Twilight Crossing

by Susan Krinard

  A muscle twitched in his cheek. “He and his second wife are still living.”

  “But you’re not close to them.”

  “I’m a Rider. We put those relationships behind us when we join the Brotherhood.”

  “You ever see them?”

  “Not in fifteen years.”

  She touched his hand. “When did you join the Riders, Timon?”

  “I was seventeen.” He slid his hand out from under hers. “It’s not a very interesting story.”

  So he didn’t want to talk about his past, Jamie thought. “Did you run away?”

  “I was very young,” he said.

  Had something his parents done driven him away? Jamie wondered. Something trifling and foolish he’d never admit to? Or had it been a matter of youthful rebellion, the kind she’d never experienced?

  Had he had a choice to keep his family, when she’d been robbed of hers?

  “Your whole life is the Riders now,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “Your freedom is very important to you, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. But we have our duties. Our leaders choose our assignments.”

  “And how do you choose your leaders? Do you fight for your positions, like the Opiri of the Citadels do?”

  “We don’t fight amongst ourselves,” he said, flashing her a reproachful look. “It’s a matter of consensus. Except in times of emergency, we hold elections. The highest-ranked Rider is called the captain. He arranges our hiring and holds ultimate authority over us.”

  “You’re the leader of a band. Have you ever wanted to be more?”

  “I wouldn’t want the responsibility.”

  Jamie realized that he was being completely honest. He liked his life simple, uncomplicated by binding relationships or the desire to control others.

  “Tell me more about your people,” she urged. “I already know you serve whoever hires you, regardless of their politics or race. What happens if—”

  Moving as quickly and effortlessly as always, Timon got to his feet. “If you’re all right,” he said, “I have another thing to take care of. It might require a little more time, if you think you can stay alone for a while.”

  “What is it?” she asked, sucking in her breath as she pushed herself a little more upright against the tree trunk.

  “Horses. Lazarus can’t carry us both for long stretches of time, so we’ll need another mount.”

  “You plan to go back to the tribesmen?” she asked in alarm.

  “No. I saw a small herd of horses not far from here. I’ll bring one of them in.”

  “A wild horse?”

  “I suspect they escaped from captivity not too long ago.”

  “And you think you can tame one well enough for me to ride it?”

  “You’ll be on Lazarus—when you’re ready to ride.” He went to saddle the horse and returned to her. “If I can’t get one by sunset, I’ll return.”

  Jamie gave no sign that she wished he would stay. Timon knew what had to be done, and she wouldn’t be any more of a burden on him than she had to be. If she didn’t want him to “heal” her with his bite, she had to do everything else possible to make sure they could move on a soon as possible.

  She only wished her leg wasn’t hurting quite so much.

  “Are you sure you’ll be all right?” he said, peering into her face.

  “I’ll just sleep,” she said with a smile. “Good luck.”

  He accepted her reassurance with a brief nod. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Soon” proved to be much longer than Jamie had hoped. As the minutes passed, she began to feel warmer, and her leg continued to grow more painful. When she touched the bandage, it felt warm, as well.

  An infection, she thought. That was no surprise, even with the antibiotics. The drugs hadn’t really had enough time to work. Undoubtedly the fever and pain would pass in good time.

  She closed her eyes and tried to sleep. Sometime later, she woke herself with shivering and pulled the blanket higher up to her chin. She drank from the canteen Timon had left for her and tried to go back to sleep.

  The next time, she found herself in darkness. The steady clop of hooves approached from the north.

  Timon, she thought, lost in a fog. The rider dismounted, and she heard him kneel beside her. A cool hand touched her forehead and then her bandages.

  Jamie screamed.

  Chapter 9

  “Jamie, can you hear me?” Timon asked.

  She tried to turn her head toward him, gasped and whimpered like a child. Timon couldn’t tell if she could see him, let alone hear him; her eyes were blank, and the tremors racking her body made it impossible for him to keep her still.

  You’re delirious,” he said, cupping his palm over her burning forehead. “Jamie, why didn’t you tell me you were feeling worse?”

  She blinked, tears leaking from her eyes. For a moment they focused on his.

  “I’m...sorry,” she whispered.

  “It isn’t your fault,” he said, stroking her wet hair.

  It was his misjudgment to leave her alone even for a few hours. Because he knew that she might have an infection coursing through her body, and without full medical treatment it could kill her.

  He could think of only one answer. And he knew that she would fight it.

  “Jamie,” he said, “concentrate on my voice.”

  Her body shuddered again. She licked her dry lips, and he wet the last clean rag and placed it on her mouth, dabbing gently.

  “You’re very sick,” he said, swallowing the knot in his throat. “Do you understand?”

  She blinked several times.

  “I can try to clean out the wound with the tools I have. But your leg...” He closed his eyes. “You may lose it, even if you survive.”

  Turning her face away from him, she breathed sharply several times. “It hurts,” she said hoarsely.

  “I can help with the pain,” he said. “Jamie, I want you to live.”

  She turned her head back, and her cracked lips almost formed a smile. “You...care about me?”

  “Yes.” He lifted her good hand to his face. “But you’ll have to trust me. Can you do that?”

  “Yes,” she murmured.

  Hating the necessity of what he was about to do, Timon took several of the pain pills out of his med kit and offered them to Jamie along with the canteen, supporting her head while she drank. Within fifteen minutes, she was asleep. He shifted her into his arms so that her body lay across his and he had full access to her neck.

  His body betrayed him with sudden hunger, and he realized he hadn’t taken blood since Akesha had shared with him two days before the tribesmen’s attack. There had been nothing remotely intimate about his taking blood from Akesha. But he wanted Jamie in every way.

  He suppressed his primitive instincts and concentrated on what he had to accomplish to make her well.

  When he bit her neck, she didn’t flinch. He was very careful to limit her bleeding, to give instead of take. Even so, he felt like a monster, remembering how she had reacted even to the idea of his biting her.

  To the idea of being bitten, he reminded himself. She knew what she’d be facing as payment for this trip...that she’d be expected to donate her blood like the other human delegates.

  Yet something or someone had hurt her in the past. The thought that he himself was not the object of her dread didn’t ease his heart.

  Timon finished, sealed her wound and helped her down onto the blanket. All he could do now was wait, stay beside her, tend her and hope. The taste of her fevered blood was still on his tongue, a part of her in him as part of him now worked within her struggling body.

  All through the long night he watch
ed over her, moistening her hot face, making her drink when she briefly regained consciousness, whispering words she needed to hear. He changed her dressing and packed the wound with antibiotic ointment. Her features were distorted with fever and pain, her hair was soaked with perspiration and her body was limp, and yet he still found her beautiful.

  “Fight,” he told her, again and again. “Fight, for me.”

  She did. Her crisis came with the dawn. Her body radiated heat, and Timon could feel her slipping away. He lifted her head into the circle of his arms and kissed her forehead and her cheeks.

  “Stay,” he said. “Stay with me.”

  And then he kissed her mouth, lips barely touching lips. She shivered violently and began to thrash, the tendons in her neck standing out, her lovely blue eyes staring into some indescribable horror.

  “Don’t hurt me,” she whimpered. “I won’t...tell anyone.” Her head rolled from side to side. “Let me go. No. Don’t.” Her voice rose to a wail. “Don’t! Please!”

  “Jamie,” Timon said, willing her to hear him. “It’s only a dream.”

  “He won’t let me go,” she said. “His teeth! Hurts!”

  Timon continued to hold her as still as he could, afraid to release her. “He can’t hurt you now,” he said. “I’m here to protect you.”

  She gave the shriek of a child in mortal terror and suddenly went limp. She gasped once, her breath draining out in a final sigh.

  “No!” Timon said, panic flooding his body.

  But it wasn’t her last breath. Her fever broke all at once, and he knew it was over. Jamie would live.

  He laid her down and stretched out beside her. When her breathing was deep and steady, he permitted himself to sleep.

  When he woke, she was looking at him, her shadowed eyes filled with confusion.

  “Timon?” she asked. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

  He choked on a laugh, cupping her face in his hands. “You’re getting better,” he said. “We have nothing to worry about.”

  Slowly she raised her free hand to her mouth. “You kissed me,” she murmured. “Why?”

  Timon stiffened. If she remembered that...

  “The antibiotics worked,” he said, sidestepping her question. “But you’ll still have to rest, Jamie. We won’t take any chances.”

  “I’m very tired,” she said. But she smiled as she closed her eyes. “I knew I could...trust you.”

  As she slept, Timon built up the small fire and realized he could never tell her the truth of what he’d done. Something ugly had happened to her, almost certainly in childhood, and it had to do with some Opir holding her against her will, biting her without consent. It was a trauma that had never healed, and in spite of all his good intentions, he also had acted without her consent.

  It didn’t seem possible that Jamie could have dealt so well with the Riders who had posed as Freeblood raiders. If one of them had threatened her in the interest of making the incident more convincing, she might just as easily have collapsed back into that previous trauma, as she had in her fever dreams.

  What would she do when they reached the Conclave, and she was surrounded by many full-blooded Opiri, all in need of regular blood? She must be determined to fight her fear, at least consciously.

  And who will help her if her courage fails? he thought. Who will stand with her? Her godfather? Cahill?

  Did they know what had happened to her, before?

  His chest tight with anger, Timon left Jamie just long enough to hunt for wild game and returned with the edge of his hunger blunted to a dull ache. He made a thorough inspection of Jamie’s injuries and was satisfied they were improving.

  But it would still take time. Time when he and Jamie would be alone together, and he would have to try to remain neutral after he had held her life in his hands, shared her worst fears and kissed her almost as if they were lovers.

  He had to be her protector now, nothing more.

  For the next few days, Jamie slipped in and out of consciousness, sleeping deeply as her body worked with the healing chemicals in her blood. On the fifth day she remained awake for several hours, and three days later she was eating normally and slept only half the day.

  “Did I say anything when I was sick?” she asked Timon as he brought her a meal of gruel and freshly cooked rabbit.

  He sat beside her beneath the wide-spreading oak. “You did mention that you’d like to see Cahill fall facedown in a mudflat,” he said lightly.

  Jamie smiled at him, weary but genuine. “You saved my life,” she said.

  “The drugs saved your life.”

  “Without your care, they wouldn’t have helped.”

  “Even you must get tired of being grateful.” He winced at the sarcasm in his own voice. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean—”

  “I know you’re restless,” she said. “You aren’t used to staying in one place for so long.” She reached hesitantly for his hand. “I’m holding you back.”

  It was difficult to feel her touch and not want more of it, but he didn’t withdraw his hand. “I’m doing exactly what I need to do,” he said. “All you have to think about now is your own healing.”

  “Not a very interesting subject,” she said with a slight laugh. She took a bite of the makeshift stew and ate it uncomplainingly. “How often do Riders have to play nursemaid to one of their charges?”

  “A Rider has to be prepared for anything.” He realized how pompous he sounded and grinned. “We can still be surprised.”

  “I’m surprised by everything,” she said, stretching out her good arm. “I’m surprised at how much more beautiful the world is than I ever realized.”

  “Even after what happened?”

  Her eyes brimmed with joy. “Especially because of what happened. Have you ever come close to death, Timon?”

  Oh, yes. He knew that feeling. It did seem to change the world...but it could also make a person reckless, because there was too much new life bursting inside to hold back.

  “Once or twice,” he said quietly.

  “I understand why you value your freedom,” she said. Her gaze softened. “I envy you the life you’ve led.”

  “A life without roots, without a home to return to?” he asked.

  “You must have one place where you all gather,” she said.

  “The Brotherhouse,” he said. “But the only time all Riders are there at one time is when we elect our leaders, and that happens rarely.”

  “So you find companionship with your band.” She flushed, looking away. “And the women you meet on your missions.”

  It was the second time she’d brought up the subject. He cleared his throat. “As you said. Companionship.”

  “In the places you visit? The colonies and Enclaves?”

  “Sometimes. But—”

  “Do you find lovers in the Opir Citadels, too?”

  Curiosity, he told himself. She wanted to embrace all the knowledge she could gather.

  Or it’s something else entirely, he thought, and casually got to his feet. “Not often,” he said. “Citadels may use our services, but few full-blooded Opir choose to associate intimately with half-bloods.”

  “Then you find humans more welcoming?”

  Timon raked his hand through his hair. “It depends. Jamie—”

  “What about children? Do you take precautions?” Her gaze followed him as he paced around the ashes of the fire. “Are you embarrassed to talk about it? You don’t have to be.”

  “The one thing we never do,” he said sharply, “is take partners from among the people we guide and protect.”

  “Never?”

  He could have answered with a yes, if he weren’t so obviously the exception to the rule in his desire to seduce Jamie.

&nbs
p; But that was before she’d been injured. He was her protector, and he couldn’t afford to forget that.

  And the secrets she may carry, he thought. The ones you still have to discover? If they existed, they hadn’t disappeared just because she had nearly died. But he would swear on his own life and freedom that she was innocent of any ill intent toward the Conclave or anyone, except perhaps the Opir who had hurt her some time in her past.

  He would gladly have ripped that Opir limb from limb.

  “We admit no females to the Riders because of the distractions and complications certain relationships would cause,” he said at last. “No outsider has ever interfered with my duty.”

  Jamie was quiet for a long while, and Timon wondered if he’d hurt her feelings. “I have to hunt,” he told her, averting his face.

  He didn’t wait for her response, but saddled the new mare he’d caught, whom he’d named Chloe. She crow-hopped a few times, just to remind him that she wasn’t quite broken in, and then settled into a choppy trot.

  He returned hours later to find Jamie on her feet, leaning heavily against the oak. The foot of her injured leg hardly touched the ground, but Timon could tell that the intense expression on her face was due to concentration, not pain.

  “It doesn’t hurt anymore,” she said, smiling at him with unfettered happiness. He dismounted and approached her, his hands half raised to catch her if she began to fall.

  “I’m glad the pain is gone,” he said, “but you really shouldn’t be standing yet.”

  “I really shouldn’t be alive,” she said. Her eyes danced. “Come over here, and help me walk.”

  “Jamie—”

  But she was so lovely in her joy that he couldn’t resist her. When he was just within reach, she nearly fell into his arms. He supported her under her good arm, her injured leg against his.

  “We’ll need a splint,” he said. “Once we’re sure you can consistently stand without pain or complications, we can work on strengthening your leg.”

  “I can ride,” she said, “if we’re careful.”

  The idea of leaving this place made Timon’s breath come a little faster, but he suppressed his eagerness. “One move at a time,” he said.