“You winded? We can stop,” he said, pulling up beside her.
“No. I’m fine. It’s just…” Her voice faded, and her sights never left the horizon up and above.
“Just what?” he asked, knowing damn well what she felt without explanation.
“If anyone would have asked me last week what I’d be doing in seven days, I’d have never imagined climbing halfway up a mountain in the middle of Montana.”
“For the record, we’re in western Montana, and we’re not halfway up. Not even close.”
She smirked at him. Her eyes glowed warm chestnut brown and wet like pebbles in a shallow creek bed. “I know that. But it feels so removed. So distant and—”
“Peaceful? Like you’ve never experienced before?”
“Yeah.” She started walking again, and he wished this hike ended with a romantic lunch on the plateau and a night under the stars. Instead, he ambled along beside her. Her sights remained elevated and constantly observing as if she could drink it all in for total recall.
“I didn’t have a nightmare last night,” she said, breaking the short silence. It had been the first she’d mentioned her nightmares, or lack of them, since leaving her grandmother’s apartment. “Maybe the gift receded.”
“Like I said, leaving Paris and getting away from the proximity of the Gate would help.”
“But not forever?”
“No. In fact, not for much longer.”
Delphine stopped cold. “Are we talking days or minutes?”
With George and Seth out of sight on the plateau, he figured they had about five minutes tops to work everything out. Zane faced her. He wouldn’t lie, which included the omissions he’d been sworn to hold back. How could he win her trust if he didn’t come clean?
“Don’t be alarmed. You’re completely safe. At all times.” He watched her expression fall and wished he could soft-pedal his short message. “Look, I’m not supposed to tell you in advance, but it’s possible you’ll be led by your spirit animal right into a vision. One that will feel more real than the nightmares you’ve experienced.”
Her face blanched before heating to scarlet with anger. “So it’s baptism by fire. Fine time to tell me.” She looked back down the trail at the woods as if she considered heading back.
“It’s only happened once or twice that I know of. I didn’t mention it before because that’s part of the process. No expectations. Don’t focus on an animal. Don’t let your mind lead you. Let the truth be revealed. Give truth the power.”
“Give truth the power?” Shaking her head, she bit into her sensual bottom lip. “I’m confused. Why did you tell me at all?” She clutched the too big army jacket close to her body and glared at him.
Frustrated, he blurted the first words that came into his mind. “If you get blindsided, I lose any trust we already have. We, you and I, can’t afford that.”
“Afford it? Sounds like an emotional budget. Is that what I am to you? Supernatural money?”
Astute comparison yet not the truth.
“No, and I resent the implication I’ve treated you in any other way than as a person. Even you can see that above all, we must depend on each other. I’ll tell you everything I can as quickly as I can, but I don’t know everything.”
“Liar.” She punctuated her accusation with a finger to his chest.
He smacked her hand away. “Every Hell Runner experiences a different path to their destiny. I can’t predict anything.”
“I told you. I don’t want a destiny. I want freedom.” She held up both her hands and rounded him to face the valley below.
He turned to watch her, knowing the clock ticked too fast but afraid to push too hard.
Golden nuggets of sunlight licked at the surface of the deep blue lake that cut into the dale. A veil of pink still hazed the horizon where sky met green land. Pissed, she probably couldn’t appreciate the beauty of the view and that ticked him off as much as her digging in her heels. Somehow he thought being here, in his home, would change her mind about Hell Runners instantly. Changing her mind would take more words than he had time to spare.
He gripped her stiff shoulders and turned her to face him. “I know that. What I’m about to tell you is because we need to trust each other. Without question or doubt.”
“Is that why you didn’t follow the rules? So I’d be blinded by your good deed?”
“No.” Indignant, he didn’t bother with softening his voice any longer.
“I don’t believe you.”
“You should.”
“Make me. Because I want you to make me trust you. I need to be sure you’re a good man. With a good heart. I need to know that what I’m about to do won’t turn me crazy. I need—”
“It happened to me.” He blurted the truth, with relief and trepidation.
Round-eyed, she stopped ranting and raised her gaze to meet his.
“I told you because it happened to me. I connected with my spirit animal and then was led right into a vision. A vision so dark and frightening I actually screamed. Gideon boys don’t scream. Not without good reason.”
Her expression registered complete shock. Her perfect lips parted, but no words escaped.
“I’m pretty sure everyone is hoping you’ll have a deeper vision too. That’s not fair. Time isn’t on our side, but I know you. You’re brave enough to earn your freedom and scared enough to run from it. You won’t realize when you cross your courage-line until you’re paralyzed with terror.” He nodded once. “I’ve been there and promise not to let that happen.”
“Can’t imagine you scared out of your boots.” Either the buffering of the wind or fear brought a tremor to her voice.
“Then don’t. Focus on my strength. I’ve got an overabundance.” And he did.
She nodded, accepting the truth in his reply, and then her gaze locked onto his. Every cell in his body longed to kiss away the worry she harbored in her expressive brown eyes. “I will, Cowboy.” Her chest heaved out, and she swiped strands of windblown hair out of her face. “But how will you know?”
“Zane!” George called to him from the plateau, and he felt the suspicion and warning all in one syllable.
Too bad. He’d finish with Delphine before they mounted that fateful rock.
“Guess we better get moving,” she said. “Your dad stressed our lack of time.”
“He’s not lying, but we’ve got a few seconds to spare. I’ll know if you’re in distress. Let that be your courage. And this. Here.” He reached beneath his collar and tugged on a long military chain, pulling it off over his head. Dull and scratched up as an old coin, the Hell Runners pendant with the initials HRS etched on the front refused to shine. “After Swift disappeared, I searched his apartment, hoping to find some sort of talisman that might help us connect to him across the expanse. So far it hasn’t worked for me. But I’m not an oracle.” He spread the chain and held it out for her. “This was Swift’s trainee pendant. He wore it long after he graduated, never trading it in for the gold one Soul Savers get. As you can see, it’s taken a beating. Don’t know when he stopped wearing it. Probably never should have taken it off. No matter what you decide, I want you to wear it. Always brought Swift luck and might help you find him.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she dipped her head, allowing him to slip it over her silky hair. He let go, and she lifted the old pendant, rubbing her thumb over the worn surface.
“You think it will protect me? Or guide me?”
“Don’t know for sure, but I believe all those scratches and dents absorbed his mojo. He’s a fearless son-of-a-bitch.”
She lifted her gaze to his. “Can’t be more fearless than you. You argue with me and win. Sometimes.”
His ego swelled to the point of bursting through his chest.
“Is that a blush, Professor Gideon?” A faint smile followed her tease.
“It carries my mojo too. I’ve worn it for months.” He knuckled the tender flesh under her chin and lifted. Before she
could protest or chide him about her rules, he captured the cushion of her bottom lip between his own. He kept the kiss brief. “For luck. I bring luck.”
Gaze warm as melting chocolate, the worry line between her brows dissolved. “I’ll never turn down luck.”
But she was going to turn down luck. As soon as her gift disappeared, he’d become a blur in her rearview.
That didn’t mean he wouldn’t protect her, guide her, or tempt her to stay, even if he couldn’t seduce her to his bed.
He brushed his fingers over the tops of hers, and she twisted her wrist, allowing him to link their fingers. “I’m going to hold your hand during the entire process. If at any point I suspect you’re in trouble, I’ll have George bring you back.”
Delphine released a slow breath, as though she’d been holding it in for a long time. “Thanks, Cowboy.” She let go of the pendant and then stroked the sweat off his brow with soft fingers. “Exactly what I needed to know.”
He hadn’t realized he’d been perspiring, and her gentle touch felt so soothing. So erotic. Like an after sex cool down. He grabbed her by the wrist and locked his gaze onto hers.
Her eyes widened slightly, but never wavered.
Zane let go of her wrist and moved in close. So close his chest pressed against hers with his next deep breath.
Unexpectedly, she molded her fingers along the planes of his face, skimming her thumb over the contour of his cheekbone as if she smoothed out an imperfection in clay.
The simple touch stirred him body and soul. He struggled not to kiss her again. Struggled not to claim that luscious bottom lip and demand her lips part for his tongue.
“You know I want more than friendship,” she said at last. “But I’m not the woman for you. I’ll walk away from Hell Runners when this is over. You can’t leave, and I won’t be with someone associated with this madness.”
“Okay. That’s your excuse with me. But what about all the others?”
She frowned and her chin dimple indented.
“I understand protecting your heart, but you can’t go through life like that, Delphine. If you never let anyone close, you’ll always be alone. That’s not freedom either.” She hesitated before answering.
“Other men aren’t you and haven’t been worth the effort. But I can’t bear to see the disappointment in your eyes when I refuse Hell Runners. Over and over.”
The point she made was spot on. He would be disappointed. A woman that wasn’t on board with his life’s work wouldn’t be a good match.
“Fair enough.” He backed away, missing the press of her breasts against him. “But I can’t promise I won’t break your no-touch rules from time to time.”
The wind whipped her hair into a black and purple tornado while he studied the expression on her face. A fierce combination of sweetness and fight.
“Seems you’re accustomed to breaking rules. You risked the wrath of your godfather by explaining what’s to come. Guess I should expect you might not adhere to mine.”
“Up to you to enforce them.”
Her lips curved into a full-on smile. “You doubt my ability to maintain my position.”
“I do. But you can also trust me. I won’t cross a line. Ever. Not against you. Not against the Society either.”
“Then I suppose it’s time to prove you can trust me.”
»»•««
Eyes closed and slumped against the cell wall on one shoulder, Swift pretended to sleep. Good at playing possum since he was a kid, he wondered how long Baalberith would stand over him in silence.
The rustle of robes and a shift in the air around him cautioned him to remain as relaxed as possible. He could imagine his demon-dad squatting low with his head cocked to one side, hoping to catch Swift in the act of yanking his paternal chain.
Good fucking luck, asshole. Swift drooled and snored, adding to the believability. The vibrating purr in the back of his sinuses ensued at the merest hint of sleep. Even fake.
Swift guessed three minutes passed while Baalberith waited for a solid tell. Maybe more. Before his abduction, he’d been a fair judge of time’s passing, never needing a watch. But not seeing daylight—real daylight—threw off that instinct.
How long before his other instincts disappeared? A scary thought.
More rustling followed by the shuffle of feet before he took a sharp toe in the breadbasket. He didn’t have to fake the groans.
“What the fuck, B?” Doubled over on his side and holding his gut, he glared up at his immense father.
Dewey complexioned, the strong planes of his classic face appeared to shimmer gold. A hint of the inner angel he denied. His long blond hair had been freshly plaited over one shoulder and threaded with strands of emerald-colored fabric to match his new outfit, silky robes that accentuated his athletic physique layered in various shades of puke green.
“Do you have something to tell me?” His father’s full lips set in a sneer.
Disdain didn’t deter Swift from smart-mouthing.
“Yeah.” He rolled to his back with his knees drawn to his center. “You should fire your stylist. You look like a giant pickle.”
Easily perturbed, Baalberith’s shoulders rolled back while he inhaled an exasperated breath. “Where. Is. Your. Sister? Where. Is. Luciana?” His mighty voice escalated, reverberating in the tiny room with the power of mile-high amps. “I’m losing my patience with you.”
Swift managed to sit upright and then butt-scooted until the wall supported his back. “You never had any. And visions need patience.”
“Bullshit. If that were true, Hell Runners wouldn’t have been stealing souls left and right.”
“Once an oracle is connected, the visions appear more frequently, but even then it’s not a guarantee. That’s why we employ so many. Like I told you before, visions can’t be forced. Did you ever consider the block you put on the oracles is blocking me?”
His demon-dad squatted and pointed a finger into Swift’s chest. “Don’t try and manipulate my will. Once I lift that block, every Hell Runner from all seven Gates will be scouring Hell looking for you.”
The hope he’d kept at bay trickled to the surface. He didn’t dare show how much he wanted to be rescued.
Baalberith’s sour puss turned dark and menacing. His pupils devoured the irises. “You’re her full-blooded brother.”
The reminder boiled Swift’s balls. He didn’t want to be related to anything else evil.
“Find her, damn you! The link between siblings is strong and eternal.”
Not eternal. Not if he could help it. But his inner fury swirled with intense power. Mind and body, he geared up to accept an untimely connection. Dear God, please. Not in front of Baalberith. “Patience, Pops. Go get a drink or a demonette to screw. I’ll let you know when—” His thoughts turned to vapor. An intense ringing swelled in Swift’s head, and he slammed his palms over his ears. His chest lurched forward as the pain reached a crescendo.
Then it stopped. The pain. The ringing. Everything quite cold except an unrelenting beat, oddly familiar, yet not.
The room fell away again. The stone walls. The high ceiling. His demon-dad in his pickle suit.
Like he’d said only moments before. Visions appeared when least expected.
All he could do was wait.
And brace for the bad news.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Trust me. Why did those words float off her lips so easily? She promised honor when all this time, she’d planned a hasty retreat. With or without locating Zane’s foolish friend.
Deep down, Delphine knew why she’d pledged to prove her loyalty despite her aversion to the Society.
If she disappointed Cowboy, there’d be no recovering. No going back. No more inappropriate kisses. No second chances.
The welcome shelter of his parents’ home would be rescinded too. With prejudice.
All those thoughts wounded her heart more than they should.
Despite her declaration she wasn’t the w
oman for him, somehow—hope against hope—she wanted Zane to contradict her. Wanted him to fight for a relationship that wasn’t practical, or feasible, or even an option they’d discussed. In reality they hardly knew each other, and he belonged, lock-stock-and-devilish-dimples, to the Society she deemed the enemy.
But she wouldn’t go back on her word. She could tough it out. After all, as Zane specified, her gift functioned from a position of safety. Whatever she witnessed in a trance state posed no jeopardy. Nothing but dreams to record. No danger. No running through the big bronze Gates into the mouth of Hell.
In the process, she’d locate their lost friend, or at least she hoped she would. The man stuck in Hell needed a rescue team, and she’d be proud to do her part. After that, she’d give back her gift to the powers that be, and with any luck, help her mother do the same.
All in all, a fair shake.
“Gimme your hand.” Zane leaned over the edge of the lookout’s natural rock formation and extended his arm.
“In a minute.” She backed up to gain momentum and then ran with all her might.
Her sturdy boots slowed her speed, but made up for their weight by gripping what little traction the stone afforded. Calves aching, she flung her weight up the smooth, steep incline with her right hand reaching to the sky.
Zane caught her by the forearm and hoisted her over the edge. He backed up as he pulled so she’d stick the landing with her feet and not her face.
“Not bad for a city chick.”
“Not good either. I can run the length of Manhattan during rush hour, but climbing isn’t my strength.”
“One never knows their strength until they are tested.” George spoke softly, his fortune cookie advice sounding false and forced.
For her benefit? Probably. Part of her wished he wouldn’t bother with empty platitudes. Part of her appreciated the effort.
A bigger part of her wanted a snack.
Though she’d wolfed down a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast, she’d burned off those calories long before they’d crested the woods’ edge. No wonder Zane consumed more than one breakfast each day.
“Anyone else starved?” She reached for the backpack containing the picnic Maria had packed for them. “I can set up, or we could grab some yogurts.”
Dream Breakers, Oath Takers Page 18