They traipsed through the woods, Victoria comfortable and Becket definitely out of sorts. He was used to luxury. And killing. She was aware of the cane, its position behind and to her right, unsheathed and gleaming like a miniature sabre. He could cut her throat with one flick of his wrist, pierce her jugular with a small poke. He could drive it straight to her
heart and she'd be helpless to fight him.
She hated the feel of his hands on her shoulder, dirty bloody
hands guiding her, even though they were clean and manicured.
She tried to move faster and he pulled her back against him.
He was aroused and fear crushed through her again and again.
He was getting off on holding her hostage. And Victoria knew
that she'd endure rape, if it would give it her the opportunity
to wound him or get away. How ironic, she thought, that he'd be the one escorting her
through time and not the other way around. Her only comfort
was that she suspected there was a lot more on the other side
of that sheen of water than he thought. Or did he? Would it take him elsewhere? Did he have some control
over it that she didn't? She needed to know.
Chris shoved the diary into the safe hi his office and was about to close the heavy door when he stilled, his gaze on her backpack. She'd asked him to put it in there, the only safe place they agreed, so no one would open it and destroy history. A history, she said would be irrevocably changed with her existence. An unnamed instinct made him grab it and he was about to pull the slide when he heard the steady rapid thunder of hooves.
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Someone called his name and before he reached the door, Seth was there.
"Hurry. I think he's going to hurt her," Chris was on Caesar in an instant, riding hell bent to the end of town, to the fair. The heavy pack hooked over the pommel smacked against Caesar's side and the animal did his ancestors justice as he charged down the wide street. People scattered when they saw him coming. Noble race up, huffing. "I didn't see her. No one saw her." Lucky ran to him, crying. "She gone!" "No, son. No. I'll find her." Chris scooped him up, riding through the crowd. As best he could Lucky told him what happen and Chris could see the blame he was feeling. "It's not your fault, son."
"But she give him her gun!" Lucky wailed. "So I could go."
Panic skated through Chris, then settled. "And I'd have done it for you too, Luck. She had to. Now I have to go help her."
He assured Lucky he'd bring her back before depositing the boy in Abigale's arms. When he was clear, he jabbed his heels into Caesar's side and the black stallion surged into the forest. She's still alive, he thought, I can feel her.
"That was your burial ground, wasn't it? For souvenirs." He gave her a disgusted look and shoved her ahead. "The stockyard," she prodded.
His smirk said twenty questions wasn't going to make her the light of his life.
"You mean where I killed your man?" Her insides twisted with rage. "How did that feel, Victoria?"
She hated the sound of her name on his lips, close to her ear. "About as sickening as your touch." Angrily, he pushed her. "You'll never make it, Becket." She caught her balance,
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refusing to show a shred of weakness for him to prey on.'I'll see to it."
His sly glance said he doubted. "But I can't leave you here," he said, as if he were telling her it was a lovely evening. "For when I return."
"Chris will kill you on sight."
Becket scoffed, his expression condescending. "He hasn't a clue."
She stopped, casting him a half-lidded stare and gaging his reaction. "He knows everything."
Becket's eyes flared and he dragged her against him. "You stupid bitch!'' he raged.
"With all that education, I figure you could come up with something better than bitch." She couldn't believe she was so calm and wondered why. "Of course, I told him. How's the leg, by-the-way? Bullet pass through?" He glared down at her, eyes hard and cobalt blue as night. "Scars are imperfections, Algenon."
And if she wanted him to be a powder keg about to explode, she got it.
Viciousness contorted his features, and the stiletto rose slowly as if by a ghostly hand, touching her side, pricking her skin. His fingers dug deeply into her arm as he propelled her forward, but Victoria refused to step further, the distant rumble on the earth coming to her.
Algenon Becket knew he didn't have much time—at least, not in this century. The marshal would kill him if he got close enough, and Becket regretted underestimating the half-breed. He counted that as a minor miscalculation and adjusted his thinking. If she was a cop, then why didn't she approach him before? And when did she tell the marshal her secret? Was she lying? He disregarded the questions to her incessant chattering. Her words were like needles poking in his brain, finding the soft tender spots and gouging him, He tried to block them out
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and forced her to move. But she was stronger than he imagined, solid, and he had to drag her. His muscles strained. "Give it up."
"Never." He hated not planning, not having everything choreographed like an intricate dance. And his mind played scenario after scenario. He could kill her now and leave, but he knew time ceased to move on the other side. And he couldn't risk entering the cavern without a plan or protection.
He couldn't think clearly. If only he could just get this bitch to shut up.
"Mommy wouldn't be happy to see her little boy like this." She gave a quick glance at his rumpled clothes, torn where branches had caught.' 'But, then, she never liked you, did she?''
"Shut up."
"No one likes you."
"I'm going to enjoy killing you, Victoria."
Victoria pushed aside the feral pleasure she saw in his face and said, "Not even Vel did. Or Dee. She just wanted to be first lady."
"She loved me, they all did! Even that mouse Clara—" "I'm Clara Murphy, asshole."
Rage scurried up his body, and she could feel it, in the tightening of his grip on his precious weapon, in the flexing of muscles in his too pretty face. She made him look like a fool, even if it was only to himself.
He's going to kill me now, she thought, just as she hoped that rumbling was Caesar.
She needed just one moment...
He grabbed her against him, his breath foul and his eyes wide with impatient fury. "Killing you is easier than taking you with me."
"Do it."
He didn't answer.
"Sort of a twist, huh, Ivy League? You need me for a hostage."
He grinned suddenly. "On both sides."
A shield against Chris and a shield against the FBI, she
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realized. "Never happen. I'm just one person. Weigh that against the destruction you've caused—" She shrugged, not feeling as confident as she sounded "And I'm an acceptable
loss."
His gaze flicked to the forest, then to her and the hoofbeats
grew louder, making him tense. She arched a brow. "Time's up." "We'll see."
The rustle of branches and underbrush came seconds before Caesar's black head appeared. And in that instant, Victoria drove her knee up into his groin. He flinched and grunted, but didn't fold, and his hold on her arm kept her from losing her balance, kept her from doing any more than turning away.
"Cheating, Victoria?" He used her to steady himself, his face inches from her ear. "I'd have thought you more skilled than that." His voice was a gasp, even as he slung his arm around her neck, slamming her back against his chest. She arched to the pressure in her shoulders.
The horse halted, riderless and simply stared at the pair, a hoof stomping. Becket's head shifted, his gaze straining in the hazy twilight, but he couldn't see the marshal. But he felt his presence.
Becket tightened his grip, forcing her neck to twist and exposing her throat.
/>
"Shoot him, Chris," she called in a calm voice. "Between the eyes, so it's a clean kill."
"Shut up!" Becket growled, jerking his human shield. "He'll have to shoot through you to do it."
"Don't count on it." She'd die before she let him kill Chris. "It hardly matters, now does it? You'll be dead before the
shot reaches me."
That was true. She could feel the sharpness of the blade on
the skin of her throat.
"Hey, Tonto?" Victoria called out, wishing she knew what
Chris was planning.
"If you say another word, I'll cut you wide open." "You know, Ivy League? You're a waste of human tissue."
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"He's in the trees," Becket said more to himself, then shoved her aside, withdrawing her gun from inside his coat. "Less clean, but efficient."
"No!" Victoria dove.
An arrow whizzed through the air, imbedding in Becket's shoulder, the gun firing as her body caught Becket at the knees. The bullet ripped through her upper arm, the stiletto flying from his grip as he fell.
Becket arched and howled, clutching the wound. Her hands bound, Victoria rolled to her knees, grappling for purchase as he tried to stand. He kicked out, his boot connecting with her jaw. Darkness draped her vision.
Chris dropped from the trees, hitting the ground in a run.
Becket was gone, lost in the shadows of dusk.
Chris slid to his knees and cut the ties at her wrists, then drew her into his arms. "Tori, Tori?" Her blood soaked his shirt. ' Talk to me, sweetheart.'' He checked her wound, tearing her sleeve and binding it. His heart didn't start beating until she stirred against him.
"Stop him—" she gripped his arm. "He's going to the fall," she gasped, shaking off the haze and sitting up.
"He won't get there, not with an arrow in his shoulder."
She smiled. "Nice going, Tonto." He drew her to her feet. She staggered. "No, I'm fine." He was examining her wound again, a graze really. "Got a gun?"
Only one and he gave it to her. "Got this?" He held up the murder weapon.
Her eyes flared, gleaming. "We have to hurry. No, not with
Caesar. It's rougher there." f
There. The wall of time. It terrified Chris more than catching Becket.
She saw the pack and ran. "Oh good, good." She pulled the head mics out and gave him one, started to zip the bag closed, then took her knife, NVG's and the micro camera out, jamming the latter in her pocket.
She handed him the night vision goggles. "Here's your
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chance to be high tech." Chris nodded, having tried them out
weeks before.
They tested the mics—clear, but weak. "They won't last long, so let's go." Chris held the murder weapon and on foot they moved, separating and talking to each other, speaking their love and how the hell they were going to explain this to anyone. But they moved quickly.
"Take left flank, Tori. I have the right."
She hesitatedt then agreed. That would put him there first. "Remember what I said about bright light in your face," she warned, unsure if Becket knew he could blind Chris with just
a match.
They ran, Victoria slower and Chris racing like a deer, faster with the NVG's. She could hear him breathe, measured and
smooth.
"I see him."
Her heart jolted. "Careful, honey.' "I love you, Tori." "Then marry me in the morning." "I will." A pause, his breathing nearly silent. "Chris?" She tapped the receiver in her ear. She quickened her pace, blood staining her bandage and running down her arm. Lightheaded, she tripped, righted herself and ran. Then she saw them. Becket was scrambling up the incline, Chris behind him. Clutching his shoulder, the arrow shaft snapped off, Becket turned and fired, missing, then taking aim.
"No!" she screamed as Chris kicked the gun from his grip, pain vibrating up Becket's arm. With a growl of rage, Chris was on him, driving him back against the stone wall.
"I'll be free," Becket gasped and shifted toward the cavern. "You'll be dead."
Chris raised his arm, the silver winking in his fist before he drove the stiletto into Becket's chest.
Becket stared into his eyes, stunned and the moment seemed
frozen as his gaze shifted to the blade. His horror was satisfying.
Chris stepped back, mesmerized by the sight of the silver-
408 Amy J. Fetzer
blue glow coming from the tiny cave. Becket groped for the edge, his back scraping against the stone as he tried to escape.
Chris didn't see Victoria until it was too late. "Tori, no!"
He reached.
Victoria lunged, hitting the stiletto, driving it deeper. Becket wrenched in pain and she slammed a black rectangle into his open mouth and shoved him. The wall swallowed Algenon Becket like a pebble dropped into mud, a shimmer of thick silvery liquid.
He was gone.
Bent at the waist, Victoria gasped for air, her hands braced on her thighs and Chris climbed to his feet.
But he touched air, horrified as Becket's arm appeared through the liquid rock, slapping around her throat and pulling her with him.
The wall shivered, then went still as a pond.
Chris blinked, his gaze rapidly searching over the cavern. His heart beat ceased, slamming against the wall of his chest. And slamming. And slamming.
Oh Jesus.
Immediately he hit the stone, seeking a soft spot, but it wouldn't give him entry, shifting and swirling as if smoke beneath glass, but solid to his touch. And he knew. He knew! She was trapped in her time.
He gaped at the sealed wall, his breath coming in hard shallow breaths and as the realization hit him, he dropped to his knees, his gaze ripping over the rock, believing and not believing that she was beyond his touch, beyond his help.
Yet he could hear noise, the whirling, muffled voices. The silver, slow moving and thick like syrup, vibrated, and before his eyes, it solidified.
He would never get her back—never. And the agony of it burst in him with the force of lightning, striking him down to his bones. He threw his head back and he screamed her name, a raw agonizing howl, a wounded cry of neverending pain.
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"Didn't you see her? I saw her movin' around here. Where did she go?"
"Can't trust bounty hunters!"
"Find her. I want a clue or a body!" Federal Marshal Mark Daniels shouted and men scampered, searching the area they'd searched three times already. The tracks ended here, at the stream.
Daniels' frown remained in place, harsher than ever as his gaze shifted between the horse, the saddle bags, then the blood trail. The confusion and noise of a hundred lawmen combing the terrain went on around him. Choppers circled overhead.
Yet his gaze followed the still tacky splatters of blood. He'd retraced it a half dozen times already. His attention shifted briefly to the police wading hip deep in the stream. One man shook his head. No sign of tracks on the other side.
It was like she evaporated right here, he thought, turning toward the heavier blood stains and stepping carefully over the boulders. His craggy face was creased in a deep scowl and only those close to him knew it hid his fear. She'd vanished. And that son of a bitch with her.
He braced his hand on the misty rock, adjusting his feet, his head bowed. Janey was going to be upset about this, he thought briefly.
Suddenly, he flinched, jolting back and slipping on the rocks when something burst from the fall. The plop and splash of water drenched him and men turned.
He wiped his face and the moment seemed frozen as everyone stared, confused, wary, guns out and aimed, until the body bobbed to the surface.
' 'Jesus!" a cop said, wading across to the man floating face down. He turned it over.
"Well, what do you know!" Wondering, stunned. Daniels' gaze ripped between the drizzling fall and Becket before he
moved quickly down to the bank. Uniformed men hauled him onto the shore.
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"He's still alive," a county sherrif said.
"Not for long," Daniels remarked coldly, almost happily. He squatted and flicked the silver spike sticking out of Becket' s chest and the man moaned. 'That has to be the murder weapon."
"Christ! Is that an arrow tip?" A sherrif said, mercilessly prodding the bleeding wound.
"Let the coroner find out," Daniels said and shifted closer. Though Becket's breathing was rapid and hissing, Daniels forced his fingers between tightly clenched teeth and pried open his mouth. "What have we here?"
He pulled out the micro camera, wiping it on his pant leg, then holding it up to the sun. "It's Mason's." He pointed to the triple lines that always marked her personal gear.
"Then where the hell is she?" Kyle said, patting the horse's neck and wishing the animal could tell them something.
"Hell if I know." She'd sworn she wasn't coming back, but that she'd deliver. Victoria was always good on her word. At what price?
Daniels looked to the fall. The water had stopped.
Victoria felt the denseness of the passage grow heavier and heavier, casting out sound, sealing off her movements. She could hardly move, each shift more difficult, straining her muscles, her breathing. It felt like gel, sliding softly, but rapidly hardening. And she knew she was dying in here. Her lungs stiffened.
Then she heard his voice. She turned her head, the effort nearly killing her and as if looking through a dirty mirror, she saw Chris.
Dizzy with sorrow, Chris pounded the stone, begging it to give her back, offering his life and his heart. "Tori, come back! I love you!"
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After several useless moments, he fell back on his haunches again. Tears wet his cheeks, mixing with the blood on his chest, her blood, and he dropped his head forward, staring at nothing, his scraped fists clenching and clenching. His shoulders shook violently, but no sound came. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move. His heart shattered, each piece breaking away like a part of the earth into the sea. The eerie thought of her trapped in stone forever was just too much to bear. A tomb, a grave. He prayed she'd found her way out, at least. If she didn't?
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