Bayou Moon - Andrews, Ilona [135]
William.
He had no shirt on. The moonlight slid over his back and shoulders, tracing the outline of sculpted biceps, sliding over the shield of muscle on his side to the narrow waist. His hair fell on his shoulders in a dark mane. He stood with easy predatory grace, beautiful and terrifying, and he stared at her with the same impossible longing she’d seen in him in the lake house. The intensity of it took her breath away. She wasn’t sure if she should swoon, scream, or just wake up.
He moved and tapped the window with his knuckle.
Not dreaming. He’d showed up and he wanted in.
Cerise shook her head. No. She needed him so badly, it almost hurt, but Lark needed her more.
He raised his arms. Why?
She leaned over and very gently pulled the blanket down, revealing Lark’s tousled hair.
His face fell. He rocked forward and bumped his head on the glass.
“Aaaah!” Lark jerked up. “Ceri! Ceri!”
Cerise thrust herself between her sister and the window. “What is it?”
“A monster, a monster at the window!”
Cerise grabbed Lark into a hug and turned, keeping Lark’s face away from the glass. William ripped off his pants. A convulsion gripped his body, jerking him, breaking his arms, twisting his shoulders. Cerise gulped. “There’s nothing there.”
“There is a monster! I saw it.”
William’s muscles flowed like melted wax. He crashed to all fours. Dense black fur sheathed him. He shook, and a huge black wolf sat at the window, his eyes glowing like two wild moons.
She did not just see that. Surely, she didn’t.
Every hair on the back of Cerise’s neck stood up. She swallowed. “Look, baby, it’s not a monster, it’s just a dog. See?”
Lark pulled from her and glanced at the window. “Where did it come from?”
“It’s William’s dog.” The damn wolf was the size of a pony.
William pawed at the glass gently and licked it.
“William doesn’t have a dog.”
“Sure he does. His dog stays in the woods so he doesn’t bother our dogs. He’s very nice. See?” Cerise rose and opened the window. William trotted in, an enormous black shadow, and put his head on the sheets next to Lark. She reached over and petted his sable fur. “He’s nice.”
“Come on.” Cerise adjusted the pillows. “Try to get back to sleep.”
She slid under the covers next to Lark. William hopped on the bed by their legs and lay still. “Behave,” she told him.
He yawned, showing her white teeth the size of her pinkies, and closed his mouth with a click.
“Ceri?”
“Mmmm . . . ?”
“You won’t let them keep Mom that way, right?”
“No, I won’t.”
“You have to kill her.”
“I will, Sophie. I will.”
“Soon, right? I don’t want her to hurt.”
“Very soon. Go to sleep now. It will hurt less in the morning.”
Cerise closed her eyes, felt William shift to make room for her toes, and relaxed. Tomorrow would be a hellish day, but for now, with the giant wolf guarding her feet, she felt strangely safe.
WHEN Cerise awoke, William was nowhere to be seen. He’d stayed through most of the night—she had awakened earlier, just before sunrise, and he had still been there, a big shaggy beast sprawled on her bed. Now he was gone.
It was crazy, she reflected, as she got dressed. She knew he would eventually turn into an animal. After all, that was what changelings did. But witnessing it was like staring Raste Adir in the face. This was magic so old, so primitive, that it didn’t fit into any of the neat equations her grandfather had taught her. It roared, furious and primal, like an avalanche or a storm.
The journal she had seen in Lagar’s mind bothered her. It looked just like one of her grandfather’s journals in which he used to write out his planting schedule and research. The journal had to be the key, the last piece in this big tangled puzzle.
She found Richard in the front yard, supervising as Andre sharpened his machete.
“I need to go to Sene,” she told him. “Will you come with me?”
He didn’t ask why. He just had two horses brought and they rode out.
Half an hour later Cerise stood on the rotten porch of Sene Manor. She used to be so happy in this house, back when the garden was cultivated,