by Angie Fox
He dug a hand through his hair. “We’re on opposite sides.”
“Right.” He was the enemy.
A loud crash sounded outside. Quickly, Marc and I ducked back into the dusty shadows behind the last wooden shower stall. He drew me close, and for a moment I held my breath for an entirely different reason. I remembered the warm steady feel of him, the way his fingers gripped when he held me.
The heat of him seeped through my clothes as his body pressed against me. We used to wake up that way, his lips brushing my cheek.
I closed my eyes as his breath warmed my ear. His chest rose and fell against me. I felt myself soften. It was my body’s natural response to being held, nothing else. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to remember. I tried to draw away, but he held me close. He even smelled the same. Under the sweat and dirt, I detected the warm, spicy scent of him that used to make me feel safe and loved.
Two men outside cursed loudly. Dukkies quacked up a storm.
Fear pricked along my spine. Our patrols didn’t usually monitor the minefield unless they suspected a threat had made it past our defenses.
Their voices calmed, and once again, we heard them speaking low to each other as they approached. My heart sped up. The air inside the showers hung heavy and hot. A drop of perspiration slid down my chest. I couldn’t make out the words the guards spoke, but I knew these two weren’t out to party in the minefield—or at the rocks.
Seven hells. I was hiding out with the enemy.
I wondered what they’d do to him if they caught him here. I pressed closer to Marc without even thinking about it. His arm tightened around me. The last time, our side had tried to execute him.
“Hey now,” I heard a familiar voice say. It was Father McArio. He was usually in camp during the day.
“Have you seen any suspicious activity?” one of the men grunted.
“Yes,” Father said with conviction, and my heart sank. “Out by my hutch. I was just coming to find you.”
Thank heaven. I about collapsed against Marc as Father McArio led the men away.
I caught myself and drew back, bracing my hands against his chest. Desert dirt dusted the stiff, rough material of his field jacket. He’d always been lean, but now he was coarser, harder.
His gaze raked over me. His fingers traced me like he was trying to memorize every breath, every touch, every nuance of my expression as I watched him. I should have stepped back, but I didn’t.
“I can’t believe you just waltzed into my camp,” I whispered.
Marc drew a hand down my arm, as if any moment I’d bolt. A wry smile twisted his lips. “I didn’t think they’d forward a letter.”
Most people I knew grew more cautious with war. Marc had grown more reckless. And while I’d never been a big believer in the rules, I knew which ones to follow in order to stay alive.
I shook my head. He was nuts to try to find me. It was too cocky, too bold. “Can you at least try to be practical?”
The corner of his mouth tipped into a grin. “I am. This was the best way to find you.”
I snorted. “You still haven’t told me what you want.”
His humor fled. “It’s complicated.”
I’d figured.
He checked his watch. “I need to get back soon. I’m with the MASH-19X. We’re set up about thirty miles away on the other side of the Great Divide.”
That was even crazier. “How’d you make it over?” The Great Divide was the line of demarcation for the immortal armies.
He shrugged a powerful shoulder. “I flew out just before dawn.”
I gaped at him. Sure, he was a shapeshifting dragon, but you couldn’t just breeze over hostile territory.
“I had help,” he said, drawing me into the light. “This is important. I’ve been working on a big project with Dr. Keller.”
He had to be kidding me. “Dr. Keller from Loyola?” He’d been Marc’s mentor and one of my professors, too. Keller was tough but good.
Marc nodded. “We were conscripted at the same time. Last winter, he called on me to help him develop a new medicine. Supposedly.” He frowned. “Research is overseeing it.”
“Interesting.” The gods tended to shun new technology, thinking the old ways were superior. Any new medicines were usually the result of little labs like mine.
The light played off Marc’s face. “We were only given one part of the project. That alone is unusual. But there’s also something off in the chemical structure. I don’t think it is what they say it is. It could be dangerous.”
“This is war,” I reminded him. Heck, I’d already blown up my lab once trying to come up with a simple anesthetic that worked on immortals.
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Believe me, nobody’s ever seen anything like this. I covered for Keller while he ran some special experiments,” he said, his tone grim. “Off the books.”
“That sounds like Keller.” And Marc.
“Until the night I was on call in the OR. He stayed in the lab. He was on the verge of a big breakthrough. I hadn’t seen him that excited in months.” He paused, his lips pressed together. “Then he disappeared.”
My stomach twisted. I’d heard about how people disappeared in the Old God Army. “Maybe he was transferred,” I said. It could happen.
Marc shook his head. “We both know that’s not true.” He drew in a breath. “Now there’s a ghost in the lab. It’s destroying everything, and I don’t know why.”
My heart squeezed a little. “You think it’s him.”
He gave a long sigh. “No one has been able to get close, but I’m pretty sure it’s Dr. Keller.”
Marc was the only other person besides Father McArio and Galen who knew my secret. And while Father McArio would take it to his grave, and Galen had sacrificed to hide me, Marc’s intentions were suspect. “You want to expose me.”
“No,” he said, hard, unrepentant. “I only want you to talk to my ghost.”
“To a murdered soul,” I whispered under my breath.
“In all likelihood, yes,” he admitted. “But I’ll stand with you,” he promised. “I’ll do anything you need to keep you safe.”
But he wouldn’t see what I saw. The souls couldn’t touch him.
The men who died in battle rose up, noble, their missions complete. Murdered dead were traumatized by the sins of their killers. They were unpredictable, angry. If they moved on, they could be restored. Until then, they were lost in darkness. Their rage gave them wild and unpredictable powers.
“I told you about the spirit of the murdered girl in Laveal Swamp,” I said. I’d steered my boat out to her. She’d dived straight for me, burrowing into my skin, greedy to get inside me. For a brief moment, she’d possessed me.
I’d blacked out, lost myself, and felt only the sheer, startling pain of her tortured soul crushing me.
Not only did murdered souls become mindless and vicious, they became obsessed with the desire to live again. They’d do anything to find an easy host—me.
“I know what I’m asking,” Marc said, his words low and unapologetic. “I’ve thought long and hard about this. You’re not a teenager anymore. And I wouldn’t ask this if it weren’t important.” He fixed his gaze on me. “Can you talk to him?”
My mouth went dry.
It was very likely that Keller had been slaughtered just so he couldn’t talk.
I drew a hand over my eyes. It might be too late anyway. “How long has he been gone?”
“Two nights ago,” Marc said, regret coloring his words.
Dang it. There was a good chance he’d be around. Spirits often lingered where they died, especially in the cases of violent death.
“In your lab. In an enemy camp,” I said, trying to wrap my head around it.
He looked at me steadily, willing me to say yes. “I can get you in.”
It was nuts. “I’m not even sure how you got out.”
“Look here,” he said, drawing a small military map out of his back pocket. He u
nfolded it over his leg. “The armies are dug in at the edge of the fourth quadrant, both in a U-shaped pattern.”
He traced a blunt finger over the sandy beige topographic map. In red, he’d scrawled the long front lines of the armies, with their backup forces pulled in on either side.
“How am I supposed to get around that?”
That much power in one place could literally make the battlefield vibrate. The energy on the ground would be astronomical. It would fry me in a second.
Marc glanced up. “I’ve got a person working on it.”
I studied him. “Do you really think I’m crazy enough to go with you?” Even I had my limits.
A dull suspicion spiraled in the pit of my stomach. “Wait. Are you trying to use this to somehow try to reunite?” Because it wouldn’t work. “I can’t handle that.” I was done getting yanked around.
He didn’t budge, but his eyes betrayed the depth of his hurt. “I’ve known about you for weeks.”
“Oh,” I said, stung. He certainly hadn’t rushed to my side.
Guilt flashed across his features. “PNN.”
The hoarders. Great.
He looked me square in the eye. “I’m not going to lie to you.”
I nodded, not sure if I appreciated that or not. There’s nothing like knowing your ex truly didn’t miss you.
Stamping down the hurt, I offered a tremulous smile. This wasn’t about love or loss. The practical, bold, take-no-prisoners Marc hadn’t been hell-bent to see me. He was risking his skin in order to talk to our dead ex-professor. And this really was about a reckless field trip to an enemy camp.
I pushed back a layer of hair that had fallen over my eyes. “I don’t even know how I’d get there.” He could shift and fly, but I was stuck on the ground within the strict confines of camp.
We kept our borders protected for a reason. Imps roamed the Limbo landscape. And if they didn’t get you, you were just as likely to be swallowed by a bottomless sinkhole or attacked by a rogue demon.
Not to mention the punishment I’d face if the New God Army discovered I’d gone AWOL.
If the army went easy on me, I’d face execution. If they wanted to make an example out of me, I could be looking at eternal torture.
Still, I couldn’t help but think about the prophecy, about the new weapon.
Marc’s eyes searched mine. “I know it’s too much, but do this for me. With me.”
Even though I don’t want anything to do with you.
Merde. Was he trying to shove a knife in my chest?
Or make me want to shove one into his?
He stood before me, ready to lead the charge, curse the consequences. It was as if he could change things through sheer force of will. I drew a hand over my eyes. “You’re certifiable.”
He seemed to take that as a compliment. “And you’re stronger than you think.”
I sighed, torn. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“It has to be under the cover of night.” He glanced out of the tent. “I came in by the priest’s hutch, but that’s too dangerous now with the patrols out.”
“Don’t tell me you were going to rope Father McArio into this.” The realization dawned on me. “You already did.” That was why the padre drew the patrol away. That was why he was wandering around the minefield.
Father McArio was sixty-five if he was a day. He should be starting to think about retirement. Instead, he’d volunteered for an assignment in Limbo, a life sentence. He was my mentor and my friend, and as far as I was concerned, he took too many risks already.
He was going to get himself killed one of these days, and I didn’t want it to be because he was helping me.
Marc cast me a rueful look. “I met Father McArio while scouting the camp. Great guy. Before I knew it, I was telling him who I was.”
Father had a way of making people do that.
“He delivered the note to your door. He told me where we should meet.”
I groaned out loud. They were two peas in a pod. The old Jesuit never could leave well enough alone, but this was too big—even for him. I shot him a look. “No more talking to Father McArio.”
“You’re right,” he said, completely nonplussed. “It’s a risk to both of us at this point.” He thought for a moment. “When I was flying in, I saw a maze of gas tanks at the rear of the helipad. Go there. I’ll get you transportation. I’ll get you one of our uniforms as well.”
As if all we needed was a Jeep and a new plan. “You’re asking me to go AWOL. To hide out in an enemy camp. To seek out a murdered soul. To spy on a top-secret project.”
He stood tall, unapologetic. “That about sums it up.”
“You’re not worried about me?” Galen would never let me take this kind of risk.
“You’re not a kid anymore,” Marc said. “You’re a strong, smart woman. I need you on my side.”
He didn’t say it, but I knew. He wanted me as an equal.
I glanced up at him. “You think it’s that important?”
“I know it is,” he said with utter conviction. No sugarcoating it, no backing down. He was a soldier, the same as if he carried a sword into battle.
“Then I’ll do it.” I’d been in the clinic for two weeks straight. I could take a few days off. “Give me a few hours to pack. I’ll be at the helipad when the suns set.”
Chapter Four
I’d left Marc with a handshake, as if we were passing acquaintances or business associates who’d met for a chat over coffee.
This was so screwed up. I didn’t know what to think or feel, much less what to do around that man. But I’d felt the urge to reach out to him in some manner, so I did. In the lamest way possible.
It was an uncomfortable end to a gut-wrenching meeting. I could hardly believe he was alive, or that I’d agreed to help him.
I made my way down the busy walkways of our small tent city, one hand stuffed in my pocket, holding the note that had started this whole thing, running my fingers over the paper as if I needed to make sure it had even happened.
A group of nurses passed me going the other way, and I nodded to them, or at least I thought about it. I glanced back at the rise that led to the minefield. I just hoped Marc had gotten out before that patrol came back around.
He’d asked the impossible. I had every right to be ticked at him for that. I was.
But like a fool, I’d taken him up on it. It was a terrible risk, one I’d never planned to take.
Aside from the demonic creatures that would delight in eating me whole, there were hell vents, bottomless sand traps, not to mention the stark dry desert itself. That was before I arrived at the Great Divide.
Immortal armies built up incredible amounts of energy. It was a side effect of the enormous power of these demigods. It could melt engines, jam guns, short out modern weapons systems. Colonel Kosta told me once that walking the front lines could actually make an immortal’s hair stand on end. Which was pretty funny at the time because Kosta was stone-cold bald.
The current wouldn’t be as powerful with the armies standing down, but it wasn’t like I could skip through the middle of the Great Divide. Marc was a silver dragon. He’d shifted and flown. I’d have to find another way.
When I reached the hutch, I saw my werewolf roommate’s bags stacked outside, along with half a dozen crates of Star Trek figurines.
“Really, Rodger?” I said, opening the flimsy wooden door and banging inside. “You could have brought back Girl Scout cookies. New sheets, pillows, blankets. Instead we have plastic Captain Picards.”
My auburn-haired, barrel-chested roommate turned from his suitcase on the back cot. “They’re called action figures,” he said, as if I were the one being ridiculous. He gave me a half hug and a clap on the back. “Besides, you should know by now that I only collect classic Star Trek.”
“Of course. Nothing but the best.” They all looked the same to me.
“These are really valuable down here,” he insisted.
&nb
sp; Right. “I didn’t think I’d see you for another two days.”
He shrugged. “They offered me a deal. Come back early and take four days at Christmas.”
I had to grin. “No kidding. Christmas with the family.”
“It’s a dream come true,” he said, returning to his unpacking.
I hoped Rodger had made them specify which Christmas. Unlike the gods, we didn’t live forever. But if he hadn’t thought of that, telling him now would only depress him.
“Dang, you’ve gotten tan,” I told him—or at least more red. Rodger’s fair skin didn’t do well in the sun. His hair was wilder than ever, approaching Einstein proportions. It seemed he hadn’t had time for a stop at the barbershop. “Did they say why they wanted you back?” I asked, taking a seat on Marius’s footlocker. My roommates occupied the two cots on the far wall, overlooking the tar pits. “We still have a cease-fire.” As of this morning, anyway.
He shoveled a stack of sweaters into the dresser next to his bed. Mary Ann sure liked to knit. “Something’s going down.”
That was what I was afraid of. “Did they say what?”
“Of course not.” He slammed his suitcase closed. “I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”
Didn’t I know it. “You look like you’ve been in the desert for a month.”
He grinned at that. “Try the pool with the kids.”
For Rodger, there was no better place to be. “How’s Mary Ann?”
Rodger’s expression went goofy at the sound of his wife’s name. “She’s fantastic. I’m so lucky.” He headed for the door. “Before I forget—” He ducked outside and returned with a stack of Star Trek junk, with a Macy’s shirt box on top. “She sent you this.”
I took the Macy’s box and opened the lid on a batch of Cajun ginger cookies. They were small and perfectly rounded with thick, glistening sugar sprinkles on top. I bit into one and could taste the fresh spice and molasses, not to mention the cayenne bite.
“Stephen helps her bake now,” Rodger said, heading outside for another load. “His favorite shows are SpongeBob and Cake Wars.”
