The Fire King (25 page)

She could not help but look back, to see if Karr had followed. She did not see him.

I killed her soon after she learned that she was expecting.

Horrible, horrible words. Heartrending, terrifying. She had watched him break a little, making that confession.

Watched a part of him fade that she hadn’t even known was there. And there was not a thing she could do about it.

She could hardly even remember now what she had said to him. It was all a blur, based on instinct. She’d been driven not to make him feel better about the past, because nothing was going to do that, but to keep him from wanting to kill himself again. Soria had never been tempted to take her own life, but she knew all about hiding so deeply that her life hardly existed. Now was not the time for any of that crap.

How do you lose your mind so completely that you kill without realizing it?
Soria wondered. She did not doubt the truth of his story as he knew it, but it just seemed such an odd thing that a strong mind could break so easily. For this to be common … And for Karr to be prone to it?

He might kill you. If he could snap and kill a pregnant woman, he sure as hell can murder you.

Right. And back home she could be shot at the gas station, lost in a plane crash, have a lightning bolt explode her into a thousand charred bits—or stop to help an old man at the side of the road and have her life turned upside down forever and ever.

Her stump ached. So did her neck. Ghost fingers tingled. Soria shook her head, smiling bitterly, and went inside the
ger.

It was well lit with oil lamps and candles. Evie sat at a fold-up card table with a laptop in front of her. Several little girls and boys were spread out on the floor, resting on their stomachs with workbooks before them, pencils in hand. All looked at Soria, but only Evie smiled. The kids had deep concentration lines in their brows, and appeared as though they were either in the throes of some horrible math problem, or trying to excrete a bucketful of prunes.

“I teach in the evenings,” Evie said, as Soria returned the little bag of soap. “English, math, whatever they want to learn. I had my parents send me a boxful of study materials. Nothing you can’t find at Barnes & Noble.”

Soria looked around. Besides the laptop, she saw a bed covered in soft, thick blankets, and another desk that held a surprising amount of electronic equipment, along with several half-full jars of candy. The walls were somewhat plain, with the
ger’s
lattice frame clearly visible, but the wood floor was covered in bright rugs, and the heat emanating from the central stove was fierce and sank pleasantly to the bone.

“Is this really immersion?” Soria asked, trying not to smile.

Evie grinned. “Sure. Nomads can be modern, too. I’ve got a solar panel rigged on the side of this sucker, along with a satellite. Not for television, but communications. I won a grant to pay for most of it. I blog, write reports back to my thesis adviser, make sure my parents know I’m alive.”

“I love technology,” Soria said.

“I bought the T-shirt,” Evie replied, whipping open her sweater to reveal a faded flimsy tee underneath that was covered in dancing robots.

Soria had to laugh, and plopped herself down on the floor near the children. Evie joined her, bringing along a jar of candy. The kids put their pencils down, staring, and the young woman heaved a highly dramatic sigh before chucking peppermints and chocolate in their direction. Squeals filled the air, and just as quickly descended into contented silence as the girls and boys began studying again, this time with their mouths full.

“Amazing work ethic,” said Evie. “I’m probably ruining their teeth.”

There were tiny Snickers bars. Soria drooled a little on herself and took one, wrestling one-handed with the wrapper. Finally, she gave up and delicately put one end in her teeth, tugging until she tore a hole large enough to squeeze the chocolate through. She looked up, and found Evie dragging down her laptop to place it on the floor beside them.

“Is there anyone you want to contact?” asked the young woman.

“Yes,” Soria replied. “I don’t suppose you have a phone?”

“Ham radio. But the signal won’t carry all the way to the States.” Evie smiled wryly. “I wish.”

“You’re homesick.”

“A little. I love it here, though. You come to this place and you’re judged by your actions and what you contribute. Nothing else matters.” Evie ran her finger along the bottom of the keyboard. “You know, I read once that some Greek philosopher—at least, I think he was Greek—was told that
so-and-so
is a good person. His name was probably Bob, right? And this philosopher’s response was,
‘Bob is good for what?’
That always stuck with me. What am
I
good for? But suddenly I come here, and all those weird little things about me that never seemed to fit are suddenly good for something. I feel as though I make sense for the first time in my life.”

“I felt like that once. And then, like you, I got lucky. Found my place.” Soria said the words, but they sounded hollow in her ears. She had found her place for a while, and while a piece of her felt good to be part of Dirk & Steele again, the baggage that went with it, her self-imposed exile, made it hard not to feel as though she was telling a small lie. She took a bite of chocolate and closed her eyes. “You certainly speak the language like a native.”

“I knew someone when I very young who was from this part of the world. She taught me. Started my fascination.” Evie hesitated. “You, though, are something else. I thought your name sounded familiar, so I did a search. Found out quite a bit about this prodigy in linguistics who just … disappeared about ten, fifteen years ago.”

“Really? Do tell.”

“She was hot stuff, man. And just hot.” Evie turned the computer around and Soria saw a familiar picture of herself as a teen, standing beside some professor at Harvard whose name she couldn’t remember, but whose garlicky breath would be forever embedded in her mind.

It hurt a little to see that photo. There was a look in her eyes that was very young and happy, carefree, not a real stress in the world. Plus, she had two arms.

Maybe regret showed on her face. Evie’s smile faded, as if she suddenly realized she had made a mistake, that Soria would take all this the wrong way. But before the girl could stammer out an apology, Soria said, “My mom loves that picture. I haven’t seen it in a while. That was a good summer.”

Evie looked down, still a bit pale. “Is it true, that you can speak any language in the world?”

“I haven’t been everywhere in the world. But … I seem to pick things up.”

Evie nodded, ready to ask another question, and then seemed to think better of it. Her mouth snapped shut, and she pulled up an empty browser screen. “I hope you have a Yahoo or Google account for your e-mail.”

Soria did, and took the computer from her. Evie stood immediately, and began moving to each child, checking their studies and murmuring in their ears.

The Internet connection was slow, but it worked—a small miracle, given where she was. She tapped out a short message to Roland.

Alive. Hope Koni was able to contact you. Heading to Ulaanbataar to follow a lead. I want to know what’s going on with Long Nu. Next time I call, don’t hold back or else I will sink you.

Up yours,

Soria

She was finishing a note to her parents when the door opened and Karr peered inside. Her heart gave a deadly little twist. He looked at nothing, and no one else, but her.

Evie waved at him. “About time you showed up.”

Soria could not tell whether he understood—it made no sense that he should—but after a brief moment of hesitation, he squeezed himself through the door into the
ger.
Near the center, where the roof sloped upward, he could stand at his full height; but he stooped nonetheless, as though he felt the walls touching him. Certainly, the entire space felt smaller with him in it; and it was not just his size, but the energy of his presence. When he stood beside her, Soria felt lightning race over her skin: charged, wild, dangerous.

The children all sat up, staring at him with huge eyes. Evie held out the jar of candy. He gave it a curious look.

“Take one of the brown ones,” Soria said. “Remove the wrapper. I think you might like it.”

He raised his brow, and tried to reach inside the jar. His hand was too large. Evie laughed, and shook some out into his palm. “Dude. I think you must be a football player.” Karr gave her a quizzical look, but she had already turned to face Soria.

“What language was that?” the girl asked. “What you were just using with him? I’ve never heard anything like it.”

Soria hesitated. “It’s a rare dialect. Karr is from northern Russia. Very northern. Way out there.”

“Huh.” Evie’s eyes narrowed. “How’d you meet?”

“Fate,” she said, hoping the young woman would leave it at that.

She did, but not before giving them a speculative look that made Soria uneasy. Evie was a smart girl. Too smart to spend much time around, no matter how enjoyable her company.

“I’m going to see about finding him some clothes,” she said, gathering up the children. “You guys can stay here tonight. I’ve already radioed someone I know who has a truck. He’ll be here tomorrow to take you to the nearest town. It’s not too far. Twenty miles or so. You’ll probably have to pay for gas, that’s all.”

“That was kind of you,” Soria replied, meaning every word, even though the idea of being driven to a populated area filled her with peculiar dread. But there was no way to simply disappear in the night. Not really. Evie knew her real identity, and she had contact with the outside world. It wouldn’t take too much to raise an alert that would bring way too much attention to Soria—and to Karr.

Of course, she could just tell Evie that they wanted to walk, but she doubted that would go over well, either.

I should have lied and given her a different name.
Except, she hadn’t expected that anyone would recognize her. It had been over a decade. This girl would hardly have been out of diapers at the beginning of all that hoopla.

Evie left with the children. Soria placed the laptop back on the card table. When she turned around, Karr was standing directly behind her, so close she ran into him. His hand grazed her waist but she stepped out of his reach. Bumped into the table behind her. Had to crane her neck to meet his gaze.

“I am sorry,” he said. “About earlier.”

“You were trying to help.” Soria swallowed hard, and nodded to the chocolate in his hand. “You ought to try that.”

Karr frowned. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

She fidgeted, desperate not to have this conversation. “You did not.”

“I was referring to the things I told you, about me and what I did.” He swayed closer, but there was nowhere for her to go. “I could expect no one to—”

He never finished. Soria took the Snickers bar from him, bit down on the corner of the wrapper and tore it open. She handed back the chocolate, and he stared at it—and her—for one startled moment. Then he said, the corner of his mouth tilting ever so slightly, “Let me guess. Poison.”

“You wish,” she replied, glad to have changed the subject. “But no. There are some things we take for granted in this world, at least where I am from. That is one of them.”

Karr gave the chocolate a tentative sniff, and then his tongue darted against it. He savored the taste for a moment but did not look impressed. Indeed, after a nearly nonexistent nibble, he handed the whole thing back.

“You,” she said slowly, “have just committed an act of sacrilege against my people.”

“If that is sacrilege,” he replied, with a faint smile, “then I want nothing to do with your people.”

Soria finished off the tiny Snickers bar in two bites, and wiped her hand against her thigh. “Did you understand what Evie said?”

“Not everything. The terms she used …” Karr reached out and rubbed his thumb against the corner of her mouth. “Unfamiliar.”

Soria’s breath caught. He held up his hand, and she saw a spot of chocolate on his finger. His gaze was intense, dark, and held a hint of pain that was not her imagination. It was hard to think when he looked at her like that. Bits and pieces of her body that she had forgotten existed began tingling, and a flush of heat rode over her skin in a slow wave that made it impossible to start breathing properly again.

“She hired transportation,” Soria finally managed to say. “I am afraid we may need to take it in order not to draw attention to ourselves.”

“Too late,” he rumbled—and then, even softer, “I do not want to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“I am afraid,” he said. “What I did was unforgivable.”

Soria closed her eyes, briefly; then she pushed away from the table, craning her neck to stare into his face.

“No time for that. Life is too short. I wasted the past year of mine on idiot things. Like, being afraid of how people would see me. Or worse, being afraid of myself. Not being able to
forgive
myself.” She yanked on her empty sleeve. “I still have not. This is my fault. Right here. I was stupid.”

“I doubt that.”

She shook her head, on the verge of telling him what had happened, how she had lost her arm. “I am still afraid of making mistakes. I may never forgive myself. But I suppose I will just have to keep on living. Same as you.”

“I murdered—”

Her hand took on a life of its own, covering his mouth before he could finish. He was very tall, and it was quite a stretch. Miles of muscle that she had to lean on to reach his mouth. His lips were firm against her palm, and his hand rose slowly to encircle her wrist. His other hand touched her waist. All the while, his gaze never left hers, and the longer she stared at him, the more she felt herself drifting, as if her feet were floating off the ground and she was made of air.

“I should not feel the way I do about you,” he murmured against her palm. “I should be stronger than what I feel.”

“Whatever,” she said in English, touching his lips with her fingers, marveling at the pure masculine heat of his eyes and body. “I think you should kiss me.”