Bloodstone

by Gwen Hunter

  But if you got this, then they may have found me. And that means you and Jane are in major danger. Mostly Jane, but if you’re with her, then your life is toast, too.

  I have one thing to ask you. Take care of my little girl.

  If Q Core has come after me, take her away. Don’t wait. Your name is on the accounts under a password only you know and you can access the accounts online, removing monies on the go or depositing them as you need. Find a place where Jane can be free and safe. I love you. I know you can save my baby.

  —Davie

  My tears were falling in a steady stream, soft drips onto my sleep shirt. Dyno rose up on her hind legs, blocking the screen, and licked at my face, pawing me. I shuddered a laugh and pushed the cat away. She jumped to the floor and raced into the dark. I wiped my eyes and read the information beneath the letter.

  Below Davie’s name was a series of account numbers, phone numbers, Web sites and other numbers that were not self-explanatory. I had no idea what they were for.

  “Idiot. You didn’t tell me the password.” And then I realized that Davie hadn’t offered to give me a password. He’d merely said everything was under a password only you know. As in, know already. I thought about the defensive knight on my PC and went online under the store ISP account. At random, I went to one of the sites listed on the letter.

  When the home page opened, it was a drab gray-and-charcoal page with no indication what it was actually for, only the initials FAOB with one link. I clicked on it and the link took me to a secure sign-in page. There were two blanks, one atop the other. Taking a guess, I typed in the account number that accompanied the Web site address on the letter. Below I typed in Jane. A message block came up that said, ACCOUNT NUMBER AND PASSWORD DO NOT MATCH. PLEASE TRY AGAIN. I looked at the letter from Davie. The title of the file was kinda weird. This time I typed in Bloodstone and hit Enter. The boxes vanished and another box appeared. There was no indication what it was for. No prompt.

  I thought about it, fingers tapping on the laptop edge. Finally I went back to the letter I had minimized and studied the stuff Davie had added to the bottom of the page. On the last line, on the left, was the word Prime, and on the right was Salutation. I looked back at the salutation on the letter. It said Tyler. Davie didn’t call me Tyler. Not ever. I typed in prime numbers until there were four spaces left, and added Brat.

  I was suddenly inside the world of high finance, on a page with gilt borders, lots of options, multiple pages and heavy encryption. That had been way too easy. Either Davie had made it simple for me, or I had used St. Claire nutty. I was betting on simple.

  I clicked on ACCOUNT INFORMATION, then on BALANCE. A figure appeared. 3,372,876.91 USD. “Ashes and spit,” I whispered.

  I closed off the site and shut down the modem.

  If Q Core has come after me… But gold was in the middle of this, not the DOD. Wasn’t it? And then, suddenly, it came together for me. Q Core was—could be—another of the groups in the negotiations Davie had mentioned. So how had Q Core found my brother? And why now?

  After living a quiet life for over a decade, Davie had stuck his head into the stratosphere with his environmental concerns. He had attracted attention, and maybe Q Core had found him. If so, they might want more than just the money, Davie and Jane. They might want revenge, too. If Q Core had been operating outside of proper direction and channels, they might have been shut down. Might have faced legal repercussions. This could now all be personal.

  Then again, I could be a paranoid nut with illusions of danger, conspiracy and evil guys in black hats. There was a reason why St. Claires were nutty-weird and it wasn’t all about psychic stuff. Seeing inside people’s heads could make you really demented, and some of us had nothing much in the way of shields.

  But if I was right, then Jane was in major danger.

  I was still sitting when Jane woke and clambered from the trundle bed, knuckling her eyes. “What’re you doing?”

  “Sitting here, watching the sun rise.”

  “There is no sun, just clouds.”

  Her words struck me as funny and I laughed, curling an arm around her as she crawled on the sofa and beneath the afghans. She yawned and dropped her head against me. I stroked her hair, soft and silky, so unlike my wild and bushy tresses.

  Take care of my little girl, he had said.

  With my life, I thought. “Jane?”

  “Mmm?” She mumbled sleepily.

  “Did your daddy give you a bunch of numbers recently?”

  “Whatcha mean?”

  “Like his prime numbers he loves so much, but different. Like these.” I handed her the heavy card with the GPS positions on it. “Did he give you anything like these?”

  She opened her eyes and stretched, looking nominally more alert. “Yeah. It’s in my book bag from school.”

  Electricity zinged through me, an erratic pattern that settled in the hairs along my arms. “Do you have it with you? Can you get it for me?”

  “Sure. Can I have Cheerios for breakfast?”

  “Yes,” I said, watching as she stood and crossed the room to rummage in the clear plastic book bag kids had to carry nowadays for security measures at school. When she came back, she handed me a beige card, heavy stock, like one might use for invitations. It had a shiny, embossed border. I held it next to the GPS card I already had. It was an exact match.

  “Did your daddy tell you to give this to me?”

  Jane, still in yesterday’s wrinkled clothes, was standing at the kitchen counter, pouring Cheerios into a bowl. The round O’s made a shushing sound, much like the sound of the wind at the windows. “Only if you asked for it.”

  “Did he tell you to give me anything else if I asked for it?”

  “Nope. Just the card.”

  “I see.” I studied the card, with its single set of numbers. GPS coordinates to one specific site. “I have to leave you with Aunt Matilda again. You’ll have to stay here until I get back. Will you be all right?”

  Jane shrugged, carefully pouring milk into the bowl. “Fine by me. I’ll miss Sunday school, but I guess after the SWAT team came last night we can’t go to church, huh?”

  Church? When had Davie and Jane started going to church? “Ah, no.”

  “Aunt Matilda said we can practice with the cards and with projection, so that’ll be fun.” Dyno mewled at her feet and Jane poured a splash of milk into the cat’s bowl, too.

  I stood and dressed quickly, making calls on the cell phone as I moved.

  Evan called in a favor and got a temporary bodyguard for Jane. The off-duty Sergeant Lopez, who turned out to be Evan’s contact with local law enforcement, came to babysit. He and Isaac carried on a conversation in Spanish and then bumped fists, which must have been a good thing, because Isaac had no concern over leaving Jane with him, either. Free of worries about my niece, Jubal, Isaac, Evan and I climbed into Jubal’s monster SUV and drove into the hills.

  The GPS coordinates indicated an isolated place, and we wound deeper and up, then down and around, and up and up along unpaved country roads, and finally old logging roads that followed the course of hills through land untouched since the last clear-cutting some fifty-plus years ago. At last we parked, got out and prepared to hike. The site indicated by the GPS coordinates was more than just remote. We couldn’t get near it by any road that Isaac could find on any map.

  There was no trail, no evidence of an old path, old animal tracks, old anything. Only the age of the trees indicated that man or beast had been here before. Isaac read from the GPS device while I gloved and pulled a balaclava over my face. The location seemed to be directly uphill. I passed out bottles of water, which we all slipped into pockets.

  On top of layered sport clothing, we donned thin, insulated vests and coats. Isaac grabbed a length of rope in a coil, his cell phone and a belt of tools. They looked like rock-climber tools—a hammer, a chisel, other stuff I recognized from local boys out to scale the local rock. Stuff I had no intention of
using. Not me. No way.

  “There,” Isaac said, pointing straight up.

  The wind was picking up, a cold icy bluster that sent corkscrews of drafts against us. The gusts would make climbing up the nearly vertical side of the hill like walking while a giant hand swatted us back and forth. “Spit and decay,” I whispered to myself.

  “Yeah,” Jubal said. “Just don’t spit into the wind.”

  “Ha-ha.” I sighed and started up the hill. Even with all the exercise I’d been getting, my heart rate increased instantly and my breathing deepened as I reached over my head for a tree trunk, pulling myself up two feet. It wasn’t mountain climbing, but it was close. Our footing was loose on last year’s leaves, still wet from melted snow, and the ground under that was broken, unstable rock over earth, as if the mountain beneath us was rotting, degenerating from granite into earth.

  My feet slipped several times in the first few yards. Evan reached out to stabilize me until he realized that each time I slipped, I was holding on to a small sapling or root or vine. He fell into place behind me and began placing his hands in the nooks and crannies I found, using them to pull himself up, but sticking behind me in case I fell. It was very macho-protective of him, and the action warmed my heart. It didn’t mean he could stop me if I slipped and started back down the hill at a fast rate of speed, but it did mean that I wouldn’t have to slide alone.

  Isaac and Jubal worked side by side a little to our right, helping each other, with Isaac keeping an eye on me and the GPS all at once. I didn’t bother to tell my guards that I could take care of myself, or that if I started sliding, I was perfectly capable of catching a tree on the way down. I thought it was cute, and we made good time working in tandem, two teams moving uphill.

  Within minutes, my arms were sore at shoulders and biceps, and my thighs burned. I broke out into a hot sweat that was cooled instantly by the wind. One of my gloves tore, splitting a seam at the outer palm. This was way harder than any step machine in any gym.

  We finally located a more level place to take a breather, if a grade of forty-five degrees could be considered more level. Isaac pointed to it and I nodded. We moved right for twenty yards before we neared the spot, Jubal reaching it first and pulling Isaac onto the slanted shelf.

  Isaac offered a hand, hauling me into the lee of the hill. I placed my feet against the bole of a tree, turned and dropped back against the side of the mountain. I looked back at the SUV. It was a long way down. Evan slammed into the side of the hill beside me, cursing steadily under his breath. The wind howled and slapped us from the side as if trying to throw us back down. I twisted open the water bottle cap and drank half.

  “Isn’t this fun?” Jubal wheezed, uttering the first words in a quarter hour. He too drank and passed his water bottle to Isaac. “Are we there yet?”

  “This sucks a great big egg,” I gasped. “A really, really big egg. This was a stupid, stupid, stupid idea and you guys should have told me so.”

  “We did,” Jubal said, his breath no better than mine. “You were coming anyway.”

  Isaac consulted the GPS and aligned himself with some internal map. “There, I think.”

  “You have got to be kidding,” Jubal said. “That?”

  That was a dome of solid rock rising up out of the mountain. Or maybe it was the mountain, its dead heart of dense granitic stone partially exposed, a monster stone bowl turned on its side. It was a reddish-white monolith that curved out, a buttress that would require pitons, ropes, crampons and an experienced guide. And nerves of steel and better abs than I currently possessed.

  “Yeah. I’m afraid so.” Isaac laughed, his breath stuttering and rough. He drank water in long gulps and his voice sounded clearer. “Think you can climb that small rise, Robin?”

  “Holy rock of ruination, Batman,” Jubal said, still gasping, half-laughing. “And, no. I’m not even going to try.”

  Isaac laughed harder and cuffed Jubal. “You shouldn’t have to. I have a feeling it’s at the base of the slab. See that lighter whitish smear to this side of the dome? It looks like something broke off. Let’s head that way.” He nodded to tell us it was time to get moving again. Just before I turned to face the hill, a flake of snow landed on my cheek and instantly melted. The snow had come early.

  We moved toward the GPS coordinates, breathless, cold to the bone, sweaty and exhausted. As we neared the site, the colors of the huge slab became clear. It was reddish brown with uneven smears of white running through it, its face desiccated by exposure to the elements. The white that peeked through was ribbons of quartz, striated by aeons of rain, tannins and the wind.

  At the underside of the huge reddish rock was a ledge, fairly flat, free of undergrowth, and it was instantly obvious that this was where the gold came from. A section of the rock face had broken away in a long vertical calving. The hunk that had broken free had exposed a huge white quartz slab of stone inside the protective layer of granite. Within the quartz was gold.

  We pulled ourselves to the base of the rock, breathing like a quartet of bellows. The bowl of the mountain loomed over us.

  Evan dropped to the ground, threw his head back and sucked air like a dying man, exposing the long column of his throat. Jubal fell beside him. Isaac turned and surveyed the view, his face troubled. It was snowing now, fitful sheets of billowing white, rolling and waving in the wind. I sat more slowly, one hand on the fresh quartz, fingers resting on a thick wire of gold that glowed in the dull light.

  I found a comfortable position, cold ground beneath me, pulled off a glove and rested my forehead against the rock, closed my eyes. I breathed deeply, blowing out the built-up tension, drawing in fresh air. I could smell a trace of smoke on the breeze.

  “Someone has been here,” Evan said. “Tracks.”

  I didn’t look. I couldn’t. I was too tired.

  “Lots of them. Two kinds of boots,” Isaac said.

  “They lead off that way. There’s a trail,” Jubal complained. “Look! We came uphill, and there’s a trail from that side that curves around the hill?” When no one responded, he said again, irritated, “I said, we came uphill when we could have come down?”

  “There is nothing on the map,” Isaac said. “For that matter, this hill isn’t on the map. This place is so remote there isn’t a road for a mile or more. You think you could have done better?”

  “An old lady with a walker could have done better.”

  The men started arguing. I blocked them out and expelled a deep breath, centering myself, feeling the calm of the earth fill me as I inhaled. I smelled the rich scent of dormant plants, the promise of deep snow on the air, and fine stark earth, the dust of stone. I settled into the earth, into the stone. It was as if the earth below me seeped its strength into me, rising through my bloodstream to strengthen my heart, my lungs. My heart rate slowed. Steadied. I opened my eyes. I could see pick marks where someone had widened the scar into the mountain, exposing more of the gold-filled white quartz. I lifted my bare hand and placed it on the quartz. My palm was chilled where it touched the stone and the gold in the heart of the mountain.

  Davie? Davie, I’m here. Davie? I called with my mind, scanning for my brother. Davie? Where are you? Davie. Davie. Davie…

  Brat? Davie answered. I felt a jolt as I landed in his mind, a moment of disorientation.

  Yes. Using his eyes, I looked around the room. It was subtly different, and I realized there was a chair and a real bed in the closet. On the small table was a bit of gold. I concentrated on it, using my mind rather than my brother’s eyes. It was a gold ring, within easy reach on the bedside table but out of focus.

  I know who took me the first time. They’ve reached a deal with one of the parties. They came in and…warned me.

  They? They who?

  I don’t know. I’m not sure.

  I felt a shift in Davie’s mind, away from the truth. Or away from a truth. He looked at the ring. The shift of emotion was there again. Suddenly I identified the feeling beh
ind his thoughts. Shame. It was horror and shame and a trace of fear. Like the hint of smoke on the wind, they twined through him as he looked at the ring.

  I concentrated on it, willing it to come clear. It was a woman’s ring, a heavy circlet of beaten gold with a spray of rubies across it like a branch of orchids. It was Jubal’s work, I realized suddenly. I had seen it before, on the workbench. In Jubal’s hands. Where did you get the ring?

  That strange shift again. Reluctance in his thoughts. I found it when I woke up just now. It was tangled in the sheets.

  Who does it belong to? Who left it with you?

  Davie’s mind shifted again, away from the answer. But I knew the ring’s owner had hurt him. Recently. She had caused this pain in my brother. Davie? What did she do to you?

  A sound intruded and he turned to it. The door opened. A woman was silhouetted in the opening. Davie’s heart rate sped up and he thrust out at me, pushing me away. Our connection was severed. I opened my eyes.

  Instantly I was in another place, windswept and icy. I could smell smoke, strong on the wind. I saw a doubled scene, one of the gold-and-pure-white stone that rested against my face. A memory. Steel bit into the stone, wounding it, sending slivers of sharp-edged quartz flying. The pickax bit deeper. Again and again. Gold. Gold. My gold.

  On top of the memory I saw a second scene. Four people. In the crosshairs. The scope settling on the small woman. The troublemaker. My finger tightened on the trigger. I took a deep breath and began to let it out, a long sigh preparatory to shooting. I’ll kill her. The one touching my gold. I’ll kill them all.

  I jerked my hand away from the gold and snapped up my head. “Get down!” I threw myself against the ground and rolled. Splinters of quartz erupted, hitting my cheek and shoulder. A shot rang out. Evan fell over me, pulling his weapon. I had an instant image of him, his gun rising, a look of controlled fury taking over his face. The shot echoed like thunder through the hills.

  A second shot hurled shattered rock at us on the echo of the first. A third.