Worlds Apart (26 page)

I am afraid. And I don't think I
can hide it.

She did manage to drink more
water, then huddled against the wall, keeping one eye on Damien at
his end of the cave, and the other on the opening a few feet to her
left. She wasn't quite aware when she fell asleep.

Chapter 31

Clive pulled the car off to the
side several yards short of the roadblock near a three-way
crossroads. An ambulance and two county sheriff cars were parked on
the other side, along with a ramshackle group of trucks and cars.
Several people milled around the area, but Clive kept his eyes on
the sheriff deputy approaching them with her hand on the butt of
her gun. He stayed behind the wheel, holding up both hands to show
he was unarmed.

Kasia was not as cautious; she
opened the passenger side door and jumped out in one movement. The
deputy swung to face her, bringing her gun up in the same
movement.

“Stay right there,” the deputy
said, her no-nonsense tone putting Clive in mind of Sheriff Nancy.
“Hands where I can see 'em.” Behind her, two more officers
approached at a trot, drawing their own weapons.

Kasia huffed and rolled her eyes,
but she put her hands up. Nailing the cops with a raised brow, she
threw out the magic words. “FBI.”

The first deputy blinked.
“What?”

“FBI,” Kasia repeated with
exaggerated patience. “Captain Windblood, Moab division.” Keeping
her hands up, she pointed to the letters emblazoned on the left
side of her jacket. “We were in the area and heard about your
kidnapping. It's possible your perp is someone we're looking for.
We're here to help. I've got teams setting up a perimeter. The rest
of us are here to help search. Who's in charge?”

The big man behind the deputy
stepped forward. “I am,” he said, sliding his gun back into his
holster. His deputies made no move at all, guns still steady on
Kasia. “Sheriff Ringstrom. You got some ID?”

With exaggerated care, Kasia
reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the plastic wallet
holding her fabricated ID card. Ringstrom held out a hand and she
tossed it to him. He studied it, then indicated the car. “Have your
personnel step out. How come I didn't hear about you being in the
area?”

“We weren't that close.” Kasia
came around the car as Clive, Riff, and Shandari piled out. “I
called your office when I heard your report, but the dispatcher
said you were already out here.”

“That so? He never called
me.”

“I didn't leave a
message.”

“
Well, I'll tell you what we got,
Captain,” Ringstrom said. “This fella's kidnapped one of our women.
We've got proof he's a bad sort and we're awful worried about her.
She's pregnant, too. About three months.”

“The fella we're looking for is
definitely a bad sort, Sheriff. May have a tendency to torture and
murder animals, and he's proven capable of extending that to
humans.”

Ringstrom nodded without looking
away from Kasia, but Clive noticed the other cops exchanging
glances when they heard about the animals. They'd seen
something.

“The thing is,” Kasia continued,
“we haven't been able to get a decent description of the guy, or a
name. You got anything?”

This brought guffaws from the
cops, and Ringstrom gestured a stand down. As they holstered their
guns, he removed his hat and swiped an arm across his forehead.
“Hell yes, we got a lot, Captain. The guy’s been living in town for
almost two months.”

Clive jerked as if he'd been
zapped with a wand. He grabbed Kasia's arm. “Shit! All this time,
I've been tracking him, and he's had Tina in his sights all
along.”

Kasia turned. “Clive….”

“Fuck it, Kasia,” he said, shaking
with fury. “You stay here and deal with these people. I'm getting
out there now, and I'm finding her.” He turned a glare on
Ringstrom, who stood open-mouthed, staring at Clive. “What's he
look like?”

Ringstrom snapped a finger and the
blonde deputy flipped a paper from her belt, holding it out. Clive
grabbed it and glanced at the photo. Not anyone he recognized, but
he didn’t care. He dashed across the street, pulling out a
flashlight, tuning his senses as high as he could get
them.

He hadn't gone far when quick
steps approached and Riff appeared at his side. “Buddy system,” he
said. “I'm yours.”

“Just don't slow me
down.”

“Right behind you. Let's find
her.”

~~

Tina realized she'd fallen asleep
in the same moment she was hauled awake, as Damien pulled her up by
one arm. Her shocked yell was cut off as he jerked her across the
cave, tossing her down near the warmed rock wall in back. She had a
glimpse of the wall to the left of the entrance, now littered with
graffiti—angular characters drawn in several rows. She turned her
terrified stare onto Damien, alert for his next movement. He knelt
in front of her, grinning. She shuddered at the glitter in his
eyes, bigger and brighter than it had been earlier. She noticed for
the first time that his face was scratched in several
places.

“Time for work, Tina,” he said.
“I've got some questions. Start answering them.”

Her breath came in gasps. “What do
you want?”

“For starters, I want the name of
man who fathered your baby.”

She thought of prevaricating, but
his expression changed her mind. “Clive Winslow.”

He reached a hand toward her face.
She flinched, but he just stroked a finger down her cheek. “Good,
Tina. That's good.” The finger stalled, resting on her chin. “How
long have you known him?”

She closed her eyes and his hand
tightened on her chin, the pain forcing her to look at him again.
“I don't know him,” she mumbled through his hand. “It was just one
night.”

He let go of her and laughed. “Is
that right? I bet he didn't tell you what he was, did
he?”

“No.”

“Were you in
Kaarmanesh?”

“Of course not. I didn't know it
existed.”

He nodded, the grin fading into a
thoughtful expression. “But you know about it now.”

“Yes.”

“You know what I am. You said you
had a cure. Who are you working with in Kaarmanesh?”

Tina hesitated, reluctant to
endanger Shandari. Damien's grin returned as he drew his knife from
a sheath at his belt. His grin widened at the same time that her
terror leapt up. His eyes glittered even brighter. He really did
feed off her fear. As the light glinted off the knife, she saw his
hand was covered in scratches.

“Easy way or hard way, Tina,” he
said.

Her right arm slammed of its own
accord against the wall, held in place by another of those iron
bars. She scratched at it, her fingers slipping off the cold metal
without purchase.

He leaned toward her. “I prefer
the hard way, Tina. Give me an excuse.”

“P-p-portal Enforcement,” she
said. Her heart pounded in her throat. She could see the
corresponding brightness in his eyes. “One of their healers is
working with me.”

“There's no reason to keep it from
me,” he said. “I know PE is here. They've had agents looking for me
for weeks. I've been right under their noses, but they never see me
for what I am.” The knife tip rubbed along her jacket. “Do you know
why, Tina?”

She tried to melt into the wall.
“No. I don't.”

“Because I'm stronger than they
are. I can keep my human mind during the Change. I’ve learned how
to use the Change to increase my strength. I’ve learned how to hide
in plain sight.”

She was still wearing her jacket,
but now it disappeared from her body, leaving her in just her jeans
and sweater. She screamed, unable to comprehend it. The knife
prodded her side with delicate pokes, not breaking through the
sweater.

“I need to return to Kaarmanesh,”
he said. “But they've got this portal closed and guarded. The
nearest available portal is in Moab, and my protection doesn't
extend that far.”

Still holding the knife, he picked
up her free arm, pushing her sleeve up past her elbow. He continued
talking, as if they were having a friendly conversation. “I can
extend it, but I need more power. Your cat provided quite a bit.
Spirited little thing.”

The scratches covering him. Tina
bit her lip against the despair. “My cat?” She could only
whisper.

Damien nodded. The flat of the
blade floated through the air above her arm as he watched its path,
a small smile curving his lips as if he were deciding where to cut.
Tina tried to pull away, but that damnable paralysis held her
still. Terror spiked, its grip on her as strong as his. She watched
the knife, saw the scratches on Damien's hand and the brown,
crusted blood on the sleeves of his shirt. Beowulf's blood? Her
terror reached another peak.

He breathed deeply of it, eyes
closed. Then he turned the knife in one sudden movement, slashing
her arm to the bone. She screamed, pain, denial, and terror warring
within her. Damien dropped the knife, one hand cupping the blood
that poured from her arm, while the other reached for a bowl,
placing it to catch the blood. She couldn’t move, except to drag in
breath for screaming. An eternity passed before he clamped down on
the cut, then wrapped it firmly with a pressure bandage.

The pressure brought the pain down
to a sharp ache. Darkness narrowed Tina's vision to a flashing
vortex centered on her arm. Damien moved away, toward the graffiti.
Breathing in deep gasps of choked tears, and with her right arm
still cuffed to the wall, she raised her knees to cradle the
injured arm against her.

She preferred to not know what he
was doing, but dread at what might happen next made her turn her
head. He had removed his shirt, and was standing in front of the
wall. Candles burned on rocks on either side of him. He was holding
the bowl of her blood with one hand, while he stirred it with two
fingers of the other hand. He chanted something in a low voice,
sharp, staccato sounds that seemed to vibrate the air of the cave.
Tina shook with it.

He raised bloody fingers and
traced over the figures already drawn. Bringing up more blood, he
continued to write, keeping time with the chanting. His voice grew
lower as he progressed. At times, he changed the chanting to a hum
while he drew a sign on his own face or chest.

Her pinioned arm began to burn
with the need for circulation, the fingers cold and numb. The cut
was a raging fire, throbbing in time to her racing heart. Smoke
from the candles wafted in her direction, bringing with it the
copper smell of her own blood.

She shook harder. She tried to
stay still, not wanting to bring his attention back to her, but she
coughed into her upraised knees, then turned her head to swipe her
wet nose and cheek against her arm. She tried to keep an eye on
him, tried to stay prepared for when he finished his ritual. But
she rested her head against the wall, and shock and smoke lulled
her away from pain into a drifting semi-consciousness.

Chapter 32

“Fuck!” With a yell of
frustration, Clive kicked the small boulder out of his path,
panting as he watched it tumble in the beam of his headlamp, down
the slope. It slammed against a tree, bouncing back a few feet
before coming to rest in a pile of wet pine needles.

Riff glanced up from his squat
near the thick spread of bushes he was investigating, the beam of
his headlamp bouncing along the path of the boulder, then up at
Clive. “You know, the dryads may be able to help us, if you can
refrain from throwing things at them.”

Clive snorted. “There aren't any
dryads left in the Flatlands.”

Riff looked around, his brows
crinkling in puzzled thought. He shook his head. “No, there are
some. I can't say how smart or healthy they are, but there are a
few.” He slid several feet down the slope, catching himself on the
rough trunk of a pine. He held onto it, staring up into the canopy.
Clive followed his gaze, but his light disappeared into
darkness.

After several seconds, Riff looked
over his shoulder at Clive. “It's an old tree, and most of the Old
Ones have been cut down. This one's spirit is weak, but I get the
impression of fear. It's afraid of something.”

Clive managed a small smile of
real amusement and spread his arms. The flashlights on his wrists
created a halo around him. “Me, perhaps?”

Riff put his back to the tree,
holding a hand over his eyes as he shook his head. “Ah, pixie-shit.
I'm sorry, Clive.” He looked up. “I forgot about you.”

Clive had to try twice before he
could breathe again. “How... how could you forget?”

Riff shrugged. “We've worked
together for a few years. I have to trust you with my life same as
any other agent. I don't spend my time worrying about what you do
in your free time.”

“That's...” Clive stopped, unable
to continue. He just nodded, and turned to gaze at the trees behind
him. With another deep breath, he made himself go still, and
listened to the forest around him. He felt it underneath the fear
his own presence invoked. There was an unnatural control
here.