Elena’s left side was charred, the skin blackened and peeling. Her right hand was broken, covered in blood, and her arm bent at an impossible angle. But it was her eyes—open, glassy, frozen in pain and horror—that tore Teresa’s soul in two.
“Oh, my God. Elena.” This time she tenderly lifted her friend’s broken right hand and cupped it in both of hers. Elena’s skin was still warm. Hope leaped up inside Teresa. Blind, desperate hope. “She’s not dead. Not dead. Oh, God. God, she’s hurt bad.” Her words streamed from her in a never-ending flow of horror. Turning teary eyes frantically to her Eternal, Teresa begged, “Please. Help her. You can heal her. We can heal her.”
Chapter 18
R une looked at the body of the doctor and through his pity he felt a sharp stab of worry. One side of her body was burned. The injury was too deliberate. Too … perfect. His rage inflamed him as he realized that there was really only one possible explanation for what had happened here.
Teresa hadn’t drawn the same conclusion he had and he wouldn’t tell her his suspicion. But Rune knew that only an Eternal could have done this kind of damage so precisely.
Could one of his brothers have gone rogue?
Fury pumped raw and fierce throughout his huge body as he considered it, then denied it again immediately. He refused to believe that one of them was capable of such things.
And yet …
He locked his misgivings away for now. He would contact Torin as soon as there was an opportunity and talk about this. But at the moment, his witch needed him—and didn’t need more to worry about.
This Teresa was a revelation to him. In the last couple of hours, he had seen only the warrior side of his woman. Fierce, furious, ready to charge the doors of hell itself with no more than a glass of water with which to defend herself against the roaring flames. She had defied him, cursed him, made love with him, healed him and infuriated him.
Now, she had touched him more deeply than he would have thought possible. In her vulnerability, he saw the witch of his heart. His mate. The woman he would do anything for. The woman he would kill to possess. And he wished with all of his soul that he could somehow grant her the miracle she needed so desperately.
“Teresa …” He didn’t know much about the other dimensions beyond this one. His knowledge was based on centuries of existence. Of seeing countless millions of humans live, love and finally die. He knew of shades, the spiritual essence of those who refused to move on to the next life, instead clinging steadfastly to the one that was over. But Elena was not one of those. She would not be a ghost of herself, futilely trying to speak to the ones she had left behind.
She had moved on already.
“She’s gone, Teresa,” he said, his voice as gentle as it could be when dealing a shattering blow.
They had to leave. Her friend had been killed as a message to Teresa. Rune’s gaze snapped to the wide windows overlooking the narrow rain-drenched street beyond the glass. Somewhere out there, agents—hunters—were tracking her. Planning on locking her away or doing to her what had been done to this harmless woman.
His guts churning with a boiling cauldron of fury and the need for retribution, Rune deliberately kept his voice calm as he said, “We have to go. Now.”
At that moment, her bird flew down from the overhead light fixture to land on her shoulder. Rune couldn’t even seem to mind. It was as if the little creature sensed that its owner needed comfort.
Seconds ticked past until at last Teresa laid Elena’s hand down with a final stroke of her fingertips. Then she turned to Rune. The shock and pain still shone in those chocolate-brown eyes of hers, but the tears were drying and a flicker of anger rose up. “I want to find them. I want to hurt them like they hurt her.”
“I know.” Rune pulled her to her feet and she went, reluctantly. Pushing his fingers through her hair at her temple, he cradled her head in his palm. “And I feel the same. Your friend didn’t deserve this. The bastards who did it will pay, Teresa.”
She nodded, lifting her face to meet his. Fascinated, Rune watched her expression shift and change with the fleeting emotions that were charging through her. Misery, despair, hope and determination all showed themselves briefly on her features. And his admiration for her rose higher as she put her pain aside.
“We’ll go to Mexico. See my grandmother. We’re going to do what we have to do and then I’m going to find who did this to Elena and make them wish they’d never been born.”
“We will find them,” he corrected her.
She studied him for a heartbeat or two, then nodded again. “Yes, Rune. We.”
He pulled her in close and wrapped his arms around her.
When she whispered, “Take me away from here,” he called on the flames and granted her wish.
Chapter 19
On the other side of the country, President Cora Sterling, first female president of the United States, was having afternoon tea with a group of would-be radicals. As her thoughts wandered, she smiled to herself and wondered if Nixon had felt as out of place when he met with Elvis Presley at the White House. Of course, she thought, all Elvis had wanted was a badge from the Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs. Naturally enough, the director of the BNDD had refused Elvis’s request. But half an hour later, President Nixon had presented Elvis Presley with the badge himself.
Ironic, she mused, that Elvis had wanted to do his part in fighting the drug culture, only to die as a result of his own excesses seven years later. Still, Nixon had made an important step in meeting the popular singer: The nation had taken note and for one brief moment, the wildly disliked president had looked almost … cool.
Cora Sterling was in a different boat altogether. Her approval ratings were skyrocketing every day. Yet it wouldn’t hurt for the media to know that she was taking the time to meet with people hungering for change.
Glancing around the small, elegantly set table, she glanced from one eager young face to the next before finally settling on just one. Her own daughter, Deidre Sterling, was now the public face of RFW. Rights for Witches had been growing in popularity for the last several months, but it wasn’t until Deidre signed on that the group had attained any sort of credibility.
Before Deidre, RFW was dismissed as deluded rabble. Foolish people who refused to see the inherent dangers of witchcraft. They were mocked on cable news shows, and social networking pages were continuously throwing verbal stones. But Deidre had changed all that.
Cora looked at her daughter and felt that stir of pride she always experienced around her girl. At twentyseven, Deidre had a mind of her own and a spine of steel, just like her mother. Which, Cora admitted silently, didn’t always make her easy to deal with.
“Madam President.” One of the young women spoke up and Cora turned a pleasant smile toward her. The slim brunette’s cheeks flushed a bright pink and she opened and closed her mouth a few times, as if she was suddenly too nervous to speak.
Cora waited, since her long-held belief insisted that He who speaks first, loses.
“Mom,” Deidre said into the stiff silence, “we appreciate you meeting with us. We know how busy you are.”
Cora gave her daughter a smile, reached out and patted her hand, then turned back to the brunette. “Of course I’m happy to meet with bright young people filled with ideas.”
A couple of the women exchanged sharp looks as if trying to figure out whether or not they were being patronized. But finally, after having found her courage, the brunette spoke up again.
“Madam President, the RFW is determined to shut down the prison camps where women—”
“Internment centers, not prison camps,” Cora corrected and the brunette stiffened, but nodded.
“Fine. These ‘camps’ are dangerous.” Her brow furrowed and her eyes took on the glittering light of the true believer. “Men prey on the inmates and innocent women are being swept up in raids when they’ve done nothing to deserve it.”
Cora didn’t care for the woman’s atti
tude, but she really couldn’t help but admire her spunk.
“I’m sure you all mean well, and I really do respect the fact that you’re all so impatient to change the world,” Cora started to say.
“Impatient?” The brunette—what was her name? Ah, yes. Susan Baker—interrupted her. Cora frowned, but it didn’t keep the woman from continuing. “It’s been ten years since magic was revealed to the world and in that time the prejudice and hatred have only grown. If we’re not ‘impatient,’ more people will die.”
One of Cora’s eyebrows winged up. She wasn’t accustomed to being taken to task. And certainly not in her own parlor. As if picking up on her ire, one of the Secret Service agents stationed around the room moved closer. Cora gave him a slight shake of her head to let him know she was fine and could handle one overwrought young woman herself.
“I understand your passion,” she said, looking at the woman with the steady gaze that had gained her seventy percent of the popular vote in the last election. “In fact, I applaud it. But you must understand that change takes time. And effort.”
“We do, but—”
“Mom.”
She shifted her focus to Deidre, expecting common sense and support. She got neither.
Instead, her daughter said, “When you were elected you pledged to close the camps. It’s been two years and they’ve only expanded. All we’re asking you to do is to keep the promise you made.”
Cora stiffened. She didn’t like being corrected. Arguing with Deidre in the privacy of the family quarters, when it was just the two of them, was one thing. But showing a mutinous streak in front of strangers was not acceptable.
“Everything takes time, Deidre. You know that.”
She didn’t give an inch. Cora wasn’t sure whether to be proud or angry when Deidre countered, “But every day that goes by, women are dying.”
“Nonsense,” Cora said, waving one perfectly manicured hand to dismiss the notion, all the while making a mental note to take this conversation up with her daughter at a later date. For now, she simply said, “We’re not barbarians. This is a nation of laws, Deidre. All of our citizens have rights. Have you forgotten?”
Her daughter clammed up at last, but there was still an insubordinate gleam in her eyes.
A chubby redhead with a face full of freckles spoke up then, demanding Cora’s attention. All at once she felt as though she was sitting before a congressional hearing. She resented being treated in such a manner when she’d gone out of her way in agreeing to this meeting in the first place. Cora forced a smile as she faced the redhead.
“It’s not nonsense, Madam President. I’m from Wyoming and last week five women were killed in a camp outside Cheyenne.”
“I read about that accident.” In fact, Cora had received a complete briefing on the facts only yesterday. “Terrible. Just terrible. I understand there was a fire?”
“It was arson,” the redhead claimed.
“That’s a serious charge, young lady,” Cora said. At the rebuke, she saw the woman stiffen in insult. Well, she was young. As to whether she was a lady, Cora was less and less convinced of that fact as the meeting went on.
“Do you have proof of your accusation?” she asked, all business now. “My aides have been in contact with the warden and according to him, there was an accidental fire in the laundry area.”
“Was it accidental that the door was locked from the outside and the women had no chance of escape?”
Cora frowned and tapped her fingernails against the arm of the Louis XVI chair she sat in. She hadn’t heard about locked doors. Was it possible the warden had been less than forthcoming? “I’ll certainly look into the matter at once. These camps operate under a federal umbrella and as such are subject to the government’s oversight. If you’re correct, we’ll take action.”
“Don’t you get it, Mom?” Deidre asked quietly. “There is no oversight. These prisons are death traps. You swore you’d shut them down and—”
“Deidre,” Cora said, her voice icy, “I’m doing all I can—”
“It’s not enough,” the brunette said. “I’m sorry, Madam President, but if the government can’t take care of things, the people will.”
“Is that some sort of threat?” Cora asked, again waving away her ever-present Secret Service agent.
“Of course not.” Deidre spoke up quickly, shooting her friend a hard look. “But, Mother, women are dying and we can’t stand by and watch.”
Cora nodded. “I understand your impatience. I assure you, I will have this matter looked into at the highest level.”
Deidre gave her a broad, approving smile, but the other women didn’t look as pleased. Well, young and eager was good, but they also had to learn that the wheels of justice turned slowly enough that sometimes it seemed as though they were rolling backward.
Of course, Cora thought as she poured more tea, how things looked and how they actually were were often two very different things.
Chapter 20
Teresa’s heart and mind were shattered. She clung to Rune, the last stable point in her universe. She watched through slitted eyes as he called on the flames and swept them out of Sedona and into unfamiliar territory. Again and again, in a series of long jumps. But to Teresa, one stop was much like the other.
For two days they traveled, stopping only long enough to eat and sleep. They rested in the desert for a few hours the first night and then were on the move again early the next morning. When they were hungry, Rune would leave her somewhere safe, flash into a grocery store and help himself to the food they needed.
Teresa had never been much of a camper and this frenzied trip across Arizona and the border area wasn’t changing her mind on the subject. But Rune didn’t want to head directly to Chiapas. He felt that if they were being followed, it was worth the extra time it would take to throw the hunters off their trail first.
And so it went. On and on. Teresa was exhausted, but she couldn’t complain, since he was going to so much trouble to keep her safe. But it was more than being tired. Her heart hurt. She had been prepared for this madness—at least as much as she could have prepared. But her destiny had cost her friend her life.
Regret would be with her for the rest of her own life—whether that was a week or eternity.
Clinging to Rune’s broad shoulders, Teresa became numb to what was happening around her. A sudden stop, the fires that covered Rune would snap off and then come to life again before his blurring speed sent them back on the run. Again and again, he continued on, long into the night until blackness and fire were all she could see.
That made sense to her. Her soul was dark now, too, with the flames of rage burning at its center. Always she had prepared for this day, for her witchcraft to materialize and for her Eternal to show himself. But she had never expected to gain and lose so much all at the same time.
Rune stopped again and the fire surrounding them died away. This time, though, he didn’t flash them forward; he stayed perfectly still, holding her in the circle of his arms. They must be stopping for the night again and she was grateful for the reprieve.
She took comfort from his touch, so she forced herself to step back and away from him. He released her, as if he knew that she needed some space. For an immortal warrior, he was proving to be surprisingly understanding. If only he didn’t look at her with eyes that accused her of crimes she couldn’t even remember committing.
The moment he let her go, Teresa missed his warmth, his strength, but she had to stand on her own two feet. Regain her inner power. Soon the Mating ritual would begin and to face Rune as an equal, she had to find balance. She must become the witch she was destined to be. So she had to be strong in her own right.
Looking around, she couldn’t see anything beyond the star-filled sky overhead and the inky darkness of the desert. “Where are we?”
“Just across the border. We’re in Mexico.”
Chico lifted off her shoulder and flew in circles above their heads, as if the
tiny bird had needed a break, too. She watched him for a second, then nodded to Rune and pulled in a deep breath. Grateful to be away from Sedona, she said, “Good. That’s good. How far from Chiapas?”
“Far enough,” he told her. “For now, anyway. There’s a village ahead.” He pointed and Teresa shifted her gaze in that direction. All she saw was a smudge of pale light in the utter darkness ahead of them.
“We’re staying there?” Surprise colored her voice because for the last two days he’d deliberately kept her away from people.
“No,” he told her. “We’ll get some supplies, then head back into the desert. We’ll continue on after we’ve rested.”
Sleeping in the desert wasn’t something she could look forward to, Teresa thought, her mind filling with images of snakes and tarantulas and God knew what else. At least last night she hadn’t actually had to sleep on the sun-baked sand. Instead, Rune had found an abandoned shack for them to rest in.
She looked around again and realized there were no shacks out here. Then she turned her head and looked toward the distant village. There would be people there—so it would be dangerous. She could hope that word of what had happened in Sedona hadn’t traveled this far south already. But the reality was that the MPs were probably on their trail and who knew how far their reach extended.
Rune started walking, his long, easy strides forcing her to run to keep up with him. Her boots kicked at dirt and sand, and she had to fight past the fatigue clawing at her. She hadn’t slept well last night. Her dreams were haunted not only by her own past but also by images of what her enemies had done to Elena. All she really wanted, Teresa thought, was to find some safe, quiet corner where she could curl up and whimper.
Which sounded so damn cowardly, it made her shudder. In response to that stray wienerlike thought, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin.
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