Kiss Across Tomorrow (Kiss Across Time Book 8)

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  It was disorienting, too, to glance around the room and see Veris twice. She kept mentally blinking—then her gaze would swing back to the Veris of this time, to assure herself he was here. Was the future Veris also being reminded that he was the one out of his time, here? If he was human, then yes, she decided. When he traveled through time with her, he arrived in a past which was his. That wasn’t the case, now.

  The future Veris would travel with Sydney, who was also taking Alex. Aran would take David and Nayara. Taylor had a feeling they had deliberately placed Aran and Alannah with the strongest fighters, for Alannah was taking Kieran and Sebastian. Remi would travel with Marit, who wore a sword at her side and a knife in her boot, although Marit’s job was not that of fighter.

  “You will deliver Remi then come straight back here,” future Veris had told her. “Kieran will call you when you are to return and he will direct you. You jump Brody and Nial back here—that is your only job.” He paused. “Don’t let your temper loose,” he added.

  Taylor’s Veris snorted.

  Marit scowled. “I do not let my temper loose, ever,” she ground out, her eyes narrowing.

  Future Veris tilted his head and raised a brow.

  Marit stalked away.

  “You’re confusing her,” Taylor’s Veris said. “I still can’t figure out why you’re here, either.”

  “I knew the time marker and could direct the other two,” future Veris said. He hesitated. “It’s not something I’m ever likely to forget.”

  Taylor’s Veris frowned. “You know what I am about to find out, yet you still came back?” His frown shifted to a scowl.

  Future Veris rubbed his chin. “You’ve dropped your perspective,” he said. “Think about how you feel when you go back with Taylor.”

  Veris snorted. “Terrified, mostly.”

  Future Veris shrugged. “There’s your answer, then.” He walked away.

  Veris turned to Taylor. “The worst thing is knowing I have to go through that conversation all over again, somewhere in my future,” he growled.

  “Thirty seconds!” David called. He looked at Kieran. “Now, please. Everyone, hold still and focus on a black wall.”

  Taylor cleared her thoughts and focused on the black nothingness between worlds—a blank canvas.

  Into that blackness came crisp, sharp images which snatched her breath away. A town she already knew was somewhere in South America. Now she “heard” the name which came with the images, just as when she recalled the Eiffel Tower, “Paris” was always in the back of her mind. The town was Guatapé, outside Medellin, in Columbia. Only, it wasn’t the town which would be the focus of their jump. It was a camp in the jungle, five miles north, along the edge of the lake. The image in her mind jumped there. The place was marked by a massive rock—a natural monolith—thrusting up from the flat ground, five hundred feet into the air, looking like a finger pointing accusingly at the sky.

  All around the marker, which could be seen across the jungle from miles away, laid a ghetto town of buildings made from scavenged materials—corrugated sheeting, cardboard boxes, wooden crates, sheets, plastic bags torn flat and ironed together.

  The heart of the region’s poppy industry lived and worked in this unofficial town. Two thousand people, most of them armed.

  Again, the image/thought in Taylor’s mind supplied the information as if she had always known and was recalling the memory. The real target was not the shanty town, but the rock itself. In eons past, it had cracked open at the base and a wedge-shaped cave had formed. Industrious humans had carved away at the calcium interior of the rock, forming caves and rooms which ran throughout the inselberg. The cartel’s operations were housed there.

  Somewhere in there, Brody and Nial were held.

  The image in her mind switched to a ground view, about fifty feet away from the wedge-shaped entrance to the caves. A small hill of junked cars rose from the weeds and trees. They could hide behind that hill. Even though there were no words to go with the images, the thought pressed upon her. Jump there.

  The images came with feelings and impressions, too. Taylor could feel the wariness of the viewer. This place was dangerous.

  She glanced at Aran and Alannah, who had their heads down, absorbing the images, too.

  Her heart stirred.

  They must learn to face such dangers. The same deep whisper as before.

  Taylor looked at Kieran. He was not looking at her, but at David.

  “Now!” David called.

  Taylor drew in a breath, pulled Veris and Winter against her and jumped.

  The images had failed to convey the heat and the humidity. Taylor gasped as she breathed in the muggy air.

  Veris let her go and spun to look at the cave entrance, his machete out. The Uzi was strung over his shoulder. He wouldn’t use it unless silence was no longer an issue.

  The Antioquia area was one hour behind the Vineyard. That made it around three in the morning here, when the human energy cycle was at its lowest ebb. No one was in sight and few lights showed behind the openings and chinks in the squats and lean-tos.

  She could smell the humans. They were dirty, sweaty and unhealthy, oozing toxins from their skin.

  They waited as everyone materialized beside them and spread out, ready to move. Taylor saw Marit deposit Remi, then immediately flex her knees and jump away again, as instructed.

  Now, Kieran commanded in Taylor’s head.

  They moved forward at human speed to keep the humans among them packed inside the vampires, for they could not see as well and might stumble and give them away.

  Even though no one said it, Taylor drew reassurance from the idea that with vampires all around the twins, even if someone opened fire upon them with a submachine gun, the vampires would shield them. For vampires, machine gun fire was merely irritating.

  There were bare bulbs strung along the entrance to the cave, with the wire connecting them hammered into the raw rock. The rock was gray and crumbling like chalk. The lights flickered and faded as the generator driving them chugged along. Far to the right, Taylor could hear it puttering. It was a diesel generator and the diesel stank.

  They slipped into the tunnel. From here on, there were no images. Whoever had seen this place first and passed the memories on to Kieran—or perhaps it was Kieran who had scouted the place—they had not gone into the caves.

  “We must find Brody and Nial first,” Nayara explained. “Veris remembers the layout from the first time he did this, so he will lead us through. He can’t tell us what happens, or it might change what happens…” She paused. “Old thinking,” she added. “We want a positive outcome,” she said, instead. “If we don’t change the way it happened for Veris the first time, we’ll get that outcome.”

  Taylor’s chest tightened upon hearing that.

  Now, everyone followed future Veris through a rabbit warren of narrow tunnels with rooms punched into the rock on either side. The rooms were small and cramped. Most of them held sleeping men. The aroma coming from the unvented, windowless rooms was ferocious.

  Farther in, the rooms were larger. There were long workbenches and even at this time of the night there were naked people shoveling white powder into bags and weighing it.

  Armed guards roamed the edges of the rooms.

  It was inevitable they were seen. The naked globes were ten feet apart and shone in rooms and along corridors whether or not they were being used. All on or all off, Taylor guessed.

  As silently as vampires could move, they couldn’t stop shadows from being cast. They sent shadows flickering across each doorway of the rooms on the other side of the corridor from the strung globes.

  A guard called out a sharp command, reaching for his machine gun, just as Taylor was passing. She reached for her knife. Before she could grab it, a gray stone, one of the pebbles littering the sides of the corridors, rocketed across the space between the door and the guard, hitting him between the eyes with the power of a bullet.

 
As he fell, Taylor could see the rock had left a wound exactly the same as a bullet would. It had been thrown hard enough to bury into the guard’s soft tissues.

  Taylor glanced around. Remi winked at her, tossing three more of the rocks in his hand.

  She nodded.

  Behind them came another rattle of Spanish, echoing too badly for her to understand it.

  Split up! Deal with as many as you can! Kieran’s silent cry echoed in her head.

  Taylor surged ahead, toward the bend in the corridor just ahead. It was a four-way intersection. She dived right just as bullets spat along the corridor she had been in. There was a soft cough of a silenced gun, then more shouting and running feet.

  Taylor bent and grabbed her knives out of her boots and ran once more. She looked over her shoulder. Veris—her Veris—was right behind her.

  “Keep going,” he said. “Pick up the pace. It will give you momentum.”

  She pushed herself to a heel-jarring sprint, her senses racked up to pure instinct to cope with the speed at which the walls and corridors were changing around her.

  A gun spat from a room as she passed it. She skidded to a stop and bounced back, then into the room. Two quick slices—the men with the guns were moving so slowly, it was easy to knock the guns out of the way, take them out of their hands, cut their throats, then break the barrels of the guns, all before their eyes widened.

  She bounced back into the corridor, her blood up and pumping. In another room, she could hear Veris dealing with more of them. She ran forward, taking corners and switching directions as she came upon intersections and branches. Nothing was square, nothing was regular. It felt as though she was running through empty blood vessels, with their intricately branching and ever-dividing veins which served every cell.

  Brighter light ahead. She narrowed her eyes. Bright lights could hurt. She hurried toward it, anyway, because now she scented something familiar. Veris was right behind her once more. She could hear his heart pumping, too.

  The tunnel they were in changed from the sickly gray, powdering rock to black, sharp-edged stone which gleamed in the light. There was a demarcation line between the gray and black. Twenty paces farther on, they found the cell.

  The hand carved cavern was barely six feet deep and half that width. It wasn’t high, either. The bars were driven into the rock itself. They were three inches thick, spaced out four inches apart. No one, not even a vampire as strong as Veris, could have bent them.

  A door was built into the bars, small and low—a man would have to crawl in through it. The padlock holding it shut was a massive, square titanium thing which would take both hands to hold. The shackle was an inch thick—more than strong enough to keep a vampire contained.

  No light served the cell. The bright light was farther along the corridor, coming from good quality neon bulbs. She could only see a dark shadow at the back of the tiny crypt, crouched to avoid hitting his head. Now she knew the scent. “Nial,” she said softly.

  From close by and farther away, Taylor could hear shouting, gun fire. Screaming.

  The shadow stirred and crept toward to the bars. Nial gripped them with dirty hands, crouching to keep his head from ramming against the low, rocky ceiling. His shirt, the same silk shirt he had been wearing the day Brody left, was tattered and filthy with the gray dust which was everywhere in the caves. A rust colored stain had dried on the left side.

  It was blood. Old blood. There was no aroma left in it.

  Nial said urgently, “He has Brody in the clinic. That way, it sounds like.” He pointed. “Maybe one hundred yards. Get him first.”

  “We’re here for both of you,” Veris said.

  Nial shook his head. “He didn’t want me. I’m ballast. But Brody…” His knuckles whitened. “I don’t think they realized, not even him, that we could still talk to each other, even this far apart. Only, Brody stopped talking—maybe three days ago, if my time sense hasn’t skewed down here.”

  The urge to hurry, hurry! pushed Taylor a few paces down the corridor. She whirled, her dilemma keeping her anchored. Veris hadn’t moved away from the bars, either.

  “We can’t just leave him here!” Taylor cried.

  “No, we can’t,” Veris said, his voice low.

  She squeezed her fists, her heart thundering. Then, in sheer desperation, she formed the words in her head. Kieran! Here! She thrust them outward, with no idea if it would work or not.

  I see you. Wait!

  “They’re coming,” Taylor told Nial and Veris.

  Veris nodded.

  Nial drew in a breath. “Who?” he asked. The hope in his voice throbbed.

  “Friends,” Veris said gently. “Sebastian and Winter are with them. We’ll have you out in a minute.”

  Nial sagged onto the dirt floor, his shoulder against the bars. He hid his filthy face from them, although Taylor could see the tiny tremor in his shoulders.

  Footsteps. Running. Human feet.

  Winter and Sebastian.

  “Here!” Veris called.

  The corridor filled with people, crowding around the bars of the cage. Winter and Sebastian pressed up against them, their hands reaching for Nial.

  Veris rattled the padlock and grimaced. “Titanium.”

  Future Veris gripped a bar and studied it. “Just steel,” he said and glanced at Veris.

  Both Verises pushed Winter and Sebastian aside. Gently. “Give us room,” future Veris said. He and Veris gripped the middle bars.

  “Help us,” Veris ground out, as they hauled steadily to each side.

  The bars groaned.

  Kieran pushed through, put his big hand on either side of the separating bars and pushed, to compliment the pulling.

  Remi and David each gripped the bars just below Veris’ grip. The bars spread, the bulging space in the middle widening. As they hauled, there was another flutter of red in the corridor. On the other side of the line where the gray chalk began, Marit put out her hand to press against the wall for support as the pebbles shifted beneath her feet. “Oh…” she breathed, looking around.

  The bars looked stretched and were bent in an arc wider than the bars beside them. A ten-inch gap spread the middle.

  “Let me,” Kieran said to the men pulling on the bars. He reached into the gap and hauled Nial up by his arms. Then he got a grip on his waist and lifted him through the gap and put him on his feet.

  Nial’s legs buckled.

  Kieran picked him up again.

  Nial groaned as the weight settled on his feet once more. “He uses…weapons I’ve never seen. They work on vampires.”

  Winter put her hand on Nial. “Give me a moment.”

  “Less than that,” future Veris said. “Enough to keep him on his feet, then Marit can take him back.”

  “Straight to my surgery, Marit,” Veris told her. “IV and blood—let him drink it if he can manage it.”

  “I can,” Nial husked. His fangs had descended at the mention of blood.

  “Hold it together,” Winter breathed. “A few seconds more… Now try standing,” she urged him.

  Nial pushed one foot down. It held.

  “Marit,” Veris said urgently.

  Marit slid between Kieran and Nial and put her arms around him.

  “Now,” Kieran said and let him go.

  As Nial sagged, Marit jumped and they were gone.

  Winter closed her eyes. Sebastian hugged her.

  “There’s one more to go,” Kieran said. “This will be nasty,” he warned them.

  Taylor looked at him, startled. Did he know what lay ahead? Had future Veris shared that much? She looked at future Veris. He peered down the tunnel with a pain-filled expression.

  Suddenly, Taylor wanted to fly down the tunnel.

  Kieran gripped her arm. “No. Stay with us.”

  He had read her mind.

  Taylor nodded.

  Kieran waved everyone on. Winter stayed between them.

  The tunnel drilled through the black roc
k for another two hundred feet. The walls were almost smooth here, and the floor horizontal. The walls widened until they could move three abreast.

  The neon lights ran smoothly, without flickering. There was another generator down here, a better quality one.

  A nearly square door opened to their left. As they came to it a blue beam shot through the door, looking like a wrist-thick laser beam. It tracked across the opposite wall, then stopped.

  “What the fuck?” Remi breathed.

  Kieran glanced at future Veris. “That’s a pain whip,” he said, his tone accusing.

  Future Veris nodded. “He’s also got drainers and static cuffs. More.”

  Kieran rolled his eyes. “Fuck,” he breathed. Then he glanced at everyone. “This will get tricky. The asshole has weapons which can put you down, some of them permanently. You cannot take a hit and keep going. Got it? Keep your heads down.”

  “Who is the asshole?” Taylor breathed.

  “Brody’s brother,” Kieran shot back, pulling out the sawn-off shotgun he’d slung over his shoulder.

  Taylor gasped.

  Veris worked the Uzi around until he had his finger on the trigger. He glanced at her and shook his head. She understood that simple shake. No, he didn’t know about any brother. No, they couldn’t talk about it now. Later though…

  Taylor hefted her knives and watched Kieran for the signal.

  He waved and launched himself through the doorway, his shotgun sweeping across the space beyond. Remi and future Veris went next, then Taylor and Sebastian.

  Her foot crunched on tiles and she looked down, astonished. It was a flat tile floor, white and pristine.

  Machinegun fire rattled. It was startlingly loud for the walls were tiled, too. It was a huge room, with laboratory benches everywhere. On the far side, ducked down behind the benches, were more cartel thugs with machine guns, popping up to spray them with bullets.

  Those bullets were messing but not disabling. Not for long. Taylor threw herself over the steel surface of a counter, to slide across and drop between it and the next counter and paused, listening.

  The others were doing the same.