Night Walker's Woman Ch. 08

***

Rex smiled; a bear, his mate was a bear and not a mule. That was good. He should have seen it sooner, but then again, he did not have the gifts that his grandfather or daughter had. Right now, though, he was more than a bit worried about Jaycee's claws.

Angry did not come close to describing his mate's disjointed thoughts. The one that worried him most was 'betrayed.' She felt that he and Grandfather had betrayed her trust, were leading Angel down a path that was more fiction and fantasy than reality.

He would have to deal with that. Now. This night. He was certain that was what his grandfather had intended. To force his hand, to make him reveal himself to her. Perhaps he should be angry at the old man, but he knew that his grandfather had his best interest and his daughter's at heart.

He knew the man had felt the growing tension inside of him, the need to claim his mate had warred with his desire to give Jaycee time to adjust to all the changes in their lives. He had wanted her to know him and perhaps to even begin to love him, just a tiny bit before they faced this crucible. Or maybe he had just been delaying the inevitable? Perhaps he feared that her logical mind would reject him and his gifts as his mother always had?

He did not have that luxury anymore. He knew that he must face her with the truth, not only about himself but about her child as well. He hoped that her diary, where she meticulously scribbled each of Angel's seizures and behaviors, would be enough evidence to supplement what he had to show her, his other-self. That the undeniable progress of their child combined with the irrefutable evidence of her senses would be enough to overcome a lifetime of indoctrination into the Western Judo-Christian paradigm. That seemed a lot to hope for right now.

"Mama Bears can be a bit grizzly at times when they are protecting their cubs, little doe," his grandfather teased as he brushed a lock of Angel's soft curls from her forehead. "But don't you want to hear the rest of my story? Or are you perhaps too tired? Another night?"

His daughter shook her head, that curl falling right back across her forehead as it liked to do. "No, Grandfather. Tell me, tell me the rest of the story, tell me about skinwalkers," Angel pleaded.

His grandfather chuckled, "Oh, I sense a bit of the otter in you, too, my child. Inquisitive, bright, playful, trusting, and loyal. A Feminine Power to be dealt with. Though it is not common, some skinwalkers have more than one side."

His daughter frowned as his grandfather continued the tale that he remembered all too well. It was the same, yet different, from the one that he had recited to Rex and his 'cousins.' Though Jack Greywolf was his second cousin, or was that first cousin once removed? He had never understood any of that. Jack was the grandson of his grandfather's only brother, but it was simpler just to say cousins. Of course, Ryan was his cousin. The only son of his father's brother.

They had been an odd combination. Jack, with his long, straight black hair, dark eyes, and light brown skin just a shade or two lighter than Grandfather's or Angel's, was the prototype of their Native American heritage. Ryan, with his blond hair and blue eyes, was the complete opposite. Though he held a deep respect for Grandfather's Native American lore, it was not something he carried in his blood. 'A child of my heart' was what the old man had called the troubled young man from that first summer when he had joined Rex at the ranch.

He was somewhere in the middle, a mix of both races, though at first glance, he favored more the Germanic heritage of the Rangers and their berserkr roots. He and his grandfather were both fascinated by the fact that animism had deep roots in the Viking culture of the 'white man' half a world away. But the word berserker literally meant bear warrior. It was not just bears, though. The Viking literature or what little was left of it after being sanitized by the Christians, as their own heritage had been, spoke of Úlfhéðnar, or wolf warriors, and Svinfylking, the boar.

Rex knew that his Grandfather's library was filled with books from around the world that detailed the various animistic and shapeshifter lore from cultures other than their own. His logical mind had often sought solace in those volumes.

If they survived this night, perhaps he could share these alternative beliefs with his mate as well. Though, he of all people understood the depths of conflict in her mind, heart, and soul. Even as often as he had worn his other skin, transformed himself, some part of his mind rebelled against the truth that he knew but could not believe.

***

Jaycee had reached her limit. Had enough of hooky pie-in-sky myths and legends. She did not doubt that the old man and sadly, perhaps even Rex, believed the bullshit. Though she would have hoped for more from a modern and seemingly enlightened man like him, it was something she would have to consider before committing to any...

What was she even thinking? This was just temporary. As soon as it was safe, she would take her child back home. And even if she did give into these wild lusts that had been raging in her body, since the moment she walked into that courtroom, that did not mean anything.

Jaycee had learned early. This world, this moment was all there was. More than one of her foster families had dragged her to church, shoved their god, and salvation down her throat. Some warped sense of Christian morality seemed to permeate the world of fostering. But it never lasted. Those people didn't really love her, didn't give a damn about her. That little girl was just another good deed or paycheck, until she became too much of a burden, or until one of their 'real' children needed them more. Then they packed her bags and sloughed her off on the next family.

As for their god? Why would she want anything to do with someone or something that created an innocent child only to abandon her the vagarities of strangers? How many times had she tried to be a good girl? Prayed to those people's god for a 'real' home, a real family? Each time to be let down yet again.

Hell, even her marriage, which she and Sean had agreed was a partnership, a practical arrangement for the creation and bringing up of children, a contract of sorts, she had discovered the hard way that even that was an illusion. She had only one person she could count on: herself.

As much as the mother in her wanted to protect and nurture her daughter, she knew that ultimately her job was to instill in Angel that same sense of courage, strength, and determination. Because as much as she wanted to believe otherwise, even she could not always be there to protect her child. Ultimately, Angel had to learn to stand on her own two feet. That she was the only person, she could truly count on.

Yes, she might owe these people a debt of gratitude for being there when things had gotten difficult, just as she did Lupe and Hector. Yes, maybe they were good people. She knew in her heart that the old man and his grandson meant well. But how many times had well-meaning people let her down?

No, she could not allow this man's crazy beliefs to pollute what she was trying to accomplish with her daughter. Especially with the challenges she faced, Angel needed to be firmly grounded in this world. In reality. Not some spiritual mumbo jumbo.

She forced a smile as she stepped away from the wall, "Mister Greywolf, Grandfather, perhaps that would be best. Perhaps we should finish this story another time." Though she would make certain that time did not come.

***

Angel felt the panic and fear overcoming her. She reached for the old man's hand, clutched it desperately. "Please, please, Mommy, no!"

She was completely powerless to stop the tears. Even holding Grandfather's hand, she felt the power begin to grow, flooding and threatening to overpower her brain. The haze began to encroach from the sides, narrowing her field of vision.

What always frightened her most was the anger and violence that she feared would one day burst forth. She worried that it might consume her. Swallow her whole. Eat everything that was Angel. Then she would become some monster, some demon. And who would be able to control it then?

It was the fight that had lived inside her for as long as she remembered. Good and evil. Light and dark. Right and wrong. She knew that it was the same for everyone. But it wasn't. She was different. She had always known that. She 'knew' so much. But she had known so little.

Until these men came into their lives. The moment she had seen the Pony Man step out of his truck, she had felt safe. For the first time, she felt hopeful. That things might be alright for her, and Mommy.

And when he had brought Grandfather to her, she had known this man could help. He could lead her to the light. He could teach her how to control the gifts inside her. He was her guide, her mentor.

She knew Mommy was scared. Mommy was always scared. Someone had hurt her. And Mommy wanted to protect her. But couldn't she see? Didn't she know? How could she make Mommy understand they did not need to be scared anymore? They were safe. They were home.

But she was scared now. Frightened that Mommy would take it all away. She was Mommy; she could do that.

And she was too little, too new; she could not find her voice any more than she could find her way back here. She wanted to scream. To throw things. She was scared she would explode. She did not like exploding.

She felt her heart pounding; her head was throbbing. She felt the tingle that always began at the base of her spine, and she knew what happened next. But she was tired of it. She was tired of the explosions, the violent jerks, being trapped inside a body that would not obey her.

She had thought that was gone, in the past. That Grandfather would help her past that all. But what if...what if Mommy...

"Angel, look at me," she heard Grandfather's voice beckoning her back. She tried to focus on it. To let it guide her home.

"Great spirit of us all, you have made my body strong. Please fill me with your wisdom, so I'll know right from wrong."

Grandfather's words so closely mirrored her hopes and dreams. If only she could believe that her body was strong, strong enough to make it back to that kind voice that called her back from the edge. She felt the hand tightened around hers, a gentle squeeze, but enough to ground her and keep her there, for now at least.

"Let me see myself as others also see me, so I'll know if my character agrees with how you say it should be."

Angel knew what she wanted. She wanted the light. She wanted to be good.

"Let me be slow to anger, yet quick to forgive. Grant me patience, oh great spirit, so happier my life I can live."

She breathed in deeply. Yes, patience. Grandfather said she had time. She believed him. He would not lie to her.

***

Rex felt his mate tense. Knew that she wanted to go to her child. But he knew something else too. He could not let her.

He felt his daughter's pain to the depths of his soul. It mirrored his own. How many times had he begged and pleaded with his mother to let him come to this man? To let him find the peace he sought with Grandfather.

Like Jaycee, his mother believed only what her eyes could see, her ears hear, and her hands could touch. Or so she said. The irony was not lost on him that his mother, the nuclear physicist, studied particles, subatomic, powerful, but things that she could not see. Things that she had to take on faith every bit as much as he had to take his other side.

He reached out, his hand took hers, and drew her back. His voice was far stronger than he intended, held far more command than he was comfortable with, "Come with me."

She shook her head; she opened her mouth to speak. But instead, he turned her to face them as they recited the prayer for guidance that his grandfather had taught him that first summer, even before he knew the gifts that lie within himself. How many times had he recited those words over the years?

"Can you do that? Can you give Angel peace and self-control? Or would you only upset her more?" He saw the pain in her eyes as tears collected there. He hated himself for bringing her that pain, but it was time his mate faced some truths.

It was time they both did. "Come with me," he tugged her from the room as his grandfather turned to smile at him.

The man had better be right. Again. So much rode on this one. Not just his own life, but his daughter's as well. He prayed to the great spirit for wisdom and courage to face what he knew was to come as they stepped from the front door into the bracing cool of a Texas Hill Country night.