by Tina Donahue
He came back into camera range, standing next to the man and woman. “Do you want this to stop?”
“Yes,” Liz cried.
“Good. I want you and your father at my stronghold within—”
“Not going to happen,” Zeke growled. “Neither of them is leaving here.”
“Do you agree with that, Liz?” Carreon asked.
Zeke answered before she could. “It doesn’t matter if she does or not. I’m not letting either of them go.”
“I see.” He sighed deeply, then murmured, “That’s too bad. Do it,” he said to the young man.
Liz gasped and turned away as he finished strangling the woman.
Horrible noises poured from her before it was over. Zeke knew he’d never forget them or the way she’d fallen to the floor, her limbs flopping lifelessly.
“Still want to stay with Neekoma?” Carreon asked.
Liz shuddered. Zeke pulled her against him. He kept her face to his shoulder so she couldn’t see the woman’s body.
At Liz’s silence, Carreon inhaled deeply as though trying to control his irritation. “I’m giving you and your father twelve hours to return to my stronghold. If the two of you aren’t there when the time’s up, another woman will die.” He reached for something to the side.
Liz trembled. Zeke tightened his hold on her, then stared at the woman Carreon pulled into camera range. She was young, quite beautiful, her blue-black hair fanned over her shoulders, her eyes an unusual shade of green, given her warm skin tone. The camera revealed her bare breasts, just like the first woman. Had Carreon raped her and the other one? Had the young man? One of them had tied this young woman’s hands behind her back. Tears dripped from her sooty lashes. Her expression registered pure terror.
“She’s next,” Carreon said, “unless Liz and her father return to my—”
“Please do as he says,” the young woman cried out. “Help me. Please.”
“I’m giving you twelve hours,” Carreon said. “After that, it’s her life, then someone else’s. Perhaps I’ll choose a child next.” He gestured to the woman on the floor. “That one has—or had—two kids. Twins. Do you want to be responsible for those little boys dying too? Remember, it’s your decision.”
The monitor went black.
Liz moaned.
Zeke held her close and spoke to his men. “Did you get the location?”
Paul shook his head. “He has it set up so we couldn’t track it.”
“I can’t let someone else die,” Liz cried.
“You won’t,” Zeke said. “We’ll fix this.”
“How? You don’t know where he is. Where he has those women.”
“Why were they nude…at least from the waist up?” Jacob asked.
“He probably raped them,” Ike offered.
Liz whimpered.
“Maybe not,” Kele said.
Zeke frowned at her. “What do you mean?”
“Didn’t you notice their makeup? How heavy it was? Who looks like that?”
“Prostitutes,” Jacob answered.
“Or performers,” Kele said, then spoke to Paul. “Play it back. Stop when Carreon moves out of camera range.”
Zeke watched the recording as the others did. Once Carreon’s image was gone, Kele said, “Freeze it there.”
The frame filled the screen.
“Look to the left of that guy’s right shoulder,” Kele said, pointing her pen. “See that thing on the wall? Looks like a calendar to me. The kind used to promote businesses—maybe the one where they are. Could be it’s a gentleman’s club or a strip joint. Can you bring the calendar up?”
Using image-enhancing software, Paul isolated the area, blowing up the picture until a fuzzy blob filled the screen.
“Sharpen it,” Zeke said.
Paul tried. However, the way the light fell on the glossy paper had created shadows that obscured part of the wording.
“Lighten it,” Kele said.
Paul did. That only washed out more details.
Jacob swore.
“You’re not going to be able to find that other woman,” Liz said to Zeke. “She and those kids are going to die because of—”
“No, they’re not,” Zeke interrupted, then spoke to his people. “Keep working on it. Do a search of all the strip joints and gentleman’s clubs in a two-hundred-mile radius of here.”
“That could be hundreds,” Jacob said. “If Carreon drove there. What if he took a private plane or helicopter after he fled his stronghold? He could be in Vegas for all we know.”
“Show the recording to our prisoners,” Zeke said. “They must know where that office is. If they refuse to talk, remind them of what they’re facing when we release them into Carreon’s hands. How he’ll believe they betrayed him.”
Leading Liz from the room, Zeke spoke over his shoulder to his men. “Do whatever you need to in order to get an address.”
“Then what?” Liz asked in the hall.
“We find Carreon and kill him. We save that woman and anyone else he’s threatened.”
Carreon checked his watch against the clock on Ernez’s desk. Fifteen minutes had passed since the transmission with Trinidad playing the role of her life.
“Please do as he says,” she’d cried. “Help me. Please.”
Carreon turned to her.
She watched Ernez wrapping Maria’s body in trash bags, readying it for pick up by another of Carreon’s lieutenants that Ernez had just called. Within hours, the corpse would be in a remote part of the desert. By the time anyone found her, if that were even possible, only bones would remain. The authorities wouldn’t waste a moment on her. They didn’t grieve missing and possibly murdered strippers.
“You were very good,” Carreon said to Trinidad.
She smiled smugly.
Carreon answered with a grin, thinking how nice it would be if she also had a bit of humility to go with her conceit. He sobered. “However, you better hope that Liz believed you.”
His tone and that “however” finally did it. For the first time, Trinidad regarded him as one would a dangerous predator. Unfortunately, it didn’t temper her arrogance. That, he sensed, would come a bit later.
She asked, “Are you going to have Ernez kill me if she doesn’t?”
Carreon shrugged helplessly. “I promised Liz that. I wouldn’t want to disappoint her, now would I?” He glanced at his watch once more. “Better hope she gets with the program. If she doesn’t, you have less than twelve hours to live.”
Chapter Twelve
It was worse than Liz had ever imagined. She’d known Carreon would never give up until he got what he wanted. Even so, she hadn’t allowed herself to consider that he would murder his own people—defenseless women, for God’s sake, and possibly children later—until she and her father returned. How had Carreon even known she was alive? That her father had reanimated her?
Oh my God. He’d watched the tapes from the security cameras in his stronghold. How could she have forgotten about them?
“Liz.” Zeke tightened his grip on her hand, refusing to let her pull away from him.
She had to, leaving him forever. Only by returning to Carreon would she save innocent lives. Who knew how many would die if she didn’t do what that monster demanded? Her belly ached with grief even as crushing rage tore through her. As she had on the night of the battle, Liz considered how she might get close enough to murder Carreon. Stop this insanity.
If that were even possible.
A part of her knew how hopeless it was. Once she returned, he’d imprison her as he had her father, not allowing a moment’s freedom. The only time she’d see him or anyone else would be when he forced her to heal.
“Dammit, Liz.”
She continued to fight Zeke, trying to pull her hand from his as she considered her future.
If Zeke was correct about her condition, she wouldn’t last very long after she healed someone. He and Jacob wouldn’t be around to pour back into her what she�
�d given them. Her father couldn’t help either. There’d be no further reanimations, because she wasn’t about to allow her father to return to Carreon.
Even if everyone was wrong and she survived a healing, Carreon might torture her on camera to force her father’s hand, to make certain he came back.
Was that what Zeke’s vision had foretold?
“You were backing away from me,” he’d said. “Your cheeks were wet as though you’d been crying. Carreon wouldn’t let you go. Then I saw fire. The kind that destroys a body. I saw a woman’s legs. The flames touched her foot. She didn’t move.”
Was she that woman? Had Carreon or Roberto brutalized her to the point of unconsciousness? Had Zeke’s refusal to let her father return so angered Carreon that he’d actually burned her alive?
The enormity of what might be—what she had to do—overwhelmed Liz and stole all of her fight. She stopped twisting her hand, which forced Zeke to loosen his grip. When he turned to her, Liz sagged against him and whispered, “I love you so much.”
He caressed her.
Jacob stood behind them in the hall. He held back. Extending her arm, Liz invited him closer.
“We’ll get him,” Jacob said. He rested his hand on her shoulder and kissed her cheek, his touch gentle. “We won’t let him harm that woman or anyone else.”
Liz murmured, “He won’t do anything if I go back.”
“No fucking way,” Zeke said. “Jacob and I won’t let you.”
“That’s right,” he said.
Liz rested her forehead on Zeke’s chest, relishing the moment and the little time they had left. “I have to. It’s the only way. If I’m able to heal, that might appease him. It could buy you time to plan your attack and get rid of him for good.”
“I won’t allow it,” Zeke growled. He held her tightly. Rough breaths poured from him as though his anger was at its limit…or he was battling despair. “We’ll figure something out. He won’t win.”
Liz had no strength left to argue. Carreon had already won. All that remained was for her to find a way to leave the stronghold and allow her destiny to play out as it should have from the beginning.
She and Zeke weren’t meant to be together. They’d been born as enemies, not lovers. Being with him had caused nothing but grief for his people and her clan. She recognized that inescapable truth on Isabel’s face.
The older woman had just come into the hall, stopping at what she saw. Her leader and his brother giving solace to a woman who had no right to it.
“Zeke,” Isabel said. “We need to talk.”
Liz felt his body tense.
“Later,” he said, clearly irritated.
“No. Now,” Isabel insisted.
“I’ll take Liz back to your room and make certain she’s safe,” Jacob offered. There was no lust in his voice, merely a desire to help.
Despite Isabel’s presence, Zeke cupped Liz’s face in his large hand and pressed his cheek to hers. “Everything will be all right,” he whispered.
Liz didn’t believe it. She saw Isabel’s expression and recalled what Carreon had threatened.
Zeke followed Isabel to one of the smaller meeting spaces where the women sometimes played cards or caught a moment for themselves away from the boisterous children. Unlike the main meeting room, there were several smaller tables in here surrounded by comfortable chairs.
Isabel closed and locked the door.
Zeke braced himself for the worst.
Rather than speaking, she went to a cupboard on the far left. Inside were packaged snacks—Cheetos, Snickers, Pringles, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. She reached behind them and opened a hidden compartment. From there, she pulled out what appeared to be a stack of photos.
Isabel placed them side by side on the table nearest to Zeke, then said, “Look at these.”
He wanted to ask why but figured it would only prolong whatever this was leading up to. Zeke wondered if those were photos of his parents. Did Isabel honestly believe she could use their memory to shame him into doing what she wanted?
He wanted to tell her it wouldn’t work. He ached to leave.
On a heavy sigh, he went to the table and regarded the pictures. Taken at various times, clearly different decades, they depicted several members of the clan dressed in that period’s clothing. Like the garments, the scenery behind them also changed. The oldest photos showed the desert landscape dotted by teepees, their people wearing buckskin, their braided hair decorated with eagle feathers. In the later pictures, Anglo clothing and storefronts replaced the earlier Comanche lifestyle.
Many of these photos appeared to be from the early eighteen hundreds. Was the process to take pictures even available then? How was it possible that it had been so good? These were remarkable images, as sharp as those from today’s digital cameras. Not understanding, Zeke glanced at Isabel.
She tapped her finger against the table. “Look at the pictures. Tell me what you see.”
“Our people,” he said.
“You’re not looking,” she accused. “You’re not seeing. You’re deliberately being blind about this, just as you’ve been about everything concerning your clan since you brought that woman here. Look.”
Clenching his jaw, Zeke regarded the pictures, not knowing what in the hell he was supposed to be looking for. A sign that he shouldn’t have brought Liz here? A message written in the dirt or in the sky? A particularly threatening scowl that would reveal what his ancestors thought of—
Zeke’s musing stopped as he more closely studied the faces. Once he had, he compared the earliest picture to the most recent one. All of the people in it were different, of course. The previous ones gone because they’d died as many as a hundred-and-ninety years before.
Except for one individual—a woman.
Zeke’s mouth went dry. He took the two photos, placing them next to each other. The same woman was in each, nearly two centuries apart. She hadn’t changed a bit. Hadn’t aged past her sixty or so years.
No. It wasn’t possible.
Zeke stared at Isabel’s image in all of the pictures. It had to be a trick. She’d done this on Photoshop.
As though she’d read his mind, or perhaps his expression, she murmured, “The tales the elders have told about the Others—that we’ve walked among you in your earthly form—aren’t simply myths, Zeke. I’ve been with your clan from the start, well before you were known as Comanche. I was sent here to watch over all of you, to make certain your people protected the land and heritage we provided, that you didn’t dishonor your gift of prophecy or us.”
Zeke forced down a swallow and shook his head. “This is a trick.” He shoved the photos away. Several fell to the floor. “You did this on a computer.”
“Have you ever seen me looking any different than I do now?” she asked.
“This is a damn trick. It’s not going to change my mind about—”
“Have you?” she insisted.
“You know I have,” he said as intensely as she had, his voice as low-pitched. “When I was a kid.”
“And I was your mother’s best friend from high school then, wasn’t I?”
Before Zeke could answer, he noted a subtle difference in Isabel’s eyes. The pupils were no longer round, but vertical, like a reptile’s. And then the whites disappeared, replaced by a golden color.
He gaped, and the phenomenon was gone. As though it had never happened.
“Tell me,” she said, “when did I ever come to your house? When did you ever see me with your mother?”
This was nuts. Her complexion looked darker suddenly, more like hide than skin.
“Zeke?”
He blinked, because she now looked as she always had. What in the fuck was happening?
“When did you see me with your mother?” she repeated.
He snapped, “Many times.”
“When, exactly? During one of your birthday parties? At another celebration your family had, like when you won that track meet in middle school
or when Jacob won that spelling bee?”
Zeke thought back to every special event he could think of, knowing there had to be countless instances when the two women had been together. They’d been inseparable. BFF’s. Two normal females.
“You can’t recall details from even one now, can you?” Isabel asked. “Because they never existed. They’re no more than beliefs I put into your mind and those of the others so I could walk among you without causing fear.”
Unable to speak, Zeke kept shaking his head.
Isabel gestured to the pictures.
He studied her hands. The nails seemed yellowed and clawed, then ordinary once more.
“How could I remain the same decade after decade, never growing older? Never dying?” she asked. “Not once have I changed in this form, and no one has asked how that could be. Do you have any idea why?”
He stepped back, not wanting to know or to consider what Isabel really was. That what he kept seeing—or at least thought he had—was her actual appearance and this might be true. When he and his clan had played the holograms left by the Others, they’d spoken English as flawlessly as he did and looked as human as anyone else on this planet. Not even close to this…thing…that seemed to be Isabel.
She went around the table, following him. “I removed or changed the memories the others had of me so no one would question my continued presence. Through the centuries, I’ve always been known as Isabel, or its equivalent, the best friend of the woman who bore the clan’s leader.”
Zeke’s voice shook. “Why are you telling me this?”
“You gave me no choice. No matter what Carreon and his men do, even his latest threat, you insist on that woman being here, on helping his people rather than your own.”
He snapped, “Do you expect me to let another woman die no matter whose clan she belongs to? Do you actually believe I wouldn’t protect Liz? I love her, dammit. I won’t let her go back to Carreon. She’d never survive. She hasn’t harmed anyone here. She’ll be able to help us.”
Isabel regarded him with sadness rather than anger. “You know what you have to do for your clan, and I can make it less painful.”