Twilight Crossing

by Susan Krinard

  A little in awe, Jamie glanced toward Timon. He, like her, was taking it all in, but she sensed that he was seeing the camp differently; for him it was a place to maintain peace among the delegates, not to help formulate a new way of life.

  Soon he would be leaving her, reuniting with his own people. Jamie had known this moment would come, but she found it difficult to accept. She took comfort in the fact that Timon shared her secret, and that it bound them as much as their weeks of lovemaking and blood-sharing.

  “Jamie.”

  She came back to herself to find Timon staring at her, brows raised in inquiry.

  “I’ve asked around and learned where your delegation has settled,” he said. “They arrived only a few hours ahead of us.”

  Trying to clear her head, Jamie nodded. “How do I find it?” she asked.

  “I’ll escort you,” he said.

  His voice was a little distant, preoccupied, but still held a touch of warmth.

  They rode along the thoroughfare amid the chaos of neighing horses and bawling livestock, people of all kinds rushing to and fro, tents and banners and dusty paths, as busy as any city. Humans and Opiri, in their long, hooded daycoats, mingled in the lane and near the Hub, speaking with one another like civilized beings.

  Nevertheless, Timon stayed protectively close to Jamie, and she was glad of his company. Like all the delegates, she would have to learn her way around the tent city, but her mind wouldn’t hold such details now. Seeing a few Opiri earlier hadn’t prepared her for the vast number here, or for the way humans and Opiri interacted peacefully.

  “I can see that humans and Opiri are on opposite sides of the encampment,” she said to Timon. “But where are the mixed colonies and settlements?”

  “Scattered on the outskirts, if the map I saw was accurate,” Timon said.

  “Along with the other half-bloods?” she asked as Lazarus just avoided colliding with an oblivious human.

  “We Riders have our barracks next to Security Headquarters. It’s possible that a few non-Rider Darketans are here with the Opiri, and most other dhampires would be with the colonies or Enclave delegations.”

  “Living proof,” Jamie murmured.

  “Yes,” Timon said, a little more distance creeping into his voice. “This way.”

  They turned into an alley between tents flying Enclave banners unfamiliar to Jamie. But it didn’t take long before she saw the San Francisco wagons, two of the soldiers leading the horses away as Amos and Greg supervised the distribution of the supplies.

  Amos spotted her first. “Jamie!” he called, jogging toward her. She dismounted and went to meet him, returning his hug with relief.

  “Thank God you’re all right,” he said. “When you and Timon didn’t catch up with us, we feared the worst.”

  “Timon saved my life more than once,” Jamie said. She glanced toward Timon, who had also dismounted and stood by, quietly watching. “I was very ill for a while, which is why it took us so long.”

  “Then I owe you a great debt,” Amos said, extending his hand to Timon. “I know you went well beyond your duty.”

  “Not at all,” Timon said, gripping Amos’s hand. “It was both my duty and my pleasure.”

  The tone was formal, but the final word sent a chill through Jamie’s body. Amos was no fool. He glanced between her and Timon with a sharp, assessing look, and then smiled.

  “Whatever your reason,” he said, “I would gladly offer you whatever I can in gratitude for saving her.”

  “There is no need,” Timon said formally. “We’ve already received payment.”

  “Then I’ll owe you a debt,” Amos said, as stubborn as Timon.

  “Individual Riders aren’t permitted—” Timon began, stopping as Greg Cahill charged up to them and pushed past Amos.

  “Jamie!” he said, taking her in his arms. “My God, are you all right?” Before she could answer, he turned to glare at Timon. “You took your time about bringing her back to us.”

  “Greg!” Jamie said, jerking away from him. “You have no idea what it was like, what Timon had to do to get me here in one piece.”

  “And what did he have to do?” Greg asked, still looking at Timon. “Take your blood?”

  “Yes,” Jamie said. “It was the least I could do, and it was part of our bargain with the Riders.”

  “Bargain,” Greg muttered. He grasped Jamie’s arm. “You need to be properly examined.”

  Jamie held fast. “Greg, you can’t—”

  “Jamie is no child,” Timon said, moving close to them. “I suggest you stop treating her as one.”

  The two men stared at each other, and Jamie could feel the heat building between them.

  “I’m all right, Timon,” she said, taking a step away from Greg. “Thank you. For my life, and for everything else.”

  Timon took her offered hand and squeezed it gently. “I’m glad I could be of service.”

  The words were impersonal, but the moment was intimate. Greg and Amos seemed to disappear. After a long moment, Timon released her hand.

  “I’m sure we’ll meet again,” he said. “Take care of yourself.”

  “You, too,” she said, her heart knotting in her chest.

  He smiled, took Lazarus’s reins and remounted Chloe. With a brief nod to Amos, he rode back up the alley and vanished.

  “You’re too thin,” Amos said, throwing his arm around her shoulder, “and you obviously need rest. The medics will be accompanying our equipment to the clinic tents, but you can check that out later.”

  “Thanks,” she said, suddenly weary. Amos took her to the Enclave tents, Greg clumping along behind them. She endured the expected greetings from the other members of the delegation, and reassured everyone that she had come through her ordeal safe and sound.

  Amos had barely left her at the tent she would share with Akesha when Greg barreled in.

  “What happened?” he demanded. “Who took you?”

  She told him about the tribesmen and how Timon had rescued her. She answered his other questions succinctly, explaining how she’d been shot and how Timon’s healing skill had saved her.

  “His skill?” Greg asked, pacing around the small tent. “What other skills did he use on your journey?”

  Jamie sat on the edge of her cot. “We were intimate, Greg. I’m sorry to break it to you this way, but it’s not fair to let you go on believing that you and I would have been married. It was never my idea, and I tried to make you realize—”

  “You slept with that half-blood?”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “I thought better of you, Jamie,” Greg said stiffly. “I didn’t take you for a slut.”

  Rising quickly, Jamie met his gaze. “You’ve always wanted me under your control, ever since we came of age. But I’m not yours, Greg. I never was.”

  Greg laughed. “You think you love the bastard, don’t you?”

  Her throat closed. She should answer with the truth, so Greg would realize she meant every word she said.

  But she couldn’t. Speaking the words would make her feelings too real—loving a man who belonged to another world.

  “I’ve said all I intend to say.”

  “Yes,” Greg said, contempt in his eyes. “You’ve said more than enough.”

  He turned on his heel and left the tent. Jamie sat down again, breathing heavily and feeling more than a little ill. She’d known it would be uncomfortable with Greg, that she should have come right out and rejected him before they left the Enclave. He was too arrogant to take even the broadest hint.

  Now she was free of him. And Timon was gone.

  But we can meet again, as he said, she thought. We could still be—

  Lovers? Snatching brief moments together on the sl
y, hiding from everyone?

  If that was the price, Jamie would savor every one of those moments, even though she knew they’d be stolen from two separate and very different lives.

  Chapter 16

  “Timon!” Cassius said, grabbing Timon by the shoulders as he entered the Riders camp. “We had almost given up hope.”

  “On me?” Timon said with a grin, returning Cassius’s gesture of affection. “When have I ever disappointed you?”

  The captain of the Riders dropped his hands and smiled, his light violet-brown eyes crinkling tanned skin under the close-cropped gray hair. “I should have known better,” he said.

  The other Riders not currently on duty crowded around Timon in the barracks, slapping his back and welcoming him with grins and relief. For a moment Timon was disoriented, surrounded by men—his brothers—after so long alone with Jamie.

  But the strange feeling passed quickly. He was among his own kind, sure of his place. He greeted each of his brothers in turn, paying particular attention to the members of his band...explaining what had happened when he’d left them to go after the stolen San Francisco delegate.

  He left out a few small details.

  Orpheus, the last of the Riders to approach him, cast Timon a sly look. “I doubt it was too terrible for you,” he said. “You had very pleasant company along the way.”

  “The human female is well?” Bardas asked.

  “I wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t,” Timon said.

  “Jamie,” Orpheus said, drawing out the name. “She must have been very grateful.”

  “A burden, surely, if it took so long to get here,” Bardas said with a faint smile.

  Soon enough Timon recognized that his attempt at discretion was useless. The brothers assumed that he’d slept with Jamie, and that she’d shared her blood with him; the hints became ribald jokes, and Timon began to feel very protective of Jamie’s reputation.

  “Enough,” he said with a forced laugh, pushing his fellow Riders away. “I’d appreciate a little privacy to clean up.” He looked at Cassius. “If you can spare me.”

  The captain smiled with a father’s warmth. “You’ve had enough work for one day. Tomorrow we’ll discuss assignments for your band.” His gaze swept the small crowd. “The rest of you, back to your posts.”

  With the efficiency of habit, the Brothers dispersed, leaving Timon alone with Cassius.

  “Is it true?” the older man asked. “Was she so grateful?”

  Timon shrugged. “The circumstances were unusual,” he said.

  “It was a foolish thing to do,” Cassius said, taking one of the camp chairs and gesturing Timon to another. “There’s a reason why we discourage even temporary relationships between Riders and our charges. It weakens us, loosens our cohesion and makes us forget where our true loyalties lie.”

  Timon stopped in the act of sitting down. “Forgive me,” he said. “But you have no idea of what occurred between Ms. McCullough and me, what we discussed or what we felt.”

  “And what did you feel, Timon?”

  Had it been any other Rider, Timon probably would have ended the conversation there and then. But, in spite of what he’d told Jamie, he owed Cassius at least some measure of the truth. If anything represented home to Timon, it was Cassius.

  “Jamie was brave, cooperative and steadfast,” he told his mentor. “She nearly died after her capture by patriarchal tribesman, but she recovered when I bit her. After that, she regularly provided me with blood.”

  “As she should have done,” Cassius said, a frown in his voice. “And what of the other matter?”

  “I’m here with the Brotherhood,” Timon said. “That should answer your questions.”

  “It never occurred to me that you would leave us,” Cassius said. “You did not develop any emotional attachment to this human?”

  “Admiration and respect,” Timon said. “And some affection, yes. But she has returned to her delegation, and she has important work to do.”

  “Work that does not concern you.”

  “How could it?” Timon said. But his ribs seemed to push in on his heart, and he knew then that he’d already made his decision. He wouldn’t tell Cassius about Jamie’s discovery.

  “I only wish to confirm that your neutrality is not in question,” Cassius said.

  “It isn’t,” Timon said, wondering whether or not he was lying, to Cassius or himself.

  “Then I am satisfied,” Cassius said. “Is there anything else you wish to report?”

  “I do have a request.”

  The captain nodded. “If you want more time to rest...”

  “No. I’d ask that my band be assigned messenger duty throughout the camp, rather than patrol the perimeter or the human or Opir precincts.”

  “Why?”

  “My men have just completed a difficult assignment, traveling farther than any of the other escort bands. I think they’ve earned a job that gives them a little more freedom, at least for a while.”

  “And you deserve it, as well.”

  Cassius’s statement was a challenge, as if he’d seen through Timon’s ploy. Timon smiled ruefully.

  “I admit that after spending weeks with one human woman, I wouldn’t mind a little variety.”

  Relaxing in his chair, Cassius steepled his fingers under his chin. “There is one other matter you have failed to mention.”

  “The supposedly threatening secret held by the San Francisco delegation?” Timon shook his head. “No, I learned nothing of it. The girl certainly had no knowledge of any interest to us.” He wrapped his fingers around one of the tent poles. “Did any of the others in the band—”

  “No,” Cassius said. “They had no success.”

  “Then maybe this secret doesn’t exist,” Timon said, dropping into a chair. “Who hired us, Cassius?”

  “That must remain confidential. Suffice it to say that the concerns of our employers are probably justified.”

  Concerns of our employers, Timon thought. Again he wondered what they actually suspected, and if they would consider proof of common ancestry a threat. That thought troubled him deeply.

  “How do you plan to proceed now?” he asked.

  “I am still considering our options,” Cassius said, rising. “Go to your tent and rest. If you need blood—”

  “Not yet,” Timon said.

  “Then spend the rest of the day as you wish. I will make assignments tomorrow, keeping your request in mind. The first informal meeting of the delegates will occur in two days. We will all be needed there.”

  “How much authority do we have?” Timon asked.

  “Our goal is to maintain the peace without resorting to physical interference, but we are the only people here permitted weapons any larger than small knives. Any use of force will have to be justified to the President of the Administrative Committee.”

  “Understood,” Timon said. “With your permission?”

  Cassius waved him away. Timon looked through the two barracks tents and found the section assigned to the Kestrels. He left his gear beside his cot, checked briefly on Lazarus—who was being groomed by one of the novices not yet fully accepted into the Brotherhood—and went in search of the nearest bathhouse.

  The bathing tent was open to all comers, segregated by sex primarily for the comfort of the human delegates. Water was pumped into overhead showers. All but one of the booths was occupied.

  Beginning to strip, Timon was almost to the booth when someone emerged from the women’s section. Jamie stopped with a jerk and stared at him, her lips slightly parted, her wet hair tied up in a loose knot atop her head.

  “Timon,” she said. “I didn’t expect...to see you again so soon.”

  Timon drank her in, noting the way the damp fabric of her
clean clothes clung to her body. It didn’t seem possible, but it was almost as if he were recognizing her beauty for the first time.

  As if he were reliving every moment they had spent together.

  “You’re well?” Timon asked.

  “I’m much better now that I’m clean,” she said.

  Her words only put Timon in mind of her standing under a showerhead, her naked body slick with moisture, drops of water quivering on the tips of her nipples and the soft curls between her thighs.

  “No problems with Cahill?” he asked.

  Jamie glanced around as if she feared they’d be overheard, then squared her shoulders. “He’s accepted that he and I have no future together,” she said.

  “I’m glad to hear it. Have you been resting?”

  “I’m fine.” She hesitated. “What about your Brothers? I was told that all the members of your band returned safely with the rest of the delegation.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” She smoothed her hair. “You’ll begin your duties soon?”

  “I’ve asked to have my band assigned as messengers to carry information across the Conclave. We’ll have greater freedom of movement, and that might be useful.”

  Her lovely eyes sparked. “Yes,” she said.

  Timon’s pulse jumped. She was relieved, as if she’d expected him to abandon her. He wanted to take her in his arms and reassure her again and again until she couldn’t catch her breath.

  But touching her here would certainly attract the attention of the other bathers, and if one of his brothers should walk in...

  “It was a pleasure to see you again, Ms. McCullough,” he said. “I hope your work here is a success.”