Blaze of Memory p-7

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Blaze of Memory p-7 Page 18

by Nalini Singh


  “A woman?”

  “Yes.”

  But that, Dev thought, didn’t mean she wasn’t dangerous. “I’ve got a contact in the truckers’ union,” Dev said. “I’ll get her route.”

  “They left about four hours ago.”

  “Then I better start moving.” Hanging up, he called his contact and five minutes later had a printout of Jessie Amsel’s route. Eyes narrowing, he made another call. “Michel? I need a favor.”

  “You going to owe me, cousin.” A smile he could almost hear. “What’s up?”

  Dev outlined what he needed. “Is it doable?”

  “Against the rules, but I figure you’ll pull my butt out of jail if I land in it.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. Even if she doesn’t switch rides beforehand, Traffic Comp tells me the roads are clear all the way to the border. If she hits Canada before I get to her, nothing I can do about it.”

  EARTHTWO COMMAND LOG: SUNSHINE STATION

  18 August 2080: Official incident report: Ten members of the scientific team are currently recovering from exposure in the medical bay. It appears they lost their sense of direction in the dark on their way back from a survey mission.

  None of the ten contacted base camp for help, and they do not appear to remember the hours they spent without shelter. All ten have been confined to the med bay until they can be fully evaluated.

  CHAPTER 32

  “You got the papers to get over?” Jessie asked as she brought the truck to a stop three hours south of the Canadian border, the world still night-dark around them though it was early morning.

  Katya shook her head. “No. I’ll have to find a way to sneak through.”

  “That’s not exactly easy. They’ve got Psy guards now, too—apparently there was a problem with people using telepathy to cloud human guards’ minds.”

  That eliminated the very plan Katya had been counting on. “I don’t suppose you know anyone who makes fake IDs.”

  “Do I look like the criminal type?”

  “No, you look resourceful.”

  Jessie grinned. “What the hell. Come on.”

  Twenty minutes later, Katya had an identification card that was “good for one use only,” according to the wizened little man who made it for her. “They’ll get a bounce on it mebbe ten minutes after you scan it through, so make sure you high-tail it out of there fast.”

  Katya nodded and handed over most of the cash she’d taken from Tag. “Thanks.”

  “And if you get caught, you never saw me.” Beady black eyes pinned her in place. “Understood?”

  “Got it.”

  “Are you going over the border?” she asked Jessie once they were on their way again.

  The other woman shook her head. “My delivery’s to a facility about forty minutes shy of it. You can hitch a ride with another trucker from there—I’ll make sure it’s one of the good ones.”

  “Why are you helping me so much, Jessie?” Katya asked, running her fingers over and around the hard edges of the ID card. “I’m obviously someone in trouble, someone who could get you in trouble.”

  “You heard that thing about paying it forward?”

  “No.”

  “Where you been living, in a cave?” Without waiting for an answer, Jessie quickly explained. “It’s like this—if someone does something nice for you, you got to do something nice for another person down the road. It’s meant to put good back into the world.”

  “I see,” Katya said slowly. “The world would indeed be a better place if everyone did that. Can I ask—whose niceness are you paying forward?”

  “When I was a scrawny little sixteen-year-old, a scary fucker of a trucker picked me up on a dark and deserted street.” Jessie’s smile turned her striking. “After he finished chewing me out about the dangers of hitchhiking, he fed me, let me shower in his truck, and asked me where I was going. When I said I didn’t know, he gave this big sigh.”

  “And?” Katya prompted when Jessie fell silent.

  “And I ended up riding with him for the next five years. Isaac’s the one who taught me how to drive the big rigs, who got me my first gig.”

  “He must be so proud of you. Is he retired now?”

  “Hah! He’s only six years older than me!”

  “Oh.” Katya bit her lip, but couldn’t contain her curiosity. “You don’t see him as a brother, do you?”

  “God, I’m pathetic. And obvious.” The other woman rolled her eyes. “He still sees me as that scrawny kid he picked up. It hasn’t sunk into his tiny male mind that I not only have boobs, I’d like to use them, thank you very much!”

  Katya burst out laughing just as dawn began to whisper on the horizon. “You’re waiting for him?”

  “I’m giving him one more month. I swear, after that, I’m taking the first offer that comes along.”

  “It’s wonderful, you know,” Katya said, mind filling with memories of pure molten heat. “Being with someone who touches your heart.”

  “You don’t sound very happy.”

  “I think he’s going to hate me now.”

  A siren pierced the air, cutting off her breath.

  “Damn.” A scowling Jessie pulled over to the side of the long, otherwise empty road. “I swear,” the blonde muttered, “the hick cops have nothing better to do than hassle law-abiding citizens.”

  “Jessie, we’re actually—”

  “Shh. Think law-abiding thoughts.” Sliding back her door, Jessie grabbed her coat and jumped down. Katya couldn’t see her as she moved toward the officer, but she heard her words. “Michel Benoit, don’t you have to go eat a doughnut or something?”

  “That’s Officer Benoit to you” came the drawling response. “I got a report you’re carrying contraband, sweetheart.”

  “Hell you did!” Now Jessie sounded pissed. “I’m clean and you know it.”

  “Contraband’s about yay-high, dark blonde hair, on the thin side. Ring a bell?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  Katya had every faith in Jessie’s skills, but she had no desire to get the woman who’d helped her so much into real trouble with the law—it wasn’t as if the cop wouldn’t check the vehicle. Sliding back her own door, she stepped out into the frigid winter air and walked around the front of the truck to stand beside Jessie, the dawn soft and muted around them. Even the snow lining the roadside looked warm in the red and gold light.

  “What exactly,” Katya said, meeting the cop’s ice blue eyes, “am I supposed to have done?”

  He smiled, his dark brown hair waving in the gentle breeze. “Might have something to do with firing a stunner.”

  “They filed a report?” There was something disturbingly familiar about this Michel Benoit.

  He raised an eyebrow. “You want a record?”

  “That means there’s no report,” Jessie told her, hands on her hips. “He’s got no right to pull you in.”

  Michel’s eyes flashed. “This ain’t none of your business, Jessie.”

  “Take your ‘aint’s’ and shove them,” Jessie muttered. “Everyone knows you’ve got a flippin’ law degree.”

  The man didn’t seem to take offense, his smile reaching to warm those eyes. “Here’s the deal,” he said to Katya. “You can come with me nice and easy, or I find something to charge you both with.”

  “Both? Jessie hasn’t done anything.”

  “Jessie,” Michel murmured, “has probably done quite a lot of things.”

  Katya put a hand on Jessie’s arm when the other woman shifted forward, as if tempted to deck the cop. “It’s the eyes,” she muttered. “The color threw me off but you have the same eyes.”

  Michel’s smile widened. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

  “Name Devraj ring a bell?”

  “I might have a cousin called Dev, but you know, it’s not that unusual a name.”

  Certain now that there was no way Michel would let her leave,
Katya turned to Jessie. “Thank you.”

  Jessie was still scowling, but she hugged Katya tight. “You ever need help again, you call me. You got my number, right?”

  Katya nodded, having memorized the cell code. “So,” she said to Michel, “where to from here?”

  PETROKOV FAMILY ARCHIVES

  Letter dated December 24, 1978

  Dearest Matthew,

  It’s Christmas Eve, but the world is strangely hushed. Normally, the changelings would be playing their yearly tricks—I always half expect to find a tiger sitting on my porch come midnight, as I did once when I was a child. He’d brought me a fresh bough of holly, can you imagine?

  But this year, even the human carolers have stayed home. All of us are waiting for the ax to fall—the Council is nearing a decision. If it goes the way I predict, anyone not in the Net will become forever cut off from those we love.

  The Council has acknowledged that adults can’t be fully conditioned, but those who stay in the Net will have to follow strict guidelines. If they don’t, their children will be taken from them—so that they can be conditioned the proper way. My hand is shaking as I write that. No one will ever take you or Emily from me.

  Mom

  CHAPTER 33

  Dev made his way from the airjet to his cousin’s home—just south of the border with British Columbia—using the snow-capable rental Maggie had organized. Given the airjet’s speed, he wasn’t that far behind Michel taking Katya into “custody.”

  Arriving at his cousin’s place, he got out and strode straight to the front door. Michel opened it as he was raising a fist to knock. “She’s all yours, Santos.” Thrusting his hat back on, Michel said, “If I were you, I’d don body armor.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  His cousin tipped his head and walked off to his own vehicle. Trying to get a handle on a temper that flat-out refused to respond to the cool brush of metal, Dev walked through the door and followed the echo of Katya’s presence to the kitchen—where he found her calmly eating a huge blueberry muffin, a cup of what looked like hot chocolate at her elbow. Jesus—there were even marshmallows in the damn chocolate. “Looks like Michel took good care of you.”

  A glance that told him nothing. “He knows how to treat a woman.”

  Okay, that bit. “As opposed to?”

  A shrug.

  He watched as she picked out a blueberry and popped it into her mouth. “Did you really think you were going to get away?”

  “Giving in is not what I do.”

  It was a slap. And it poured the most frigid water over the temper he’d irrationally feared would turn him into his father. What the hell had he expected Katya to do? Sit meekly while he held her captive?

  The woman who’d survived Ming LeBon’s brand of torture wasn’t the sitting-around kind.

  Blowing out a breath, he folded his arms across his jacket. “How close are you to wherever you’re going?”

  She froze, then seemed to shake herself out of it. “I’m getting closer.”

  “Still no certain location?”

  “It’s northwest . . . I think possibly Alaska, though it could as easily be in Yukon.”

  Dev stepped close enough to play with a strand of her hair. She didn’t pull away, but neither did she deviate from the concentrated destruction of her muffin. He was being ignored again. He realized that should’ve irritated him, but it made his lips curve. Releasing her hair, he moved around to stand at her back, placing his hands palms down on the counter on either side of her.

  She took another bite of the muffin.

  Grinning, he brushed aside the fall of her hair and pressed a kiss to the delicate skin of her nape.

  A shiver. “Devraj Santos,” she said with quiet forcefulness, “you are not going to charm me into going back.”

  He kissed her again, along the slender curve of her neck. “Who said anything about charm?” he murmured, nibbling at her earlobe. “I’m planning to seduce you.”

  She put down that damn muffin. “Dev, why aren’t you yelling at me?”

  Another kiss as he rose to his full height and wrapped his arms around her, dropping his chin on top of her head. “You’re too stubborn to respond to yelling.” She’d survived something he wasn’t sure even he could survive—a man would be stupid not to respect that kind of will in his woman.

  “But you’re still going to drag me back.” Her hand closed into a fist on the counter. “Why? I’m no threat this far from you.”

  “I have to consider what you might’ve learned in the time you’ve been with us, whether you’ll circle back and strike.”

  That hand flexed, then closed again. “Nothing I say will change your mind, will it?”

  He knew what he should do. Until he’d walked into this kitchen, there hadn’t even been a question in his mind. But—“I can give you three days.”

  She sucked in a breath. “Dev?”

  “We’ll take the airjet as far north as you’re comfortable, then hire a car.”

  “I’m glad you’ll be with me,” she said to his surprise, leaning into his embrace. “Part of me is so afraid of what I’ll find—what if there’s nothing there?”

  “Katya?”

  “It would mean my brain really is damaged,” she whispered. “If I have this compulsion and there’s nothing to back it up.”

  He suddenly understood her hunger to follow the compulsion far better than he had before. “You aren’t brain damaged,” he told her, squeezing her tighter. “If you were, you sure as hell wouldn’t have managed to sneak out from under my bloody nose.”

  Katya heard the disgusted edge in that comment and it made her heart lighten. “I did good, didn’t I?” Her smile faltered. “How’s Tiara?”

  “She opened book on how far you’d get before I caught up to you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, and she placed the bet for the longest distance.”

  “And Tag?”

  “Let’s just say he’s not your new best friend.”

  She winced and went to ask about the boy before realizing that might get him into trouble.

  Dev chuckled. “The kid is fine—and we’ve learned to be extra careful with his shields.”

  “He’s strong,” she said, apprehensive about what that might mean. “If the Council finds out the Forgotten have that level of psychic ability . . .”

  “Let me worry about that.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, allowing her to turn so they faced each other. “Tell me everything you can about this pull you feel to go north. Do you have any other information?”

  “No. But I know I heard something. There . . . in the black room.”

  Rage reignited, dark with the need to draw blood. He had to consciously focus to form speech past the vicious power of it. “Why would they have spoken of anything sensitive in your hearing?”

  “They made a mistake,” she said, her voice halting as if she was reconstructing fragments of memory. “Ming broke me, but even broken, I had ears, I had eyes. He treated me like I was an insect he’d crushed under his boot, not worth bothering about.”

  The rage in him was a wild thing, animalistic in its anger. . . its anguish. “What,” he forced himself to ask, “did you hear?”

  Katya looked up at the sound of Dev’s voice, that raw blade. His anger was a lash in the air, a whip of fire. But somehow instead of inciting fear, it made her feel stronger. “Lots of things.”

  Dev watched her with those amazing eyes, and she knew, she knew he would kill for her. It shook her, the knowledge of how deeply they’d bonded with each other. What if—

  “No,” Dev said. “Don’t think about anything but this task. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

  She nodded, her movements jerky.

  “I don’t have all the pieces yet, but I know I have to go. I have to see.”

  His hand against her cheek. Warm. Protective. “You have no idea what you’re searching for?”

  “Something bad.” She turne
d into his touch. “When I think of it, I get this oily sickness in my gut.” Evil, she thought. It was something evil waiting for her, a thing her mind refused to show her, but whose malevolent shadow overlay every other thought.

  EARTHTWO COMMAND LOG: SUNSHINE STATION

  17 September 2080: Productivity has dropped fifty-seven percent in the past three days as staff members complain of increasingly severe headaches.

  It may be advisable to consider a recall of all personnel until the area has been thoroughly tested for biological and/or chemical contaminants. Please advise.

  CHAPTER 34

  Dev pressed a kiss to her forehead, the unexpectedly affectionate gesture making her eyes burn. “We’d better start as soon as possible.”

  She knew the three days he’d given her would cost him, but he was going to take the hit—for her. “Dev . . . I could be leading you into a trap.” In spite of how far she’d come, her mind remained a savage maze, full of holes and deception.

  Dev rubbed a thumb over her cheek. “Still don’t get it, do you, Katya? I take care of what’s mine.”

  “I don’t want you to get hurt,” she began, but the set of his jaw told her she was wasting her breath. “Were you born stubborn?”

  “My mother used to say I was half mule.”

  It made her smile. “That would make one of your parents a mule. Your mother?”

  “She never admitted it.” His eyes filmed over with a sadness so deep, she felt her throat lock. “Never had the chance.”

  She hesitated, unsure of her instincts, of her mind, her soul . . . but not of her heart. “What happened to her?”

  “My father killed her.” A stark response that stole her breath.

  She was still trying to find the words with which to respond when he continued. “That was when I first understood why some of our ancestors chose Silence. My father—he was never abusive. It was his gift that turned him into a killer.”

  Reaching out a hand, she closed it over his.

 

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