Thunder (14 page)

Bodhi coughed from the dust. “Are you done in here? I can't breathe.” He put the shirt up to his nose, but apparently the smell became too much and he lowered it. “This is as vile as the smell of the dump at Geh—”

“Then go outside, you baby.” Selah continued to root around. She'd said the wrong thing. Now she was treating him the same way her brothers treated her. Why'd she do that?

Bodhi clamped his lips shut, held his ground, and glared.

She could see she'd hurt his feelings, the same way the boys hurt her. She'd never been intentionally mean to people. What had changed?

She found a horse harness in one pile and stripped out a
leather belt with a buckle. The belt fit snugly into the sheath loops, and she positioned it like a sash across her chest, measuring where the ends met in front. Then she pulled off the belt, grabbed a rusty nail and a mallet, and pounded a hole in the leather.

Bodhi watched as she cinched herself into the carrier and inserted the blade behind her back. “Where did you learn to do this?”

“I've hung out with Father on the farm since I was big enough to sit on a milking stool.” She practiced drawing the blade. The movements felt sleek and powerful, bolstering her confidence. “He taught me a lot.”

“Now you've answered a
new
question, so how about answering the old one? Why is this my fault?” Bodhi asked.

“I was waiting to get you alone.” Selah did another quick slice with the blade, brandishing it at an unseen foe. He just wasn't going to let up.

Bodhi broke into a broad smile and moved forward. “Is that so?”

“Back up, mister!” Selah stuck the blade out in front of her about an inch from his bare chest.

Bodhi raised both hands. “I surrender. You got me.”

“That's the problem,” Selah said, making another little stabbing gesture close to his chest. “I touched you.”

His smile faded. “You're talking in riddles.”

Selah huffed out a breath and plopped onto a plank bench. The old wood squealed at the new weight but held. “First I want to say that I'm really sorry I ever tried to capture you. It was foolish of me to treat other people like property. But I guess the joke's on me.”

Bodhi furrowed his brow. “Okay, apology accepted . . . I think. But what joke?”

“Sit, please. I'll try to explain.”

Bodhi hesitated. He walked back and forth a few times before sitting next to her.

She traced the outline of her boot on the dirt floor with the knife. “Apparently when we touched on the beach, it started some kind of physical reaction in my body.”

Bodhi jumped from the bench, index fingers pointing like weapons. “Wait! I don't know what you think you can blame on me. I didn't do anything to you.”

“You don't understand. That's not what I meant.” Selah rubbed her forehead. Her words were coming out in incomplete thoughts and her brain ran six steps ahead of her tongue. Her brothers often liked to fluster her so they could watch her babble talk like this.

“I understand perfectly. This isn't my first time in the game. You're trying to say I molested you or something.” Bodhi backed toward the door.

“No, that's not what I meant. We have to read the letters to understand.” She needed to face this, and he could help.

Bodhi looked suspicious. “Understand what?”

“You have a symbol on your forehead, right?”

Bodhi absently fingered his forehead and smoothed his hair over it. “Yes, of course, I've had it my whole existence.”

“Well, I didn't have one until the day after I touched you.” As if on cue, Selah's chest thundered.

Bodhi squinted and looked at her forehead. “That's impossible. It doesn't happen that way. I don't see anything.”

“This.” Selah carefully pulled down just the edge of her
top to expose the imprint hiding an inch below her collarbone.

Bodhi gasped as the wing came into view. “How'd that happen?” Immortals and centorums having children together? Could it actually happen? Had it ever happened at home? Or was this among the things purged from their memory? Why did he have to come to this place to get the answer?

Selah's eyes widened. “Are you hard of hearing? You touched me!”

Bodhi had seen females on the edge—they were apparently the same everywhere. He knew to back off.

He tried not to stare at the mark. What happened to these half-breed people in the Kingdom? He didn't remember ever knowing any. But they'd have been of a lower class and not necessarily among his circle of influence. Probably one of the many examples of his self-centered existence that didn't include the regular world around him.

Was this some kind of illusion? He reached out to touch her mark.

Selah jumped. “Back up. What do you think I am?”

Bodhi jerked back his hand. “I'm sorry—I didn't mean . . . Is it real?”

His eyes traveled past the mark. She was a beautiful young woman and stirred thoughts that weren't exactly gentlemanly. He chastised himself for choosing this moment. He could see her fear.

“Of course it's real. Do you really think I'd choose to be
come one of the hunted just for fun?” Selah rolled her eyes and curled her lip.

Bodhi glanced down. Insensitivity was one of his biggest challenges. Looking back from this new position of banishment, he lamented the sense of empathy he now needed to cultivate. This would probably be a good place to start, but could he really be serious?

He shook his head to dismiss the invasion of conscience. “I don't understand this hunting season on my people. I listened to your brothers as we traveled. Why are we being sold into slavery?”

Selah's eyes widened again. “Because the Company gives huge sums of credits to anyone bringing Landers to the Mountain.”

“That doesn't answer the question why,” Bodhi said. What were they after? All of these questions were a sensory overload. He needed to get away to think, but unfortunately that would probably prompt more questions. Maybe she was a key to the answers after all.

Selah's eyes filled with tears that threatened to stream down her cheeks. “It's always been that way. I don't know why. This isn't my fault.”

Her sad eyes tugged at his heart. Bodhi wrapped his arm around her. The soft material of her shirt slid across his arm, creating pinpricks of electricity. He pulled her close. For a moment she leaned into him and sobbed. Her body heat seeped through her clothes, warming his flesh, and she shivered. His own heartbeat mixed with hers and pounded in his head.

Selah pulled away and tapped him on the arm with her
fist. “Your heart is pounding like a drum. Are you trying to take wanton advantage of my tears?”

Bodhi broke into a wide grin. He threw up his hands to fend off her playful blows. “Ouch! Take it easy. I've been beat up more in the last two days than I have been in the last hundred years.”

Selah stopped in mid-punch and stared at him.

Bodhi looked at her and grimaced. “What now?”

“You said more than you were in the last hundred years.”

He tipped his head up, looking at nothing in particular on the ceiling.
Do I remember that long? Yes, I do, and longer
.
“Yes, that's what I said.”

“Well, old fella, you don't look a day over twenty.” Selah grinned. “Good joke.”

Bodhi raise an eyebrow. “Old age is a disease we don't suffer. The only ones I've ever known to die were from physical catastrophe.” He'd heard about others but saw only one immortal expire. An earthquake had dislodged a massive block of granite from a city building, and the man was crushed beyond repair.

Selah sat up straight. “You're not kidding?”

“No. I have no reason to lie. I'm stuck here regardless.”

“Where do you come from?”

“The Kingdom.” An internal conflict kept him from explaining. Preservation. Or maybe things were just too muddled. There seemed to be blurry spots in his memory. He could reach out to touch the thought but then it would slip through his fingers like sand.

“Where is this Kingdom?” Selah turned to face him.

“I don't know. I mean, I know it's not near here.” Bodhi
waved an arm around. “The sun is different, even the air is different. Here it smells like dirt and salt mixed together. And I no longer feel the Presence.”

Selah stood up. “My mother mentioned that word
Presence
. My father wrote to her about it. What is it?”

Bodhi hesitated, grasping for the thought. It escaped. He shook his head. “I can't say.”

Selah slapped her hands together. “We have to read the letters.”

“What letters?”

Selah darted from the shed. Bodhi moved to the open door and glanced out. She came running back carrying a small wooden box. The tie had slipped from her head again and the rhythm of her running tossed the hair back and forth across her shoulders. She was a natural beauty, fresh and uncultivated, not pretentious like the women he was used to.

She scrambled back into the shed, breathless. “Amaryllis is sleeping. I think we should keep this secret just between us.”

Bodhi nodded. He didn't really care, but if it pleased her he didn't mind.

Selah took her seat on the bench and set the box between them. She rubbed the intricate design on the lid several times and looked at Bodhi.

“What's the matter?” Bodhi asked.

“I put off reading these. They're going to change my thinking and I don't know if I'm ready for it.” She opened the box, retrieved the pile, and with a deep breath began reading the yellowed papers.

Bodhi stood and ran a hand through his hair. He looked down at Selah. She lifted her head and tears streamed down
her face. He gulped. He hated it when women cried. Right about now he'd be ready to agree to anything she asked. All he wanted was for her not to cry.

Still, he was impatient to get answers. “What did you find out?”

“My real father loved Mother and me more than life itself.” Selah sniffed back more liquid threatening to add to the mess already running down her face.

“Does the letter say anything about why this happened to you? Or where he was going?”

“It's the most romantic thing I've ever read. He said she was the mate he'd searched for his entire existence and he'd finally learned sacrificial love.” Selah wiped the back of her hand across her eyes and sniffed again.

Bodhi wanted to poke himself in the eye with one of the knives from the wall. All of this touching romance was making him nervous. But something about one of the phrases got his attention. He returned to sitting beside her. “What did he mean by ‘sacrificial love'?”

Selah shook her head and turned over the page. “I don't know, but back here he says it's his turn to protect the others. He told her to kiss their daughter.” Tears spilled from her eyes in great rolling trails. “And he said to tell her he loved her with all his heart. How did he know I would be a girl?”

Bodhi stared at her. “I don't know, but why the big tears?”

“My mother never told me about my real father, or that he loved me.” Her head went into her hands and she wept uncontrollably.

Bodhi fidgeted. Watching a crying girl was the absolute worst thing he could think of. How had he gotten into this
mess? He felt like punching himself because he knew exactly how he'd gotten into this mess—by being selfish and immature in his life choices.

He nervously slid his arm across her shoulder and patted it a few times before pulling back. He grimaced. There had to be a way out of here.

Selah raised her head. The tears diminished. She folded the paper carefully and placed it back in the box as she removed another. She scanned it and lifted her eyes to Bodhi. “Okay, so I believe you about the age thing. My father says he was 132 at the time, which would make him 150 now.” Selah's eyes widened. “How could you all be 150 years old? You couldn't have all been born on the same day. Were you born a grown-up? Do you remember?”

Bodhi ran a hand across his mouth. He did remember. But how much was he allowed to tell her? “Counting our age started—”

A bolt of searing pain shot through his skull. He screamed. He doubled over, clutching the sides of his head.

Selah dropped to her knees in front of him and put her hands on his shoulders. “What's the matter? I knew Raza hurt you with that stupid boomerang. Maybe you have a concussion.”

Bodhi broke out in a sweat that ran down his neck and onto his chest. That answered his question—he couldn't tell her about their age. He regained his composure. “I'm good. It's not a concussion, just an old injury flaring up.” The best lie he could think of quickly.

Selah seemed satisfied. “Sorry. Now, you were saying about your age?”

Bodhi shook his head. “My mind is still a little confused. Sorry, I don't remember.”

Selah stared at him for a minute as though she didn't believe him. Bodhi scrambled to think up another answer that wouldn't stab him in the brain. She rose and sat back on the bench.