Midnight Crusader

by Nancy Gideon

  "Music? It's four o'clock in the morning,” Rita grumbled. “The only sounds I've heard is Mel snoring and me giggling as Tom Cruise sucks on my toes in the dream you just pulled me out of."

  Naomi cocked her head, listening. No. It was music. Clear as the organ in church on revival Sunday.

  "You can't hear it?"

  "Maybe the neighbors,” Rita offered doubtfully. Her patronizing expression said what words would not. Crazy. Loony. Hearing the sounds of a past you don't remember. A past you couldn't have possibly lived.

  "No, the neighbors go to bed at ten. He works at the dam, and she opens a library at seven. They're not the type to spin Camelot show tunes and play fair lady and naughty squire."

  Rita pursed her lips. “Too bad.” Then her mood grew more somber, even cautious. “Do you still hear it? The music?"

  Naomi smiled thinly. “No,” she lied. “It must have been something from my dreams that was just running through my head when I woke up. I'm sorry I bothered you."

  "No bother.” Then again, the edge of worry. “Are you sure nothing's wrong?"

  "What could be wrong? We open in less than a week, and the show's coming together. What could be better?"

  "Thanks to our pinch hit choreographer. Where did she come from, by the way?"

  Naomi wasn't sure why she didn't tell the truth, but the lie came quickly and easily. “I'd put the word out to a couple of industry people I know, and one of them came through with a miracle."

  "Hallelujah, sister."

  Feeling ashamed for misleading her friend, Naomi's instincts still wouldn't allow her to come out from behind the lie. Gabriel's warning was planted firmly. Don't trust her. “Scratch a back here, scratch a back there. That's what it's all about."

  "So I hear. If you're okay, I'm going to see if I can get back to that dream and Tom."

  "Sure. Go ahead. Good night, Rita. And thanks."

  Naomi settled back under her covers, but she was wide awake, afraid to close her eyes while the viol was merrily playing.

  Rita returned to her room where the stereo light glowed an ominous green. Mel, who had crept in and up on top of her bed, hissed and expanded like a blow fish.

  "I don't need your opinion,” Rita hissed back.

  The cat shot off the mattress and disappeared with a flattening squeeze under the dresser she'd just bought for herself. The dresser and some very high quality sun-blocking blinds.

  He hadn't been away that long, but the damp chill of the Potomac seeped into his bones like death. Strange how quickly he'd acclimated to the dry desert clime. If only emotions were as easy to adjust to as atmosphere.

  "So you've found no trace of anything illegal going on?” Marchand LaValois made that summation after carefully listening to his report.

  "Oh, I'm sure there's something. All the funds are through one unknown investor."

  "Whom you haven't been able to trace."

  "Not yet. I don't think it's Mob related but I know there's a connection in other, perhaps smaller ways."

  "But, as Zanlos said, nothing that justifies our involvement. We aren't the police, after all. Crime isn't our primary focus."

  Nick Flynn, Rae's husband, sat on the office sofa, ever the professional in his designer suit and imported shoes. “What about Naomi? Has she been able to tell you anything?” He leaned forward, tented fingers beneath his chin as he considered what he'd learned. Rae's husband, the lawyer and new vampire. “She was very helpful when I was trying to get the inside story on Zanlos’ operation in D.C."

  Gabriel couldn't stop the protectiveness from creeping into his tone. “If she knows anything, Zanlos’ control over her is too strong for her to reveal it to me or to the officer Rae sent out to shadow her."

  "I've gone over all the contractual papers regarding the hotel and casino. He's done all the paperwork, gotten all the proper permits. Kaz is nobody's fool when it comes to a paper trail. He taught me a thing or two when I worked for his firm. He knows how to cover his ass. Everything seems legit.” Nick chewed on that for a moment, conflict over his former loyalty and betrayal at the hands of Zanlos still a sore spot. He shook it off and went on to another tangent. “Rae wanted me to ask how Rita was working out. She regrets she's unable to be here to see you, but she's kind of under the weather."

  "No problem with the baby, is there?"

  "Just a bug. She didn't want to take any chances. She sends her love, by the way."

  Gabriel smiled. There was just enough annoyance in the way Flynn said that to warm Gabriel's heart. The lawyer apparently still thought his wife's former partner held the hint of a romantic threat. Which of course was nonsense. What he and Rae shared went beyond fragile intimacies. They had a connection of trust and friendship that perhaps the wary attorney couldn't grasp, never having worked the streets with his life in someone else's hands.

  "Tell Sugar Rae I'm thinking of her. But don't tell her I'm afraid her friend Rita's been compromised."

  "By Zanlos?” LaValois asked.

  "I don't know. Who else could it be? I haven't sensed anyone else of our kind close to him, except one of the dancers he foolishly converted."

  "That in itself is reason for further scrutiny, but unfortunately we don't have the luxury of time or the personnel to squander on an individual basis."

  Squander. Gabriel didn't like the sound of that. It smacked of case closed, time to move on. And he wasn't ready to walk away. Not from Zanlos.

  Not from Naomi.

  But then Marchand was giving the order he didn't want to hear.

  "I think we know enough to back off Zanlos. The crimes he's committed were done as a human, and from what you tell me, he's done nothing to jeopardize our kind with this new endeavor. I need you in Santa Monica, Gabriel. There's a situation there that requires your talents. You can get the details from Nicole tomorrow night. We'll put you up at the house, of course."

  That was it. His business in Las Vegas was concluded. Marchand was calling him off a cold scent. He balked at the idea of not going back, of not tying up the loose ends of his past life.

  "I'm not finished, Marchand."

  "Oh? What's left to do?"

  "There's the matter of Naomi Bright,” Nick reminded. His own fondness for the administrative assistant helped him recognize the source of Gabriel's distress.

  "Is she our concern?"

  Gabriel tensed at Marchand's offhanded comment. Sometimes the former patriot and revolutionary was callous in his commands. He and Gabriel were both soldiers. Gabriel respected his instincts and his cause. Finding his elite group which dispensed justice within their own clan of the preternatural, Gabriel had immediately found himself a home, a place of purpose to belong. To atone for the single-minded focus of his youth and the mistakes he'd made that caused those he loved so much pain.

  But with all that was at stake in running his organization, the Frenchman had learned long ago not to let the needs of the one distract from the benefit to all. He had to be immune to peripheral matters, or he couldn't contend with the scope of his duties. He left the emotional entanglements to his wife, Nicole, who still was in touch with her vulnerable human half.

  "She's my concern,” Gabriel clarified.

  "Business or personal?"

  "Personal."

  "I want you back in a week, Gabriel. This other matter can't wait beyond that. Does that give you enough time to resolve your issues with this woman?"

  Could he wrap up the obsession of centuries within seven days?

  "Yes."

  After Gabriel had gone, hurrying to beat the rising sun, Nick Flynn regarded his employer with a justified aggravation.

  "He's in love with her, you know."

  "She's human. And she's a thrall to Zanlos. What possible good could come of the situation? Unless that connection is broken, she'll never be free to return his affection, and he could never trust her. It's better he end it quickly and move on."

  "Better for whom?"

  "Oh, for us, defin
itely. And probably for the woman. For him, there is no way to win."

  "What a cynic you've become, March. Don't you believe true love can conquer all?"

  "I can't afford to."

  "And with a human wife with a child on the way, I can't afford not to."

  * * * *

  "What do I do? What do you think I should do?"

  Gabriel had beaten the dawn back to Las Vegas but was too restless to seek slumber. Instead, he sought out his one-time confidant and purged his tale of woe.

  "You're asking me?” Rollie chuckled. “I'm a scholar. I have no knowledge of affairs of the heart."

  "How can I let her go?"

  "Is it the loss you fear or the lack of a quest to follow?"

  "What do you mean?” They were alone in the arena, walking the narrow aisle between the dinner seats and the partitioning wall above the hard-packed combat floor. The lights were off, the huge room in darkness, but they had no trouble finding their way.

  "You're an adventurer, Gabriel. You seek out the danger and excitement I read about in books. It's the crusade, not the cause you champion."

  "Am I that shallow?"

  "No, of course not. But you are one who cannot thrive in inactivity. Decade after decade, you've searched out a war to fight in, a flag to follow. You're a warrior. A hunter. Once a hunter snares its prey, it quickly tires of the conquest."

  "Are you saying that now that I've found Naomi, I no longer want her? You're wrong, Rollie. I would spend an eternity in pursuit of her."

  "You don't have to. She's here."

  Gabriel stared at him, not understanding, and afraid he understood all too clearly. “But I love her."

  "Do you? Or are you in love with the ideal of love pumped into your heart and brain as a boy. Courtly love was never meant to be attained, only desired. It was a dream, an unobtainable goal to be coveted from afar. You say you were fated to be with her. It's not fate, Gabriel. It's not love. It's your Holy Land. Your grail. It's the last crusade, and you've no idea what to do once it is over. You can't accept a happily-ever-after ending. You never will."

  "You're wrong."

  "Am I? Gabe, I know you.” Rolland stopped, leaning his elbows back on the top of one of the trestle tables as he observed his friend. Seeing through him so easily even while Gabriel floundered in internal darkness. “I know you better than you know yourself. You and Naomi were never right for each other. You wanted different things. You wanted windmills to tilt at, and she wanted the security of a home. You wanted battle; she needed comfort. If you had understood her, you never would have left her alone."

  Because he couldn't meet his companion's knowing gaze, he stared out into the arena, seeing there all the challenges he'd delighted in as a youth. Now silent, empty. “Don't you think I realize that now?” he asked through gritted teeth.

  "No, I don't. Because there are things about her that she never told you, things you don't know to this day. You never had time to listen."

  "But you did. She told these things to you.” He glanced about, seeing Rollie in a different light—as a steady beacon, a welcoming port. Things that would draw Naomi near.

  "I was her confidant, Gabe, while you were her ideal. We shared the same interests in knowledge and books. We'd sit in the gardens discussing philosophy while you were at the lists preparing to destroy the civilizations we admired."

  "You were in love with her.” He sounded amazed. Rollie shrugged.

  "How could I not be? She was all that was gentle wisdom and, for that day, shrewd intellect. But those weren't virtues you would have noticed. Just as she never noticed me when you were there to dazzle her."

  "I didn't know."

  "Would it have mattered? You were an unstoppable force, Gabe. Everyone naturally followed where you led. I would have preferred to stay behind and court the lovely Lady Naomi and let you fools go off to war against her relatives. But what would my family have said? I had your example to live up to."

  "Why have I never heard this before?"

  "You would have thought me weak and cowardly back then. Perhaps you still do now. You let nothing sway you from the path of duty and honor, and you would have had no tolerance for excuses."

  "What a vain and self-centered creature you must have thought me to be.” He said that softly, his tone heavy with regret and apology. “How could you have been such a good friend to me when I was so oblivious to your pain?"

  "Gabriel, you were like the sun. When you shone, all else was in shadow. Everyone was drawn to your light, Naomi and myself included. It wasn't your fault, so how could I blame you?"

  Yet he had. And still did. Gabriel saw that accusation flicker behind the complaisant expression of the man he thought he knew.

  "Go, Gabriel. Now before you hurt her,” Rolland continued. “Go before you draw her into your battle and see her destroyed as you did once before. Give her a chance to live."

  "Here, with Zanlos?” His tone sharpened with objection and concern.

  "Has he harmed her? Is she in any danger except that which you make for her? All you can bring her is chaos and heartbreak. Give her peace in this life, Gabriel, the way you could not in her old one."

  Peace. That's what he claimed to want for her, yet he continually distressed and dismayed her with remnants of a past she couldn't recall. He'd thrown her life into confusion by insisting she be who she no longer was—the ghost from a world he remembered, the debt his soul had yet to pay.

  He truly didn't believe Zanlos would harm her unless threatened or backed to the wall. And that's what he was doing. His presence put her in peril. What excuse did he have to remain?

  Seeing the conflict upon his friend's face, Rollie placed a hand on one slumped shoulder. “I'll watch out for her, Gabriel. I'll see that she's safe. I can make myself a part of her life and act as her friend and confidante as I did once before. Or if you prefer, I can safeguard her from afar without her ever knowing it. I leave that up to you."

  With that, all his objections were brushed away. He had no reason to stay. His purpose pulled him in another direction, and his long ago pledge to his lady love would be met by this man he'd trusted with his life. And what had he done but repay him by taking that life and making it into an obscenity? He'd destroyed Rollie's future because of his single-sighted pride and would do the same to Naomi if he didn't walk away. Rollie loved her. He would see her protected and cared for. And didn't he owe his friend, his neighbor, his comrade in arms the chance to realize the happiness now out of his own reach?

  With logic as his sword, he lined up the protests created by emotion and knocked them down one by one like opponents on the field until none remained standing. None except the gaping emptiness where his heart should be when he thought of an eternity without her.

  "I can't, Rollie. Not yet."

  And because his back was turned while he gazed in the direction where the sun would rise, displaying the pinks of a dawn he would never share with the woman he loved, he missed the workings in Rolland's expression. And so was unaware of a plan he might have derailed had his answer been different.

  "So be it,” came Rollie's heavy summation.

  And the plan was set.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Eighteen

  The temple was finished.

  A chill of uneasiness nibbled at Naomi as she took it in for the first time. Magnificent. Awesome. Frightening. The stuff of pagan legend. And the crowds were going to eat it up.

  The lighting crew experimented with atmosphere, creating strobes to effect a jungle storm. A sudden unexpected gust of wind stole Naomi's breath and had her shivering in earnest as the interior of the temple began to subtly glow and pulse with an eerie energy. The music beat like a sacrificial heart in tandem with that cold, phosphorescent gleam.

  "Creepy, isn't it?"

  After recovering from the cardiac arrest his sudden statement caused her, Naomi glanced up at Marcus and nodded.

  "Twilight Zone creepy,” she
agreed.

  "They plan to toss virgins down the throat of that thing?"

  "I wouldn't want to be a virgin if they do.” Then she blushed, realizing what she'd revealed. Usually, her lips were as tightly sealed as Zanlos’ vault when it came to anything of a personal matter.

  Sensing her awkwardness, Marcus directed his attention away from her burning cheeks and toward the now smoke-wreathed stage. “Is that going to be safe for the girls? With those steep sides and all this smoggy stuff, it looks like an accident waiting to happen."

  "We'll make sure it doesn't. The girls’ safety is our main concern. I won't have them risking a broken ankle for the sake of special effects."

  The quiet authority in her tone must have answered Marcus's worries, for the behemoth relaxed beside her. “Any words from Jeannie?"

  Naomi stiffened, recalling the woman's crazed behavior. “I think she's moved on."

  "Her boyfriend, too. He just stopped coming in, no word or anything. You'd think good jobs fell from the heavens. And after all the trouble you went through to get him that position."

  "I just hope they're all right, wherever they are."

  "What do you think of Charmaine?"

  His slightly gruff tone alerted Naomi's curiosity. She grinned. “Why, Marcus, are you blushing?"

  He tried to glower but ended up grinning, too. “She's a mighty fine looking lady. Refined and kind of tigerish at the same time."

  Naomi's brows soared. Tigerish?

  "A man likes a woman who's not afraid to be a woman. No offense to your friend Rita, but a man feels like he has to wear a cup around her for his own self-defense. There's not a soft angle on her."

  Naomi wanted to come to Rita's rescue, but the memory of her pushing the dancers through their routine with an angry fierceness reminiscent of warriors past got in the way. Instead, she stated, “Rita's just focused. She's been very kind to me."

  "That's not hard,” Marcus mumbled. “You bring out the best in folks, Miss Bright. Just a natural gift, like the way everyone trusts you right off the bat, knowing that you'll take care of them. You'll make a great mother some day."

  Naomi's gaze darted away, and her throat jerked in a convulsive swallow. “I have plenty to do mothering this bunch,” she muttered.