Lost Moon Page 12

  “It just came to me as I pondered it again.” Something else came to her as she looked at Kepriah’s scepter. “You will draw attention, Jakon, even if the scepter does not.”

  “Quite right. But Third Noble’s ring is capable of disguising our outward appearances

  “That’s a relief.” She studied the sleeping Earth woman. “But we have to get Patrice healthy again.”

  “Then I suggest you continue your lessons.”

  His tone reminded Larisa of her mother’s teachings. She fought the memories that threatened to swell and pushed her sorrow down as deeply as she could manage. An odd word filled the cave and she found herself on her backside again, looking up at Kepriah. The warrior had a brow lifted and a sly grin on her face.

  She is enjoying this far too much.

  Chapter 9

  Another morning arrived and Patrice lay inside the cave, which seemed to get smaller each time she woke. The days and nights had grown into one long blur. She still didn’t know how they forced her to eat but she suspected it was Kepriah’s doing. The fog that had encased her mind and spirit began to lift, and the nasty tea Larisa made her drink cleared her head and lungs. She longed for a toothbrush! The finger rag and herbs Larisa provided did a fair job cleaning her teeth, and she used scraps of Larisa’s healer threads as floss, but if she ever got home, she would get an earful from her dentist. She longed for another convenience, too. These women might be used to menstrual rags, but Patrice would give her right arm for a box of tampons. Larisa looked stunned when Patrice explained the concept of the product. Again.

  “Those tampon things are not natural,” the blonde woman finally said. “The unused blood needs to come out. That is the way the Moirai intended.”

  Patrice decided to save her energy and not to argue with the healer about it but she sighed. Two cycles meant at least two months spent in this dreadful cave, and she started to think spring would never arrive. Her dreams seemed to be the only enjoyable place. She dreamt of Alaska, of her family and friends. The dreams made her content until she awoke and remembered that everything and everyone dear to her were gone. She wanted this to be just a terrible dream and wake up in her soft, warm bed with her cell phone alarm blaring. She wanted to see her family and friends again and spend her days at The Book and Mug. Normal, uneventful days. But that world seemed so far away now.

  From what she understood about the local calendar, she and her new sisters shared the same birthday. Same age, sex, eye color and height, born under a similar aurora. All too coincidental for Patrice’s taste. Of course, Jakon claimed nothing was ever coincidental, that the Moirai had a hand in everything and Patrice was destined to become one of the Trine.

  Destiny. She never really believed in that concept, not the way Jakon meant it. Her parents taught her that she would make her own destiny with education and life choices and, according to her mother, learning to cook and sew so she could attract a man. For a university-educated woman, her mother still held old-fashioned ideas about the sexes.

  Patrice found herself eager to get out of this oppressive cave but there was nowhere to go. The snow outside was still thick and Kepriah’s tiny archways meant no human could pass through. She watched the warrior a moment. A bead of sweat trailed down Kepriah’s temple as she concentrated on an archway at her feet, the scepter’s colorful jewels glowing like a Disneyland prop. The archway was barely large enough for a rat and snow fluttered in from the other side, which was void of light. She glanced at the cave entrance and couldn’t see any light from behind the cloak, either.

  Never thought I’d hate snow, but if I ever get home, I might just move to the fucking desert. She understood why Sorinieve hadn’t moved them to a different place, but she would give her right arm for simple luxuries she had taken for granted on Earth. She peeled her eyes from Kepriah and looked at her watch, something she did many times a day now. Since she relied on her cell phone for accurate time, she had forgotten about the old watch. It wasn’t until she arrived here that she found it tucked in a tiny pocket inside her coat, the battery still working. Time seemed to be the same here as home, or pretty close, so she didn’t bother resetting it. Six forty-two in the morning.

  Too damn early. No wonder it’s still dark out. Of course, she was still the last one up. She longed for a hot shower and coffee. Delicious, magnificent coffee. The caffeine withdrawal headaches had disappeared after about three days but she still craved the dark liquid, especially in the morning.

  With a quiet sigh, she rolled to her feet and stretched her sore body. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to sleeping on the ground. She picked up her coat, hung it over one of the boulders that occupied the cave, then made her way to the shitbucket behind another boulder and did her business. They still didn’t have a privacy curtain but no one paid attention to anyone on the bucket. Though Kepriah always glanced up whenever Patrice started in the direction of the exit. That woman still gets on my last nerve. She’s bossy and rude and downright nasty smelling. Patrice smelled, too. But at least I started out clean. Deodorant didn’t exist here, at least not beyond an herbal concoction that didn’t work as well as what she used at home. And bathing was a near impossibility with just a large bowl of melted snow and rags with which to wash. The small chunk of soap they had found in Sorinieve’s pack was long gone and Larisa didn’t have ingredients to make more, so she mixed pungent herbs with water.

  Patrice reached under her sweatshirt and pants to wash with the herbal water. They kept their hair braided and washed it once a week, along with their underclothes, which made everyone feel better. I bet I look like a street urchin from a Dickens novel. Probably smell like one, too. A thin consolation to Patrice’s misery was that she could churn the air into a whip and lash several rocks from their resting places. No one could see the air whip, not even Patrice, which made hitting a target that much more difficult, but she didn’t feel as helpless now. According to Jakon, she would learn to feel the air with her senses, but she was still figuring that part out. She squeezed out the rag and lay it across the makeshift clothesline Larisa had braided together, using wool yarn from Sorinieve’s pack, and walked to the fire.

  Kepriah had the usual smug look on her face as she held out a chunk of raw jabber rescued from the snow. “Now that you are better, you are in charge of the break fast meal from now on. Tenderize that and cook it.”

  “No thanks. One of you do it. And it’s breakfast, not break fast.” Okay, so I’m being petty, but I really don’t like her. “Besides, I don’t even know how to cook.”

  Larisa’s head shot up. “What?” Her long, golden braid reached her waist, where Kepriah’s dark one hung only as far as her shoulder blades. “I have never known a woman who could not cook.”

  Great, another woman destined to keep us in the kitchen. Patrice resisted breaking into a rendition of Sisters are Doin’ It for Themselves, an old song she often heard at her local grocery store. She spread her arms wide. “Well, look upon me, my dear Larisa. The only female in all of Selenea who can’t cook.” Though she didn’t believe that. “And doesn’t give a shit.” She let her arms fall.

  Kepriah grunted, something she often did when trying to keep her temper. At least, that’s the way Patrice interpreted it. “We have our hands full with stitching. Jabber hide is tough to sew, especially when we have four people to keep warm when we leave here. Larisa has healer duties and lessons with the talisman, the scepter needs my attention, and Jakon does enough around here for two people.” She shoved the meat toward Patrice’s stomach. “You will learn to cook.”

  Patrice let it fall to the ground and brushed her soiled sweatshirt off as best she could. What she wouldn’t give for a shower, even a cold one, and new clothes. “Not unless you have a microwave and a freezer meal, I won’t. I don’t do blood and guts.” Sure, I can boil water for pasta. But she never could stomach touching raw meat. She always bought her chicken fully cooked from the grocery deli or as take-out. She turned and started for the washbasi
n again.

  But Kepriah wasn’t one for giving up, which Patrice should have learned already. In a matter of seconds, Patrice found herself scooping up the raw jabber meat and one of the small, sharpened stones Jakon had made for Sorinieve. None of the Trine could hold a sharp-edged metal knife, no matter its intended use.

  When Patrice’s urge to touch the dead animal flesh dissipated, disgust filled her again. She dropped her bloody burden near the fire and glowered at Kepriah, who had turned to another task. I saw her lips move. The scepter was in her hand and I saw the jewels glow. Forcing me to eat when I was ill is one thing, but Jakon can use knives so making me prepare the meat is just mean. With the others no longer watching her, Patrice stilled her mind, discretely aimed her ring at the warrior’s backside, and concentrated on whipping up the air like a kitchen mixer. The ring vibrated, causing her hand to tremble but she managed to keep her aim. She envisioned a long, thin whip of air extend outward from the ring. A magical word filled her mind and was gone as quickly as it left her lips. She nearly squealed when she hit her target, which didn’t happen often. Her glee turned to fear when Kepriah stormed after her.

  Jakon moved to block the warrior woman. “First Noble. She is still recovering.”

  Kepriah’s head twisted around Jakon, dark braid swinging to one side as cold eyes bored into Patrice. “When you are completely well, I will give you a lesson in manners.”

  Patrice fought her racing heart but she’d had enough of this place and Kepriah’s attitude. “You’re one to talk. Someone needs to give you a lesson or two.”

  “I am in charge here, Patrice. Do not forget that.”

  “How can I? You blab it every minute of every damn day.”

  “That’s it. You are done for!” Kepriah tried to push past Jakon but he lifted her off her feet and set her down to one side, like a child. The shock on Kepriah’s face made Patrice smile, but she had the smarts to hide it. “Jakon? What in bloody hell are you doing?”

  “You are the chosen leader of the Trine, First Noble, but I am protector of the Trine, even if that means protecting you from each other. Do not let my mild manner fool you. I will keep you from harming one another even if I have to tie you to something.” Before Kepriah could say anything, he turned to Patrice, who was feeling a bit smug at the moment. “And you, Third, need to stop acting like a child. From now on, you will eat on your own, take the herbs Larisa gives you, and tend to whatever chores Kepriah orders.” He leaned close and those golden eyes burrowed into Patrice. “Do you understand?”

  Her heart drummed against her ribs and she nodded like a kid chastised by her father. “Yes, Jakon.”

  He pulled back. “Good. I am at your service, Nobles, but I am also your teacher and protector. You will treat me with the same respect Sorinieve would have received. And you will not attack each other, no matter how tempted.” He turned, walked over to grab the shitbucket, and headed outside, leaving three dumbfounded women to stare after him.

  Patrice forced her mouth shut and blew a noisy breath between her lips. She glanced at Larisa and Kepriah, who both looked as stunned as she felt. The jabber meat still lay near the fire but she couldn’t bring herself to pick it up. She had eaten jabber every damn day at Kepriah’s hand. But the thought of skinning the bloody chunk made her nauseous.

  Kepriah moved toward her and she stepped back. The woman offered a pleased look as she scooped up the raw meat. “I will teach you how to prepare this. Larisa can show you how to cook it.”

  The blonde woman nodded and offered a thin smile then went back to her sewing. Defeated, Patrice moved next to Kepriah, who stood at the fire now. Jakon returned and put the empty shitbucket near the entrance again. He went to some other task but his eyes often flicked back to the fire.

  Patrice grimaced as Kepriah demonstrated how to skin raw flesh. She had rejected her mother’s teachings in the kitchen, grateful for her father’s support, which he probably did more to stop the complaints than to appeal to his daughter’s desires. She still hated cooking and was thankful for microwaves, prepared meals, and restaurant take-out. Well, she had been thankful, once upon a time.

  Kepriah soon handed the jabber meat and sharpened stone over. As Patrice got to work, it became easier. Before long, tenderized, chopped meat lay on the stone, ready for the fire.

  Larisa stepped in to help her dip it in herbs and skewer it. “Once we leave this place, I will show you how to make a wonderful rabbit stew. My mother’s recipe. We need tubers and spices for it.”

  The thought of eating rabbit made Patrice’s stomach churn. She’d had one as a pet when she was a little girl. “Thanks, Larisa.”

  “My pleasure.” A warm hand landed on Patrice’s arm. “How are you feeling? You seem much stronger now.”

  “Better. My cough is gone.” But I might regret I didn’t simply die. She washed her hands as best she could in the water bucket. Trying to explain about germs and bacteria to people who knew nothing of microscopic worlds gave her a headache so she had stopped trying.

  “I’m glad. I was worried about you. We all were.”

  Three sets of eyes studied Patrice. Worried? About me? That was something she hadn’t even considered and it made her uneasy. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

  “Of course you will, sweetness.” Larisa offered a bright smile.

  Patrice remembered that endearment from when she was ill and smiled despite herself. If she could have chosen a sister, Larisa would have been a good pick. They placed the skewered meat over the magical fire and Patrice scooted close to watch it.

  Larisa boiled water and added herbs to a cup that she then offered to Patrice. “Drink.”

  Patrice felt Kepriah’s eyes on her without even turning to look at the woman. Actually felt the woman’s gaze. She sensed anger mixed with impatience, expectation, sorrow, and what surprised Patrice most, doubt. An odd sensation that brought the hairs on her neck upright. This was a test to see whether she would do as Jakon had ordered, as she had agreed.

  I might be pissed off but I’m not a liar. She took the cup and downed the nasty concoction, making a face as the bitter taste met her tongue. Larisa then filled the cup with cold water, melted snow to be exact, and Patrice drank that.

  The healer looked pleased and sat at her side. She pressed her ear against Patrice’s back and told her to take in a long breath. Patrice did as instructed and Larisa moved to her chest. She felt a bit odd in this position, much like being under a doctor’s care without proper medical instruments. Or an office for that matter. But she allowed the attention. She had agreed to obey Kepriah’s orders and to drink Larisa’s concoctions.

  Why did I agree? Just because Jakon can still scare the hell out of me? She didn’t trust him or Kepriah, but Larisa had done nothing to harm her. In fact, this woman, whose body odor had become somewhat tolerable over the weeks, had never said a harsh word to Patrice.

  Larisa sat upright and moved away. “A couple more days of my tea and you will be good as new.”

  Jakon crossed to the fire. “That is a pleasure to hear, Second.”

  His broad shoulders and tall muscular frame made him quite imposing, but the other two women didn’t seem bothered by his size. Kepriah gave him orders, just as she did Patrice and Larisa, and he obeyed. What Patrice didn’t like to admit was that she might be attracted to Jakon. If they had met under different circumstances and he didn’t also scare the hell out of her, of course. This formidable man had admitted to being Sorinieve’s lover. When she was snatched from Earth, Patrice hadn’t engaged in sex in over a month, and she envisioned herself in bed with him. Her face grew hot when she realized the other two women studied her.

  Why on Earth am I blushing? Get a grip, Patrice Aurora Gray. Don’t act like some stupid, old-fashioned girl. This is the twenty-first century. At least it was before my kidnapping. She cleared her throat and smiled at Larisa, who still held the mug in her hands. She couldn’t take that expectant look any longer, so she accepted the mug and dra
nk the slightly bitter liquid.

  The healer beamed and squeezed her arm in a friendly gesture. Patrice turned to offer her a smile but she froze when saw the giant cat just outside the cave. Instinct kicked in and she started to get to her feet.

  Jakon’s hand reached down and held her in place. “Do not move, Nobles.”

  “What is it, Jakon?” Kepriah had her back to the cave exit. One hand had crept to her waist, and Patrice guessed she reached for her missing sword or knife.

  Jakon didn’t wear his sword inside the cave but kept it near when he slept. Now, though, it lay on a boulder, some distance from him. He had a knife in his boot but didn’t go for it. “Screech cat.”

  “Jabber shit.” Kepriah’s scepter leaned against the cave wall, and Patrice watched the woman’s eyes flick to it.

  Larisa sat as still as Patrice, the two touching arms. “What do we do, Jakon?”

  “You will have to chase it away.”

  Patrice realized that he spoke to her, not Larisa. “What? You’re nuts.”

  “Use your ring.”

  She glanced at the blue-jeweled ring that encircled the middle finger of her right hand and back up to the man, who had obviously lost his mind. “I can’t.”

  “Just do what you did to me.” Kepriah’s steely eyes gazed at her. “I am ordering you to,” she added when Patrice sat gaping at her.

  Damn it. “What if I miss?”

  “Then we will have a bloody fight on our hands. So do not miss.”

  Well, shit.

  Chapter 10

  Patrice tried to calm her racing heart and clear her mind, but that damn screech cat stared at her like she was a tasty meal. The creature began to pace and a high-pitched growl filled the silence of the cave. Those large teeth and claws did nothing to settle Patrice’s gut, either. In fact, she fought the urge to wet herself. Never in her life had she seen such an animal. Not alive, anyway. It looked like something from a history museum. The closest she could come to an association was a saber tooth tiger. Only this thing was larger. Much larger. The tail alone looked as big as one of Patrice’s legs. A single paw could probably take her head off with one swipe. Somebody spoke to her. With abundant effort, she tore her gaze from the cat to look up at Jakon.