For half an hour, Scott had been fighting an urge to run full out. The only thing stopping him was the fear of expending too much energy, of being unable to build a charge when he finally made it to the site of the old cabin.

“Dina, is that you? Are you trying to get away? Or do you want me to hurry?” A circular ribbon of track came vividly to mind, alongside it, the image of a pale little girl watching him intently. “Again, Dina? One more time around?” Like twelve years before, she didn’t answer. He wiped sweat from his brow, and quickened his pace. Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, don’t give up. I’m coming.

But he had lied. With no warning, three-hundred volts of blinding light filled his head. Though no real electricity accompanied it, the perception of attack was as good as reality. His brain responded as though it had been hit with every volt, triggering a seizure so fierce, he was senseless before he hit the ground.

Scott Spencer Cairl’s body thrashed violently in the thorny brambles alongside the path, his muscles clenching, his eyes rolled back, all thoughts banished. He was still two miles from the willow. Two and a half miles from the body of John Valhailand. Three and a half miles from the rebuilt cabin. And, now, a lifetime away from Dina Karson.


* * *

It should have been simple. She belonged to him; he could do what he liked with her. But when Dina began to punch and kick, Zach could only smile. She was his progeny, no question.

He placed her almost gently on the bed, then straddled her waist, pinning one arm beneath his leg. She reached for his eyes, her fingers hooked to do maximum damage. He pulled his face out of reach. What a magnificent spitfire she was! Catching her by the wrist, he pushed her arm against the bedframe. “Stay,” he ordered. “Move it and I’ll break it.”

He let go, and for a moment she appeared to obey. Then she lashed out a second time, splitting his lip. Zach batted her hand away, and licked at the blood. “Have it your way,” he said as he turned his thoughts to her shoulder. Her hand was rising again when the shock hit her. He could actually see the bone shift in the socket before his mind wrenched it out and down. Her arm dropped to the bed. It would not move again.

His daughter’s jaw fell open, but she did not scream. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she did not whimper. Her body arched, and she flailed at his back with her bent knees. She fought on.

“You were always more my child than Ann’s,” he congratulated her.

Dina stopped struggling.

“Nothing weak about you,” he continued.

“Mama Ann?”

“Yes.”

“What should I do?”

Puzzled, he frowned down at her now-passive form.

“Do you still love him, mama?” she asked. Then she paused to consider a second question. “Do I?”

The girl’s mouth softened, her head tipped to one side and her eyes widened innocently. In a blink, Dina was gone.

“Do you still love me?” his wife asked him from the distant past.

The words were familiar. When did she say that? Zach wondered.

“If you have to hurt someone, take it out on me,” Ann begged him. “Not the children.”

Zach sneered. Always trying to protect the bastard.

“No. Trying to protect you. Trying to love you.”

The memory returned to him: Ann’s body curled against him in the dark, her words whispering against his throat. If he craned his neck he would see the bruise circling her eye − the blow that had been meant for the boy.

“I don’t need protecting, Ann,” he said into her hair. You do. You do.

“I know it’s too late,” she continued, ignoring his comment. “If I could have saved you back then, I would have. Someone should have.”

A wave of gentleness swept over him – something Ann was capable of inspiring in such simple ways. With a twist of his torso, he lifted her onto her back. His chest held her firmly to the mattress; his fingers combed the hair from her face. “Does it hurt?”

“Not much.” She turned the bruise away from his inspection.

He followed her with his eyes, evaluating the damage in the pale moonlight filtering in from the cabin window. He hated himself for what he was about to say. “I’m sorry,” he spoke grudgingly. “But it’s your own fault. You never learn.”

“Yes, Zach. But please, not the children.”

His grip tightened on her hair. “They’re my business, Ann. We agreed.” When her eyes brimmed with tears, he loosened his hold. Ann’s body shifted beneath him, and the look on her face changed. He knew what was coming. Eight years of marriage had revealed her every ploy.

“Children can be such a nuisance,” she began carefully. “I know how annoying they can be when you have to deal with them all on your own.”

Zach knuckled the bruise on her face gently. She closed her eyes, and rubbed her cheek against his fist, making him smile. He could demand whatever he desired tonight.

“I could take the pressure off,” she offered. “Just for a day; just to give you a break. You could get away for a while. Maybe run into town or hike up the trail.” He purposely did not answer, and her monologue trailed off. “Or whatever you think is right, Zach.”

“What’s right is for a woman to treat her man with more respect.”

“I know,” she agreed quickly. “I should have stayed out of it.” With a flick of her head, Ann tossed her hair so it settled in a fan across the pillow. After eight years of marriage, she knew him well too. “I’ll try harder. Really.” Zach lifted his hips as she slid a tiny hand down his chest to his waist, and then below it. “Can I make it up to you?”

He took his time considering his options, watching in enjoyment as her expression shifted from hopefulness to concern to near panic. “You can,” he finally agreed. “But you’re going to have to be a good girl from now on.” Then he slipped his arms under her body and rolled onto his back. With their positions reversed, he let his hands travel up her spine to the back of her head. “A very good girl.” Before she could object, he pushed her face down his chest toward the spot where her hand rested.

Ann had won. Zach would keep his fists off the children for a day or two, depending of course on how well she showed her gratitude. He didn’t mind. His breathing deepened and grew ragged in anticipation. Nope. He didn’t mind a bit.

The pain when it came was a complete surprise.

“What the . . !” Zach lurched forward, his hands still tangled in the woman’s hair. When he tried to pull her head up, the pain intensified. “You bitch!” he roared, jerking his knees into her chest. He heard her grunt as the wind left her lungs. She let go, and he wrenched her to the side, hurling her to the floor.

The room was suddenly filled with light. It was no longer night, but a hot autumn afternoon. The bed was no bed, but a shaky construction of tree limbs and deer hide. The female on the floor was not his wife, but his daughter.

Whatever pride he had felt in Dina was lost in a red rage. It was she who had resurrected his wife’s image, she who had bit him. Zach leaped to his feet, keeping the bed between them. Be careful, he warned himself. Those teeth aren’t the only weapons in that pretty head.

He needn’t have worried. Dina was gasping. It would be a while before she could inhale deeply enough to send a lightening bolt from her mind to his. Plenty of time to put you out of commission, girly girl.

With one hand held protectively over his fly, Zach placed the sole of his foot against the bedframe. She saw it coming, but with her right arm hanging useless, she couldn’t scramble to her feet fast enough to dodge the blow. The bed shot across the floor and slammed into her stomach, driving her into the wall. The color drained from her face.

Zach massaged his groin. Then he grinned. “Tooth for a tooth,” he warned her.

Dina had slid down the wall into a sitting position and was pushing the bed away with the heels of her feet. “That’s going to stop,” he said pleasantly. He took three deep breaths and her legs dropped limp to the floor. Flinging the bed out of his way with his mind, he stooped next to the fallen girl. “Some children have to be taught not to bite,” he explained. Her mouth opened against her will, but she battled back, jerking her head to the side. “Well done. I didn’t think you had any fight left.” He lifted her wrist and pressed the underside against her bared teeth. “Want to bite something, sweetheart? I’ll give you something to bite.” To his amazement, she managed to twist away a second time. “Give it up, Dina. It’s over.” But she didn’t. A halo of light began to surround her crumpled body. Her pale face grew waxen. “What now?” he groused. “Enough, girl.”

The light strengthened, and Zach’s hand where he gripped her wrist began to burn with sudden fire. The bed behind him shifted a foot, then another, finally propelling itself to the far wall. The lantern hanging overhead crashed to the floor. Dina’s pupils dilated, and her good hand clutched at her belly, her fingers spread either to protect or to contain – he never knew which. A blue-white ball of light was visible under her palm, sending out shafts of blazing heat that seared his face, his neck, the uncovered portion of his arm. The hair on the back of his hand smoked, then blackened and shriveled. He smelled his flesh begin to melt before he felt it. And he felt it before he could stand and run. Even the oxygen in the room ignited, stealing the air from his lungs.

His daughter smiled through her pain. As the cabin walls caught fire and the ceiling lifted, Zachary Kyle Karson had time to register just one last thought from her reeling brain.

Paybacks, Zach. Paybacks.