Jeanne Stein - Legacy

She looks away from Sandra and to me. “Do you know much about the werewolf pack?”

I shake my head. “Only what I learned recently from an old text. An alpha male dominates the pack. There are more male than female weres and that the female is always subjugated to the male. I remember in Culebra’s bar, the proportion of male to female in your pack was reversed. Your pack is different.”

Tamara smiles. “The text you read called it subjugation? I suppose that’s as good a word as any. In reality, it’s rape and often murder. The old laws are seldom followed. The alpha male takes what he wants. If a female survives, as I did, life becomes a nightmare. She is forced to live with the pack, forced to mate in human or animal form at the whim of any male, forced to work to provide money to sustain the pack. I was one of the lucky ones who escaped. I ran to Mexico. Where I met Sandra.”

Sandra reaches up to clasp her hand. Tamara takes it, brushes a bit of hair from Sandra’s forehead with a gentle touch, and continues.

“Sandra was a survivor, like me. She was with Avery at that time, and when he heard my story, he purchased a compound for us in the jungles of Mexico. Gradually other females found us. Our pack thrives because we are content to live in harmony with the nature of our beast. We live naturally, we do not propagate, we do no harm. The males that are with us are there for exactly the same reason. Freedom.”

“The marriage—Sandra and Avery—when did that happen?”

For the first time, she looks uneasy. “There is no marriage. Avery forced that story on us as a way to regain his estate through Sandra. He thinks he can keep her here. He has become the thing he saved her from all those years ago. He has made her his prisoner.”

“How did it happen? How did Avery take possession of Sandra?”

“I don’t know. It was at the time of change. We were in the jungle, and suddenly Sandra fell ill. She was as the wolf, then her human body took over. It can’t happen that quickly. The change must be gradual and when it’s not, the pain is unbearable. She screamed and thrashed about, and when the wolf came back, Avery was there as well.”

She draws a breath. “In the beginning, Avery was content to allow Sandra to live as we always have. He never prevented her from making the change. Instead, he seemed to revel in the transformation, the freedom of the animal hunt, the freedom from vampire bloodlust. None of us understood what was happening. Not really. He would talk to us sometimes, the way he did with you, but there was no hint of what was to come.”

Sandra makes a mewling noise. When we look at her, she is frowning, her hand again at her throat.

“He is struggling to come back,” Tamara says. “When he does, he’ll punish her. We have to hurry.”

“But how is it possible he could have hidden the talisman without Sandra knowing?”

Tamara is watching Sandra, looking for signs that Avery is back in control. “There are hours when Sandra awakens as if from a dream and remembers nothing of what has happened. It was during one of those periods that she discovered her talisman had gone missing. She thinks he did it because she was fighting him. Coming here, for instance, she refused as long as she was able. He has become too strong.”

“If we get the talisman back, do you know what will happen to Avery?”

“If Sandra regains possession of the talisman, she can fight Avery as a wolf. He cannot sustain himself indefinitely in the animal body. He cannot escape. She will remain wolf until she feels him die. Only then will she turn back.”

“How long will it take?”

Once more, Tamara strokes Sandra’s hair, lovingly, like a mother with a sick child. “It could take days. A week. During that time, Sandra will not eat or drink. In ridding herself of Avery, she risks her own death.” She raises her eyes to mine. “I believe you understand that though, don’t you, Anna?”

Do I understand being willing to die to rid oneself of a monster? Yes. The same monster Sandra battles now.

“If it’s here, in the house, I know the place Avery may have hidden the talisman.”

I step to the fireplace. It has one of those massive stone fireboxes that is big enough to walk into with storage areas for wood on each side. The mantel is a solid slab of heavy, dark wood. There are two sconces anchored above it to the wall.

The fire scorches my skin as I get closer. I reach up, grab the sconce to the right and pull. There is a grinding sound and the left side of the fireplace moves in on itself. The storage area becomes a door and it opens into a long, dark staircase.

I hear Tamara’s breath catch. Then she’s beside me, peering into the void. “What’s down there?”

“Treasure,” I reply. “And pain.”

THE STAIRCASE IS WOODEN, AND THE PASSAGE plunges straight down. It is clammy inside, dark, steep, and, at first glance, without end. It is so narrow, Tamara must walk behind me. She crowds close. I don’t like having her behind me. My senses are on high alert, the vampire ready to spring forth if it detects anything but the strange emanation of fear she’s giving off.

Fear of what? The dark?

But we’re nearing the bottom, and the smell of dirt and decay chases the question out of my head. I’m plunged into the nightmare of finding David at the bottom of these stairs, bound and near death.

At last our feet touch soil. Ahead of us is a doorway and it yields to my touch. I find the light switch to the right of the door and stand aside for Tamara to experience what I did that first time six months ago.

The room is large, a storage area with wooden crates stacked along one wall, rugs rolled and stored on another, rows of shelving occupying the center. The overhead light catches and reflects off the hundreds of items displayed helter-skelter on the shelves like the chattel of a deranged collector: piles of gold and silver jewelry, vases of bronze and silver, bejeweled ceremonial daggers, gold-leaf dinnerware that might have served a king. Chinese porcelain, Egyptian antiquities, Mayan pottery. The source of Avery’s wealth.

Tamara picks up a small golden chariot and hefts it in her hand. “I know how Howard Carter must have felt when he found King Tut’s tomb,” she says in a hushed voice.

I point to what she holds. “For all we know, that could be from the tomb. Avery may have been there, too.”

She returns the chariot to the shelf and looks around. “Do you know what’s in the crates?”

I shake my head.

“You aren’t curious?”

“No. This place holds bad memories for me. Avery holds bad memories for me. When this is over, Sandra can have it all.”

I let my eyes sweep the contents of the shelves. “What does the talisman look like?” I ask. “The book said it was a belt of fur. Does that mean literally a belt of fur? Or is it something symbolic?”

Tamara joins me in the search, taking one side of a shelf while I, the other. “It’s both,” she says. “It’s a locket that contains a bit of fur. At one time, it actually was a belt fashioned from the fur of a totem animal. Wearing a belt of fur marked us, made us easy prey for human hunters. Now we wear something a bit more discreet. Like this.”

She pulls a small gold locket from inside the collar of her jersey top and lets the chain drop between her breasts. “We always keep it with us. It’s our lifeline. Our most prized possession.”

I’ve finished my side of the shelf, finding nothing that resembles what Tamara described. I wonder if I’ve made a mistake thinking it would be here. Yet, this is the repository for Avery’s treasure. Where else would he hide it?

Tamara finishes, too, and comes around to join me. She’s looking toward the far wall, the place where I found David. “What’s over there?” she asks.