by Jaime Rush
He glanced up at the moon, feeling its rays as strongly as he felt the sun’s. “The only evil is what we create in ourselves.”
“So you don’t believe Yurek or people who kill are evil?”
“They are beings who stray from their path. I kill. Am I evil?” Was he almost as bad as they?
“No.” She stepped closer. “Are you happy doing what you do?”
“I don’t think I’d use the word ‘happy.’ I do it because I feel a deep need to. It fulfills me. But I can’t say I like killing anything, even if it deserves to die.” He couldn’t see her eyes, only shadows, orbs. She looked otherworldly with the moonlight kissing her hair in a halo. If he didn’t start the ceremony now, he’d be kissing her, too. “Ready?”
She nodded, holding out her hands. “What do I do?”
“You have to make the cut yourself. Hold out your nondominant hand like this.” He took her cool hand in his and held it faceup. With his finger he traced a line in the center of her palm. “Just a small cut, about here.”
She placed the blade where his finger had just been and squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t even like getting shots. I look away.” She took a breath and moved the blade. He knew how sharp it was; it would take nothing to slice her skin. She gasped but let out no other sound. He saw the line of blood form. He took his knife and sliced his palm, too.
Cupping her hands, he held them up to the moonlight. “We dedicate this knife to the protection of the blood of the innocent.” After a pause, he added, “Let this knife become yours, Petra.”
Looking at her gazing up at the moon, her expression so serious, took his breath away. She looked at him then, and he could feel the depth of her emotions. He felt her fingers graze his, and then she pressed their palms together. “Now I’m yours, too.”
Those words reverberated within him, like an echo bouncing deep within endless caverns. He closed his eyes and forced out the words, “You are mine, but I can never have you.”
She twined her fingers tightly through his. “You can have me.”
Those words crumbled him, sucking away his resistance. He felt the pieces of his heart fall away like shards of glass. He kissed her, soft, completely in control, and yet . . . not completely, because then he wouldn’t be kissing her at all. But he let himself taste her, because he’d been living on the memory of that one kiss for too long. For a few seconds he got lost in her, his fingers threading through her soft, long hair, breathing her in, feeling her tongue moving against his.
Too long. Too late.
He finished the kiss. No, not too late. He pressed his forehead against hers, listening to her breathing for several seconds.
“I didn’t just imagine how spectacular that kiss was,” she said on a breathy sigh. “I thought I’d built it up in my imagination because you were my mysterious savior. But . . . no. Dangit.”
He stepped back enough to see her, pulling her fingers from his but keeping her hands in his grip. “And if we went further, it would be even harder to back away.”
“Then don’t back away.”
She was killing him, and he didn’t use that phrase lightly. “You see what my world is like. What kind of man would I be to bring you into this?”
She squeezed his hands. “Walk away. Stop living in the darkness.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Because you can’t go against your father’s wishes?” Her voice had taken on an edge, her mouth tightening.
“Hell, Petra, I’m not doing this to please my daddy.” He shook free of her.
“Then why? Why does it have to be you?”
“Who else is going to do this job? What do you think that classified ad would read like? ‘Dangerous job fighting otherworldly beings, no pay, fame, or glory. Death possible. Slobber likely. Injuries always. Must distance yourself from family and friends for their protection.’ ”
She put her hands on either side of his face, and he smelled the copper of her blood. “When I was looking at those pictures, I wasn’t thinking you were a deranged stalker. It hit me what you’d said earlier about planning to come to the Tomb to help even though your father had seen your death. You were going to take any chance that you could to save me, knowing you would probably die.”
Her voice thickened with emotion. “That is a big deal. You don’t do that for someone you only care about. You do that for someone you love.” Her fingers stroked his face, weakening him as much as her words.
Still in control.
He brushed her hair from her face, feeling the wet tracks on her cheeks. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t deny or confirm what she was guessing.
She took a jagged breath. “I felt our connection that night you brought Zoe to us. When you grabbed me so I wouldn’t scream and give you away. When you summoned me from my bed. I didn’t understand what it was then.”
It was the first time he’d touched her. Agony and pleasure at once.
“Then when you saved my life and kissed me, and said how hard it was to stay away . . .”
“Agony,” he said, because the word was pounding inside his head. Her hands on him, her heart in her voice.
Her sigh was as soft as the breeze that whispered through the pines. “H-E-L-L. Sometimes I thought I’d dreamed you up. But it was all too vivid, too real, and Zoe had seen you, too. You were a terrible ache inside me, and I didn’t understand why it hurt so much. Knowing the truth doesn’t make it any better.”
“That’s why I stayed away from you, to keep you safe, to save you from feeling the ache I’ve felt most of my life.”
“Too late. I’m here and you’re here, and we’re stuck together.”
It was incredibly hard to pull her hands from his face. “We keep our heads so we keep you alive, and Pope alive, and then you go back to that safe, normal life you loved not long ago.” He let go of her hands. “We have to go. I have two people to kill.”
“And after that, you’ll have more to kill. And more.”
Weariness sank its claws into him. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry I insinuated that you’re the kind of man who would kowtow to your father’s wishes. I know it’s much more than that.”
“I do what I do to protect the innocent, Petra. It’s what I live for. And someday it’ll be what I die for.”
Only then would he be free of the ache that consumed him, the losses he’d suffered, including when he sent her back to her life.
He walked to the house, hearing and feeling her beside him but keeping his gaze on his surroundings, as he always did. His night sight was exceptional, a carryover from his cat, but the trees hid much in their depth.
Pope was still studying the maps when they walked back inside. He looked up at them, his eyes narrowing as he homed in on Cheveyo. “You have blood on your cheek.”
“Sorry, I tried to wipe it all off out there.” Petra reached over, but he stilled her hand.
“I’ll take care of it. Come here.” He walked to a cabinet just outside the kitchen and opened it, pulling out a roll of gauze and a tube. He gestured for her to give him her hand, and he put a dab of tea tree oil on the slice and then wrapped the gauze around it. The strong scent, antiseptic and yet pleasant, opened his sinuses. He dabbed the oil on his cut, too. It was his imagination, he was sure, that made him feel their intermingled blood as it tingled through his body. “Get your things. It’s time to go.” He walked over to Pope, who was now standing. “Do you have a handle on the area?”
“Enough, I believe.”
He hefted the backpack he’d readied and set it on the coffee table. “Survival supplies. Hopefully I can intercept them before they get here, but you must be ready. Signal me if you sense anything, and I’ll be back.”
“Don’t you mean ‘we’?” Pope nodded toward where Petra had gone.
The wood floor down the hall creaked as she walked out, pausing, it seemed, to hear his answer.
“We,” he confirmed. “But me as much as possible.” He turned to her. “I expect
you to obey my every command, whether you agree or not. Understand? I can’t have you running all over doing your own thing. If I’m worrying about you, I’m not paying attention to what’s in front of me. Got it?”
She saluted him. “Got it, captain. Or sergeant. Or whatever.”
He had a bad feeling that this was as obedient as she was going to get. To Pope he said, “I— We know what they’re driving. They won’t be looking for us in an RV, so we should have the advantage. I’ll keep you informed.”
He followed her through the side door to the outbuilding. A board on the walkway squeaked, too. As soon as they cleared the door, he grabbed her from behind, spinning her. She reached for the knife but he had her on the ground and pinned beneath him before she could get a grip on it.
“Dangit,” she said, her fingers still flexing in vain.
“You’re not ready.”
“I think you just like tackling me.”
He did, but that wasn’t the point. He got to his feet and reached out to help her, but she jumped up on her own again. Very unprincesslike. A good sign. But not good enough.
Chapter 11
While Cheveyo drove back the way they’d come in, Petra worked on getting her knife out quickly. She could not cut her getting-ready time down, but she could work on her reaction time with the knife. When there were no cars to search, she saw him watching her from the corner of his eye.
He still had a speck of blood on his cheek. There was something intimate about her blood being on him, and maybe it was a little bit gross, but she wasn’t going to tell him just yet.
“That’s wrong,” he said, making her wonder if he’d read her thoughts.
“What?”
“That you should have to practice pulling a knife out of your sheath. You should be having margaritas with your girlfriends or shopping or something. I hold Pope responsible for you having to become . . .”
She sat down, swiveling the chair to face him. “Become what?”
“A warrior.”
“When I should just be a princess.”
He shrugged. “I’m just saying.”
She liked being a princess, loved shopping, and would like to have margaritas with girlfriends, if she had any besides the Offspring women who’d gone on with their lives. But as she flicked her hand down and came up with the knife, something thrummed through her body like the low beat of a distant tribal drum. Even the sting of the cut on her palm felt good, weird as that was.
Warrior.
Not a go-out-and-kill things warrior, but a protect-my-people warrior.
Cheveyo had sunk into his thoughts again, scanning the roadway.
She put the knife back in the holster. “When you’ve come to me, to summon me or whatever, have you ever seen images of my life?”
“Sometimes.” Which meant always; she suspected he was playing it down.
“I saw things when I contacted you, like pieces of your life, even when you were a boy. Some were pretty scary.” Just remembering it thickened her throat.
He didn’t respond, but she saw his mouth tighten.
“And I can feel your loneliness, sadness, when you’re sleeping and aren’t blocking it.” She leaned forward. “Do you have anyone to talk to? You can’t hold all that in. Talk to me.”
“I don’t have time to get all touchy feely with my feelings.”
“Actually, we do, until we find Yurek.” She dug her elbows into her thighs, bracing her chin on her hands. “So unload on me.”
“Let me think about it.”
She waited as patiently as she could. Finally she said, “Well?”
“I’m thinking.”
More silence. “You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?”
“Nope.” He turned at the next intersection and doubled back.
“I just want to help.”
“You’re a healer, Petra. I understand, that’s who you are. But you cannot heal me. Just like you couldn’t heal my scars, you can’t heal the scars inside me. I don’t want you in there trying. Right now we’re together because we have to be. But after I squash these sons of bitches, you are going back to your life and I am going back to mine.”
“Who are you trying to protect? Me or you?”
“Both of us.”
Well, at least he wasn’t going to try to sell it as something he was doing just to protect little ol’ her. Which meant, she realized, he didn’t want to hurt either.
She gave him a salute again, knowing he was right, the bastard. Look how much it hurt when he hadn’t contacted her, and that was after only one kiss. “I get that we’re not going to be together. And you know what? I don’t want to be part of the world you seem hell-bound to. I just thought I could help—”
“You can’t.”
“Fine.”
A few minutes later, when he stopped at another light, he blew out a breath of frustration. “This isn’t working.”
Trying to shut her out? “What isn’t?”
“Driving around like this. It’s too dark to see inside most of the vehicles on the desolate stretches of road. I could feel their Geo Wave, but that’s only if they’re close. I’m going back to the road leading to my place, stake out the entrance. I don’t want them that close to Pope, but I can alert him when they arrive and cut them off before they reach the house.”
He turned around. “I want you to stay in the Tank, out of the fray but close enough so you know what’s going on. Be ready to face them if it comes to that, but don’t put yourself out there in the battlefield.”
She remembered well the scene at her townhouse and by the river. Fear clutched at her throat and squeezed her chest. “What happens if you’re hurt?” She didn’t want to think about the unspoken or worse.
Alarm sparked in his expression. “Take the bike. Best to run than engage. Have you ever driven a motorcycle before?”
“No.”
“I need to give you some lessons.”
Oh, boy.
He started giving her instructions, “In case we don’t have a chance to do it hands-on.”
Her phone rang. Amy’s cell number appeared on the screen. Fear trilled through her. Was the baby all right? Had Yurek somehow found out about them?
“What’s going on?” she answered, hearing the panic in her voice. She forced a smile that she hoped Amy could hear. “I mean, hey, how’s it going?”
“You sound uptight. Things not going well with Mr. Gooey and Dewy?”
Petra laughed. “Things are going positively juicily.”
“Snap a pic and send it to me. I want to see what this guy looks like.”
As surreptitiously as possible, she angled her phone and took a picture. He glanced over at the phony camera click, narrowing his eye at her, but switched his attention back to the road.
“Ooh, yummy,” Amy said a few seconds later. “I can totally understand why you get gooey and dewy. Of course, I’m a little prejudiced since he looks like Lucas. Are you in an RV?”
“Yeah, he’s showing me Arizona, where he lives.”
“Hell of a first date. Maybe this will cure you of the buy-everything-for-everyone thing you’ve been going through.”
“That’s not a thing, it’s just me.”
“That’s you buying stuff to fill a hole that things can’t fill. But I think he has a lot to do with that hole, and it sounds like things are going great.”
Great. Yeah, just great. And she was going to have to explain why they weren’t together when this was over.
“Anyway,” Amy said, “I sent you a picture, too.”
She checked her in-box and gasped. “The sonogram! Does this mean . . . ?”
“No, we don’t know the gender. The tech blocked it out at our request.”
“Damn you.” She stared, trying to spot telltale anatomy. Heck, she couldn’t figure out where the baby was, much less the blacked-out part.
“It’s a healthy baby, that’s the important thing,” Amy added, obviously taking pity on her
curiosity.
“A healthy baby.” Petra’s voice had gotten all gooey and dewy on that. “Baby Vanderwyck. I’m so happy for you both.”
And jealous, but mostly happy. She felt something else, though, building inside her, closing up her throat. “This tiny baby . . . so helpless. We have to keep her safe.”
Amy clearly thought that was a strange thing to say at the moment. “Uh . . . well, sure. Feed him, change diapers, and keep him safe, that’s what our jobs will be.”
She imagined that tiny little fetus growing inside Amy’s body, so fragile, and then Yurek hiding in some dark corner, waiting to kill them.
“She’s just an innocent,” she whispered at that terrifying picture. Cheveyo looked over at the use of that word in his golden rule.
“Yeah, for as long as we can manage it,” Amy said, an unsure tone in her voice. “I knew you’d be excited, but you sound a little weird, actually.”
“I am excited. Blown away. Seeing the baby . . . it’s real. She’s real.” She touched the screen. “She’s really real.” And she would do everything in her power to protect her.
“Yeah, he is. We’re calling it he for now, instead of it. I’m kinda hoping it’s a boy. Less complicated. I’m freaking, but I’ve got a few more months to get used to the idea. Me, a mom. Lucas, a dad. It’s mad bizarre.”
She wasn’t sure why she kept calling the baby she. “I hope it’s a girl. Then I can buy her lots of clothes, oh, all the cute, frilly little—”
“Promise me you’re not going to run out and buy a bunch of girl clothes till after the baby comes.”
“Sure, take away all my joy.”
“Promise me, Petra.”
“Okay, okay, I promise.” But she was already imagining matching hats and booties.
Cheveyo’s head jerked to the right as they crossed paths with a car. “That was them.”
“I’ve got to go,” Petra said. “We’re meeting some friends of Cheveyo’s for drinks. He just saw them. Tell the baby hi for me.”
She disconnected while he turned the Tank in a tight turn, considering its length. “I’m in.”
“What?”
She got to her feet. “I’m in, one hundred percent. I won’t let Yurek take Pope back and SCANE him. I won’t let the Collaborate find out about the people in my life. I’m not about to let anyone hurt this precious baby.” She held up her phone and pointed to the picture on the screen.
