“You’re not fooling anyone, you giant softy,” Bella said. But she got the tuna out anyway.
* * *
AS THE AFTERNOON went on, Sam felt worse and worse about how rude he’d been to Bella. After all, it wasn’t her fault that he’d seen a ghost or had a hallucination or whatever it was. Not her fault that she happened to have nearly the same shade of red hair as Heather. Or that, despite everything, he found her incredibly attractive.
Not that he had any intention of doing anything about it, unless you counted feeling guilty, but it had clearly triggered something in his subconscious. Which he’d then taken out on her. He might not be the man he’d been before the fire, but he didn’t want to be this man either.
His mother had always said, “If you mess up, then make it right.” He wasn’t a kid anymore, and his parents were across the country running an RV park in Florida, but he could see his mom standing in the sunny kitchen he grew up in, arms on her ample hips and a frown on her flour-kissed face as she waited for him to act the way she’d taught him to.
Sam wasn’t sure how to make things right with Bella, but he had an idea for a place to start.
He hit one of the few numbers on speed dial in his government-issued cell phone and said, “Hi, Tiny, it’s Sam.”
“Yo,” Tiny said. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Sam said. “Does something have to be wrong for me to call you?”
There was a brief pause. “Well, yeah, usually,” Tiny said, a hint of laughter in his voice. “You don’t exactly call to chat.”
Sam tried to remember the last time he’d called anyone just to chat and failed. He sighed. One issue at a time.
“Actually, I was calling to see if you could help me with something,” Sam said.
“Shoot,” Tiny said.
“You know that woman in the caravan who is parked off Wilson’s trail?”
“The pretty redhead? The one with the gigantic cat? Sure, a couple of the guys mentioned seeing her.”
Sam wasn’t surprised. Tiny’s family had been in the area for generations, and he knew everyone for miles. If there was news, Tiny always heard it, more often sooner than later. It didn’t hurt that twice a week he delivered a batch of Mrs. Tiny’s famous pies to the diner, then sat around and had coffee with all of his cronies.
“What does she have to do with this?” Tiny asked. “Is she causing some kind of trouble down there? You need me to send Lisa to go beat her up?”
“Very funny.” Sam tried to visualize the plump and cheerful Mrs. Tiny beating anything other than a bowl of batter and failed miserably. “No, it’s just that she was up at the tower earlier this afternoon and said something about looking for a few friends who she thought might be in the area. I figured if anyone had spotted these guys, you’d probably know about it.”
“Huh,” Tiny said. “Okay. Did she say what they looked like, these friends of hers? I mean, it’s tourist season. We get all kinds through town this time of year.”
“Oh, I think these three would have stood out,” Sam said. “She showed me a picture of them. One was a good-looking, tall blond guy dressed in white leathers standing in front of some kind of white motorcycle. Another one had dark hair and kind of Asian features; that one was wearing red leather and had a bright red Ducati. You know, those racing bikes?”
“Sure, I’ve seen ’em,” the older man said. “Look damned uncomfortable to me, riding all bent over like that. And the third one?”
“A huge bear of a guy, long brown hair, braided beard, black leather, and a big Harley,” Sam said. “You can see why I’d think someone would remember them if they came through together.”
“I guess so,” Tiny said with a whistle. “Sounds like an interesting bunch. I guess artists hang out with all types.” Sam could almost hear the shrug through the phone. “I haven’t heard anything about anyone fitting that description, but like I said, it’s tourist season. Might be they didn’t stand out enough for anyone to mention. Tell you what; I’ll make a few calls and get back to you, okay?”
“You bet,” Sam said. “I appreciate it.”
“No problem,” Tiny said. “That’s what neighbors are for. Oh, hey, how’s that little owl doing? Is it still alive?”
“Yup. In fact, Bella, the woman from the caravan, her cat has been fetching mice for me to feed it. Figured I’d see if I could say thank you by finding out if her friends were here.”
“A cat that fetches mice, huh?” Tiny said. “Now I’ve heard everything.” He chuckled to himself and hung up.
* * *
AN HOUR LATER, he rang back.
“That was fast,” Sam said.
“Hell, I just called Ellie at the diner,” Tiny said. “I would have gotten back to you sooner but that woman could talk the ear off an elephant. Had to hear all about her bunions before I could ask if she knew anything about your lady friend’s buddies.”
“She’s not my lady friend,” Sam said, his voice sounding harsher than usual.
“Sure, of course not,” Tiny said. “Didn’t mean anything by it, Sam.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, at first Ellie didn’t think she’d seen ’em, because the day they came into the diner, there was only two of them, she said. The big one and the skinny Asian one. Her words, not mine. You know how she is.”
“Uh-huh,” Sam said. “No sign of the blond guy on the white motorcycle?”
“Apparently not. And I asked her, but she can’t remember when she saw them. Maybe three or four weeks ago, she said, but it could have been less, could have been more. Diner’s pretty busy in the summer, and she just wasn’t paying that much attention. Wouldn’t have noticed them at all, probably, except she said the big one ate five burgers, three orders of curly fries, and six pieces of Mrs. Tiny’s pecan pie. Now that stuck in her head. Said she’d never seen anyone eat so much in her life.”
Sam smiled at that, having met Ellie. She lived to feed people; Bella’s friend must have made her day.
“Well, thanks, Tiny,” he said. “I’ll pass that along the next time I see Bella.”
“Bella, huh?” Tiny said. “Pretty name.”
An unasked question hung in the air. Sam ignored it. The answer was no, anyway.
“I need to go check for smoke,” he said instead. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Uh-huh,” said the voice on the other end of the phone with a chuckle, and then its owner hung up.
Sam rolled his eyes and put the phone down on the table, picking up the binoculars in its place. Maybe he’d go down and see Bella when he went out of service and tell her what he’d found out. Maybe. Maybe not.
* * *
BELLA WAS COMING down the steps of the caravan when she suddenly looked up and saw Sam. Her heart skipped a beat, and a small crimson gout of fire flared into existence, dropping from her fingertips onto the ground below.
“Shit!” Sam said, racing over and stamping it out. “How the hell did that happen? Are you okay?” His face was white as he checked to make sure the flames were out.
Shit squared. Bella couldn’t believe she’d done that, lost control just because a gorgeous guy showed up. What was she, a teenager? Now the fire spotter was going to think she was some kind of pyromaniac or something. Way to go, Bella.
“Uh, sorry,” she said. “I’m not usually that careless. I promise. I’d just lit a match to start up the barbeque and you startled me into dropping it.” She crossed her fingers behind her back. She hated lying, but she couldn’t come up with a better explanation without saying something like, Sometimes I set things on fire by accident when I’m nervous or upset. That would go over well.
Sam stared at the grill, which was a good foot and a half away from where they were standing. Bella could feel her cheeks heat, hotter than the fire she’d created.
“Can I help you with something?” she asked, trying not
to sound defensive. After all, she didn’t owe him any explanations; the flames were out, no harm done, and besides, a few hours ago he acted like he couldn’t wait to see the back of her.
He blinked at her, his head turned slightly away as usual. She fought the impulse to grab his somewhat stubbly chin and turn it around to face her, just to prove he didn’t need to hide. Somehow she didn’t think it would go over well, no matter how good her intentions.
“Um, actually, I kind of came to help you,” he said, surprising her.
“Really?” She raised one eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware I needed help.”
Sam shuffled one booted toe against the dirt, raising a small cloud of brown-gray dust that smelled of pine and summer. “I was rude before,” he said, not looking at her. “When you came to the tower. I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well and I was a little short with you.”
Well. Whatever she’d expected him to say, it wasn’t that. “That’s okay,” Bella said. “You weren’t all that bad.”
He shrugged, but finally looked directly at her, although he backed up a few paces as soon as he realized how close they were standing. Bella tried not to take that any more personally than his attitude from earlier, although a tiny sigh escaped her lips. He would be so much more pleasant to be around if he didn’t act like she had the plague or some kind of communicable disease. Of course, what she did have was worse, but he didn’t know that.
“You’re being kinder than I deserve,” Sam said. “But I do have a little information for you about your friends.”
“My—you mean Sun, Knight, and Day?” Bella could feel her jaw drop open. “You found them?”
“Are those their names?” Sam shook his head. “And, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get you all excited. All I found out was that two of them were here sometime within the last month or so, maybe the last couple of weeks. I thought that might help though.”
“It does,” Bella said firmly. At least she knew they’d been in the area at some point. That was more than she’d known for sure before. “Wait, did you say two of them? Not three?”
“That’s what Tiny said. He’s my closest neighbor and pretty much has his finger on the pulse of whatever goes on around here,” Sam said. “I asked him if he could ask around, and he found out that Ellie, the woman who owns the diner in town, remembered seeing two of your friends a while back—the big one apparently ate enough food for ten men and won a place in her heart forever.”
Bella chuckled despite her concern. “That sounds like Alexei Knight, all right. I once saw him eat most of a pig roast all by himself and wash it down with an entire keg of beer. Then he complained when all there was for dessert was watermelon.”
Sam gave her a look she couldn’t decipher. “Sounds like quite a guy. Are you two close?”
“Oh, very,” Bella said. “He practically helped raise me.”
“Ah,” Sam said. “I thought maybe he was your boyfriend or something.”
Bella didn’t know whether to laugh or be appalled. “Good gods, no. More like an eccentric uncle. All three of them, really.” The budding laughter slid away on a wave of worry. “The woman at the diner was sure there were only two of them?”
“I guess,” Sam said. “The big fellow and the dark-haired one. Ellie said she didn’t remember seeing the blond.”
The corner of Bella’s mouth twitched. “She would have remembered,” she said. “Women always do.” She thought about it for a minute. “Actually, that kind of makes sense, now that I think about it. My sister Beka said that the last time she saw the Riders, Knight and Sun were looking for Day.”
“The Riders? Is that some kind of bike club?” Sam asked. “And I didn’t know you had a sister. Is she an artist too?”
Bella bit her lip. A bike club. Not unless it was the kind of club that Alexei could use to knock someone over the head in a fight. “Beka isn’t exactly my sister. It’s a little hard to explain. I guess you could say we’re closer than family. And I suppose she’s an artist; she makes jewelry to sell at craft fairs and farmer’s markets and such. When she’s not diving for buried treasure.”
“Seriously?” Sam gave her the look he usually saved for when he thought she was telling him some tall tale to explain Koshka’s unusual abilities. Of course this time she wasn’t exaggerating.
“Yup. She’s more at home in the water than I am on land,” Bella said. “Beka does a little diving, a lot of surfing, and spends some time helping out on her husband’s fishing boat. Of course, they’re newlyweds, so I think she mostly does it so they can make out when the fish aren’t biting. True love, you know. It’s completely sickening.”
“I suppose it must be,” Sam said gruffly, turning his face away again. “Anyway, I just figured you’d want to know your friends were here, even if it was a while ago. I should be getting back before it gets dark.” He frowned at her, brows drawing together over shadowed eyes. “Try and be more careful with matches, okay? The last thing we need is another fire.”
Without another word, he turned and walked away. A minute later, she heard the muffled sound of his four-wheeler’s engine. Too bad she’d been inside when he’d arrived; if she’d heard him coming, maybe she wouldn’t have made such a fool of herself. Of course, that still wouldn’t have stopped her from opening her big mouth.
She couldn’t believe she’d made that crack about true love. She never talked to anyone other than Barbara about Beka, and all the Babas tended to tease one another. Clearly she’d offended him somehow. Bella didn’t understand what it was with her and Sam; she was either completely at ease with him or falling all over herself like an idiot.
This was what came of being raised in the woods by a Russian fairy-tale witch. She could hold her own with an ogre or a tornado, but she was completely unequipped to deal with actual people. Dammit.
Oh well. At least after this he probably wouldn’t want to have anything to do with her, and that would take care of that problem. And now that she knew for sure Alexei Knight and Gregori Sun had been here at one point—and just might still be around—she was definitely going to do that spell. As soon as her heart went back to beating normally. Dammit squared.
* * *
ALEXEI WAS BROODING in his magical cage when he felt something. A ripple or shiver in the air. Something. He lifted his head from his knees and glanced over to where Brenna was muttering over her damned potion again, but whatever he’d sensed hadn’t felt evil. The brew Brenna was stirring, on the other hand, reeked of death and despair, reminding him of a murky swamp he’d once spent three days slogging through back in Russia. Fetid air mixed with decaying frog carcasses plus rank, muddy water filled with snakes. Not his fondest memory. Although even that had been better than this damned cave.
Alexei glanced at the other two Riders to see if either of them had noticed anything odd. Mikhail was out cold, his body curled up in a fetal position on the damp ground. Alexei couldn’t tell if his friend was sleeping or unconscious, but even from six feet away he could see that Mikhail’s face was too pale beneath the bruises and his breathing was shallow and uneven. The blond Rider had been captured weeks before the others and therefore had suffered the worst from the malignant attentions of the crazed witch.
Alexei scraped one large hand over his matted beard, tugging on it to keep himself from cursing out loud and drawing Brenna’s attention. He wasn’t at all convinced that she was right about the twisted magic giving her immortality, but he was beginning to believe that theirs was being drained away. Even he, once the strongest of the strong, felt weak and shattered; the others were in still worse shape. In truth, Alexei was no longer sure that any of them would survive this experience. Perhaps he was imagining the strange sensation—wishful thinking, or maybe the start of hallucinations.
But when he looked over at Gregori, the other Rider gave him a subtle nod. Alexei’s eyes widened. “Baba?” he mouthed, and Gregori twitc
hed one shoulder in an abbreviated shrug. Clearly he didn’t know.
Suddenly, Brenna stopped stirring, plopping her spoon down on the table and turning around to sniff the air. Alexei could see Gregori’s lips tighten in concern. If their message had miraculously reached one of the Babas and she was searching for them, Brenna couldn’t know. Brenna couldn’t know. The words echoed through Alexei’s head as if Gregori had said them out loud. After all these centuries together, it often seemed as though they no longer had to speak out loud to understand each other. They exchanged frustrated glances as Brenna spun in place, her nose practically twitching.
Alexei knew what he had to do. He might be weaker than usual, but he was still the strongest of them all. With a berserker yell, he threw himself against the bars that created an impenetrable cage around each Rider. They’d each tried testing their prisons in the beginning, so he knew exactly what came next. But there was no choice. Not if there was any possibility that the strange sensation meant even the tiniest chance of rescue.
The magic burned his fingers and palms, raced through his body so his bones felt like they were being etched by acid, his brain drowning in flames that fired the connections between neurons until all he could feel was pain. The smell of charring flesh rose from his hands, and still he clenched the bars, holding on until he blacked out and slid mercifully to the cold, hard ground.
The last thing he saw through blurring eyes was Brenna bending over him and cursing, completely distracted by his act of defiance. Got you, he thought. And then there was nothing.
TWELVE
BELLA WAS WOKEN out of a sound sleep by a loud thud, followed by the jarring sensation caused by an overly large cat bounding onto the bed, then onto her stomach, and then stretching his head up to the open window. She was so startled, she accidentally set the comforter on fire and had to beat it out with her hands. Luckily, she was immune to her own flames, but she was going to have to remember to renew the magical fireproofing on her belongings. As soon as she got through killing Koshka.
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