But, finally, he had to let her go, and he accepted that. He forced his fingers to unwrap themselves from the silken copper of her hair, the pad of his thumb tracing a final farewell under her cheekbone. She caught his hand and kissed the knuckle.
“Don’t forget,” he murmured.
~*~
“Oh, my. Touching, is it not, Josiah?” The Dark One turned to Kemp with a smarmy grin. “I wonder...how does it feel, seeing your old nemesis pawing this—this child of your loins—so to speak?”
Kemp didn’t look at the demon. Instead, he turned toward Rafe and Jenni when he answered. “I don’t think of it that way. Doesn’t bother me at all.”
Kemp glanced at the demon, and saw by his expression Milo knew he’d intended to put him out. The grin faded completely, but Kemp didn’t look away. The wind blew restlessly through the trees, nearly extinguishing the small campfire.
“Let’s get this show started,” Kemp said, through lips as dry and brittle as July prairie grass. This was going to be easier than he had thought, now that the demon had evened the odds against him. Maybe this would go a ways toward what he owed the d’Angelicos. He walked a few steps away from the group and gestured idly toward the far end of the clearing. “Why don’t you mosey on down there, d’Angelico, and let’s get this over with.”
Rafe met his eyes. “Can I trust you not to shoot me in the back this time around?”
Kemp smiled. “It won’t happen again.”
~*~
It sounded like a promise. Rafe’s eyes narrowed. What won’t happen again? You shooting me in cold blood? Or me dying?
This is your chance, Rafe. I’m giving it to you. He couldn’t help remembering the way those words exploded into his mind. Who put them there? Kemp? Maybe not. Maybe this little penny-ante demon put them there—and they aren’t true at all. Laughable, anyway. What chance?
Rafe glanced down the length of the clearing, roughly thirty feet away, to where he would need to position himself. It would put him close to the well-hidden path that led to the cave. But Jenni would still be up here, where they stood now, too far away—
“G’won down yonder and square off, Marshal.” Kemp nodded toward the far end of the clearing.
He seemed unconcerned as hell, Rafe thought.
“Take ’at girl down there with ya...so’s I can see my next target—when I’m done with you.”
Rafe turned to look at Cris. Had he caught it, too? Or was Rafe putting too much hope into what seemed to be transpiring? Kemp never set up multiple targets—even cans—saying they were too distracting. It was a clue Rafe could not ignore. But how far could he trust it?
He could see Cris recognized their dilemma, as well, his expression remaining unchanged but for his eyes. Yet, what else could they do? And where the hell was Beck?
~*~
Jenni held out the cigarette case to Kemp. She was grateful, at least that this strange man who was her great-great grandfather had given her the chance to examine the heirloom. So many questions...but none of them mattered now. This was as close as she’d ever get to knowing her great-great grandparents.
Kemp waved her off, as if she was no more important than a bothersome fly, rather than someone he was preparing to murder. “Hang on to it,” he said harshly. “I’ll take it off of you before we bury you.” He gave her a cursory glance. “G’won down yonder like I said. You’re next.”
Jenni couldn’t help but gasp at his cold words.
“Methinks Miss Dalton should remain—with me,” the demon said, tilting his chin up into the air aristocratically.
Kemp gave him a stony stare. “We’re doin’ this my way. I like my targets all lined up—an’ I’m the one doin’ the shootin’.” His tone was deadly, all but inviting Milo to challenge him—if he dared. “This is how I want it. How it’s gotta be.” He tipped his hat back, then casually drew his gun and checked the chambers, as if dismissing him outright.
The Dark One dropped his posturing, his eyes looking like electric green shards of glass. “I’m counting on you, Josiah,” he purred in a slick voice. “Don’t disappoint me.”
Kemp ignored him and Rafe took Jenni’s arm as they walked toward the other end of the clearing.
“When I shoot, you head for the cave,” he whispered. “Don’t look back, Jen.”
She nodded. “What about you?”
He didn’t say anything for a minute. As they reached the place he needed to be to make this final stand, he turned to her, the moonlight illuminating them as bright as day. “It’s been a hell of a ride.” His voice was quiet, low, and infinitely gentle as he released her arm. “Step away, Jenni.”
She knew, he was saying goodbye, trying to prepare himself to face Kemp, to help her— She wasn’t sure she wanted help, if it meant living without Rafe. How would she do that? she wondered. How could this be happening? How could God let this—this farce take place?
“Jenni—”
She looked up at Rafe, a lump in her throat. “I’ll always love you.” She sounded hoarse and choked, but by some miracle, she kept the tears back.
He nodded. “I know.” She moved away on nerveless legs, his voice coming to her on the wind. “Remember—”
She turned back to look at him only after she had moved to a tree several yards away, out of the line of fire.
Seeing that Jenni was safe, Rafe gave his full attention to Kemp. He stood, feet apart, hand close to his gun, and Kemp took the stance as well.
~*~
“Go for it, Rafael!” Kemp called.
Rafe gave a mirthless chuckle, hiding his own impatience. “I’m ready when you are, Joe.” This time around.
Kemp made a sudden move for his pistol. Rafe’s hand was like lightning as he grabbed leather. The plain walnut wood felt smooth and good—right—in his hand. He remembered everything, as if he were moving with the muddy speed of weighted limbs, as if he were living in his own nightmare. He brought the gun up, no longer with the leaden feeling that had colored everything else up until this moment. Now, he was faster than he’d ever been before, afraid it wasn’t going to be fast enough. Everything depended on him—on killing Kemp. He pulled the trigger with no hesitation, and there was a flash of fire.
Kemp staggered back into an oak tree, then slid slowly to the ground. He had never drawn his gun.
CHAPTER 29
Cris hurried to kneel beside Kemp, not looking toward Rafe, hoping that his brother was using this time to try to make his way to the cave with Jenni, unnoticed.
“You never got clear,” Cris whispered. Kemp had time. He could have gotten the gun free and fired—if he’d really wanted to. Cris looked into Kemp’s pain-filled eyes. “Why?”
Blood ran freely from the hole in Kemp’s chest. He gave a shaky smile. “She’s the only...good thing I ever—they deserve a chance—” he grimaced in agony. Behind Cris, Milo sauntered toward them. Kemp clutched at Cris’s sleeve with bloody fingers. “You’ll—tell her...and Rafe—”
“Tell them what, Joe?”
“I’m...sorry.”
Cris nodded.
Then, there was no more time. The demon stood above Kemp and Cris, blocking out the moonlight. “Josiah, you sorry bastard,” he said, taking a cigar from his pocket. It lit instantly, and he bent low, squatting beside Kemp, across from Cris. He drew deep on the pungent tobacco, then exhaled, watching Kemp’s eyes. “Care for a smoke, Josiah?”
Kemp shook his head, a weary grin on his lips. “No. Don’t want anything you’ve got. You’re all...show—no substance.”
The demon’s eyes were harsh, the lines about his lips drawn and taut. “But you have something I want—something I wanted,” he corrected tightly. “It’s not too late. You can still be of assistance.”
“No,” Kemp replied, some of his old defiance creeping into his tone despite the waves of pain that swept over him.
Cris could see his one-time friend’s determination not to give in to Milo—no matter what the demon offered.
Milo sat back on his haunches with a snarl, his eyes glittering. “Bring me the woman!” he called over his shoulder.
Cris felt a tightening in his chest. He was only a relative beginner at this game—and he was alone. Where the hell was Beck? “Why don’t you just give it up!” he snapped.
“Oh, Cristian, you are so—engaging. Unfortunately, I can’t just ‘give it up’ as you say. Too much is at stake for me.” The demon looked at Kemp and rose to his feet. “You will do as I ask, Josiah, or—”
“What? You’ll—kill me? Again?” Kemp coughed and spat blood.
“You’ll wander,” the demon said coldly. “For all eternity. You’ll belong to neither the angels nor to Hell. You’ll be alone. Achingly, abominably alone—forever. That’s what happens to souls who can’t be—taught.”
Kemp mustered his bravado. “I’m used to it. Been alone my—my whole life.”
One of the desperadoes approached from the side. “Boss, she ain’t here.”
Milo turned quickly. “What? She’s not here?” Cris followed the demon’s glance past the man to where Jenni had stood just minutes earlier. She was nowhere in sight, and Rafe was gone, as well. Milo had forgotten them in his anger at Kemp’s defiance. “Find them!” he roared, his voice swelling to fill the clearing and the forest beyond, until it sounded like the rumble of threatening thunder.
Cris watched as the demon turned his glare on Kemp, who seemed to be only managing to take each slow breath until his last one came.
“Let the hunt begin.”
~*~
Jenni had waited just long enough to see Rafe was unharmed before she turned and fled into the woods, up the trail behind her. He’d be right behind her, she told herself. And she’d be there, waiting for him to join her in the safety of the cave. The full moon lit the way, so she had no need for a lantern here.
Her thoughts careened crazily as she ran, pushing past branches swiping at her face, brambles reached out to claw at her clothes, until finally she made it out of the little thicket into another clearing. Her heart pounded as she started up the incline, toward the cave, tracing the way easily.
The trail began to narrow and become steeper. Jenni cast a glance behind her as a twig snapped. She could see nothing. She didn’t need to. She knew they’d be there...Milo and his men. Maybe it was Rafe. Maybe she should wait for him.
The cave wasn’t much further. She could see it now—
“Jenni...help me!”
She whirled and stood still, breathing hard. “Rafe?” Her voice emerged breathless and soft.
Keep going, Jenni. It’s not him. Not him. Keep going. Don’t stop. It couldn’t be Rafe. He had told her not to look back.
She turned and started up the path again, running this time.
“Jenni, wait! I—I need you!”
Where was Rafe? Her mind tumbled with indecision. She had to get to safety, but what if it was Rafe? What if he needed her—maybe Kemp hadn’t missed, after all. She stopped and turned again, but could see no one. He wouldn’t ask you to wait. Keep going.
But it sounded like him, she argued with herself. She bit her lip. Evil can take any form. She glanced at the cave, just a few feet away. She started forward again, resolutely, her hand covering her belly protectively for a moment before she hurried on.
She gained the ledge and heard small pebbles roll aside behind her, further down the path. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw movement. A brief glimpse in the moonlight of the familiar blue chambray let her know Rafe was behind her—but not close enough to have called to her earlier—
Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of lightning and a fierce blast of gusting wind. Jenni blinked, stumbling back precariously for an instant. When she opened her eyes, the Dark One towered three times his size, blocking the path between her and Rafe. She gasped, breathless at the flash and noise. Her heart fell. She stood a few feet from the safety of the cave, but the demon blocked Rafe’s way.
Milo glanced down at her from his great height, then turned back toward Rafe. His laughter seemed to fill the air around them. “I can’t play fair, it seems, d’Angelico,” he smirked.
Rafe stood at the foot of the path, breathing hard. He must have tangled with some of Milo’s men, then seized the chance, when it came, to run. Only he hadn’t run quite soon enough.
Jenni inched toward the cave, her back to the mountain behind her, the waterfall as tranquil and timeless as always, before her. Her left foot touched something, and she glanced down. It looked like an old medical bag. She looked around quickly then nudged it toward the cave entrance. It was heavy, but it moved.
“I only want the woman, Rafael. For...sacrificial purposes.” Milo leaned down close to Rafe. “Since Kemp was too lily-livered to complete his task properly, the only other way to be sure this—problem—is ended once and for all, is through sacrifice.”
His voice was deafening, Jenni thought, echoing off the walls of the mountain and all through the forest. There was no place safe from it. From him. No place except the cave.
She bent at the waist slowly and wrapped her fingers around the handle of the bag, then straightened, picking it up.
“Don’t move, Miss Dalton, or your lover is dead,” the demon threatened. “He won’t be hard to kill—now that he’s human. It will be such a pleasure.”
“Get inside, Jenni!” Rafe shouted, his gaze locked with Milo’s.
“You better hope she doesn’t, now that you’re human again, Marshal. I have only to think it, and you die. I can make it quite—painful.”
Jenni stepped closer to the entrance. She could turn and throw herself inside, if she wanted. If she wanted to kill Rafe.
“Becket Jansen, where in thunder are you!” she hissed under her breath.
The demon lifted his head as if scenting his quarry, and a predatory smile spread across his lips. His face twisted grotesquely, becoming pitted and old, and Jenni saw Rafe take a step back in recognition.
The demon glared down at Rafe, his face swirling and dissolving only to re-form as that of the priest Rafe had killed so long ago, Father Ignatius.
~*~
“Of all the cheap tricks,” Rafe muttered. “Wish this Colt worked on you.” He was pissed. As pissed as he could be, and still leave room in his gut for the cold fear that lived there for Jenni and her safety.
He didn’t want to call out to her again, to remind the demon of his true reason for being there. So he waited, staring up at the face of the priest he’d thought to never see again. The eyes were just as flat and cruel as he remembered, the flesh old and weathered, as if ravaged by time...and his own horrific sins.
“You made a terrible mistake, Rafael. Your eternal soul will be mine before this night is over.”
Rafe gave a mirthless chuckle. Well, so be it. Could he buy enough time for Jenni to get into the cave undetected?
He kept his eyes trained on the hateful visage towering above him, unwilling to risk looking even farther up to where Jenni stood. “I don’t think that’ll happen,” he replied contemptuously. And even if it did, he was beyond caring.
“Let’s play...” the voice boomed.
Pain suddenly ripped through Rafe’s left side—a bullet—though no shot had sounded. It was so harsh and swift it stole his breath completely for an instant. He exhaled a curse and grabbed instinctively to cover the gaping wound at his side, holding back the blossoming red across his shirt.
Jenni—His eyes sought her as she screamed his name. She stood just inches from the cave. He wanted to yell at her for being so damn stubborn, yet he knew he couldn’t fault her—he’d ’ve done the same as she, had the situation been reversed. Hell of a choice. Save herself—kill him. Yet, he knew what she couldn’t: he was going to die, either way. He could taste her fear in his own mouth, feel her desperation—
“I don’t need a weapon. I don’t need skill. I don’t even need luck, d’Angelico. You let yourself become human—and for what? The love of a woman? You’ll never have her,
you know.” The demon’s voice was a smug, relentless force, pounding in Rafe’s head.
A sneer wrapped itself around Milo’s face. “Where’s your precious Becket Jansen now? He seems to have forgotten you...and the lovely Miss Dalton.”
Yes. God yes. Beck, where the hell are you? Christ, I’m bleeding to death and I can’t fight this bastard alone.
Blinding pain shot swift and sudden across Rafe’s back as if it had been cut to ribbons with dozens of knives—or a master at arms with a good arm and a sturdy whip.
“I do so love a good flogging, Rafe. A pity I don’t have time to administer it properly. You remember the way I used to flog you–at the mission? Any excuse would do. You were so helpless, you and your brother—” He sighed gustily. “You can’t expect to get away with what you did to save Cristian that night, Rafael. I must say, I did hate to lose Father Ignatius. But, no matter. He’ll be back. When the time is right.”
“Bastard—” Rafe’s voice was a hoarse whisper.
“Stop it!” Jenni screamed when she saw Rafe stagger under the pain. “You’re killing him! Please—I’ll do whatever you want—”
“Jenni, no! I’m dead anyway—no matter what!” Rafe shook the sweat from his eyes, tried to clear his thoughts. He was growing weaker, losing blood—could hardly think or speak for the encompassing agony.
Suddenly, the waterfall seemed to throw off a prism of a million lights, and the ground began to shake under them. Beck was here. Rafe could feel it.
In the next instant the Dark One’s features twisted again, shattering and fragmenting for a moment in his anger as his harsh shout of denial shook the forest and the mountain.
It was the opening Rafe had been hoping for, and as the towering figure before him dissolved momentarily, immediately beginning to re-form, he barreled up the path toward Jenni and the cave, knowing this was the only way she’d go in—with him beside her.
~*~
She turned to toss the bag inside the cave entrance, then reached for him as he faltered. She pulled his arm around her neck feeling their time ticking away with each step they took.
Time Plains Drifter Page 21
