Rebel by Zoe Archer

Author:Zoe Archer [Archer, Zoe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Man-woman relationships, Magic, Indians of North America, Paranormal romance stories, Paranormal, Vancouver (B.C.), General, Romance, Fantasy, British Columbia, Supernatural, Occult fiction, Fiction, Frontier and pioneer life - British Columbia, Indians of North America - British Columbia - Vancouver, Survival skills
ISBN: 9781420106817
Publisher: Zebra Books
Published: 2010-11-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

The White Lake

The Métis guide was frightened. He didn’t want to show his fear, so he withdrew into impassivity, but Catullus could tell by the thin set of Jourdain’s mouth, the whiteness of his knuckles as he held his reins.

“This is the Earth Spirits’ territory,” he said tightly. “They are whispered about amongst the Métis. A secretive people of strange power. They keep themselves hidden.”

“And no one has ever explored their land before?” Catullus asked.

“None have dared.”

“I’m no stranger to traveling through forbidden territory,” Catullus said. “We will avoid populated settlements. What is the power of the Earth Spirits?”

Jourdain had been brought up a Christian, and he crossed himself now. “I cannot speak of it. Too dangerous.”

Catullus wished he had more information, but wouldn’t press the guide. Blades often rode into unknown situations, and he knew that he was as prepared as he could be for any eventuality.

As they rode through dense woods and across open meadows, Jourdain cast alert, anxious glances over his shoulder, worried that any moment could bring an attack from unfriendly Natives.

Catullus’s fear had another origin.

“She won’t be happy to see us,” he said to Quinn, riding beside him.

“I never met Mrs. Bramfield,” answered the Bostonian. “But you two are friends.”

“It has been a long time since she answered any of my letters. She made it clear she wanted to be left alone.”

“Doesn’t matter if she’s happy or angry,” said Quinn, plainspoken as always. “There’s no choice now.”

Catullus sensed the presence of the Heirs. It followed them like a rotten miasma. Heirs had traveled this very trail not long ago, and he hoped like hell that he could reach Astrid before they did. He checked his Compass again, a now habitual gesture, and the needle pointed him onward. To Astrid.

“No,” he said grimly. “There is no choice.”

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