by Sandy James
Lost in his thoughts, he came tumbling back to Earth when Rebecca’s wet fingertips slowly rubbed his lower lip. “I…”
“What, sweeting?” He playfully nipped at her fingers. “What do you want from me?”
“I want you to kiss me again. Like in my cabin,” Rebecca whispered. “Would you please kiss me, Art—”
His mouth came down hard on hers. They had no time, no chance and no future. He would take what he could for whatever time they had together, and now he took all she had to offer.
It was a kiss of total possession, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, mating with hers. She trembled in his arms but returned his kiss with abandon. One of her arms rose to drape around his neck, her fingers lacing through his hair. Her other hand rubbed his chest, tangling through the patch of crisp hair. He growled his approval, splaying his hand between her shoulder blades, slanting his mouth across hers.
Artair pulled away from the kiss to trace his lips down her neck, pressing them against her pulse point, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in his wake.
“Ah, lass, I want you,” he whispered in her ear.
“We can’t,” she quietly replied. Her hand tickled down his chest, moving lower.
He wanted to take her torturing hand and lead it to his cock. Touching her, loving her, made him so hard it was painful. He wanted to feel those small hands caress him, wanted to show her how much she meant to him.
He caught a rustling through the trees.
With a Gaelic curse, he took her hand in his and pulled it away a second before she would have had his cock in her grasp. “Someone approaches.” She seemed slow to understand—the passion still darkening her eyes. “Lass, someone’s coming.”
Rebecca glanced to the woods and must have also seen the movement in the trees. “Oh, my God. Someone is coming.” She slipped off his lap and headed to the stone steps, clearly upset as she stumbled her way up. “Where’s my towel? Where’s your kilt?”
He refused to get flustered and leaned back against the wall. “’Tis called a plaid, Becca mine.”
“I don’t give a damn what it’s called. Where is it?” She turned back to Artair, the worry plain on her face. “If she finds us, Rhiannon will be furious.”
“Celt? Where the hell are you?” Sparks shouted.
Artair cursed again. Rebecca had already scrambled out of the water and was hastily wrapping her towel around herself like a cocoon.
Sparks stomped through the cover of the trees, took one look at them and set her hands against her hips. Artair almost laughed at her Sentinel stance, a bit proud she’d mimic him so closely.
“I knew it! I can’t leave you two alone for one damn minute!” A small plume of smoke rose from her bright hair, and the smell of burning pine wafted through the air.
He grinned. “How did you find me?”
“Rhiannon came to talk to you. You weren’t there. Then she wanted to talk to Earth. She wasn’t around, either. I put two and two together when I saw Dolan coming out of the woods. He took one look at me, immediately turned into a rabbit and scurried away. I almost chased his little cottontail ass down.”
“I didn’t ken you knew about this place.” Artair would stay in the hot spring until the women were gone. While it was exciting to have Rebecca staring at his body with open appreciation, he didn’t think Sparks needed to get an eyeful of her Sentinel.
Sparks chuckled. “Only since 1942.” She patted the pockets of her jeans.
He chuckled back, hoping to inflict a little pain as payback for her invasion of his privacy. The Guardian had impeccably bad timing. “Looking for yer wee cigarettes?”
She scowled at him before she directed the same nasty look at Rebecca. “Rhiannon’s mighty pissed. She said she’d come back when you weren’t so busy. Didn’t you feel the earthquake?”
Rebecca glanced at Artair. He shrugged. She frowned. Then she grabbed her clothes and hurried away from the glen, dashing through the trees like a frightened doe.
The Guardian glared at the Sentinel. “This isn’t good, Artair. The goddess was fuming.”
“Let her fume. You should’ve let us be. ’Tis nae yer concern what there is between Becca and I, Sparks.”
“’Tis my concern, ye stubborn Celt. I’m her wee Guardian,” she replied, tweaking his already sour temper with her fake brogue.
He shot her a frown.
“I know you’re leaving soon, but that doesn’t mean you can just go around breaking the rules. Rebecca can’t go back with you. You realize that, right?”
“Of course.” His mind knew. His heart preferred to remain ignorant.
“So you’re just going to screw her then run back to the real world?”
“I wouldn’t shame the lass that way, and you damn well know it.”
“Stay away from her,” she demanded, her voice harsh.
His scowl deepened.
“Stay away from her. You’re not stupid. You know that if we’re called to fight, and your feelings make you try to protect her, someone’s going to get hurt.”
Freya popped up at Sparks’s side.
Artair sighed. “So much for my privacy.”
“Did you not tell him, Frida?” the goddess asked.
“Tell me what?”
Sparks was the one to answer. “We have a lead on Helen’s last home. We need to get Rebecca and Megan and go check it out.”
Chapter Eleven
“Damn.”
Rebecca smiled at Sparks’s breathless response to seeing Times Square. While she wasn’t sure why Freya had set them down here instead of closer to the Brooklyn apartment Helen used to live in, she was happy to see her city again.
“Never been to New York before?” she asked.
“Nah. I’m a Chicago gal.” Sparks turned a slow circle, her eyes darting from lighted sign to lighted sign and building to building. “I thought it was big, but… Damn.” A couple of excited sparks shot from her fingertips.
Megan didn’t appear at all impressed with the Big Apple. Instead, she kept touching her right hip, probably to remind herself her gun was still there. Artair hadn’t forbidden her from bringing it along, mostly because he didn’t expect them to face a fight. They were just supposed to see if Helen’s old place held any clues to her whereabouts and then get back to Avalon. He’d cautioned Megan that the weapon wouldn’t be much help. Sparks had even called it a crutch.
Megan still brought her gun.
Artair was dressed in jeans so he could blend into the crowd, a first since Rebecca had met him. They hugged his muscular thighs and tight ass, and she couldn’t help but notice other women noticing. When one leggy blonde who was skinny enough to blow away in a stiff breeze gave him a blatant appraisal, Rebecca’s temper flared. She leveled her best glare at the woman and brushed her hand over the jeweled handle of the dirk resting in her belt. The blonde’s face blanched and she hurried away, tripping once in her stilettos.
The bustle of the city was so unusual after spending so much time in Avalon. About to mention that to Megan, she had to chuckle when the Fires headed to the closest hot dog vendor and plunked down money for food.
“Such a strange place,” Artair said, coming to stand next to her. “Too busy for my tastes.”
“You don’t like cities?”
“Nay. My idea of heaven is a cottage in the Highlands with nothing but fields of heather and sheep around.” He sighed. “I cannae abide by all this noise.”
“Oh? So you’d be all alone in that cottage?” Rebecca couldn’t help but ask. “I mean, if you can’t stand noise, you’d want to be alone, right?”
“What are you asking me, Becca?”
“Well, wouldn’t you want someone with you?”
“Of course. I’ll have to find a woman to stop by some evenings for a visit. I’d nae want to be so alone I lack feminine warmth.”
“You mean a lover?” She almost choked on the last word.
“Perhaps several different lovers. I’ve been a long time with
out companionship.”
Her eyes widened. Surely he was teasing. “Several lovers? At the same time?”
“Becca mine, you have a wicked mind.” His grin and suggestive wink tweaked her temper. He was enjoying her jealousy. “I would only take one to my bed at a time.”
Before she could deliver a verbal blow to his arrogance, Megan and Sparks joined them. Both were still chewing their hot dogs.
“In answer to your question,” Artair began. “I suppose I could try two—”
“Not now!” As if she’d let him bring the other Amazons into this discussion. Her cheeks felt as though they were on fire. “We need to find the apartment.”
Rebecca only took a few steps away when she noticed things changing.
The noise was the first thing to slow, going from the roar of Times Square to a sound much like an old-fashioned record player when the speed was set too slow. The movements of people in the crowd—everyone except Artair and the Amazons—decelerated until they were mannequins, standing still in one of the world’s busiest places. Every car stopped. Every scrolling sign froze. Even the steam coming from the manhole covers stood stalwart.
“What the hell?” Megan walked to the closest man and poked him. He didn’t so much as bat an eye. “Are they dead?”
Laughter that could only be described as sinister filled the air, spilling down from on high. “You fools. You shouldn’t have come here.”
One of the largest screens flared to life. An Asian man with long, dark hair and obsidian eyes stared down at them, a grin on his thin lips. “So, Fire. We meet again.”
“Jin, you bastard.” Sparks clenched her hands into fists. “How the hell did you get off that island?”
He scowled. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here. And you’re going to die. Soon.”
With her typical bravado, Sparks stepped closer to the visage whose eyes followed her every move and spread her arms wide, beckoning with her fingers. “Well, then. Why don’t you get your sorry ass off that television and come down here and face me? I’ll beat the shit out of you. Again. Then Freya can plunk you right back on that deserted island where you belong.”
“Who’s Jin?” Megan whispered in Rebecca’s ear.
Since they’d only just begun to learn about the Asian deities and demons, Rebecca didn’t have an answer. She remembered something about him liking blondes and being exiled.
Artair moved closer to Rebecca and Megan. “The goddesses imprisoned him on an enchanted island prison in the middle of the Pacific Ocean after he attacked a girls’ school in Oregon.”
“What kind of demon is he?” Rebecca asked.
“A low-level demon who can shock with a touch. He favors torturing blondes, usually girls barely past their first flux. I’m nae sure how he freed himself. I didn’t think he wielded that kind of power, nor did I think him so foolish as to target Amazons.”
Artair went to Sparks’s side. “We didn’t come for a battle,” he whispered.
The only acknowledgement she gave him was an almost imperceptible nod as she kept her attention on the demon. “Who let you out of your cage, asshole?” Sparks shouted at the screen.
“I have a new master,” he replied. “One more powerful than you can imagine.”
“Oh, so you’re hiding behind some demig now?”
He didn’t take Sparks’s bait or give her any confirmation that she was right.
She tried again. “If you’re that tough, come out of that boob tube and get down here and fight me.”
Jin seemed to consider Sparks’s offer, stroking his chin with his thumb and fingers. His gaze shifted to lock on Rebecca, and a sly smile curved his mouth. “Such a beautiful blonde.”
Artair stepped to Rebecca and shoved her behind his back.
So much for him thinking she could protect herself. She pinched his upper arm to let him know what she thought of his misplaced concern, but the chilling stare Jin gave her made her stay right where she was.
“Tempting though it is to end you all now,” Jin said, “my master would be angry. No, I have a job to do first.”
“Who’s your master?” Megan shouted at him.
His face faded until the screen went black.
Times Square suddenly flared back to life, people going about their business as if nothing had happened. The sounds of the city seemed deafening after the eerie silence.
Rebecca stepped around Artair. “Don’t ever do that again.”
He just grunted.
Sparks shook herself like a dog ridding its fur of water. “I hated that bastard before. Now, I want him dead.”
“Aye,” Artair replied. “He deserves killing.”
She shook at finger at Megan. “Now do you see why I warn you about staying away from the Seior? That’s why that asshole is loose again. Only someone using Seior could get him off that island.”
Seior—the evil side of the magical world.
Rebecca had heard the warning from Sparks more times than she would count, and that wasn’t nearly as often as Megan. Fire was the most volatile of the Amazons, and the lure of Seior was stronger for them. Although Seior could bring a world of power to the one who practiced those dark arts, there was always a cost, usually one far too dear, especially to any Amazon who strayed down that path.
“We should have brought our swords,” Megan said, her tone nothing short of a pout.
“Yeah,” Rebecca drawled. “Four people with swords, running around Times Square. Nothing suspicious about that. Besides, what would you do? Fight the TV?”
“You’re right,” Megan grumbled. “I just hate walking away from a fight.”
Giving Rebecca a nudge between her shoulder blades, Artair said, “’Tis your city, Becca. Lead the way.”
* * *
Although she’d known the address was a bad neighborhood, Rebecca couldn’t believe the condition of the building that used to be Helen’s home. What Earth would want to live so far away from anything green?
Some of the windows were covered with plywood. Others had been broken. Graffiti covered most of the brown brick. She took in the broken fire escapes. Several of the metal platforms barely hung on to the building. A good gust of wind would send them crashing to the littered alley.
“Are you sure, Sparks?” Artair asked. From his frown, he didn’t think Helen belonged here any more than Rebecca did.
“I can feel her,” Sparks replied. “I’m not thinking she liked the place, but she was here. I’m sure of it.”
“She’s been here,” Rebecca said. So had many other people. People who lived and loved and died in this building. The ground beneath her feet told her so.
Artair’s gaze caught hers before he scanned down to where she stood and saw the exposed patch of dirt she stood upon. “Good, Becca. Your powers are getting stronger.”
Stepping away from the ground and back onto the dilapidated sidewalk, she tried to shake away the impressions that had come to her. There were so many, she couldn’t even sort through them. Perhaps when she finally met Helen, the other Earth could teach her how to control her new powers. “Not good. I should have sensed another Earth without my stupid feet.”
“It’s okay,” Sparks said. “Most Amazons only sense their closest sisters. Other generations are always harder to pick up.”
“Yeah, well. I still think I should sense another Earth.” She nodded at the building. “So how do we get in?”
Megan didn’t answer but moved to a door with planks nailed across it. “One thing I learned as a cop, there’s always a way in.” She tugged at one of the boards, which surprisingly came off in her hands. “Places like this are ripe for junkies and prostitutes. They always leave themselves an easy way in and out.” She tugged off another board and kicked the door. It swung open with a loud groan.
“You newbies stay here,” Sparks said, brushing past Megan.
“The hell we will,” Megan replied.
Sparks looked to Artair, probably for support.
He though
t it over before he said, “We should stay together.”
A couple of sparks shot from Megan’s hair.
Why did the Fires always enjoy confrontation?
“Enough of that,” Artair said. “There will be no fighting. We get in, look for anything that might help us find Helen, then we get out.”
“Party pooper.” Megan ducked inside, followed by Sparks.
“After you,” Artair said, sweeping his arm at the dank entrance.
Rebecca bit back a sarcastic reply and stepped inside.
The place smelled so rank, she wasn’t sure anyone would even notice if revenants showed up. She swallowed hard and breathed through her mouth, waiting for her eyes to get used to the darkness.
Sparks lit her thumb, using it like a flashlight as she led the way to another door. Opening it, she peered inside. “Found the stairwell.”
Since Helen’s place was on the third floor—another surprise because Rebecca had assumed most Earths were like her and wanted to keep their feet on the ground—they climbed the stairs. At least they were constructed of steel and not wood, so all of them were still intact. The smell eased with each flight they rose.
Most of the third-floor apartment doors were open or missing. All except apartment C—Helen’s place. Artair had to kick it open, and it banged loudly against the wall.
He was the first one inside, giving the living room a good look before gesturing to the rest of them.
Stepping into the apartment, Sparks stopped and stared. “What the hell were you doing, Helen?”
The room was empty, save for a small, tattered sofa and an end table. Dust had settled over both and cobwebs hung from the ancient light fixture. None of that had drawn Sparks. No, she headed right for the first wall of “decorations.”
