“This is the county road,” he said. “There’s a town about a mile or so down that way.”

“Thank you,’ Elizabeth said again, and suddenly remembered her manners. “I’m sorry, we never formally introduced ourselves. I’m Elizabeth. This is Margaret.” She didn’t give their last names, just in case.

“Good luck” was all he said in return, and then turned and went back through the fence, and disappeared into the woods.

“Wow,” Maggie said, watching him go with a disappointed look on her face. “I really liked him better as a unicorn.”




Chapter 4


While the girls were traveling south through the woods, they were the subject of a heated discussion back in the Community, where the Elders had gathered for an emergency meeting.

“What do you mean, you’re not doing anything?” A man’s voice, high-pitched and showing annoyance, filled the meeting room, demanding an answer.

“That is not what he said, Alan,” another man said, but his expression was one of annoyance, as well. “Ray, don’t you think…”

“I share your concern, everyone.” The voice was smooth and practiced, without being too polished, and matched the man speaking. He was tall and solid, dressed, like the others, in jeans and shirt, both well-worn. Standing at the head of the long, wood-paneled room, his gaze met theirs evenly, squarely, and his shoulders were open even as his hands moved as he spoke. “Alan, Mark is correct, that was not what I said. Everyone, please believe me when I say that I too am concerned. Those poor girls, the past year has been so difficult for them, first losing their parents and then, well, poor Maggie just hasn’t been the same since then, has she?”

The others in the room nodded, sobered by the reminder of those who were lost to the flu epidemic the year before. Every member of the Community had lost a loved one, it seemed, but some were harder struck. The survivors—younger, stronger children like Maggie—still bore evidence of their illness, in their lungs and their limbs.

Ray nodded as well, his body language perfectly echoing their own sorrow. “And in times of stress, we often act out of character. Elizabeth should have come to us first, of course, but she is a sensible girl—” all of eleven years younger than he, but decades younger than most of the others in the room “—and she will take good care of her sister, I am sure of that. And that is why I am not convinced that we need to do anything, specifically, to bring them back, or otherwise interfere with their lives.

“However, because it is… a world full of dangers, I’ve sent Jordan to find her, and keep an eye on them, make sure that they don’t get into too much trouble.”

That seemed to satisfy most of his inquisitors, but one woman refused to be consoled.

“But why did they leave? And to abandon everything, for Libby to just leave the bakery like that…” Judy sounded as though she was near to tears. “It’s so unlike her!”

Ray leaned forward, catching her gaze and holding it like a snake charmer might his snake. “Oh, Judy, you know that sometimes we need a little distance, to understand what things close to us truly mean. It’s how we learn, how we grow.”

Ray had a soothing voice and a calming conviction that seemed to melt worries away, without dismissing the fears as foolish or unworthy, and Judy was no exception. Her expression visibly smoothed out and calmed down, and she patted her husband’s arm as though he had been the one who was upset. “That’s true. We forget… we came to the Community as adults, but the girls were born here, and it’s all they’ve ever known. Even the Amish go away when they’re teenagers, to see the outside world before they make their final choice, and we can’t claim to be more reclusive than they are!”

There was some muted laughter from the others in the room, seven total. His fellow Elders had come to him that morning, worried about the seeming disappearance of two of their younger members, so suddenly. Judy and her husband, Mark, were personal friends of the Sweets; he suspected that they had pushed the others into speaking up and forcing a meeting.

Thankfully, he had received word of the girls’ departure before anyone else, and had been ready for the appearance of his fellow Elders and neighbors, an answer smooth on his tongue.

“It was an impulsive move on their part, clearly, to not tell anyone, to simply up and leave. But their belongings are still here, they did not transfer the title to their house.” No need to tell anyone about the recipes and deed to the bakery his men had retrieved, before the new owners could discover it. “They will be back, I assure you.”

“Yes, but…” Stephan, the newest member of the Elders, elected to fill Ray’s place when he was elevated, frowned in concern.

“I have asked Jordan to watch over them until they do return,” Ray said, giving his final spin on the situation. Jordan was highly regarded in the Community; a seventh-grade math teacher, he had been born in the Community, which was important even to people who said it didn’t matter. Ray bit back the rush of anger he still felt over that, and smiled gently instead, feeling his mouth strain at the effort. “He has orders to clear their path and give them time to do whatever it is they felt the need to do—see old friends of their parents, perhaps, or visit Disney World, whatever it is that young girls do. And then he will make sure they come home safely.”

In fact, Jordan was under orders to bring them home, period. No matter what means were needed. Ray had plans for the Community, plans that were years in the making, and that required little Ms. Maggie to be home, safe and under his control.

She was the reason the Community existed, even if none of them realized it, yet.

“I wish they’d told me,” another man said wistfully. “I’ve never been to Disney World, either. I’d have gone with them!”

Ray smiled as the others laughed again, but his hand, held out of sight at his waist, clenched. Andrew, the speaker, had been one of the few to object to his selection as the Old Lady’s successor, had raised questions about someone not born in the Community leading it. Andrew and Sean Sweet, and their allies… There were too many people who questioned him.

The vote had gone his way, and he had confirmed his position formally, but Ray never forgot a challenge… or a challenger. Especially a man like Andrew, whose grandfather had been one of the original Founders, along with old Cab Sweet. Such a man was either useful—or dangerous. Ray hadn’t decided where Andrew fell in the scheme of things yet.

Useful, he would be used. Dangerous… he would be removed. By force, if illness or accident did not take care of it for him.

But for now Andrew was in the undecided camp, and so it was still time for Ray to use the velvet glove, soothe his opponents into thinking they would get their way.

“Maggie and Elizabeth are our friends, our neighbors, our family. That allows us the right to worry, and to watch over them. But the genesis of the Community was in self-removal from the world, not forced removal.”

The other Elders nodded at that.

“The girls will be back. They know where their home is. We simply need to trust them… and be ready with assistance, should they require it. And, of course, to welcome them home with our love, our compassion and our understanding, when they return.”

It was a pretty speech, one he had rehearsed that morning, and it worked. Most of them, reassured, left the meeting room, heading back to their daily chores and lives. They might be the Elders, but they were just as happy to let him handle everything, in the day-to-day running of the Community. After all, if it was important it would come to a vote, right?

Ray was about to relax when he realized that, in addition to himself and his assistant, Glen, Judy’s husband had remained behind.

“Yes, Mark?” Ray looked expectantly at the older man. Most matters were raised in public, in the weekly meeting, so this had to be something Mark wanted to keep private, away even from his own wife.

“I’m curious why you sent Jordan. He’s our best negotiator, and the Dantern buyer is supposed to be here tomorrow, to price the wool. We needed him here.”

Ah. The Community tried to be self-reliant, selling or bartering within their members to handle most daily needs, but many of the crafters sold their wares to the outside world, as well. Dantern was a nationwide shop that had a yearly contract with the small farm outside town. As Judy had said, they might have removed themselves from the daily technological impositions of television, internet and other forms of mass media, but they were still part of the larger world. Mark was one of their best businessmen, but he would not want anyone—especially his wife—to see him putting money before people. This was easily dealt with.

“Jordan knows Elizabeth and Maggie, he was friends with their parents. He wanted to go.” Ray made a gesture with his hands, the perfect image of a man who gave in to familial ties over commerce, but only reluctantly, and aware that it was foolishness. “Truthfully, I am hoping that he will be able to convince them to come home right away. Elizabeth is a grown woman, but Maggie… I don’t like someone as delicate as she being out there with only her sister to protect her. I try not to be sexist, but… it’s a cold place for two girls without experience or money.”

Elizabeth had cash, of course. The bakery did a steady business both within the Community and outside, so there would have been easy access to cash in the till—but they had no credit cards, no ATM cards. If they ran out of money, they would be dependent upon strangers, and Elizabeth was far too practical a girl to trust someone she didn’t know.

Then again, he had thought she was too practical a girl to run, too. He had misjudged her, underestimated how spooked she had become, after the boy’s unfortunate accident with the rope. He would not make that mistake that again.

“I hope that you’re right,” Mark said now. “I love the girls as though they were my own, but we have an obligation to keep everyone else running smoothly, too.”

“Indeed, I couldn’t agree more,” Ray said, taking the older man’s arm and walking with him toward the door. “The Community has been self-supporting for almost fifty years now, and I don’t want a thing to change, I assure you.”

The door closed behind Mark, and Ray turned to look back at the man remaining. Glen’s cool gaze met his evenly.

“No, indeed,” Ray said. “I don’t want a thing to change… yet.”




Chapter 5


It took Josh all of ten minutes, heading back to the campsite where he’d let his charges sleep, to start wondering how long it would take those men to find the girls again. The search had been called off, yes, but why, and for how long? He still didn’t know why those men had wanted to take them—maybe they were escaped mental patients, and those were doctors or orderlies come to retrieve them?

He discarded the thought as soon as it appeared. Maggie was a little odd, perhaps, but they were both as sane as he—maybe more so, he thought ruefully, feeling the burn of the rut start again, just under his skin.

So why had the search been called off, when they were almost within range? If they knew the girls were in here… Were they even now blanketing the area, waiting? Their leader didn’t seem to be the sort to give up, and he would probably be holding a grudge. Who was he to them? Not father, and not brother… Could he possibly be Elizabeth’s lover? Any lover who treated a woman like that would be ex-lover in a heartbeat, and rightfully so. An ex-lover, then? If so, Josh wished he’d kicked the guy harder.

“Not your problem, Mustang,” he told himself. “You need to get home, and deal with this rut once and for all, and get your life back in line, not caretake two complete strangers.”

The rut was inevitable, undeniable and a pain in the… He swore, and adjusted his jeans for comfort as he walked. A pain in the everywhere. The itch to shift was shivering over his skin, coaxing him into taking his four-legged form again. Another time and place he might have given in, but not here. Not now. In that form he thought with his instincts more than his brain, and the rut made that—made him—too dangerous, especially out here, surrounded by strangers.

The itch didn’t care, crawling around inside him like an entire farm of fire ants. To distract himself, he kept thinking about Elizabeth and Maggie. He wondered how much cash the girls had on them, if any—they had been dressed well, but not that well, and their backpacks were hardly stuffed with bills… and did they know enough not to use credit cards, so they couldn’t be traced? Did they have a plan, someone they were running to, rather than simply running away?

Not your problem, he reminded himself, kicking apart the branches that had been their bedding, and moving on to where he had left his pack. It was still there, as expected. Not that he had much—a bachelor stallion traveled light, and when the rut had summoned him, a few changes of clothes had seemed enough weight to bear. He regretted the books and knickknacks he had left behind; hopefully he would be able to reclaim them from storage when he was done.

Or, he wouldn’t be worrying about them at all if the rut wasn’t dealt with, soon. Days, he estimated.

No, Maggie and Libby were not his problem anymore; he had his own crap to deal with, and the clock, as the clichés went, was ticking. He had waited too long already.

Mustang had been minding his own business up until fourteen days ago, working on a fishing boat, the sea air as unlike his home as possible, when the need hit him. He woke in his bunk, sweating, a hard-on that could break cement pulsing between his legs, the sound of feminine laughter echoing through his dreams, and dread in his stomach.

Rut. Every member—every male member—of the herd went through it. But you never quite believed it was going to get you, until it did.

He had finished out his contract, and when the boat docked, tossed his belongings into storage and set out for home. It was purely bad luck that found him within Maggie’s reach; the itch to change had gotten so bad the night before, he’d been afraid he would make the shift in his sleep. The thought of waking in a motel room, the bed broken around his hooves, was not a pleasant one. He’d chosen to sleep outside, rather than risk that and the inevitable discovery. Because of that choice, he had, apparently, been within calling distance.

Maggie. Sweet, tired-looking Maggie. And Elizabeth—he preferred that to the earlier Libby—of the long legs and the firm hands. They were on the run—why? Because of Maggie, he guessed. Magical Maggie. The danger came from those men? From whoever sent those men? Either way, there was little chance they could escape, not without help.

He hoped they had help, somewhere.

The thought stayed with him, no matter how much he tried to dislodge it. Barely an hour later he stopped in his tracks, blew out an exasperated sigh and turned around, heading… not west, the way his rut was telling him to go, not back toward home, but south into town, after his runaways.

The need to go home, the urge to find an appropriate mate along the way, could wait a little while longer. At least long enough to make sure that Elizabeth and Maggie were safe.

“Baby, stay here, all right?”

“I’m not a baby,” Maggie said, but it was an automatic objection. Elizabeth would be calling her that when they were both ancient. “And yes, I’ll stay right here—” and she stamped the pavement with her sneakered foot in emphasis “—until you give me the all clear or a truck barrels down like it’s gonna hit me. Or a forest fire blazes at me. Or a bear…”

“All right, all right, I get it. You’re smart enough to stay out of trouble. Sit.”

Maggie sat, clearly pleased at having made her sister smile, despite their worries.

They had walked several miles down that county road into Patsmilling, a small, traditional-looking New England town, and found the local police station without too much trouble. It was on the aptly named Front Street, across from the post office and town hall, and down the street from the two-engine fire department.

Elizabeth looked up and down the street, her heart beating faster than it should have. There were a few people out, running errands or heading back to work, but nobody was looking at them, nobody pointing or making furtive cell-phone calls. The police station didn’t look very impressive: a two-story redbrick building with a small wooden sign outside that identified it, and two squad cars parked at the curb outside. Still, they didn’t have to be an armed fortress to do their job: anything larger than a break-in or vandalism case, and the cops probably relied on the county to handle it, but Patsmilling looked and sounded sleepy enough that it was likely they didn’t have anything larger very often….

“Libby?”

The one word in her sister’s voice said, clearly, Why are you standing there? Why haven’t you gone in yet? Is something wrong?

Elizabeth risked looking over her shoulder. Maggie was sitting, as she had promised, on the bench outside the post office. One woman was forgettable. Two females, obviously sisters… someone might remember that. Maggie should be perfectly safe here, in full view of government employees, right? There wasn’t anything to stop Elizabeth from going inside and asking for help Nothing excerpt her own nerves and uncertainty, anyway.

Maggie talked to animals. Elizabeth dreamed. Unlike her sister’s ability, Elizabeth didn’t put much stock into her dreams. Yes, they told her things that were going to happen, or might happen, but dreams were tricky things and she wasn’t comfortable trusting them. And this wasn’t even a dream, just a feeling that going into that building would be a very bad idea. Involving the police had not been her original plan. She had no proof to give them, only fear and coincidence, and she was terrified that they would think that she was the crazy one, unfit to care for Maggie.

But what were their options? Ray, and maybe all of the Elders, wanted Maggie back at the Community, and were willing to snatch her in a public place to accomplish that. Elizabeth had cash, but not an endless amount, and no way to access their bank account without Ray using that to track them down—the Community didn’t rely on computers and such, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t and wouldn’t use them when needed. And just running as fast as they could wasn’t an option anymore, not with Jordan and his goons so close on their heels—he shouldn’t have been able to find them so easily, but he had. Why should she assume tomorrow would be any different? Anywhere they went, he could find them.

They needed something official standing between them—someone with the ability to hold Jordan off, make life uncomfortable for the Community if she and Maggie weren’t left alone. Her instinct, honed by Community tradition, was to never involve outsiders… but she was about to become an outsider herself. So it made sense, didn’t it?

Yes. This was a smart move. Three generations of good public relations, being known as “that little village of the folk who live off the grid but don’t make trouble,” would be gone if the media picked up a “runaway returned against her wishes” story. No matter how much they wanted Maggie back, the Elders would never let Ray cause that sort of trouble. Once she walked into the police station, she and Maggie would be safe.

Still, she stood there, aware of how rumpled and tired she looked, and couldn’t seem to make her feet move.

“You’re getting a bad feeling, aren’t you?” Her sister’s voice was small and worried, and something inside her shriveled at the sound.

“No. It’s all right, Maggie.”

She forced herself to take a step, then another. Not for herself. For Maggie. Maggie could not go back to the Community. Maggie could never go back there….

She heard Maggie give a chirp, and then an answering chirp from one of the trees that lined the street. Even in plain sight, her sister couldn’t help herself; she would call the birds to her. It was okay. So long as she didn’t call an eagle or a bear, or…

“Stop thinking. Keep walking.”




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