Dark Star folded his wings. There would be no challenge tonight. Had losing his herd broken his spirit? A picture formed in her head of her—no, not her—of Second riding Dark Star. She looked at Specter. That couldn’t be right. He was staring back. The image had come from him. Specter turned away and launched skyward.
“Whoa. That was weird. What’d you say to get him to leave without roasting Dark Star?”
Jael shook her head. “I didn’t say anything. He didn’t give me a chance.”
“You’re not in trouble with him, are you? For, I don’t know, cheating on him with another dragon horse?”
She could see why Alyssa liked this kid. “I hadn’t thought of that, but I don’t think so.” She stared into the sky where Specter had disappeared. She didn’t get the impression he was angry, but something was strange with him.
Nothing about this war was happening normally. Most in The Natural Order weren’t soldiers—just hungry, misguided people. The Collective Council had saddled her with a first-life Advocate who’d lit a flame in her heart but put a hesitation in her incineration. And now, the freaking dragon horses had gone crazy. Sun and moon, she longed for the simplicity of a sword and shield against a field of burly barbarians.
Chapter Fifteen
Cyrus’s feet flew out from under him, and he held tight to the railing as the rear of the yacht rose with another huge wave that nearly rolled the ship upright onto its bow. They were losing their race to beat the hurricane to the closest shore. He was no sailor, but it was clear they were being tested. If he was to be a martyr for The One, then he would not shrink from his fate. History would remember him with respect, perhaps sainthood.
He tightened the straps of his life vest and grabbed whatever he could to make his way to the crew’s quarters. All hands were on deck, or at least indoors on the upper decks. Anyone down here wouldn’t have a chance if they began to sink. That’s why he had to get Bobby topside. The crew wouldn’t help him because of whatever he’d done to that girl in the warehouse. Luke didn’t seem to care if Bobby died down there either. But something deep in Cyrus, the tiny part of him that sometimes missed the days when he and Laine were happy and their children were small, wouldn’t let him leave Bobby behind.
Bobby was on the floor, holding to the leg of one bunk. He groaned as the ship pitched wickedly, throwing him against the wall. Cyrus grabbed Bobby’s sweaty T-shirt and straddled him.
“Let’s get this life vest on you, so you don’t drown if we capsize,” he said, tugging at Bobby’s arms to make him let go of the bed. “I need to get you up top, or you’ll be trapped if we go over. And I’m pretty sure the next wave or two will do it.”
“Help me,” Bobby said.
“That’s what I’m trying to do. Can you at least crawl?”
Bobby nodded, and Cyrus secured the vest, then pulled him onto his hands and knees. Together, they made their way across the pitching floor, through the doorway, and to the stairs. The stairway was easier with the rail to grasp, but Bobby’s strength was waning. Cyrus had to drag him the last few steps and out onto the deck.
Luke appeared in the doorway of the upper-deck lounge, squinting in the driving rain. He crouched next to Cyrus and set three square plate-sized devices on the deck. A hose attached a rubber mask to each. He shouted to be heard over the raging wind and ocean. “I saw a couple of the crew getting these out of an emergency box and putting them inside their life vests.” He demonstrated by stuffing one inside the front of his vest and slipping the strap of the rubber mask over his head so that it hung around his neck. “If you go overboard, try to get to the surface and clear the water from the mask, then pull it up and over your mouth so that it seals around your nose and chin. The box thing will convert the carbon dioxide you exhale back into oxygen so you don’t have to worry about getting a lungful of water while you’re tossed around the seas.”
Cyrus examined the devices skeptically, then scrambled to hold onto them and the railing when the ship nearly capsized and a gigantic, curling wave almost washed them overboard. Luke braced himself in the doorway and snagged Bobby’s arm as he slid past. Cyrus pushed the third unit into Bobby’s vest. His eyes were wide with fear. Cyrus laid his hand on Bobby’s shoulder. “Do not be afraid, brother. The One is with us. Whatever happens is his will.”
Bobby looked to Luke for confirmation, but Luke only shrugged. “I hope somebody’s looking out for us. If we go over, it’ll be every man for himself.”
Cyrus dismissed Luke’s sarcasm as fear. He’d seen it from many strong men in times of crisis. “Get some rope to tie us together,” Cyrus said. “If we go over, you and I will have to pull Bobby between us to get clear of the boat. Stronger to—” He’d almost said it. The Collective mantra had been ingrained since his childhood and still was true no matter what his spiritual beliefs. But he couldn’t say their words now. “We got on this boat together, and we’ll arrive on shore together.”
Luke looked at Bobby, then back at Cyrus. He scrambled over to a locker and extracted a coil of thin nylon rope. They briefly debated how they should be tied together, but another treacherous roll of the yacht ended the argument. They looped the rope around the outside of their vests at chest level, leaving about three meters of slack between them.
Luke was tying the last knot when an earsplitting boom shook the boat as lightning tore through the stormy gloom to strike the main mast in an explosion of sparks. Shouts rang out from the crew that had been strangely absent on the second deck as the yacht wallowed to the port side. The next wave towered over them and the ship began to roll broadside.
“Jump.” Luke shouted and pointed to the bow. “Jump off the end and swim away.”
Luke began to run, but Bobby’s weight jerked him back. Adrenaline fueling his strength, Cyrus hauled Bobby up and over his shoulder, then ran with Luke. They leapt over the side as the furious ocean slapped the big yacht onto its side and it began to sink.
❖
Phyrrhos screamed as a new band of driving rain hit them.
The network’s informants said Cyrus was bound for Galveston, and they’d flown a significant distance their first night of travel. While the hurricane was still far from their location, they’d traveled easily in the flowing updrafts and shelter of the mountains all the way to Ciudad Victoria by daybreak. But they’d cut back toward the coast when they resumed their journey tonight and had begun flying into the storm’s intermittent bands of fierce wind, stinging hail, and needle-like rain.
Tan could feel Phyrrhos tiring after only a short time as she struggled to keep her additional body weight aloft. She couldn’t, wouldn’t risk her bonded and the foal in this storm. She spotted a large barn on what appeared to be the outskirts of a research farm. There weren’t any residential buildings, only cattle huddled in the woods and under open sheds in the surrounding fields. If she was reading this correctly, the barn would be used for hay storage. A perfect cozy shelter. She signaled toward the ground, and Titan followed as Phyrrhos descended.
Tan studied the lock on the barn’s sliding door. She could melt it, but she didn’t want to damage the property, just bed here until the storm passed. She waved Kyle over.
“Can you pick this?”
Kyle winked at her. “Does the sun rise every morning?”
It did when Kyle looked at her with those blue eyes warm and dancing. But Tan tilted her head and looked pointedly at the door. “I don’t know. The door’s still locked.”
Kyle only grinned, ignoring the rain pelting them and running into her eyes. She drew a wallet of small tools from one of the side pockets of her cargo pants and extracted a flat, rectangular box. It adhered to the lock like a magnet, and Kyle activated her wrist IC.
“Open lock app thirty-two. Analyze and open.”
The digital lock clicked open, and Kyle pulled back the large sliding door. It was, indeed, a hay-storage barn. A small tractor was parked in the center aisle, but there still was plenty of open space for the two dragon hor
ses and three women to move inside.
Tan dropped her pack to the floor and dug out a small solar bulb that produced a wide circle of soft light when she activated it. She wouldn’t think of palming a fireball for light while in a barn full of hay. She went back into her pack for a towel and tossed it to Kyle. Her own shirt was soaked through, and she unbuttoned it with one hand while she rummaged for a dry one. She stopped when she felt a familiar mental probe and opened to it.
Jael?
Tan, ask Second to open to me. I need to talk to her.
She swallowed. Jael’s curt order and the fact that she was obviously going to exclude her from some information exposed what Tan had expected, despite Jael’s earlier reassurance. The trust between them was still tenuous after what she’d done. Her shame that Kyle had somehow managed to push away returned, weighing heavy on her shoulders and choking her heart.
Yes, First Warrior.
Sorry. Alyssa’s punching me in the ribs. Could you please let Second know I need to communicate with her? But before you do, how’s Phyrrhos holding up? I don’t want you to push her too hard. If it takes an extra day or two to get Cyrus, she’s more important.
Tan looked up at Second, gestured a half-salute, and pointed to her temple, then to Second, who nodded her understanding.
We had to stop tonight. The storm is too much for her to fly.
I doubt Cyrus is traveling in that weather either, so no worries. Things okay with you and Kyle?
Uh, yeah. Blaze is doing okay.
Tan normally could compartmentalize her thoughts to filter what Jael heard, but the very mention of Kyle sent Tan’s thought on a lustful journey that she knew must be flashing through Jael’s head, too. Damn her lack of control.
Okay. I need Second back here. Can you two make it okay without her?
Yeah. We’re close enough. I’ll release Phyrrhos to hover nearby in case I need her, but we’ll find other means of travel.
Be safe, Tan.
As you command, my friend.
The band of tension around her chest loosened when Jael discreetly ignored the images Tan knew she must have seen. She took a deep breath as she stood, then forgot everything when she turned to see Kyle stripped down to her skimpy skivvies as she dried her hair. Her long, sinewy body, caught in the lamp’s glow, was an artistic study in shadows. Every ropy muscle in her long arms and legs, every ridge of her abdomen was defined.
“Breathe, Tan.”
Tan jerked, startled by Second’s whisper next to her ear.
“Jael needs me to return rather than go on with you two,” Second said, raising her voice to a normal tone.
Kyle pulled on a T-shirt and glanced up while she felt around in her pack for some pants. “You’re going back out into the storm?” She laid the pants on a nearby bale and rummaged through the rest of her things. “I know I have some dry socks in here somewhere.”
“Titan will be fine. We’ll be traveling away from the storm, back to the mountains, then up to Monterrey. I plan to catch a commercial flight to get back faster and let Titan find his way back over the next couple of days.”
This was urgent. Tan stared at Second. Dung, that woman was harder to read than Jael. Second smiled as she clapped a hand on Tan’s shoulder to give her a squeeze and a bit of a shake.
“Don’t look so worried. Diego heard rumors in Brasília that Cyrus’s right-hand man was cooking up something there. She sent Uri to Brasília because things didn’t feel right, and he confirmed it. He can’t say exactly what’s going on, but he confirmed that a lot of people aren’t telling the truth. So she’s strategizing her next move, and you know she can’t organize anything without my help.”
“Yeah, okay.” But Tan didn’t like it. She followed Second out into the night. The rain had lessened for the moment, but streaks of lightning lit the sky in the distance. They both watched the electric display for a few seconds, and then Tan pointed in the opposite direction. “Good thing you’re headed that way.”
Second seemed to sense her unease. “Find Cyrus, Tan. That’s what Jael needs you to do. Don’t worry about the rest.” She smiled. “And take care of Kyle. I have a feeling she might be special.”
Tan watched Titan lift off, then returned inside and slid the barn door closed. Phyrrhos stood dozing in a pile of hay. She’d obviously broken several bales and scattered them for bedding in case she decided to lie down briefly. It was probably just a wishful exercise. Her belly had grown so large, she was only comfortable enough to sleep while standing.
“What’s the plan?” Kyle asked, stepping into her pants and pulling them up her long legs.
Tan shed her wet shirt. “We stay here tonight. Phyrrhos is done. I can’t…we can’t be separated this late in her pregnancy, so she’ll always be somewhere close, but she’ll leave just before the dawn transition and find a safe hiding place. You and I will set out on foot to find other transportation.” She removed her chest support band and scratched under her breasts where the band irritated her skin.
“So, you’re saying that we’re in for the night?”
Tan smiled at Kyle’s gaze locked on her hands. She stopped scratching and began to massage her breasts. She nearly laughed when Kyle visibly swallowed and licked her lips. “I’m saying you might as well take those pants right back off.”
Kyle’s eyes flicked up to her face then, and she grinned. “Well, you do outrank me, and I wouldn’t want to disobey an order.” She shucked off her pants and T-shirt, flinging them onto the hay bales stacked behind her, then stalked smoothly over to Tan. She kissed her way down Tan’s neck while her fingers worked Tan’s pants open and dropped them to the floor. Then she lifted each of Tan’s breasts and kissed the dark nipples. When she raised her head, Tan thought those azure eyes would swallow her.
“Reporting for duty, ma’am,” Kyle said softly.
Tan hesitated. “Kyle. You know you don’t have to…I mean, just because I’m—”
“Shut up, Tanisha. This is about you and me. Nothing else. Now kiss me. We’ve only got until dawn, and I need at least ten minutes of sleep.”
❖
Cyrus gave up trying to swim. The turbulent ocean tossed and swirled him in so many directions he had no idea which way the surface or the shore might be. He closed his eyes tight against the salty, sand-filled water, reducing his world to each breath inhaled and exhaled into the rubber mask suctioned over his nose and mouth and the constant jerk of the rope that tethered him to Bobby and Luke. His only hope was his faith that their destiny was in the hands of a power greater than the force of the hurricane.
Something big slammed the back of his shoulders and head. Not the hard hull of the yacht. A fish? A whale, maybe? He waited to feel it again. Seconds seemed like hours underwater. What was that old parable about the man swallowed by the whale? His breath swooshed out of his lungs when he was slammed again, this time along his side. When the water lifted him up, something familiar filled his fist. Sand? Before he could ponder this question, he was slammed facedown, and the mask was knocked from his face. He panicked and began to flail. Then his feet touched bottom and he instinctively pushed upward. When his face broke the surface, he sucked in a lungful of air, then coughed and sputtered as another wave tumbled him forward.
He had his bearings now—ground under his feet, waves crashing at his back, and the shore a dim outline in the curtain of rain. He alternately swam and walked, tugging his rope tether along with him. He might be dragging two bodies or two buddies, but he—Cyrus—had survived this test.
He stumbled onto the beach and fell to his knees to catch his breath. A few yards away, Luke emerged from the water, and Bobby washed up between them. He appeared unconscious, but his breathing mask was still in place. Cyrus stood and straightened. He turned his face up to the rain and let it wash the ocean from his skin, then opened his mouth to rinse the taste of the breathing pack from his tongue. He spat onto the sand. No hurricane would beat him. No ocean could swallow him. He dropped his life
vest and breathing pack on the beach as he walked slowly to Bobby’s prone figure. He knelt and felt for a pulse. Faint, but alive. Bobby’s skin was gray. He removed his mask and breathing pack but left his vest. It would make a convenient handhold if they had to drag him across the beach.
Luke stumbled over, stripping off his gear. “I thought that water would be our grave.” His hands shook. Fear or fatigue? It didn’t matter to Cyrus. Not every man could be as strong as he was.
“We can’t be too far from some village or city. This is a very populated coast. There’s probably a road just past those dunes.” Cyrus sat Bobby up and stooped to slide his shoulders under Bobby’s left arm. “Grab his other arm, and let’s go.”
Luke opened his mouth as though he was going to argue or offer an alternative but closed it when Cyrus glared at him. He sighed and shouldered Bobby’s other arm to lift him between them, and they stumbled purposefully through the thick sand of the dunes.
When they reached the top of the second dune, a wide highway stretched out below them.
Luke grinned. “Thank the stars, you were right.”
There was never a doubt. He was The Prophet. “Go flag a ride for us. I’ll wait with Bobby.”
He watched Luke jog down the dune and toward the road, waving his arms at a supply transport headed north. Then he looked back at the beach and saw no sign of the yacht or its crew. Their faith in their precious Collective had offered them no protection. Only The One had true power. Only his believers could emerge unscathed from nature’s test. And he was the greatest of the believers.
He had proved himself stronger than the army of The Collective, stronger than the forces of nature, and gloriously filled with the power of The One. He was anointed The Prophet, but he was becoming The One.
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