by J. C. Nelson
I snatched the phone, practically shouting, “What does she look like?”
“Furry.” The keyboard clicked furiously. “Fuzzy. Damn autocorrect. Cameras all crapped themselves near her, but she’s a woman. When she knocked out the west support column, you can see the outline of her tits. Sending video and stills now.”
“Send them to Grace,” said Brynner.
When the pictures clicked up on my tablet, I thumbed through them. Both his assertions were correct. The camera stills had vertical lines, like they’d been hit by an EMP. And the outline was definitely feminine. I clicked over to the video.
Taken by the security cameras, it showed a line of operatives with gas pressure washers. Their pulsing jets converged on a moving figure who stood rock-still in the middle of the room. The operatives advanced, keeping her pinned.
The mist obscured what happened next, but a man’s body came flying and knocked the camera off-kilter, pointing it to the floor. What it did capture was the torn corpses that flew past, rolling on the carpet.
Brynner looked away, keeping his eyes off the tablet. “How’d she pass the wards?”
Dale gasped for breath several times, then answered. “If you believe the reports, she entered the building on the twentieth floor and headed straight for the director’s office. We’ve got incoming reports on co-org activity from everywhere. People are shitting themselves.” From the other end, the keyboard clicked once more. “I’m going to drop off and engage with field units that will listen to what I tell them.”
Brynner took the phone from me. “I’ve got the heart. For real. I’m going to try to negotiate a return.”
“You found it.” The sound from the phone was like an army of rabbits gnawing through a plastic plate, which I guessed passed for laughter. “You’ve got to be kidding, you son of a bitch. Way to go. Should I tell Director Bismuth when we establish contact?”
I cut in over him. “No. This is her fault from the ground up. We’re going to try to find a way to communicate with Ra-Ame. Meet her some place out here, make the trade.”
Brynner mouthed, “We are?”
I nodded.
“You’re the chick who saved Brynner’s ass in the hotel?”
I laughed at Brynner’s pained expression. “I’m the woman who’s going to save yours. Don’t get dead, ass hat.”
I clicked the phone off and took my own, ignoring Brynner’s questioning gaze. “I spent weeks with Amy.”
“Me too.” He crossed his arms, waiting.
“Not as her roommate.” I waved the phone. “I have her number.”
I dialed the number, waiting. If Amy lay crushed in the rubble of the BSI building, I’d never hear her voice. Again and again it rang. And then cut off.
“She’s not—”
The phone rang. “Amy?”
Through the static and fuzz, she spoke. “Grace Roberts, for the sake of everyone, tell me you found the heart.”
Brynner leaned over. “What if we say no?”
“Tell Brynner Carson that if the answer is no, everyone will die.”
Thirty-Nine
BRYNNER
Everyone would die. A scenario I usually worked to avoid. The jar in Grace’s hands might be the key to escaping, though a nagging worry at the back of my mind said it might not include me. No matter. “I’ve got it. Grace is holding the jar right now, and we’re going to try to contact Ra-Ame to arrange an exchange.”
“Any ideas on how to do that?” asked Grace.
“Grace Roberts, is this phone encrypted?” Amy’s tone made the hair on my skin stand up.
“No.” Grace closed her eyes and leaned her head back, her fist clenched.
“You would be safe to assume she either knows already, or will within minutes. The old ones have ears to spare. Do not let the jar from your sight, Brynner Carson. I will join you as soon as possible.” Amy muttered in Arabic, a curse, judging from the tone.
I didn’t want to know, but I also had to ask. “Did you see Ra-Ame?”
“I have looked upon her.”
“And survived? How?” Grace couldn’t hide the shock in her voice.
Amy chuffed like a cat. “Only a fool stands against Ra-Ame.”
“That’s a polite way of saying she ran,” I added. “You know, you are better at me than everything. Including running away. And I’m glad. We’ve got one more day until the deadline.”
“I will be there as soon as possible. Wait for me. If you have truly spoken with the pharoah’s daughter, and Ra-Ame knows you hold her heart, she will forbid the other old ones to interfere. Perhaps we can still reach an agreement.” Amy hung up the phone without saying another word.
Grace sat down on the grass next to the backhoe. “She doesn’t exactly have the world’s sunniest disposition.”
“I’m not sure there’s anything to be cheery about. You saw the footage. She took out a support column with her hands.” I closed my eyes, trying to imagine Dad speaking. What would he do? Even if I knew, could I do what he would?
Dad would know just because of who he was. I stood and took Grace’s hand, helping her up. “Come on.” We walked back to the car and basked in the cold of the air conditioner. “We have two days.”
“One. A day begins on the evening of the day before, in the old way of counting. One day. At evening tomorrow, she’ll come for the heart.”
I put the car in gear and drove. “If we’re going to die, I’m going to die happy. Grace Roberts, have you ever had cabrito?”
She mouthed the word. “Goat little?”
“Young. Steamed in a fire pit. I know exactly how I want to spend the last night of my life.” I smiled at her, because it was true.
She laughed. “A cheap motel and hours of passionate sex?”
“Me?” I said with mock offense. “No. I’m going to take you out on your dream date. A proper date. A perfect date. With no one to tell you they went to high school with me. No waitresses I slept with. Just you and me, pretending that we’re not facing the mother of the undead.”
“Why don’t we just settle for a nice dinner someplace quiet—”
I held up my hand. “I said perfect. I have a long history of perfect first dates.”
Grace wiped her bangs out her eyes. “You’re cocky, you know that?”
“Confidence. Well-earned confidence. I never have anything but perfect dates.”
Grace frowned at me. “In that case, you are already doing it wrong. Start over.” Grace crossed her arms and waited. “Well? Are you going to ask?”
“I just did.”
“No, you told me what you wanted to do. You didn’t ask me what I wanted to do.” She nodded. “Go on.”
Squelching the aggravation inside me, I summoned my most charming tone. “Grace Roberts, would your perfect date be eating dinner at an authentic goat roast with me?”
She grinned like a little girl. “No. Not at all.”
“What?” I swerved, nearly hitting a car, then pulled over. “You weren’t supposed to say no.”
Grace batted blue eyes at me. “You asked. Ask again.”
“Grace—”
“Do the voice!” She didn’t even bother trying to hide her glee.
Fine. Forcing myself to smile like a man-eating skeleton, I looked up at her. “Grace Roberts, what would you like to do tonight?”
She thought for a moment. “I want to ride on a boat.”
Every word that came to mind, I could write in hieroglyphics. “We’re in the middle of the desert.”
“You asked.”
Not that it had ever occurred to me she might say no. “What are you doing? I thought you were just going to say ‘a nice dinner’ or something.”
“This is payback. For all the women you sweet-talked with a line or batted those eyes or flexed one of your gorgeous pecs at, and they just melted into your bed. Sweet, sweet payback.” She put her head back on her seat, giggling. “Just admit that not even the legendary Brynner Carson can fix everythin
g, and we can go eat Bambi.”
“Bambi,” I said through gritted teeth, “was a deer. Which are also tasty.” Fine. She wanted a boat ride in the middle of the desert? I’d give her one.
We drove nearly two hours to the reservoir, stopping only for Grace to grab a change of clothes in a department store, while I ran to a bank to withdraw money. It turns out “I’d like to rent your boat for the night, here’s thirty-thousand dollars” will get you a nice boat, a cabin cruiser with bunks for eight. Such a ship belonged on the sea.
Once I’d gotten us pushed out from the dock, onto the lake, Grace tapped me on the shoulder. “You forgot to ask about dinner.”
“Come again?” I hadn’t forgotten. I just didn’t eat on boats because if I ate dinner, I’d lose my dinner.
She stood up on tiptoes and whispered in my ear, “I want cannelloni. On the boat.”
I just about pulled my hair out. “Couldn’t you have told me that before we got in the water?”
“You didn’t ask. This is for every woman you ever ordered for without checking the menu.” Grace patted me on the back and took a seat in her deck chair. She’d changed into a sleeveless top and white shorts, with a wide brim straw hat.
“Those women liked what I ordered them. I never had one complaint, ever.” Finding an Italian place where I could bribe the delivery guy to meet me at the dock took another hour and a half. As I finished the order, a terrible fear came over me. “Grace.”
She took off her sun hat and turned to look. “Yes?”
“What kind of wine do you like?”
Her mouth dropped open in a perfect O. “Chardonnay, please. You’re learning.”
I was. And I wasn’t done yet. “Grace.”
When she twisted those sleek white shoulders to look at me, I seriously considered tossing her off the boat, innocent look and all. “Yes?”
“Dessert?”
She put a hand to her chin, thinking. “Cheesecake, please. With chocolate drizzle.”
Never let it be said a Carson couldn’t learn his lesson.
She ate on the deck, then we cruised the reservoir for hours so Grace could lean out at the bow and feel the wind on her face. When the moon rose, I dragged a couple of mattresses up on deck to lie on and look at the stars.
And I wondered how I’d missed this in life. Why I only found this here, now. But at least it was real. After midnight, I rose and went downstairs to get a blanket for Grace. When I turned from the bed, she was standing on the stairs. “You forgot something.”
I sighed, counting the steps to the deck. Yeah, I could carry her up and toss her in the water in ten seconds flat. The Virgin Mary herself wouldn’t blame me at that point. In fact, she might give me a hand with Grace’s feet. “What is it? Just tell me.”
She stepped down the last step and pressed herself body close. “Make love to me.”
“But—”
She covered my lips with hers, then took a breath. “Less talk. More sex.”
I dropped the blanket I’d been holding, folded my arms around her, one hand at the base of her back, the other caressing the line of her chin, and kissed her.
One kiss, or many, it began and ended, stopped and started in between breaths, until Grace turned her head, and tickled my earlobe with her tongue. She held on to my hips, keeping me close enough to feel each shift of her body as she rocked against me.
I buried my nose in her hair, breathing in the scent of sweat and perfume, deodorant and desire, and cautiously placed a hand on her breast, rubbing the side swell from the top of her shoulder and circling her nipple.
And she shuddered, her body going rigid against me for just a moment. And then her hand slipped lower, tugging at my pants until the zipper came loose. The urge to press against her overwhelmed me, as she slipped her hands against my skin, cold fingers grasping me.
“Careful,” I gasped, but she didn’t back off, kissing the sides of my mouth, pressing against my shoulders.
With both hands, I ran my thumbs down the center of her back, pushing gently into her muscles, massaging her so with each pass of my hand, she pushed against me. And she let go, pulling up her shirt, wriggling so my hands slipped into her pants.
I knelt, drawing down her pants, and then tracing a line up from the ball of her foot to the inside of her thigh while she stripped off her bra.
Her breasts, plump, with dark nipples, hung free, and I rose to kiss each, stepping out of my pants, and tripping as I hopped out of my underwear.
Grace caught me, or grabbed me and fell, landing on top of me. Her palms pressed me down as she rocked back and forth until my hips ached with desire, and her name was the only word I could summon to ask.
She answered, settling onto me, her back arching up, and away as she moved, each motion a burst of pleasure. And I slipped a hand between us, massaging her until her breath came in ragged gasps, and she jerked, shuddering, and cried out, neither name nor word. Only pleasure.
Grace pulled me over, her skin slick with sweat. She moaned softly as I moved, faster and faster, her hands pulling me against her until at last I came, a wave of pleasure wracking me.
She held me close until at last I fell away, rolling off her to lie spent on the covers. I shivered and steamed simultaneously, unable to move until moments faded into minutes.
I drowsed, resting against her, but when I opened my eyes, Grace lay propped up on one elbow, looking down at me. Her nipples, now soft, barely protruded from her breast, but the way her hand lay on my hip, claiming me, made me desire her once more.
Grace smiled at me. “What are you thinking about?”
“I was thinking how beautiful you are.” I leaned up and kissed her. “You?”
She moved her hand ever so slightly, stroking my thigh. “I was just wondering why Ra-Ame didn’t summon her army and raze everything. Why she wouldn’t just send them to get the heart.”
She read the shock on my face and added, “Also, I was thinking about how amazing that was.”
I knew Grace. She’d been honest the first time. “Sure you were. You were thinking about how to fight her. How to kill her.”
“Well,” she said, leaning down to kiss me again, “make me think of something else.”
And I did.
Forty
GRACE
I woke before Brynner, going for a swim to wash myself clean. He deserved sleep, I’d kept him occupied until he nearly collapsed from exhaustion. And at least some of his bravado was well deserved. If only I’d been less obstinate, I could have enjoyed that so much sooner.
But what woke me was the very thing I accidentally told Brynner. And to be fair, “that was amazing” did cross my mind, once I reached the point of being able to think at all. But what crossed my mind almost immediately afterward was that heart.
If Ra-Ame had an army of creatures capable of destroying most of the world, why not just destroy the world and spend the rest of eternity scouring the rock for her heart? Why the insistence that we hand it over? And by the time I climbed back up on the boat, I had the beginnings of an answer.
“Grace?” Brynner called to me from inside.
I walked down the stairs, reveling in how his gaze raked my body. He couldn’t possibly—
“You look beautiful.” Brynner rose, stretching. White lines crisscrossed his body, scars on scars everywhere.
I slipped on my panties and walked over to run my fingers over the scars carved like Chinese characters into his skin. “What happened to you?”
“It’s the Carson way. Dad always taught me to not to run. Deal with the meat-skins up close and personal.” He picked up his belt and the dagger sheaths. “Carsons don’t use guns.”
There was no easy way to go about this. “We can’t give Ra-Ame the heart.”
Brynner nodded and went back to getting dressed.
“Aren’t you the least bit curious why?”
He pulled on a shirt, stretching it across his chest, and shook his head. “Grace, you’re, lik
e, I don’t know, fifty times smarter than I am. You tell me giving back the heart is a bad idea, I’ll buy it. My gut says if Dad knew what we were up against, he’d destroy it first, negotiate later.”
“This isn’t based on a gut feeling.” I didn’t do gut feelings.
He nodded. “Of course not. And I trust you.”
Which aggravated me. I’d thought all night about possible scenarios and reasons and kept coming back to one real likelihood. “She hasn’t summoned her armies because she can’t. Think about it—why didn’t she bring them to kill your dad and take it? The heart, I think it’s the key to her reclaiming all her power. You give it to her, and she’ll have the ability to call them.”
“And If I don’t?” He looked at me. “You saw what happened to the headquarters. How am I supposed to kill something capable of that?”
I didn’t like this Brynner. His best asset was unshakable confidence in his own abilities. Confidence we’d so desperately need to pull this off. I slipped up next to him, wrapping one hand around a knife handle and pulling it from the sheath. “These.” I turned them over again and again. “They were driven through her skin, Amy told me. So she’s not invulnerable to them. They kept her so injured she couldn’t move, until your mom took two out.”
He gazed down at me, his eyes locked on either the knife or my breasts, then nodded. “Call Amy. I’m going to drive out as far into the desert as possible. If Ra-Ame wants the heart, she can come get it from me there, where there are fewer people to get hurt.”
“To get it from us there.” I put one hand over his. “Us.”
“Grace—”
I pushed him backward, slapping his chest. “Don’t. Don’t you even think about some speech about how it’s okay for you to die and me to live. You and your hero complex. You are not Heinrich Carson or Jesus Christ. You don’t have to die for everything to turn out right.”
If I’d slapped his face, I couldn’t have hit him harder. And if it saved his life, I’d do it again. “You need the heart, but only so you can draw her to you. And when she comes, I’ll be with you. Waiting. You might need me to rescue you.”