“I left a hundred dollars on the table. Was that enough?”
Stevie uttered a gasp. “About four times more than we actually owed. They’ll be happy with that.”
Twenty minutes passed before the patrol car pulled away. Come on, Patrick, come on, she thought, frustrated to know he would be at least another two hours. Shaken, they moved cautiously back to surface reality and went inside again to wait. In the store, they bought a selection of cheap T-shirts, jeans and sweatshirts—and a bag to carry their damp stuff—so they were able to change into fresh, dry clothes. She added toothbrushes and other basic toiletries, bottled water and some unhealthy-looking cakes that resembled yellow sawdust filled with shaving cream. Looking around at other travelers, who were peacefully choosing magazines and candy bars, she thought how comfortingly mundane this felt. She didn’t want to leave. How wonderful, to feel normal and human for a while.
By now, a new shift of staff had taken over. Anonymity was restored, but she stayed on edge for the remaining hours. They spent awhile in the amusement arcade, gambling away twenty dollars and winning back twenty-two. Then Stevie noticed a small glass-partitioned room with a row of computers. She slipped in and paid for half an hour’s Internet use, but was out again within ten minutes.
“Are you okay?” Mist asked. “You’ve gone pale. Was there an email about Frances?”
“Yes. She’s still the same.” Stevie took a deep breath and exhaled. “But it’s Daniel; his file storage site has disappeared completely. Does that mean they found the message he left for me?”
“We’ve no way to find out,” Mist said firmly. “Don’t jump to conclusions.”
“Well, what else could it be?”
“Perhaps…” He shrugged. “If Daniel created the site for you and got found out, yes, he might be in trouble. But what if the images were put there for some other, unknown person to look at? If they’ve seen them, the site wouldn’t be needed anymore, would it?”
“Some accomplice of Rufus?” She shook her head, trying to blink away the gritty tiredness in her eyes. “Mist, my head will explode if we try to figure this out now. Believe it or not, I’m hungry again. Do you think it’s safe to go back in the diner?”
This time they sat on stools at a long counter, drinking more coffee and sharing an enormous triple-decker of bread stuffed with chicken, bacon and lettuce. She was beginning to feel they were doomed to spend the rest of their lives at a truck stop, spirits in limbo. Then a hand came over Stevie’s shoulder and stole half the sandwich.
“’Scuse me. I am fucking starving. You don’t mind, do you?”
Patrick.
She’d worried that she wouldn’t recognize him, but she knew him immediately: dark hair cut short, stubble darkening his pale complexion, a broad, good-natured face like Fin’s. Stevie turned and flung her arms around him.
“Woah,” he said. “I’m pleased to see you too. Bloody hell, what a drive. I didn’t stop once.”
“You look knackered.” She released him, shaking with the urge to cry from sheer relief. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you. You’re a hero. Oh, this is my friend, Mist.”
The two men shook hands. Patrick mumbled hello around a mouthful of food. Then he glanced sideways at Stevie with a brief widening of his eyes, as if to say, Wow, where did you find him?
Not noticing, Mist said quietly, “Thank you so much for coming.”
“Honestly, I can’t apologize enough,” Stevie said. “We’re stranded. I didn’t know anyone to call, except you.”
Patrick raised a hand to quiet her. “No apology needed. Any friend of Fin’s, et cetera. But what the hell happened to you? No offense, you’re still gorgeous, but you look like death.”
“Thanks.” Stevie found a smile. “You don’t look too clever yourself.”
He took another big bite of the sandwich, almost swallowing it whole. “Oh, that’s not your fault. The reason I drank too much last night was because I had a stupid argument with the boyfriend. He wanted to go clubbing, I wanted to stay in, but he went anyway. He said I was putting him under too much ‘pressure’ and he needed to ‘party.’” He mimed quotation marks and rolled his eyes. “I was in no mood for talking to him today, let alone working with him, so I’m glad you called.”
“That’s a shame,” said Stevie. “Are you going to forgive him?”
“Yeah, I always do. Selfish scumbag!” Patrick exclaimed, loud enough to make nearby customers turn and stare. “Him, I mean.”
“Er, I didn’t think you meant me. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Absolutely. Sorry; no more outbursts, I promise. You must be desperate to get out of this place after sitting around for hours.”
“You could say that. Don’t you want a rest first?”
“Nah, bathroom break and I’m fine. What the hell happened to you?”
“It’s a really long and unbelievable story.” She exhaled.
“I’m not the police.” Patrick shrugged, took her coffee mug and drained it. “Just tell me what you need to.”
“We ended up in the middle of the desert with no passports, nothing.”
His eyes widened. “You got carjacked?”
“No. I didn’t say that. And please keep your voice down! Look, the important thing is that we desperately need to find a friend of mine, Daniel. We’ve got an address, but no way of getting there.”
“Short of stealing a car,” Mist put in.
Patrick glanced at him with a slight smile. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take you.”
“Are you sure? We’ll pay for your fuel, food, everything.”
“Never mind that. Where d’you need to go?”
Stevie moved plates aside and unfolded the map on the counter. She pointed at the location of the truck stop, then slid her finger north and east across the contours of Nevada. “Here, somewhere. Jigsaw Canyon.” Patrick studied the map for a moment, then nodded.
“You do realize what distances are like over here? There’s no way we’ll be there before nightfall, and you both look bushed.”
Seeing Mist’s slight frown, Stevie asked, “Do you want to arrive after dark, all three of us falling over with tiredness, not knowing what we’re going into?”
“No,” said Mist. “That would not be the best idea.”
“So what we’ll do,” said Patrick, “is go as far as we can today and find a motel for a good night’s sleep. We’ll set off first thing tomorrow, all fresh and bushy-tailed in the morning, ready to meet your friends.”
“Sounds good,” said Stevie.
Patrick tapped the map, looking pleased with himself. “Oh, yeah. I know exactly the place to stop. You’ll love it. Get ready to meet the Big Red Buddhas.”
* * *
The motel was basic, a bit scruffy, but not the sort of place to demand the passports of foreign visitors. Patrick booked two double rooms, not even asking Stevie if she and Mist wanted to sleep separately. She didn’t argue. She had an intuition that, if Mist had his own room, he might vanish in the night and find his way to Jigsaw Canyon alone.
She wanted to keep an eye on him.
The room was large but threadbare, last decorated sometime in the early seventies. Still, it was clean, and the plumbing worked. The view outside was of a dusty road, a mountain, and the sign: BIG RED BUDDHAS MOTEL. Stevie couldn’t see anything to love, but didn’t care; they’d driven for four hours, by which time she could have fallen asleep on a boulder.
They’d told Patrick the bare minimum about their search for Rufus and Daniel, adding that they’d been waylaid and robbed by someone they should have been able to trust. She felt guilty about the white lies, but Patrick was accepting. He kept putting up a hand and saying, “It’s fine, only tell me as much or as little as you want. I’ll get the full story when you’re ready.”
Stevie and Mist lay on the bed together, clothed, their bodies apart, curled up facing each other. He stroked her cheek and hair, the touch of his fingers soothing, almost unbearably so. Fro
m each fingertip waves of warmth spread through her. She wanted more, wanted everything, but knew it wasn’t going to happen. She tried to ignore the hot ache of frustration that threatened to dissolve her. Did he feel the same? She kept her eyes firmly above his waist, in case his feelings were physically evident. Or not. Iron self-control or brotherly indifference? She preferred not to know.
It was pointless. Nothing was going to happen, because they were both floored by exhaustion, and by all the other barriers between them: their friends, in Albin’s cold prison; the taint of Fela’s memories; Mist’s obsession with Rufus … And Helena, bloody Helena, the immortal icon raised to sainthood by being both perfect and dead.
She stamped on the unworthy thought.
There was so much still to talk about, but neither spoke. They only gazed at each other with the unspoken question, What the hell is going to happen to us?
Stevie fell asleep. When she woke, she was alone.
Judging by the light, it was late afternoon. The world outside looked rosy, the sky deep blue. In a rush of anxiety, she got up, checked she had her room key, and went outside. The day’s warmth was beginning to fade, and there were only a few cars parked alongside Patrick’s Chevy Impala. She made her way along a walkway past reception and down a set of steps until she found herself in the grounds that lay behind the building.
An alien landscape.
A gentle rocky slope led to an area where steam wreathed the ground, rising from plates of flowstone stained red, yellow and copper-green. Hot water bubbled and popped from vents. She saw, roughly a hundred yards away, a cluster of bulbous shapes about eight feet high.
The formation looked like three fat red buddhas, squashed together.
There was a path winding to the area with a small wooden sign stating the obvious: TO THE HOT SPRINGS. Smaller lettering explained that the “buddhas” had been formed by dissolved minerals being forced from deep in the earth’s mantle to pile up into bizarre sculptures on the surface. Halfway down the path, she met Patrick walking back up. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair was damp. “Hey,” he said, “Mist said you were fast asleep, but there’s nothing to revive you like bathing in a thermal pool. Ever tried it?”
“No.” The prospect of soaking her aching body in hot water was irresistible. “So this is your surprise?”
“Yes, isn’t it incredible? I once came here with—” Patrick closed his eyes.
“The selfish party-loving scumbag?” Stevie suggested.
He gave a soft growl. “I will stop being mad with him by the time I get home. Healing waters are great for gaining a perspective on your troubles, so you have to go in, Stevie. You’ll find towels down there.”
“I was looking for Mist, actually.”
Patrick hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “Yeah, he’s still soaking, if you can spot him through the steam. Mist in the mist.”
Stevie went on until she reached the buddhas and studied them in delight. The rounded formations were shiny-red, with steam sputtering from blowholes. Scarlet and yellow mineral stains gave them an unreal appearance. All around them lay shallow pools, terraced at different levels. Steam rose from milky green water. Each pool was bounded by a lip of flowstone stained with iron and sulfur. She felt as if she’d stepped onto another planet.
The water reminded her of Persephone’s cave. And as always, she felt a thrill of fear and fascination … But it’s just hot water, she told herself. There was going to be no Aelyr transformation this time, no revelation, no reincarnation.
There was no one around, so she stripped down to T-shirt and panties, and slipped into the waist-deep water. The miasma of sulfur was strong, but bearable. The hot water felt delicious on her aching body, thick and silky with dissolved minerals. The infinity-sign scar on her collarbone stung a little. Above her, the triple geysers hissed and spat like boiling kettles.
She swam slowly through the jigsaw of pools and found Mist around a curve beneath the buddhas. He was resting against the lip of the pool, arms outstretched, head tipped back and eyes closed. His body was as lean and beautiful as she’d imagined, although less pale. There was a hint of Felynx gold in his skin tone. She found a place to settle a few feet away so as not to disturb him. Sinking down until the water reached her chin, she released a sigh of bliss.
Mist started. His eyes came open, as green as the water.
“There you are,” he said. The weariness in his face smoothed away when he looked at her. His gaze softened.
“You should have woken me up.”
“Patrick knocked on the door, but you didn’t stir, so I left you to rest. Feeling better?”
“Yes, lots. Physically, at least.” She stretched her legs and arched her back. “You’d think I’d be absolutely sick of water by now, but this is different. It feels wonderful. You?”
“Same. Nothing is forgotten, Stevie, but Patrick was right about us needing rest and a night’s sleep. I should’ve learned my lesson by now.”
Stevie smiled. “I think he fancies you.”
“Well, he’s not having me on the rebound,” Mist replied equably.
His tone made her laugh. “I hope he kept his hands to himself.”
“He did. He was a perfect gentleman.”
“Maybe…” she began. She swished her feet in the water, unable to finish the sentence.
“Maybe what?”
“If you had a wild night with Patrick, you might feel more diplomatic with Rufus in the morning. Joke! Not very funny. Sorry.”
“A wild night playing cards is as far as he’ll get with me.” Mist looked into her eyes with tender amusement, making her flustered with no effort.
“Sorry, that was a really inept bit of teasing,” she sighed. “I’ll be honest. What’s bothering me is the thought that you are actually intending to kill someone.”
“I know,” he said.
“And I’m sure you’d prefer not to have me at your side, trying to prize your finger off the metaphorical trigger.”
“I don’t know what will happen, even if we find Rufus.”
“I’m worried that you might set out on your own, in some misguided attempt to protect me while you fight things out with him. Which I can understand—but I am part of this, as much as you are.”
He interwove his fingers with hers. She couldn’t help drifting towards him as the silky water carried her along the pool rim. “Yes, you are. More than you know.”
“What don’t I know?”
“That you’re right: in an ideal world, it would have been me and him and no witnesses.” Mist pulled gently and she slid closer to him along the smooth rock. His arm went around her shoulders. “But it’s only through you that I have a chance of finding him. And if you hadn’t come with me, I would have fallen apart by now.”
“Me too,” she said.
Their lips brushed. She hadn’t expected or intended that, but it happened without either of them pausing to think. Mist’s thumb gently stroked her initiation scar. He kissed her again, in earnest this time. She was so startled that she pulled back for an instant. Then she responded, tasting salty minerals on his tongue. Her self-control melted.
Their limbs entangling in the warm buoyant water was the most erotic sensation she’d ever felt. Her breathing grew fast and ragged as she felt him responding. His palms slid down her back, pressing her body firmly to his.
“Oh, god,” she gasped, very softly. Mist said nothing, only gazed into her eyes, while his chest rose and fell rapidly under her hands. For a moment she thought that one of them should say, “Stop,” before this went any further. Neither did and then it was too late.
Flimsy fabric was easily pushed aside as she wrapped herself around him. All rational thought deserted her. The melting, honeyed heat overwhelmed them: nothing else mattered but to express that they’d wasted too much time, should always have been together. She gasped in amazement at the most divine sequence of sensations she’d ever experienced.
The swell of
their movements sent up waves that surged across the surface, bouncing off the lip of the pool to return and create a frothing tide around them. Their pleasure swept to a peak so intense that Stevie thought she might actually pass out; she wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, but couldn’t even take a breath.
She collapsed onto his chest. Mist clasped her hard against him, still moving to draw out the last throbs of bliss, his open mouth pressed to her hair. They lay in the water, half-floating, panting with astonishment.
“Oh my god,” she groaned. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“Neither did I.”
“Oh dear. Too late now. The heat and steam sort of … melted my common sense.”
“And mine.” He caressed her face. The ends of their hair drifted in the water. “Not that I haven’t wanted to, from the first moment we met.”
“I never guessed. I thought…” She stopped herself from saying, that you were going to stay tragically in love with Helena forever. No doubt he still was; one episode of impulsive sex did not change that. “You’re so self-controlled. Aloof, even.”
“Perhaps on the outside, but it’s not how I feel. You know that.”
I like you so much, Mist, she thought. Damn, I like you far, far more than is safe. She couldn’t put this into words, either, so she lightly bit and kissed his neck instead.
He groaned. “Stevie, you don’t know how much I’ve wanted to be with you. I thought I was strong enough to resist, but clearly I’m not. Anyone I’m close to, Rufus sees as fair game. People who come too near the Felynx get burned by us. Everyone I love…”
“Steady on. Don’t start throwing the ‘L’ word about. We got carried away, that’s all. And it was amazing … but if you want to pretend it never happened, that’s fine.”
He tipped his head back, moisture shining on his face. “Do you?”
“No,” she said. “I’d be quite happy to stay wrapped around you like this indefinitely. But we have other things to worry about. Other people.”
“If I had power equal to Albin’s, I would know what to do, but … I’ve put you in danger.”
“No,” she said. “Don’t ever think that.”
Grail of the Summer Stars (Aetherial Tales) Page 34