Worlds Apart (27 page)

He guided his wrist lights along
the trees, eyes narrowed. Then he stopped, staring into the fading
beam as it rested on some bushes. Motioning for Riff to stay, he
took a zig-zag route to the bush, studying the ground and low
vegetation.

After an intense investigation of
the biggest shrub, he turned back to Riff. “This way. Someone's
crashed through here at a fast pace.”

Riff nodded, pulling out his wand.
“Figures,” he said as he climbed. “I knew we'd be going
uphill.”

~~

Kasia leaned against her car and
met Ringstrom's astonished gaze. Her story contained enough
elements of truth to make it plausible. But was it enough? She
didn't want him making phone calls to check on her bona
fides.

He tapped a finger against his
leg, his lips pursed in severe disapproval. “So your agent comes
through here on business, impregnates one of my women, and just
disappears? Leaving a trail for a violent perp to
follow?”

“I wouldn't put it that way,
Sheriff.”

“That's how it sounds to
me.”

“The perp had already been through
here. That's why Clive was talking to Mr. Ruth. And my agent is not
totally responsible for that pregnancy. Dr. Cassidy has some level
of involvement.”

His eyes narrowed. “So what's he
going to do about it?”

“You saw him, Sheriff. He's
determined to find Dr. Cassidy. He wants to be
involved.”

“Will he be good to
her?”

The question surprised her. “Of
course he will.” She dared to touch Ringstrom's arm in a gesture of
reassurance. “I've worked with Clive for years. He's a good man.
Whatever he and Tina decide, I am certain he will have her
happiness foremost in mind.” She jerked her chin in the direction
Clive had taken into the forest. “He's the best person to find this
guy. He won't rest until he knows Tina is safe.”

~~

Shandari stood nearby, half
listening as Kasia spun her tale. She was distracted by the large
vehicle parked off the road, a van of some kind with a large red
cross on it, and the words Benton County EMT inscribed on the side.
Two men stood alongside it.

When the dark-haired man walked
off to talk to someone, Shandari slipped away from Kasia and
approached the remaining man with silent steps. He watched her
come, wariness holding him still and cautious. She held out her
hand in the Flatland fashion, and remembered to use the Flatland
title as she introduced herself. “I'm Dr. Shandari Uboron. I hope
we don't need my services, but I'm here to help.”

His eyes widened, but he shook her
hand. “Will Summerlin. You’re Shandari? The one who's working with
Tina on her condition?”

She nodded. “Yes. If you don't
mind, I should be involved in her care when they find her. She's
going to need my expertise.”

He looked her up and down, his
face drawn tight with anxiety. “What's going on? She showed me that
antigen. It's unlike anything I've ever seen. Who are you
people?”

Shandari raised a brow.
“FBI.”

He folded his arms across his
chest. “I don't believe it.”

“Okay. The story helps get us on
the scene, and you know enough to know we need to be here. But no,
we're not FBI.”

He didn't answer. She waited while
he glared at her, giving him time to make up his mind. His lips
twisted with anger, but he nodded. “Thank you for telling me that
much. Tina seems to think you have her best interest at
heart.”

“We do, I assure you.”

“I hope so. Now tell me what's
wrong with her. That antigen has properties I can't even fathom. It
causes some kind of change in the body, I can tell that much. What
does it do?”

“The answer is not one I can go
into here and now. Even if I tell you all about it, it is not
something the general public can know about. Tina was quite honest
with you when she said she's not at liberty to disclose
information.”

“All right.” He shifted, his large
shoulders shrugging back as if shedding a coat. “What do you know
about the guy who has Tina? I saw what he did to her cat. He's
going to hurt her, isn't he? Is he a Satanist?”

Shandari's spirit went still. “Her
cat?”

As Tina's friend described what
he'd found, a frantic disturbance grew in Shandari
. In the name
of the ancient spirits, what control was Damien Fontaine building
over Tina?

~~

The hours faded into a dizzy
darkness as Tina skimmed the surface of consciousness and pain.
Twice more, Damien stopped his ritual to return to her. She fought
him the first time, kicking with both legs to keep him away. He
evaded her without effort, mocking her attempts with cynical
amusement. He held the knife ready, letting her terror build as she
exhausted herself, before exerting the paralysis spell that sealed
her legs to the ground. He cut her right arm that time, the pain
doubled by returning sensations after the numbness. He left the arm
free after bandaging it, but Tina had no strength to
move.

The last time he returned, he gave
her Gatorade to drink, telling her that he did not plan on killing
her yet. She drank with desperate thirst, but too fast, choking and
spitting most of it. Then he sliced her jeans and cut into her
thigh. By this time, his appearance had altered to a manifestation
of terror: his eyes shone bright with an inner glow, his body
burned with heat. He was covered with her blood, rubbing it into
his hands with an air of reverence. She screamed for several
minutes after he'd returned to the wall—weak, frantic screams of
despair, rather than screams for help.

Soon, she slipped back into
semi-consciousness, propped against the wall, listening to his
voice, and waiting with dread for the change in cadence that
signaled his need for more blood. Her cuts burned, filling her with
tingling heat. Deep in her belly, she felt a series of sharp
twinges.

His sudden silence brought her to
a panicked alertness. When he didn't approach her, she forced
herself to look over. He was staring upward, head tilted toward the
cave entrance as if he were listening to something. Tina could hear
nothing but the roaring in her ears.

He turned, coming to kneel beside
her. The glow in his eyes had lessened; she could see his pupils
now. She didn't know if he'd paralyzed her or not—she didn't try to
move. Tears flowed down her cheeks. “Please, Damien.” She could
only whisper. “No more. You're killing my baby.”

He looked puzzled. “No, he's fine.
Not at his happiest, I suppose. But his aura is strong.”

“I'm having contractions,” she
said. “He can't live if my body loses too much blood to maintain
the pregnancy.”

He put another bottle of Gatorade
next to her, and with a finger under her chin, lifted her face so
she had to look at him. “I have to go out. There are searchers
around, and I need to set a few traps for them, to clear our
pathway out of here.” He leaned forward, his breath hot on her
face. “You mustn't think they'll find you. This cave is blocked
from all senses, magical or otherwise. As am I.”

With his bloody thumbs, he wiped
tears from her cheeks and whispered to her. “You will never be
found, Tina. You are mine now. Your blood is mine and your spirit
feeds my spirit. Forever.” His smile was almost kind.

He opened the lid of the Gatorade.
“Sip it. We'll finish the ritual when I return.”

Her breath came in small gasps as
she watched him through a vortex of darkness. He didn't bother to
wash. With her blood still coating him, he slid his t-shirt on,
then the flannel shirt, buttoning it with quick fingers. After
slipping on a light jacket, he left.

Tina remained propped against the
wall, her mind floating in the dark haze of pain and blood loss.
She was too tired to move her head, so she continued to stare at
the spot where Damien had walked out of the cave. The entrance was
large enough to walk through. It was dark outside, but she could
see the movement of tree branches in the shadow.

With lazy slowness, her mind
replayed the moment when he left. Slipping the jacket on as he
stepped to the entrance, a flick of his fingers, then casually
flipping his hand behind him as he walked away.

He moved exactly as if he were
opening and closing a gate.

“Jesus.” Tina tried to
breathe.

Tremors shook her hands as she
reached for the bottle and lifted it to her lips. Her head and arms
jerked with spastic tremors, but she managed to get some of the
liquid inside her, much more of it on her. With precise, careful
movements, she placed both hands on the ground and tried to shift
up to her knees.

Her arms collapsed and she
screamed with flashing pain. The darkness returned with dizzying
abruptness. She sat against the wall and waited for it to pass.
Pressing her back into the wall, she moved her good leg under her,
and inched herself up to stand. She had to wait for the darkness to
clear.

Chewing on her lip, she considered
the next step. She'd have to pass the blood-spattered wall to get
to the entrance. She knew beyond any doubt that she could not touch
that wall, nor the rocks that held the still-burning candles. Her
blood, ritualized in the words there, would trap her forever if she
touched it.

Gritting her teeth against deep
moans, she limped her way to the entrance. Darkness closed in, but
she kept her eyes on the hole and the shadowed trees beyond it.
Time went away. When she finally stood blinking before the
entrance, she had no idea how long it had taken her to get
there.

With intense concentration, she
raised her right hand. With her finger, she lifted the latch of the
gate she imagined was there. Her arm jerked with pain, but she
pushed outward, swinging the gate open. The warm response in her
womb told her the magic was working. With shaking steps she inched
forward, coming even with the wall on her right. She took a step,
then another, until she was halfway through.

She held her left hand out, as if
holding the gate open. With another step, she was out of the
cave.

Two more steps and she let go of
the gate, but did not turn to see if it closed, or if the cave was
still visible. She kept going, holding onto the trees, inching
forward with pain-filled steps. Every step she took, she expected
to feel Damien's hand on her shoulder, or to see him emerge from
the darkness in front of her.

Her foot skidded on the slippery
pine needles and she fell, screaming as she caught herself with her
hands. She lay on her back and rocked in pain, choking on her tears
and holding her arms tight against her body. Then anger propelled
her onward. She couldn’t get up, but she tightened her lips and
forced herself to roll over, first to her stomach, then to her
back. She kept this up, every roll torture to her arms and leg, but
every roll also getting her farther from the cave.

She was intent on her efforts,
unable to spare thought for anything else, but a new sound broke
her concentration. She stopped with a gasp, then held her breath.
The sound came again.

“Tina!”

Crunching needles and branches
accompanied more shouts. More than one voice called her name, over
and over again. “Tina! Where are you? Make some noise!”

Her answer was shrill. “Here! I'm
here!” She tried to push herself up, but her arms wouldn’t move.
Needles and leaves showered over her face and lights blinded her.
She spit the needles out just as a figure knelt beside her and
strong arms lifted her up. A choked voice kept repeating her
name.

He was here. She had to tell him,
in case she never had another chance. All she could say was,
“Clive. I'm sorry, Clive. I'm sorry.” He held her against him, his
arms tight around her. She wanted to put her arms around him, but
they still wouldn't move, so she just buried her face in his neck,
and wept in the warm safety of his presence.

He lifted her with him as he stood
and turned to face the figure who ran up, light beams bouncing with
his steps. The light traveled over her as she lay in Clive's arms,
and she heard the man gasp. “By all the sisters,” she heard him
mutter, and then he asked in a sharp voice, “Does she know where
Fontaine is?”

“Tina?” Clive asked, his voice
near her ear. “Where is he? Do you know?”

She shook her head, still weeping.
Damien's words came back to her and she knew she wasn't safe yet.
None of them were.

“No,” she said, a hiccup tearing
her throat as she forced herself to stop crying. She looked toward
the shadow of Clive's face. “He went out to set traps. He said
there were searchers around, and he needed to set traps for them.
He left me in the cave, and I saw how he opened the gate, so I did
it too, and got out, but I fell, and you found me.” She stopped,
hearing herself rambling. “But I don't know where he
went.”

She couldn't see his eyes, but she
knew he glanced at his partner. “We'll need the travois,” he
said.

The other man nodded, shrugging
off his backpack. “Got it.”

Tina couldn't see what else he was
doing, so she rested her head in Clive's shoulder again.