by Misty Evans
“Our passion turned to love, and ignoring the demands of both tribes and the growing unrest I was causing, I performed a secret binding ceremony with Kai, sealing our souls and our fates together for eternity. However, when our secret marriage was uncovered, Enann led the Red Fire nation to war with the Moon Waters. He also vowed to personally kill my entire family as punishment for spurning him unless I killed Kai.”
He said nothing, didn’t even blink, as if he were waiting for the punch line. Keva gave it to him. “The shaman who did this—” she pointed to the flames, “—knows that history. This is a message. He wants revenge.”
Not one muscle in Rife’s body moved. Behind his eyes, though, Keva could see his mind cartwheeling.
Deciding how much to tell him was a gamble, but she’d already come this far, so she continued to explain. “I would have done anything to save my family, and Kai was dying anyway from a mysterious poison. He insisted I drive my sacred dagger into his heart.” Tears threatened the corners of her eyes, and she swiped the back of her hand at them. “We’d already performed the soul-binding ceremony, but I couldn’t stand the thought of living without him, so I cast a magic spell on my dagger to reincarnate him so we could be together again someday here on Earth.
“But the spell went wrong because I used it for personal gain. I became immortal, having to wait for the gods to send Kai back to me. Thunderbird was angry at my soul magic and wiped out most of the Moon Waters with a terrible mudslide, and Kai was never reincarnated. Until now.” She steeled herself to keep eye contact with him. “In you.”
Rife’s eyebrows rose in slow motion. His voice was flat as he spoke. “A mudslide is an act of nature, not magic, and reincarnation is bullshit. New Age mumbo jumbo.”
His disbelief was to be expected. It still stung. “You are Kai. I know this because I feel a vibration low in my throat.” She unlaced his crossed arms and placed his fingers on the pulse at the base of her neck. “Here, like a cell phone set on vibrate. At the church, when you bent over me, it was the vibration that brought me out of the deathlike trance I was in.
“The vibration warns me of danger, but with Kai, the vibration is ten times as strong because he is my soul mate as well as my sworn enemy. Before you even entered my room at the hospital, I felt it. You look like Kai, but it’s the energy you give off that convinced me it is you. Him.”
Giving him a tremulous smile, she hit him with the knowledge that made her legs weak with both relief and fear. “Kai has finally come back to me…in you.”
His fingers hesitated a second too long before he pulled them back. An edge of sarcasm touched his voice when he finally spoke. “That is honest-to-God the most creative pick-up line I’ve ever heard.”
Keva laughed out loud, but the laugh died in her throat at Rife’s stoic face. He didn’t buy one word of her implausible story. “I know you’re having a great deal of trouble believing this.” She again used her fingers to move the edge of his shirt out of the way and reveal the flames licking her tattoo. “But if this means someone’s seeking revenge against me, then I’m the only one who can catch him.”
A muscle twitched in Rife’s jaw as he dropped his eyes to stare at her bare feet. “So why didn’t he kill you? Why carve flames under your tattoo instead of sticking a knife in your heart?”
His unknowing reference to a knife in the heart made her catch her breath. She didn’t miss his clipped tone, nor did she need to read his mind to know what he was thinking. It was a lot to take in, especially for someone trained to distrust what he couldn’t see with his eyes. Rife, like Kai, relied on his senses and his training, not feelings or intuition.
More than anything, she wished she could simply show him what had happened using her clairvoyant abilities. Like the vision of their binding ceremony, which had jumped to life just from their intense standoff, she could use other visions to transport him back in time and space long enough to prove she was right. The memories she would share with him would be hers, though, not his, and she had sworn never to use her magic on anyone else after having damned herself, her tribe and him to a fate worse than death.
She was sure the vision he’d seen earlier was totally his, as it should be. “Because of the spell, I’m cursed with immortality until Kai returns to me, until his soul awakens. The killer can hurt me, but he can’t kill me.”
Without looking up, Rife snorted in obvious disbelief. “Of course. You’re immortal. I should have guessed.”
Frustration boiled in her stomach. She wanted to prove her story true, but she couldn’t. She had to tease him with the truth, seduce him into remembering on his own, or the whole thing would blow up in her face again. She’d failed so totally as the leader of her tribe, leader of the entire Salt Coast Clan, she had no choice. Her path was clear. This time, she had to do things right and keep the waves of time and space rotating in a clockwise spiral, moving her own soul, as well as Kai’s, toward completion.
It was the only way to end the spell she’d cursed them with.
Above all, it was the only way to finally prove her love for Kai. She had to free him, body and soul, even if in the end it did actually kill her.
What that meant, at least for now, was she had to back off and give the seeds she’d planted in Rife’s mind time to grow. And she still needed to get to the church and find the spirits of her sisters.
“I should leave,” she said, wanting nothing more than to stay. “You have a lot to think about.”
As she turned toward the door, he grabbed hold of her elbow to stop her. “Where are you going?”
A warm surge of energy rushed up her arm and flooded her chest. “The church, of course.”
“The church is a crime scene. I told you, it’s off limits.”
His hand still held her arm. Her mind searched for another option as the warmth spread into her stomach and lower. She’d missed his touch so much, she could have simply stood there all day and night. “I’ll find a hotel in Ashland, I guess.”
“Ashland’s too far away. I have more questions and I want you available to me at a moment’s notice as things break on this case. Besides,” his gaze dropped to the spot where her tattoo lay beneath the cotton shirt. The hardness in his eyes softened as sexual energy pulsed around him. “Your life may still be in danger. The killer may come back.”
As she’d admitted to him, even though the shaman could not kill her, he could indeed hurt her. True, she healed quickly, but she had no love for pain. Sensing Rife was about to offer her an option she did not want to refuse, a spark of hope mixed with the heat from his touch. He was taking the first step toward uncovering the truth about who he was. She would work with that.
Lowering her voice, she implored the protective spirit inside him. “I have nowhere else to go.”
A war of will raged behind his eyes. Finally, he loosened his grip and sighed. “Grandpops has a spare room. You’ll stay here, just until the church is cleared.”
Yes. Perfect. “Does this mean I’m no longer your prime suspect?”
“No,” he said. “It means you’re my only link to the killer and I don’t have enough concrete evidence to throw your butt in jail for being the killer.”
“So you’re placing me under house arrest.”
“Call it whatever you like.”
She’d call it opportunity. This was her chance to correct past mistakes, and to finally, after a thousand years, be with the only man she’d ever loved. Even if it was only for a little while. “I’ll stay. On one condition.”
Rife raised an eyebrow, whether in question or as a challenge to her leaving when he’d insisted she stay.
“You don’t use your telepathy skills on me.”
Unexpected humor touched his mouth. He shook his head in an I don’t believe this motion. Moving past her to the kitchen, he pulled a can of coffee out of the cabinet and measured a scoop into a coffee maker. “I’m not telepathic, Keva. That’s all in your very active imagination.”
She smi
led at his back, watching the movement of muscles under his shirt as he filled the carafe with water. “You might enjoy seeing what’s in my imagination.”
His hand paused in mid-pour. “The lady finally speaks the truth.”
Chapter Eight
Rife watched Keva stop two steps from the church yard. Her instincts were on full alert, his as well. The tiny hairs on his arms stood up in reaction to her heightened, extremely focused attention.
She scanned the church from top to bottom, turning her head slightly from side to side as if she were trying to hear something. As though she were tuning a radio, each delicate move of her head an effort to bring in a far-off frequency.
Even that slight movement was fluid and graceful, her muscles tight as whipcords. Though he tried to block it, the image of her naked body from the vision, just as fluid and graceful, flashed through his mind. Her muscles strung tight like now, only with wanting and lust instead of fear.
The vision—or whatever it was—couldn’t have been real, and yet…
He could still see her skin, feel the heat from the fire and hear the melody of her voice. His hand absently strayed to his chest. There was no scar there but his mind had to be playing tricks on him. He could feel the burn of the knife Keva had wielded in the vision as if it had sliced his skin.
One end of the yellow police tape used to cordon off the crime scene had blown down and now danced across Chee’s rusty cruiser, landing at Keva’s feet. She didn’t notice it, seeming suspended, frozen in a memory. Was it a memory of the attack?
Rife had worked with witnesses suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. Some of them regained their memories at the scene of the crime. Some fell apart. Others sunk into shock.
It was time to get down to business. He forced the vision of Keva’s naked body out of his mind, swiped his hand across his chest and cleared his throat. Loudly.
She didn’t so much as blink. As if he wasn’t even there.
“Murder scenes are graphic,” he said, breaking the eerie silence. “Even after the bodies are gone.”
She didn’t respond. Wisps of long brown hair blew across her face and he fought the urge to trap them between his fingers and push them back behind her ear. “If you want, I’ll go in and get your clothes for you. Save you from…you know.”
While her gaze remained focused on the church, she acknowledged his offer. “The shaman is not here. I’ll be all right.”
Okay, she was still clinging to the evil shaman theory. While the need to protect and comfort her reigned supreme in the jumbled pit of his feelings for her, annoyance flashed in his stomach. How could he help her or bring the murderer to justice if she clung to such a ridiculous theory?
At the hospital, while Keva was signing the leaving-against-medical-advice forms, Doctor Carver, the doctor who’d treated her, had assured Rife she’d received no head injuries, no concussion. Like everything else about her past, there were no medical records. The doctor couldn’t rule out a history of mental instability, but in his professional opinion, based on his brief conversation with her, he seemed convinced she possessed a high intellect. He spotted no signs of paranoia, schizophrenia or bipolar conditions. There was no logical explanation for her apparent death and resurrection. She was either a miracle like the nurses claimed, or an immortal like she claimed.
Rife didn’t believe in immortality any more than he believed in miracles, reincarnation or reading minds. What he did believe in was evidence. Solid, physical evidence.
He had a living witness, the weapon the killer used and enough DNA, if the crime scene techs hadn’t screwed it up, to eventually nail the Madonna Killer to the wall. The hunt might be a challenge—hell, his witness alone was going to be a challenge—but he liked a challenge.
What he didn’t like, what crawled under his skin, was a weird challenge. And weird was the only game in town at the moment.
Chee burst out of the church, taking the stairs two at a time. He didn’t seem at all surprised to see Rife standing there. “He was here. Again.”
Rife left Keva to meet Chee on the grass. “Who?”
“The killer.”
“What?” Rife touched the gun on his belt, automatically scanning the nearby woods. “Where?”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you, Mr. Profiler.” Chee watched Keva approach them, addressed her. “I’m Police Chief Chee.” He held out a hand. “You out of the hospital already?”
She shook his hand. “Against doctor’s orders, but I’m fine.”
“I’m not much for doctors.”
“Me, either.”
The two exchanged a smile.
“Guy was inside your bedroom,” Chee said, not missing a beat. He glanced at Rife. “When I walked in, he disappeared.”
“Where’d he go? Out the back?”
Chee returned his attention to Keva. “He sort of…exploded. Atomized. Right in front of my eyes.”
Keva frowned. “What did he look like?”
“Wait a minute.” Rife glanced between them. “What do you mean he ‘exploded’?”
“He looked like him.” Chee motioned at Rife with his chin, totally ignoring Rife’s question. “Young. Handsome. A little skinnier, maybe, but muscled. He was dressed for a potlatch. Fancy painted skins. A red cloth—” he circled his head with a finger, “—holding his hair against his high, flat head.”
Keva’s sharp intake of breath made Rife’s pulse race. Her face paled to a clammy, grayish white. “A Noble?”
Growing up with Chee had been one constant history lesson, and Rife knew his ancestors had been divided into three classes: nobles, commoners and slaves. Apparently, Keva’s tribe’s history was the same.
Chee nodded at Keva. “A freak, though. White hair. Blue eyes.”
She wrapped her arms around her waist. “That’s what I was afraid of, but it can’t be him.”
“Can’t be who?” Rife asked her. “Who is it?”
“Enann,” her voice echoed in his brain, but aloud she said, “It’s not possible.”
Great. She was talking in his head again. And his grandfather was acting like he’d seen a ghost. Apparently weird wasn’t the only game in town. Crazy had joined in.
Frustrated, Rife’s voice took on a sarcastic tone. “I thought in your world, anything was possible.”
Keva cut her dark eyes to him, obviously annoyed with his flippant attitude. Then she looked back to Chee. The two seemed to share a sudden bond Rife didn’t quite understand. “Did he have any other marks of rank?”
Chee nodded once. “A nose ring and a tattoo on the side of his neck.”
“What kind of tattoo?” His frustration fizzled and the pulse in his stomach pumped hard now. Ghosts didn’t have tattoos, did they? If the killer had a nose ring and a tattoo, he was a physical being. A being Rife knew how to catch. “Was it a gang tat?”
“Flames,” Keva and Chee answered in unison.
“Flames,” Rife echoed in disbelief.
Keva’s hand went to her heart as if protecting it. Her voice rang with fear and something that sounded like awe. “He traveled through time to find me. But how? He died in the mudslide. Even when he was human, he never had that kind of power.”
Rife’s pulse lost steam. He blew out his breath, took his hand off his gun and rubbed his forehead where a headache was forming. “Now we add a ghostly time traveler to the story. What’s next? Big Foot? Vampires? Men from Mars?”
Both Keva and Chee looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. His grandfather frowned his signature what’s the matter with you look. A look Rife knew all too well from growing up with the man. “You don’t believe in ghosts? Or time travel?”
While Chee had always had a healthy respect and interest in the mystical, Rife couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Of course, I don’t believe in time travel. Since when do you?”
Chee grunted and turned back to Keva. “Guy was holding an obsidian amulet in the shape of Thunderbird b
efore he disappeared. Mean anything to you?”
Keva’s grip around her stomach tightened and Rife couldn’t stop a fist of apprehension balling in his stomach again. “He’ll be back,” she murmured, her eyes wide with fear and something akin to determination. “And then I’ll have to kill him.”
Chapter Nine
Keva broke away from Rife and his grandfather and walked toward the church’s front steps. Her pulse pounded in her ears, her heart raced. The Thunderbird amulet. Damn. The god of soul magic was nothing to mess with. From experience, she knew the risk was too great.
But Enann now possessed her amulet and had used it to dematerialize. Where had he gone? Was he still nearby or had he traveled through time again? And how had he done it in the first place? With the Moon Water knife?
The knife was even older than she was and its magic stemmed from not only its composition, but all the spells imbued upon it from the long line of Moon Water women who’d come before her. It had spilled much blood and contained so much supernatural power, it was practically a conscious object on its own.
But how had Enann harnessed that magic for time travel?
Even when she’d searched for answers to the future in her Pathwalks, she’d never traveled through time. She’d experienced visions, yes, but the sights and sounds were symbolic, prophetic. Like dreams, her visions represented her current situation and allowed her to explore what could happen in the future, depending on her real life choices.
Of course that didn’t mean she couldn’t have traveled through time, only that she’d never tried.
Behind her Rife called her name, but she kept going, climbing the stairs. Enann was gone for now and she had to talk to Tessa’s spirit and Liseli’s, and the other women’s if they allowed her. She needed to comfort them and they, in turn, could help her understand Enann’s magic. It was critical she figure out what he had done and how he’d done it before he came back.
