Dark Storm by Christine Feehan

away.
    She let her breath out slowly as she dropped back to step closely in her mother’s footsteps. She’d learned, even as a young child, the safest place in the jungle was directly behind her mother. The plants protected her rather than attacked her. Everywhere her mother stepped, plants grew as she passed over the thin trail. Fronds unfolded and vines untangled. Flowers sometimes dropped around her. As long as she walked in her mother’s footprints no thorn or spiny-leafed plant would harm her.
    They walked for what seemed like hours. The heat was oppressing in the stillness beneath the thick canopy. At times the ground beneath their feet was open and it became easy to walk, and then suddenly they would once again be in thick foliage, nearly impossible to penetrate. Riley kept a very close eye on her mother as they trekked, noting she began to lag behind more and more.
    Both Jubal and Gary slowed their pace, obviously keeping an eye on Annabel. Riley took her pack. It was significant that Annabel made no protest when Riley shouldered her mother’s pack with her own. After half an hour, Ben Charger dropped back and took the pack. The three men took turns carrying it. Annabel never looked up. Her shoulders became slumped, weighed down, the closer they got to the base of the mountain. Her footsteps dragged, as if she waded through quicksand and every step was a terrible effort. Even her breathing became labored.
    It was clear the guides were rushing the sun, trying to make the base of the mountain before nightfall, which suited Riley, but her mother wasn’t going to make it. She’d fallen silent, watching Jubal’s back to stay in line, but she swayed with weariness and her clothes and hair were damp with sweat. They had to stop and rest.
    Fortunately, Weston complained bitterly. “Are we in some kind of race?” he demanded. His voice rose with every step.
    “Miguel.” Jubal’s voice carried authority as he spoke to the guide in Miguel’s native language. “We have to stop and rest. Half an hour. No more and we’ll start out again. Let them rest and get a drink. They’ll move faster for you.”
    Miguel glanced up at the sky, looking very apprehensive, but he nodded abruptly and found a tiny clearing with a few rocks for them to sit on. Riley nodded to Jubal in thanks as she took her mother’s pack from him and moved to the edge of the trees to give her mother some privacy. She was grateful more attention hadn’t been drawn to her.
    “We can’t stop,” Annabel whispered the moment they were alone. “We have to hurry.”
    “You need rest, Mom,” Riley protested. “Here, drink this.” She handed her water pack to her mother.
    Annabel shook her head. “You’ll have to leave me if I can’t make it.”
    “Mom.” Riley forced herself to be firm. Annabel looked so exhausted and pale she just wanted to wrap her in her arms and hold her protectively. “You have to tell me what’s going on. What are we facing up there on that mountain? I can’t be kept in the dark anymore.”
    Annabel looked around for a place to sit, found a small boulder nestled between two trees and sank down onto it. Her hands trembled as she folded them carefully into her lap. “All those stories you were told as a little girl about the mountain and the Cloud Warriors, those weren’t scary stories, Riley. They were the truth. The history of our people.”
    Riley swallowed hard. Those “stories” were the thing of nightmares. A terrible evil preying on the greatest warriors, tearing out their throats, drinking blood, demanding human sacrifices, children, young women, yet nothing appeased the demon. “Mom, the Incas conquered the Cloud People …”
    “They were able to because,” Annabel interrupted, “their best warriors had already been killed. The people were living in fear.” Her eyes met Riley’s. “The Incas were strong, with fierce warriors as well. They took some of the Cloud women as wives. Including your