He showed her the tiny instrument. “This blankets any listening devices. Your people are anxious to follow my every move. For the most part, I do not mind, but I will not entertain them while I am with a woman.”
Rachel folded her arms at her chest. “So this is a conjugal visit.”
He looked puzzled. “Conju…I am unfamiliar with that word.”
“Did you come here to have sex?”
He smiled at her. “Perhaps later.” He opened his arms to her. “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”
Her hands touched him gently. “Are you all right? Did they patch you up?”
Jessit thumped his chest where the worst gash had been. “Much better.”
“I'm so glad.” She punched him on the arm lightly. “But don't get so full of yourself. Just because we spent a couple of nights out in the wilderness doesn’t mean you have any privilege with me.”
“Is that so?” Jessit tugged her into his arms. “Then I am not welcomed here. Is that it?”
“I didn't say that.” She turned her head in a sulk and pouted with frustration.
He shrugged. “Apparently we have a language barrier. Fortunately, I know other ways to communicate.” He nuzzled her nose, pressing his lips to hers. The warm tickle of his skin ignited her.
Damn the man. He was speaking her language.
She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck and for one short instant letting herself go. Her na'hala jerked awake and urged her to join with him. Union, it told her. But she denied it and herself. She couldn't afford to take this any further than the gentle petting he offered.
His mouth kissed the nape of her neck. When he breathed deep she felt the vibration of a soft groan against her shoulder. She surrendered a sigh in response. Too much stimulation. It had to stop before he went too far.
She reluctantly pulled away.
Jessit wasn't giving up so easily. He rubbed his nose against her cheek. “Is something wrong?”
Rachel licked her lips. Wrong? No, not if he was okay with being ravaged by a woman on fire. He smelled of sex and need. And he was gentle. She wasn't expecting that.
“You promised to get me out of here.”
“I will.”
“Can't you do it now? I thought that's why you came.”
He hung his head and weighed his words before speaking. “I must meet with General Sorinsen, the leader of this facility. There are many issues at stake. I will send for you as soon as I can.”
“I don't like it here.” Her hands pleaded with him, kneading the fabric of his sleeve. “Take me away. Please?”
“It is not that simple, Rachel. There are negotiations involved.”
“Negotiations? I don't understand.”
A knock on the door kept him from saying any more. On the other side was his escort.
“Sir. Your appointment is at hand.”
Jessit nodded in acknowledgement. “In a moment, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir.” He saluted then stood at attention, blocking the open doorway.
Jessit turned back to Rachel. “I must go, but I will send for you. Soon.”
Rachel held on to his hand. It was warm and wide and full of promise. “One of my friends is here and—”
“With all due respect, sir,” the lieutenant interrupted. “You will be late for your meeting.”
“Of course,” Jessit replied without looking at him. His fingers grazed her cheek. “I will make the appropriate arrangements.”
He didn't kiss her, not in front of this stranger, but he squeezed her hand and that gave her hope. “Leave it to me.”
The door had no sooner shut when it opened again, and this time it was that iceberg, Denman. He slammed the door behind him and pointed to her bed. “Please sit, Doctor. It's time we finished our little chat.”
He glided toward her like a panther hunting prey. With lightning reflexes he took her by the hand and forced her to sit with him on the edge of the bed.
Rachel stiffened. She didn't like him. There was a taint on him, something vile she couldn't place.
“I trust you had a pleasant visit with Commander Jessit.”
“What's that to you?”
His twig-smile lifted upward. “It's important to Command that Jessit be happy. We go through a great deal of effort to make his every wish a reality. As you can imagine, an alien nation as our guest here is a great privilege and advantage. Trade negotiations alone will make this country rich beyond its dreams.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Everything, my dear. I told you, we want him to be happy. And he's asked for you.”
“He promised to take me with him.”
“Indeed, and you will be going with him. That's one of the things we need to discuss. You see, he's asked that we give you to him. As a gift.”
Rachel jerked her hand out of his grasp and scrambled off the bed. “If this is some kind of joke—”
“I never joke.” He got up and took her hand again. “Never.”
“He said no such thing when he was here. You're lying.” She was breathing through her nose, heat rising to her face. He was bluffing. She hoped.
Denman's expression remained bland but his grip became tighter, pinching her fingers together. He was disappointed with her answer. “You already know he's not human, so you must realize he has far different expectations than we do. Gifts of the flesh are anticipated and appreciated.”
She shook her head in disbelief. Denman was bluffing. The government didn't go around giving people away. Did it? “Taelen wouldn't do this to me.”
He laughed. “You are naïve, Doctor. Didn't he tell you he would arrange for you to be with him?”
“Of course he did, but he didn't mean—”
She stared at him. “He couldn't have meant that.”
“Oh, but he did. We're giving you to him as a concubine. A gift from the U.S. government to his Excellency, the Ambassador from Alturis.”
“I'm an American citizen. I have rights.”
“You have nothing!” He shoved her against the wall. “You're a trespasser and a security risk we can ill afford. But you have captured the interest of a potential ally and friend of this country, and we will gladly give you to his Excellency if it pleases him.”
His ferocity stunned her. Gone was the calm and disinterested voice, replaced by the C.I.A.'s version of Mr. Hyde.
“Your choice, Doctor.” He picked up a loose curl of her hair and tucked it behind her ear. “How badly do you want to live?”
Rachel shrank back. His touch felt vulgar and monstrous. Every cell in her body cried a warning. Run!
How could Jessit do such a thing? He had protected her. He had risked his life to save hers. Was it all part of an ulterior motive? She was too shocked even to get angry. He had betrayed her after all. “I need time to think.”
“Time is a luxury neither of us has, my dear, and I have many other questions.”
She stared up at him. “What sort of questions?”
“Tell me about the petroglyph.”
“What?” Why were the cave drawings important?
“The petroglyph. What makes it so special?”
She found herself answering without thinking, stunned by Denman's resolve and Jessit's request. “It's sandstone. Carved with obsidian tools. The glyphs are archaic Sumerian.”
“What does it say?”
“I'm not a Sumerian linguist.”
“What does it say?” He lunged at her like a spitting cobra. “What does it say?”
Rachel shook her head, trying to fend off involuntary tears. “The text is religious. It praises ancient gods. I don't know any more!”
“What gods? Does it specify? Are there names on that rock?” He grabbed her by both shoulders and shook her hard. “Names, Dr. Cruz!”
She was a rag doll in the hands of a bully. Instinct told her to fight back, but she couldn't. Not yet. Not until she knew those she loved were safe.
She s
tiffened in his grasp. “It has only one proper name etched into the stone. It says ‘Anu’. It praises the sons of Anu.”
His fingers dug themselves into her flesh. When he released her she still felt his grip. She had said too much.
“What is a Sumerian rock drawing doing in Texas?”
“I don't know,” she said, massaging her left shoulder. Why was it important? Her mind raced for answers. It was the find of a lifetime, but it had nothing to do with the Alturians. Did it?
“Then give me your educated guess.”
Rachel collected her wits. She had to stay in control. “This is the second one we've found in Texas. There's an old theory that the Egyptians once traveled to the North American continent. Perhaps the Sumerians did too. I don't know. And if you don't believe me you can kidnap some other scientists and ask them!”
Denman stood up, looking dissatisfied. He didn't believe her. She was sure of it. “Why was Paul Domino on your expedition? He's no archeologist.”
Rachel shrugged. “I don't see how that's important.”
He tapped his foot, waiting for an answer to his question.
She huffed at him. “It was a hobby for Paul. He paid to come along.”
“Expensive hobby.”
“Amateur archeologists do this all the time. Hiring laypeople to do the grunt work keeps our expenses low.”
“And how long has he been with you?” Denman's eyes narrowed into black bottomless slits.
“This was his first trip with me. We've been hiking the canyon rifts for two months now.” She folded her arms across her chest. “All this is on record with the park service. You can check with them if you don't believe me.”
“Oh, I have. You see, he’s placed you in a rather precarious situation. He escaped this compound but not before toying with our computer system. I can assure you he won’t get far. We do not tolerate terrorists.”
“Paul's not a terrorist!”
“He'd be hard-pressed to argue that point after accessing military records and sabotaging our computer system. We execute terrorists in this country, Dr. Cruz. I can assure you, we will execute him.”
Rachel could kill this man where he stood, yet he frightened her like no other. Her na'hala bristled inside her. Kill him, it said. Kill the human. Nothing would give her more pleasure, but she had to bide her time. She had to find Paul. “Mr. Denman, this is a misunderstanding. We were doing our jobs.”
“And I am doing mine. You've walked into a delicate situation and now you can't walk out again—not until I get the assurances I need.”
“You can't kill a man for wanting to get away from this madhouse.”
“He's already dead. What you need to worry about is why I should keep you and your family alive.”
“Paul's dead?” She shook her head. The man was lying. Gilgamesh had told her Paul was alive. “I don't know what your game is, but Paul is no terrorist, and my family has nothing to do with any of this. What you're doing is criminal.”
“This agency is above the law. We don't answer to any court in this land so don't expect any help there.”
“But Taelen said—”
“Jessit is a politician. He knows I don't have to hand you over. So I don't have to worry about him. But you are my wildcard and I need some guarantee of your cooperation. You either do your part and play nice with Jessit, or I will make sure your parents are imprisoned for life, while you…” He pinched her cheek. “You will be meeting your friend Domino in the afterlife.”
Denman turned to walk away, but Rachel grabbed him by the arm. “What have you done to Paul? Where is he?”
That taint again. It repulsed her.
He pushed her away, but not before his hostility produced a dusky blue aural ring that surrounded him from head to foot.
It was him. Gilgamesh's spawn. It had to be.
She doubted Denman was aware of his bloodline. Most half-breeds were oblivious of their anomalous DNA. They had no talent for manipulating the energy around them or reversing the cellular decay in their bodies. And all of them were mules. They could not reproduce, thus ensuring the purity of the Nephilim race. She lowered her eyes in an act of submission, hoping he didn't have the wherewithal to identify her in kind.
At least Denman seemed high up in the hierarchy here. That was good for her if Gilgamesh reached her in time. It was bad, if he didn't.
Chapter 11
Paul reached the maintenance shaft that ran through the bowels of the compound. The schematics showed an abandoned sewer line that fed straight into the desert. That was his ticket out.
Orange emergency lamps ran the entire length of this basement, and he was glad for the available light. According to the map Bubba showed him, this cramped corridor traveled east to west. Most of the corridor ceilings were high enough, but every so often he came across several low beams that crisscrossed at head level. He ducked on cue and kept trotting.
A mechanic's station emerged from the murky glow ahead. He picked up his pace. Judging by the footprints he left behind in the dust, this place wasn't visited often, but he was leaving an easy trail once the hounds reached this level. That was a worry for later.
When he reached the first workstation, he scoured the tables and nearby cabinets for supplies, but like his cell, the drawers and bins proved empty. He glanced up and caught the tail end of a big red pipe wrench. A tool, and perhaps even a weapon. He'd need both if he was going to bust his way out of here.
His thoughts drifted back to Rachel. A pang of guilt stabbed him for leaving her behind. For a moment he considered going back.
The woman haunted him, and that drove him crazy. She had spurned him repeatedly on this dig, which frustrated him every time he thought about it. He was sure she wanted him. She had sent all the right signals, and he had responded in kind. But whenever the opportunity presented itself she pulled away, apologizing for the misunderstanding.
More than once he'd broached the subject with her, she finally admitting that she didn't date members of her team. He begged a promise from her that they would see each other after the expedition was over. Her soft breathy voice was like honey on a warm biscuit when she replied, We'll see.
Now he was abandoning her and he doubted the next guy would treat her any better. Who the hell was Jessit anyway? And how could the military so blithely turn her over to this alien?
He had to move on. His only hope was to get help from the outside. The dim glow of orange lights seemed to go on forever, but he trudged forward, wary of every shadow and sound.
A tinny rattle in the distance forced him to freeze to a crouch. It felt like a lifetime before he twitched another muscle. Slowly, he stood up then took a step. Probably mice. A whole colony, he assured himself, and began his sprint once more.
Another mechanic's station lay up ahead and he found himself falling into a steady jog. When he reached it he took a break and laid the pipe wrench down so he could stretch his arms. A trail of paper tatters and mouse shit littered the floor like confetti. He sighed in open relief. Mice. Just him and the rodents.
He had barely taken a full breath when four shadows emerged from the darkness. They descended on him in unison, pinning him to the workstation in one fluid move.
“Leaving so soon, Mr. Domino?” The voice came from deep within the recesses.
Paul's head was shoved flat against the table, but he could see several men, all of them masked and armed with automatic weapons.
Not mice, he thought. Rats!
Chapter 12
Jessit listened to his adjutants give their latest report while he tapped his fingers on the chair rail with increased speed. They still made reconnaissance trips with the Terrans and their helicopters, but the trips were becoming less and less fruitful. No sooner would they detect a signal when it would vanish before they could triangulate.
Senit delivered another disappointing report.
“What do you mean it disappeared?” Jessit tried to keep his voice level, but he couldn't hi
de his frustration.
Senit Dante glanced over at Gered, a subtle look that let the younger adjutant know he'd field this question alone. “We were on top of the signal. I had already given the order to descend when it disappeared.”
“Damn it, Senit. It makes us look like fools in front of the Terrans if we keep chasing after ghosts.” Jessit eyed a fresh decanter of brandy left on the bar in his quarters. He had started his purification rites early, and that bottle of deep gold seduction mocked his resolve. Senit offered to remove it, but Jessit refused, as a means of demonstrating his sacrifice and dedication to the gods.
Senit bowed his head, his palms spread upward in apology. “If it makes a difference, our instruments recorded a huge spike in electromagnetic energy. The pilot of the helicopter said his gauges acted…he used the word, squirrelly. It wasn't just on the surface, but in the transport itself.”
“Ghosts,” Gered interrupted. “Sorry, sir.” He lowered his eyes when he realized he had spoken out of turn.
“Gods, Gered. Not ghosts.” Jessit dismissed them with a wave. “Go. Recalibrate the instruments. You can try again tomorrow.”
Senit and Gered made their obeisance and turned to walk away when Jessit asked Senit to stay behind. Gered rolled his eyes at Senit, a look that said, Better you than me.
Once they were alone, Senit walked over to the bottle of brandy and pulled out the stopper, waving it teasingly under his nose. Jessit jerked the bottle out of Senit's hand and then the stopper. “Uash'l has already started. You blaspheme the gods with such impiety.”
“Not everyone is as devout as you are, Taelen.” Senit smoothed a finger over the long lean decanter of brandy and sighed. “If the humans have any saving grace, it is their artistry with alcohol. You have to admit, they have a talent for it.”
Jessit recapped the decanter and put it back on its table. “I never understood why the gods allowed you so much latitude. Anyone else would have been struck dead.” Jessit slouched into his chair. Most of his wounds had healed, but he still felt out of sorts. To make matters worse, their mission to find the gods had been a dismal failure. Only his brief introduction to Gilgamesh proved to be of any worth, and he was powerless to speak of it, not unless he wanted to sacrifice his command…and his testicles.
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