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Suddenly a huge black barrel thrust itself into his face.
Baran jerked and almost knocked it flying before he realized it was a lens even bigger than the one on his own camera. As he recoiled, a black tube his computer identified as a microphone was shoved under his mouth.
“Bill Clarkson, WDRT News,” the man holding the tube announced as his partner focused the video camera on Baran’s startled face. The reporter’s expression was avid. “That was amazing. How did you do it?”
“Do you mind?” Jane snapped, shouldering past the cameraman. “Quit harassing my photographer and go do your job, Bill. Maybe you can even get the story right for a change.”
“Your photographer?” Clarkson lifted a brow and curled his lip. “Since when can a triweekly rag Like the Trib afford a shooter? Especially one that can rip the doors off a Toyota.”
Baran tightened his grip on his own camera and licked his dry lips, trying to squelch the racking quiver he could feel building in his body. “Impact ripped the door off,” he lied. “It was just hanging there. I only gave it a tug.”
“Oh,” the reporter said, the gleam in his eyes .fading. “Well, that explains it. Why didn’t the firefighters do that?”
“Hey,” Jane said loudly, “isn’t that the driver of the semi over there?”
Bill turned, following her pointing finger toward a tubby, bloodstained figure. “Sir!” he called, and strode away, leaving his videographer to scramble after him with the heavy camera.
She watched them go. “Some people in the electronic media are really, really good. And then there’s Bill Clark-son, the human hemorrhoid.” Jane turned to stare at him. “Was that door just hanging there?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so. Oh, hell.” The last was muttered as a short man with a badge clipped to his belt stalked up.
“I told you to get that fucking dog off this scene,” he growled, thrusting his face as close to Baran’s as he could manage, given that he was seven inches shorter. “I thought it was going to take a chunk out of one of those firefighters. I should run your ass in....”
“On what charges, Tom?” Jane demanded. “You know County Council never passed that leash law. Besides, Baran got the door open, didn’t he?”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “And what the fuck is he, anyway—Superman?” His gaze flicked down, attracted by the bright scarlet dripping from Baran’s fingers. “Jesus, you’re bleeding like a pig. You must have gashed your hands wide open.”
Jane’s eyes widened. “Damn, Baran! What did you do? You’re...”
Ahhhhh, a voice purred through his comp, drowning out her words, / was right. It is you.
Baran jerked. That definitely wasn’t Freika, and the only other person in this time capable of comming him was ...
That’s right, Druas said. It’s me.
Freika
Yeah, I hear him.
Stay with Jane. Barely aware that the wolf had moved to join them, he thrust his bloody Nikon into her hands and turned to scan the area. Sensors, he ordered his computer. Pinpoint the Xeran’s location.
A flashing bright red X suddenly appeared across the highway from him, covering a human figure standing at the edge of a stand of trees. Baran started toward the- man his computer had targeted, mentally cursing himself for coming out of riatt so soon. He couldn’t go back into the berserker state again until his computer had rebuilt its reservoir of neuro-chemicals. And the synthesizing process would take another half hour at least. Send me back into riatt as soon as possible, he ordered.
“What’s with him?” he heard Tom ask.
“I don’t know. Freika, dammit, get out of the way!”
Baran didn’t look around, but he knew the wolf was deliberately blocking her path. The last thing they needed was for her to get within striking range of the Jumpkiller.
Baran Arvid, Druas commed as Baran crossed the interstate. The Death Lord himself. Now, this is more like it. I knew it was you three hundred years from now, when I saw the vid footage those humans just shot of you ripping the door off that car. The killer’s tone was hearty, familiar, as if they were old friends meeting again after a long separation. You do realize the mystery around you is the reason these killings will become so famous? Which is ironic, when you think about it.
Do we know each other? Damn, he wasn’t up to a fight with the Xeran right now, but it looked as if he was going to get one anyway. Maybe if he could stall the bastard long enough, his computer would be able to throw him back into riatt.
And luckily, he still had the suit neutralizing ring the Enforcer had given him. If he could tag Druas with it long enough, it would knock the suit offline and he’d be able to beat the bastard to death.
Unfortunately, there was no guarantee Druas would let him get close enough. He had to keep the Xeran talking.
Druas began moving away, retreating slowly even as Baran approached. You have no idea how famous you are among the Xerans. Everyone talks about the Death Lord— all those wonderful duels, all the men you killed. And General Jutka ‘s put a very high price on your head, by the way.
So I heard.
I do believe you’ve got him shaking in his battle boots. I assume he is one of your targets? You’ve killed almost all the others who were present when your team was tortured.
At the moment I’m much more interested in you. Baran lengthened his stride. The man his computer had pinpointed grinned at him. The Xeran must be generating an image field; the figure staying just out of reach was short and potbellied, nothing like the mercenary’s true build.
That’s refreshing to hear. The man sauntered away again, keeping just ahead of his slow pursuit. Baran thought about breaking into a run, but he didn’t want to drive the killer into Jumping.
I was starting to get bored, Druas commed, circling him. The Ripper killings were entertaining, but hardly challenging. It’s not like the little bitches could fight back, could they? Though they did squeal well....
Baran snarled, remembering Mary Kelly’s helpless struggles.
Still, the killer continued, / was thinking of giving it up until I saw the archival footage of you while I was doing a little research. I recognized you the minute I saw you. Even at a distance the smile on the round, bland face was chilling. That’s when I realized the Tayanita killings were my work. I must have come here, and TE sent you after me. Now, there’s a challenge, I thought. Me against the Death Lord. Gave me a shiver. He beamed. And noy here you are.
Eyes narrowing, the Warlord stopped in his tracks. Maybe the bastard would come closer if he didn’t follow. The question was, would Baran be able to put the Xeran down at normal strength? Not that he had a choice, with Jane’s life at risk. If you want a fight, I’ll be more than happy to oblige you.
But not yet, I’ll wager. You just dropped out of riatt, so you can’t power up again for a good half hour or so. Reading Baran’s expression, Druas grinned. Don’t look so surprised. I did a little research on Warlords when I decided to play this game. But I wonder—how much research did TE let you do on me?
They gave me all the data I need.
Oh, I doubt that. Knowing Temporal Enforcement, I’ll bet there’s a great deal they didn’t tell you. Though why they’re so afraid of causing a paradox, I have no idea. If the universe doesn’t die when you make the Jump to begin with, you can do whatever the hell you want. The grin on that round, ordinary face took on a thoroughly inhuman cast. And there’s a long list of things I want to do to sweet Jane.
Baran fought to keep his rage from showing. You’ll never lay a hand on her.
Won’t I?
No. Because I’ll kill you before you get that close.
The killer sauntered closer until he was just out of Baran’s reach, bland human eyes studying him with cruel interest. You’re fucking her already, aren’t you? I wondered about that. Is she good?
You’ll never know. To his computer, he thought, How much longer to riatt?
Twenty minutes.
Too long. Too damn long.
Actually, Druas said, before this is over I’ll find out exactly how good she is. But not yet. If you ‘II excuse me, I have women to kill, police to mystify...
Hell. Baran lunged for the killer. He risked getting caught in the backwash of the Jump, but if he could just pin him long enough for the ring to do its work... He clamped a hand around the man’s wrist.
“Idiot.” Druas’s fist slammed into Baran’s head so hard he saw stars, but he didn’t let go. “You’re going to get fried, you fool!” And he was right; Baran could feel the energy of the Jump building as the killer’s armor began to glow.
Warning! Temporal field building! The comp blared, its voice seeming to echo in his skull. Step back! Baran ignored it, blocking another hard punch, intent only on holding on. The ring was heating on his hand....
Too late. A blinding white light exploded in the center of his vision as an electric jolt tore though his body. Something picked him up and threw him with an eardrum-shattering boom.
He never felt the ground come up and hit him.
Jane, trapped behind the furry barrier of Freika’s body, saw a lightning bolt knock Baran ten feet like the slap of a giant’s hand. He hit the pavement flat on his back as a thunderous boom drowned out her scream.
Freika whirled and raced toward his fallen partner, a black streak faster than any dog she’d ever seen. Jane sprinted after him, her heart in her throat, dimly aware of Tom pounding at her heels.
Baran lay sprawled on his back, his eyes closed, his face so pale his scarlet tattoo looked like blood. His brawny arms and legs were flung wide, lacerated palms upward. Freika nuzzled his face, whining like the dog he wasn’t. Jane fell to her knees beside him, reaching desperately for the pulse in his strong throat. It throbbed comfortingly against her fingers, but he didn’t move. “Baran! Baran, wake up!”
She’d known him less than twenty-four hours. How had he become so damn important to her so damn fast?
Jane looked wildly at Freika. The wolf jerked his head, but she couldn’t tell what he was trying to communicate. Unfortunately, they didn’t dare talk in front of Tom.
“Paramedics!” the detective bellowed, but the standby ambulance crew was already pounding toward them.
“What the hell happened?” Jane heard one yell.
“Dunno,” Tom called back. “Looked like maybe a lightning strike, but there’s not a cloud in the sky, and I don’t see any power lines nearby.”
“How is he? What’s going on?” Jane whispered fiercely to Freika while the detective was distracted.
The wolf pressed against her and whispered back. “His comp says he’s okay. He just got in too close when Druas Jumped.”
“Druas was here?” She looked around wildly, remembering Mary Kelly’s blackening face, the silver flash of the knife, the spray of blood and tissue.... Instinctively she covered Baran’s big, helpless body with her own.
“He’s gone now.”
“Is he conscious?” Tom demanded, kneeling by Jane’s side as she slumped in relief.
“No.” She picked up one of Baran’s bloodied hands, examined it anxiously. The wound was already crusting over.
Tom frowned. “Then who were you talking to?”
Damn, he’d heard Freika. “He was babbling,” she improvised.
“Get back, miss.” The paramedic pushed her aside. She sat back on her heels. He put two fingers to Baran’s throat, then lifted one of his eyelids. Jane craned her neck anxiously, but the Warlord’s irises were simple human brown. “Pupils reactive, pulse is good,” the man said. “Don’t see any sign of electrical burns.”
The second EMT pulled a blood pressure cuff out of his bag and reached to wrap it around one of Baran’s thick biceps. Jane sensed rather than saw the blur of motion. The EMT yelped.
One of Baran’s huge hands was wrapped around the paramedic’s throat in a stranglehold as he held the man stiff-armed, half off his knees. As she watched in horror, the man’s face began to darken. He gagged, clawing helplessly at Baran’s choking fingers.
Brown eyes blazed as Baran peeled his lips back from his teeth, snarling at the EMT in an alien language. The words might be incomprehensible, but the tone of murderous threat was crystal clear.
“Baran!” Jane cried as both she and Tom grabbed for his hand and fought to pry away his choking fingers. “Let him go! He’s trying to help you! It’s okay!”
Baran’s gaze flicked to hers as the paramedic gagged.
“Let him go, mister!” Tom snapped.
The big hand released its hold. “Sorry,” he said gruffly, and sat up as the paramedic choked in a breath and fell back on his butt. “Didn’t know where I was.”
The EMT steadied his gagging partner and eyed him warily. “Lie back down and let us have a look at you, sir. You were unconscious for more than a minute. You may have a concussion.”
“I’m fine,” he said, and proved it by getting to his feet. Jane scrambled up, ready to steady him. She thought he swayed, but caught himself almost instantly.
“Beg to differ, son,” Tom said, stepping in close to study him. “Looked to me like you just got struck by lightning. You need a ride to the emergency room to get checked out.”
Where, Jane realized, an X ray might reveal entirely too much about the Warlord’s genetically engineered body. But if he really was hurt...
“I don’t have time for that,” Baran said crisply. “I don’t know what you saw, but I didn’t get hit by lightning.” He glanced skyward. “Obviously. There’s not a cloud in the sky.” Dark eyes turned to Jane. “Let’s go.”
“Your hands are badly cut, mister. You need stitches....”
“Let him go, Dave.” The paramedic rubbed his throat and coughed. “Man wants to leave, you don’t want to stand in his way.”
Baran started off across the highway, Freika trotting at his heels. Jane stared after his broad back, worried, then hurried after them.
Behind her, she heard Tom say, “That was thoroughly fucking weird.”
The paramedic coughed again. “Tell me about it.”
“You should have at least let them clean those wounds,” Jane said, running to keep up with his long strides.
“My computer will take care of it,” Baran said. “I just have to get the glass out.”
“There’s glass in the wound? Idiot. Why didn’t you—“
“Because right now Druas is somewhere in this town, deciding who to kill,” Baran interrupted, shooting a quelling glance at her over his shoulder. “And I need to get to him before he makes up his mind.”
Jane cursed and absently clicked her key fob so she could open the door for him, sparing his lacerated palms. “Didn’t your time cops identify the targets?”
“No. Evidently, they don’t want me to save at least some of them.” He shrugged. “The paradox problem.”
“Bastards.”
“That does sum it up.” He eased into the seat.
She caught the shoulder belt and leaned over his lap to fasten it. “I’ve got a first-aid kit in the back....” Jane looked up and found herself face to face with him. Suddenly she realized her hands rested in his lap, inches from the swelling bulge of an erection. His mouth was close enough to kiss. Baran’s eyes kindled into a hot male blaze that made her swallow. She froze, hardly daring to blink, like a woman afraid of goading a tiger into attack.
“He always gets horny after he’s been in riatt,” Freika told her, sticking his furry head around the door. “After he quits wanting to puke, anyway. Hormones ...” He nudged her wrist with his muzzle, jolting her out of her hypnotized fascination with Baran’s blatant lust. “Hey, either step aside or open the back door for those of us without opposable thumbs.”
A hot blush rolling over her cheeks, Jane took a hasty step back and slammed the passenger door on Baran’s feral interest. With a relieved breath, she opened the back to get the first-aid kit and one of the bottles of water floating in the cooler’s mel
ted ice. Freika jumped past her and settled himself in the seat. “You know, I hope this thing has better safety equipment than the one that woman was riding in.”
“Not really.”
The thunk of the closing door drowned out the wolf’s next grumble.
Horny. The man’s hands were sliced to ribbons, and he was horny. Hell, he’d directed so much erotic heat at her, she could almost hear her own body sizzle.
There isn’t time for this, Jane told herself sternly, striding around the SUV to the driver’s side, carrying the bottle of water with the kit tucked under her arm. We’ve got to figure out where Druas is going.
She opened the door and hopped up into the driver’s seat, dumping the water and first-aid kit into Baran’s lap. “I’ll find a place to pull over so we can tend your hands. Though I still say we should let the paramedics—“
“I don’t want them getting a closer look at me than they already have.” Evidently having flipped off his lust as quickly as he’d turned it on, he opened the kit to assess its contents. He pulled out a pair of tweezers.
“What’s this reeatt thing?” Jane asked after she’d pulled onto the highway into the northbound traffic. The cars in the southbound lane were just starting to edge past the woman’s crumpled Toyota under the direction of cops and firefighters. The victim herself had long since gone off in the back of an ambulance.
Jane glanced over at her passenger and almost ran off the road when she realized he was using the tweezers to dig into his injury. “Jesus, Baran, let me take care of that! Or at least wait until I pull over.”
“I can do it,” he said, pulling something from his palm she realized was a bloody chunk of safety glass.
“Doesn’t that hurt?” She pointed the SUV for the nearest exit.
Baran shrugged his broad shoulders. “My computer dulls the pain.”
“Well, that’s something anyway.” Sighing, Jane drove up the off-ramp and turned left on a less-traveled street. “So what’s this reeatt thing again?”
She asked the question as much to distract herself as him. Jane didn’t ordinarily consider herself particularly squeamish—not in her line of work. But somehow it made a difference that it was Baran bleeding all over her front seat, Baran in pain, Baran digging into his own skin with a pair of tweezers....