Poisoned: Dawn's End Book Two

Poisoned

Dawn's End Book 2

ISBN 978-0-9880530-6-9

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Copyright 2013 Bonnie Ferrante

Revised February 2014

Published by Single Drop Publishing at Smashwords

This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any existing means without written permission from the author.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The characters are products of the author's imagination and used fictitiously.

Dedication

For my big sister, Virla, who is always on my side and loves me just the way I am.

Acknowledgments

Thanks to Robin for rescuing my inaccessible computer files and to my husband Fred for enlisting Robin when he couldn't rescue the chapters himself.

Table of Contents

Forward

Prologue

Chapter 1 - Arrivals

Chapter 2 - Potions and Passions

Chapter 3 - Past and Future

Chapter 4 - Allies Assemble

Chapter 5 - Sisters

Chapter 6 - Pond of the Lilyvern

Chapter 7 - Lupas and Traps

Chapter 8 - Pack Animals

Chapter 9 - Deceptions

Chapter 10 - Murder and Sacrifice

Chapter 11 - Seduction of Power

Chapter 12 - Traitors and Heroes

Chapter 13 - Beora

Chapter 14 - Potions of Death

Chapter 15 - The Last Attack

Chapter 16 - Partings and Pardons

Chapter 17 - Settling

Chapter 18 - Seeds of the Future

Connect with Bonnie Ferrante

Other Books by Bonnie Ferrante

Forward

Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.

~ Buddha

Prologue

Nicole Newman pressed the bracelet against her feverish cheek. The whisper of nurses' crepe-soled shoes passed by in the hall. Her husband, Jamail, had brought her the bracelet earlier. She had insisted on holding it one last time.

Don't say that, he said, frowning.

But Nicole knew she was fading like a Valentine left too long in sunshine. Jamail slept on the cot by the window, spending every night with her since her admittance to the hospice. She had given up trying to convince him to sleep at home.

The bed is too empty without you, he said, finally, his voice choked.

Sweet Jamail, if only she could spare him this pain. He'd had so few years to spend with her strong and healthy.

She wanted to remember when she was young and vital, before they had even met. Back to a time of murky forests with droopy, dank leaves and sun-filled meadows with hidden royalty. Was it disloyal to remember another man? A man as powerful as the bracelet's embossed panther with its glittering eye? No, Jamail would understand. She knew he sometimes thought of his first spouse, just as she still missed hers.

Morrel, Morrel . . . . Was he still alive? With the difference in time, it seemed impossible. But Nicole also remembered the panther people's unusual longevity. Who knew for sure? Dawn's End had been filled with the unexpected.

What of the threat of darkness? Paradise had been reborn when she returned to Dawn's End, pregnant with Anastacia. She could not imagine a more beautiful place to birth and raise her child. Soon after her return to Dawn's End, she realized the black stones in all the bracelets had turned clear, with a faint pink tinge. As well, her band had turned in color from copper back to gold. She had used her bracelet twice, once to stop a poisonous snake from striking and again to stop a house fire. For almost three years, her life had been blissful. But then illness had struck, and she had to leave and return to Thunder Bay. It seemed so long ago, more dream than memory.

Nicole shifted; the bed creaked. She adjusted the I.V. cords and fingered the button that allowed her to control the morphine drip.

She would never know if Nightfall had ever returned to Anastacia's birthplace. Nicole wished she had found a way to visit one last time. She wished she could have shown her daughter the wondrous place they had shared with Morrel. She had kept too many secrets.

Nicole shivered as a chill emanated from the now copper bracelet. It had dulled again when she left Dawn's End for good, but still she clenched it tightly. It was all she had left. Perhaps Dawn's End had cost her everything, but had it not given her everything as well? Especially little Anastacia.

Chapter One—Arrivals

Kaie rubbed the embossed panther with her thin, knobby fingers. Her gnarled hands protruded like bleached bones from the ragged, black sleeves of her cloak. Her cracked nails, lined with dirt and flecked with white spots, traced the gold panther shape. Its black stone eye glinted against the shimmering, gold bracelet. She sensed another bracelet, beyond the door. But, through spells and the power of her own bracelet, she was drawing it closer, drawing it to her reach like a beltfish to a shimmer worm. That bracelet was worn by an innocent. Soon Kaie would hook both fish and owner, reel them in, smash and slice and devour their strength in order to fuel her own.

While she waited, Kaie would prepare. She had accumulated most of what she needed and set up a laboratory in the abandoned mine. There were those who plotted against her, who challenged her power. Kaie smiled thinly. If they only knew the extent of her plans. If they could imagine the scope of her terrible ambition, they would despair. But then surrender without challenge—where would be the amusement in that? Perhaps this new innocent would provide some distraction. She sensed a silent strength there. Women often did not realize their own power.

Riva. Kaie croaked the name.

A shapely woman entered through the left cave tunnel. She wore a black G-string, ankle-high black boots, and a thin, black harness crossing under and above her full breasts. In the harness rested a small dagger. Her red, transparent tunic was open to her navel, allowing access to the weapon. Long, blonde hair hung down her back. She moved with the churning rhythm of a woman of desire.

Yes, mistress, Riva said. Her voice was honey, laced with belladonna.

Kaie's thin smile revealed her gapped and decayed teeth. Her inflamed gums oozed. Have Lachish bring me one male captive. The rest are his to do with as he pleases. The male should be of a virile age, but neither of you is to touch him. I have special plans.

As Riva left, Kaie absentmindedly yanked the loosest tooth from her mouth and spat blood and pus onto the cave floor. She tossed the brown incisor into a bowl of grisly treasures, fuel for her dark magic.

When the airplane rose, Anastacia Larina Newman was magnetized by the beauty of the clouds, their variations as endless as a northern landscape. Deep piles of white textured the sky with lights and shadow. As the Boeing 747 elevated, levels of strata were revealed. Below was a bright, billowy carpet, above stretched wisps of cotton, and between them renegades of fluff. The layers ran their individual races. She stared until her eyes ached.

She had asked for the window seat, wanting to see as much as possible. However, her lengthy legs were cramped in the smaller space. Anastacia pulled back her long, coffee-black hair. Her lovely, latte-brown skin felt dry. She rubbed her tired, blue eyes and pulled down the window shade.

As she traced the embossed panther on her bracelet with her fingertips through her shirtsleeve, Anastacia again felt a tingle. She had not noticed any odd sensations when her mother gave her the band. It was antique, unique, and made from a strange, soft copper. She hadn't intended to bring it, but it compelled her to take it. Every time she put it away, she was unable to stop thinking about it. Her arm felt naked. She could no more ignore its siren call than she could pass up the last chocolate in a box. Like her mother, Nicole, Anastacia wore the bracelet only on very special occasions.

Anastacia hid the bracelet under a long-sleeved shirt. Her stepfather would not want her traveling alone with expensive jewelry. He would say she was asking for trouble, and he would be right. But Anastacia wanted to wear it to Julie's wedding, a way to bring part of her mother to the family celebration.

When her mother was again diagnosed with cancer, she had given the bracelet to Anastacia. They were sitting in the living room, the filtered sun streaming through the sheers in the bay window. Outside, a cold wind raced across the crisp snow, the sunshine contrasting with the frozen landscape.

It looks like a beautiful day, Anastacia said. Until you step outside and the wind tries to freeze your eyes shut and snap off your ears.

Her mother's appearance was deceiving as well. No one would realize, upon first glance, that Nicole was being besieged from the inside. Nicole sat in the stuffed armchair, a cream and mocha comforter tucked around her waist, legs, and feet. Her daughter sat on an adjacent chair.

The living room was decorated in what Nicole called multicultural Canadian —a patchworked, sequined wall-hanging from India, a statue of a dancing woman from Nigeria, blown-glass lamps from Venice, gleaming, maple Shaker furniture from Quebec, and a white, leather couch and chairs from Toronto.

I want you to have the panther bracelet, said Nicole. I meant to give it to you when you were older anyway. She held it out, her thin arms insubstantial in the large housecoat sleeves. Anastacia realized the bracelet would fall off if her mother lowered her arm.

Are you sure, Mom? said Anastacia. I know this is the only thing you have to remember Dad by. She leaned forward and took the bracelet, studying her mother's expression.

I don't need a bracelet to remember Morrel. He is always with me. Her mother smiled.

I wish I could remember him, said Anastacia.

Don't you remember anything at all? Nicole adjusted the ocean-blue scarf wrapped around her head. Her blue eyes looked huge in her thin face. The same color as her daughter's. Nicole tugged a little too hard and the scarf shifted sharply, revealing her bald scalp. Anastacia flinched, remembering the shock of her mother's lovely, auburn hair coming out in clumps from the chemotherapy.

Deliberately, Anastacia tried to lighten the mood. I was three, Mom. Come on, I forget crying the first day of Kindergarten, which you insist I did, hanging on to your pant leg and refusing to let go.

Nicole laughed softly. Goodbyes are difficult for the both of us, I think.

Anastacia swallowed the lump in her throat. She sat back, silently studying the bracelet. The workmanship was exquisite. Her mother had told her it was handmade. The jeweler must have been a master craftsman.

After a pause, Nicole said, That's too bad you can't remember your father. He was such a wonderful man. You have his glossy, black hair and his height, although he had a few inches on you. He was a huge, powerful man. Stunning, really.

And his skin?

He was much darker than you. I guess you're halfway between us. Nicole glanced at the back of her pale hand. You're lucky not to have my overly white skin. I always burn so easily.

Anastacia bit her lip and looked away, trying not to think of the melanomas hidden beneath her mother's quilt. She listened to the growl of wind as it shook the large maple tree, the bare branches groaning and cracking, fighting to hang on. On days like this, she worried the tree was going to crash through their front window.

Put on the bracelet, honey, said Nicole. Let me see how it looks.

Anastacia nodded and clasped it on to her left wrist. The metal was cold.

Nicole smiled. It's beautiful on you. It was made in Dawn's End, the place where you were born in Africa. The bracelet suits your skin tone much better than mine.

Anastacia wanted her mother to stop talking about skin. She changed the subject. I wish we had pictures of my dad.

So do I, dear. It was such a tragedy when the moving company lost everything, including my photo albums and my laptop with the digital images.

How come no one else in the family had pictures of us? Didn't you send Grandpa or your brother any pictures of me? asked Anastacia.

Nicole looked startled for a minute. She reached for a glass of water on the side table and took a small sip. She stared into the glass thoughtfully. Um, well, my father and I weren't on the best of terms at the time. I hadn't kept in touch with anyone, really, when I was in Africa. Then he died before I returned and my stepmother took what she wanted and left.

How come you never talk about Africa? I would think you would have lots of stories.

I've told you stories about you and your father and me.

Anastacia frowned. Yeah, but they could have taken place anywhere. I mean, you don't talk about elephants and crocodiles and, you know, African stuff.

Nicole chuckled. You could learn that stuff anywhere. It's the stories about your father that I want you to remember.

Sometimes, when I'm just about to fall asleep, I can almost see him. He had different eyes. Almost black, but bright somehow. Anastacia closed her eyes, remembering.

Hmm.

Anastacia opened her blue eyes and met Nicole's. She touched her cheek.

And he had a soft, black beard that tickled my face when he picked me up. But I'm not sure if I remember that or if I think I do because you told me, said Anastacia, her face puckered in concentration. Sometimes, I almost remember the three of us. But then I get this image of cats, and it's gone again.

Cats! said Nicole. Oh. She waved her hand dismissively. That's probably because of the bracelet. You connect it to him in your mind.

I guess so. Anastacia frowned. If only she knew what was real memory and what was her imagination.

They didn't talk about her father again before Nicole died. The morphine had been increased; Nicole had been unable to eat for a week. She slipped into a deep sleep. Anastacia's stepfather never left Nicole's side. When the doctor said Nicole would not make it through the night, he telephoned Anastacia and Ali, her older stepbrother. Anastacia had insisted on being there, even though Jamail wanted to spare her. The three of them waited together, not talking, just listening to her weakened breathing. It did not seem real, even when the breathing stopped.

Her friends had felt terrible for Anastacia, losing her real dad when she was a toddler and then her mother at fourteen. She knew they were trying to be supportive, but everything they said annoyed her. She spent a lot of time alone, avoiding the sympathy of others.

She became closer to Jamail. He had lost his first wife and three children to a bomb in Iraq. He grieved deeply at this second loss, the death of Nicole, but insisted his children go on with their lives. Ali became even more overprotective.

Jamail had a single photograph of his first family, the only thing he grabbed when they fled. He had a picture; Nicole had a bracelet. Jamail had a son; Nicole had a daughter. Anastacia wondered if their similar losses had been one of the things that connected her mother and stepfather.

Neither Nicole nor Jamail had family in Canada. Perhaps that was why Jamail allowed Anastacia to go alone on this trip to a family wedding in Switzerland. Family was a precious gift, not to be taken lightly. Her cousin, Julie, would pick her up at the train station in Lucerne. Anastacia wondered if she would meet other long lost relatives of her mother. She wondered if they would notice the bracelet.

Anastacia shifted in her flight chair and rubbed the glistening stone. A prickly sensation traveled up her arm like a wooly caterpillar on bare skin.

She twitched her nose. She sniffed something that smelled at first like burning hair and then like decomposition. Airplanes were stuffy, but this was disgusting. She glanced at the middle-aged man beside her. Was he responsible for that stink? It reminded her of when a woodchuck died under the shed. The male passenger pushed his glasses up his nose and continued reading his magazine. He seemed oblivious. How could he not smell that? She looked past him to the woman in her thirties in the aisle seat. She typed steadily into her laptop, equally unaware.

The bracelet itched. Anastacia unbuttoned her shirtsleeve and scratched her arm. The male passenger glanced over and smiled. Anxiously, she pushed up the bracelet and tugged her sleeve over the top of it. It was stupid for a sixteen-year-old, flying alone, to be wearing such a treasure, but it was too risky to pack it in her luggage. Why had she brought it? Why not just wear a sign saying Rob Me? Wanting to show it to her mother's family, those who had not made it to the funeral, seemed a pretty lame reason.

Her cousin, Julie had invited Jamail and Ali to the wedding as well. Julie was five years older than Anastacia, the daughter of her mother's first cousin. The families hadn't been very close, but, when Nicole died two years ago, they connected at the funeral. Jamail had informed them of the death since they were Nicole's closest living relatives. He had not expected them to fly from Switzerland, but they did. Anastacia had the feeling they wanted to be sure she was safe and loved. Julie had taken a numb Anastacia under her wing. Anastacia was doubly grateful for their concern, now that she knew what a long, boring trip it was to cross the Atlantic.

She hardly slept on the plane. Her sinuses and eyes itched, and her mouth tasted like a dog-chewed slipper. She felt brittle and drawn when they landed in Zurich, Switzerland. She staggered through customs before changing to a train bound for Lucerne.

She stumbled on board, barely nodding at the smiling porter, and sank into her seat. Traveling through the countryside wasn't as exciting as she expected. When the click-clack of the rails became a steady rhythm, her eyes closed. Sounds faded. An image of the panther on her bracelet filled her mind. Sadness washed over her. The feline face grew larger. Suddenly, the beast roared; its fangs dripped blood. Non-human faces flashed in her mind, and she heard a shrill laugh. Anastacia's eyes flew open. She looked around quickly, but the passengers continued with their affairs. Her dreams were strange lately. One of the times she had missed her mother most was when she woke up screaming from a nightmare.

Her mother would have been glad Anastacia had decided to attend the wedding even though her stepfather and stepbrother couldn't. Julie would take care of her, like a big sister. She asked Anastacia to come two weeks early, so they could spend some time together. Julie would be leaving on her honeymoon the day after the ceremony.

It didn't seem annoying when Julie fussed over her, not like Ali, who acted like she could break any minute. Anastacia was tough, athletic, and competitive, not at all a fragile china doll. It was one of the things her mother admired about her.

Don't let anything, or anyone, destroy your zest for life, my daughter, Nicole had said after receiving news of her second cancer. They were hiking together through Sleeping Giant Park, Nicole keeping pace the whole way. It was difficult to believe her mother was seriously ill. Not even my disease. Your stepbrother is far too serious. It wouldn't hurt for you to be a little more understanding of him though. He's been through more than you can imagine.

Anastacia stopped and tugged her mother's sleeve. Nicole paused, standing on a slightly higher rock on the trail, and turned to face her daughter. Anastacia looked up. The sun lit her mother's hair, fringing it in gold. Are you going to die, Mom?

I hope not, said Nicole. She smiled and squeezed Anastacia's shoulder. I beat cancer when you were little, and I'm going to try my best to beat it again. This is a different kind, though, and it'll be tougher.

I don't want to be an orphan. Anastacia bit her lip, fighting back tears. Nicole rubbed her shoulder. The sharp cry of a jay broke the silence.

You wouldn't really be an orphan, said Nicole quietly. Jamail loves you deeply. You're the only daughter he has now.

I know, but . . . . Anastacia's voice choked off.

I've always admired your gutsiness and your enthusiasm, said her mother. Whatever comes, I know you can handle it. Remember Jamail and Ali will be there for you, just as you will need to be there for them.

Anastacia nodded, wiping the tears with the back of her hand. The jay screeched