“I’ve got to get back to Seattle soon,” Gary said. “I shouldn’t have stayed this long—Henry’s got some documents he needs me to look at before morning.”
“How’s he doing?” Erin asked.
“He’ll be all right.”
“Do the police have any leads?”
Gary looked at her with a glint in his eyes and answered her slowly. “Not that I know of. I think Henry was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Erin frowned. “And what about those men we saw yesterday? Any sign of them?”
He grinned, his dimples deepening. “Don’t worry about them.” He bent down and kissed her slowly. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he put his hands on her shoulders, then around her back, pulling her tight. He slid his hands down her back and pressed her backside close. He kissed her again, and her heartbeat quickened.
She whispered, “It’s getting late. I’d better get those kids to bed.”
“Yeah.” He kissed her again. They climbed off the tree stump and walked back to the house.
Matt was finishing his homework at the dining room table, and Gwen was playing with her dolls. The kids wanted to play one more game of poker with Gary before bed, so Erin let them while she tidied up the living room. She built a fire in the fireplace and poured two glasses of brandy, and after Matt won the game, she walked upstairs with the children to say goodnight. She felt warm and safe—she hadn’t felt such a sense of calm since William had been alive, and she savored it. What a wonderful evening it had turned out to be.
Gary was standing facing the fireplace, his brandy in one hand, when she came back downstairs. His blond hair gleamed in the flickering light, and he turned around and smiled at her. He put down his drink and pulled his shirt off over his head. Erin gave him a questioning glance and sipped her own brandy.
“Are you too warm?”
“No. I’m very comfortable.”
She bit her lip.
He approached her and took her glass from her hand, setting it on the table. He touched her cheek with his fingers and kissed her softly. “I want you more than ever,” he whispered.
Erin closed her eyes and slid her hands over the smooth skin of his chest and around his back. He was so warm. He took a deep breath and let it out again.
“Let’s go upstairs,” he said.
She hesitated.
He pulled away from her and studied her face. His eyes were sharp, but when he spoke again, his voice was gentle. “It’s all right. I want you more than anything … you are beautiful and luscious. And … mmm … you want me, too.” He kissed her and whispered, “Feel me.”
She did want him—his smooth skin and the strength of his whole body. She knew she wanted him. He took her hand and led her up the stairs to her room. He sat on the bed and watched as she took off her shirt, her pants, her bra and panties. His eyes, the blue barely showing behind his huge black pupils, stayed on her, his smile faint and his breathing ragged. He touched her tentatively, gently, and kissed her body slowly. She was entranced, caught up in each minute sensation, every nerve alert and sensitive to each breath, every touch of his lips, his tongue, his hands.
She unfastened his pants and pulled them off, then kissed him slowly. He lay back and moaned as her long hair caressed him while she spread kisses along his body.
Suddenly he sat up, grabbed her arms and pushed her flat on the bed, pressing his own body on top of hers. In an instant he was inside her, and she cried out. He kissed her. His urgency was overwhelming, and she was overcome as her own desire reached its peak, and she grasped him harder and tighter. He groaned and pressed ferociously into her, knocking the breath from her.
He slowly stopped, his breathing rough, heart pounding. Erin gasped, and he eased from her. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. They lay still for a few minutes. A breeze had arisen outside, and Erin listened to the sound of the wind through the trees and the waves on the shore. Some crows called in the distance.
Gary sat up. “I’ve got to go.”
Erin was startled. “Right now?”
He smiled as he looked at her. “Yeah. I should have left a long time ago. I’ve got to meet with Henry tonight, and it’s a long drive.”
He pulled on his clothes, and Erin stood up and wrapped her kimono around herself. They went downstairs, and Gary kissed her once more before he dashed out the door. Erin stood outside and watched him as he drove away. She glanced down the road, and saw that the black sedan was still there, empty. She shivered and went back inside, closed and locked the door. After turning out the lights, she climbed the stairs and stopped in front of the picture of William. She lit the candles and sat on the floor for several minutes before getting ready for bed.
Chapter 38
Erin peered over the edge of the hole that opened into a cavern deep below, but she was unable to see anything in the scattered twilight. Ragged clouds raced across the sky. She drew her sword and dropped down to the floor ten feet below. Landing softly, she crouched low, holding her sword out to the side. She stayed low and listened. All was silent except for the sound of water dripping deep in the cave.
This was familiar. Erin knew she had been here before, and she remembered the tormented dreamer—a man chased by far too many shadows. Was he here tonight? She straightened up and searched the gloom of the cave, where she had first encountered Michael. But that night there had been five mortifers hiding in this darkness. She strode around the edges of the chamber, sensing its emptiness tonight. The dreamer must be in one of the many tunnels branching away, so she paused to allow her mind to reach out to him. His fear leapt toward her, and she nearly staggered from the blow of his terror but knew which way she had to go. Choosing her path, she ran through the tunnel in the dark.
She hadn’t gone far when she heard scuffling and murmuring ahead. Slowing, she continued without making a sound. The air became very cold, and the voices grew louder.
“I’ll get it, I’ll get it,” said a trembling voice. “If you kill me I can’t get it.”
A rumbling voice answered, “If I kill you, your friends will make sure we have it. We’re tired of waiting.”
Erin clung close to the wall. This was no mortifer—this was another man.
“No! I’ll get it. Arthur has it.”
A blow was struck, and Erin moved. She rounded the corner into the room and saw an enormous man lift up the dreamer by the front of his shirt. His feet kicked helplessly in the air, and he gasped and choked. The giant flung him to the corner of the room where he crumpled and cringed against the wall. As the huge man turned, Erin recognized him—the same man who’d attacked Gary in his dream. He saw Erin, and with a loud growl he lunged at her and tackled her to the ground. She smacked her head on the floor and lay there, stunned. With a snort, he sat on top of her, knocking the air from her lungs. She gasped and coughed, and clenching every muscle she told herself to move. She curled her knees and feet to her body and thrust her hips upwards. As the giant tumbled over her head, she rolled away, grabbed her sword, and rose to her feet, gulping for air. He staggered up. Erin whipped her sword around and pressed the point against his throat. He stopped.
“It’s time for you to leave,” she said through gritted teeth, and pressed her sword tighter against the skin of his throat. “We’ve met before, remember?”
His face twisted in a snarl, and he lunged sideways, reaching out to grab her. Erin ducked and swung her sword upwards, slicing his torso open. His eyes went wide as he watched his blood spill out onto the floor, hovering for a moment as if held up by strings, before he collapsed in a heap.
Erin ran to the dreamer who was sitting on the floor against the wall with his mouth hanging open.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“No, no.” He buried his face in his hands.
Erin rested the palms of her hands on top of his head for a moment, then took hold of his hands and helped him stand.
“Let’s go,” she said. “
We’ve got to get out of here.”
He sobbed. “I can’t. I’m afraid.”
“We’re in danger here.” Erin grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the little room.
“No, I can’t go. They’ll find me out there.”
“They’ll find you in here, too. Come on.”
She dragged him through the tunnel into the large cavern and turned to face him. Moonlight cast a cold glow on the rough cavern walls, illuminating piles of crumbling stones and the man’s ashen face. He cowered away from her and held his hands out as if warding off a blow. She studied him as he crouched against the wall. He was definitely the same man she’d helped in this cavern before. His eyes darted around, avoiding her gaze.
“Who are you?” she asked.
He flinched as if she had struck him.
“What is your name?” she asked again.
“Henry,” he whispered.
Erin took a deep breath. “Henry Bagley?”
He frowned. “How do you know me? Who are you? Are you one of them?”
Queasiness grew in Erin’s stomach.
“Do you know Gary Arthur?” she whispered.
“What if I do?”
“Don’t play games with me. Do you know him?”
He sneered and turned away from her. “Yeah. I know Gary Arthur. This is his fault. He got us into this mess. If he were here, I’d have you slice him up like you did to Lehman back there.”
“What did Lehman want?” she asked.
Henry snorted. “To hurt me, couldn’t you tell?”
“What does he want from you?”
“Go to hell. I’m outta here.”
“No,” she yelled. She reached out to grab him, but Henry had disappeared.
*****
“Mommy, wake up.”
Erin rolled over and murmured, “Get back here.”
“I’m here,” Gwen said. “Wake up.”
Erin felt Gwen’s warm body snuggling next to hers in her bed, and she woke completely and put her arms around her. “What is it, sweetie?”
“I’m afraid.”
In the dark, Erin could still see the cavern, still feel her anger. The twisted, insolent face of Henry Bagley was fresh in her mind.
“Afraid of what?”
“Big, bad men coming into my room.”
Erin reached over to turn on the bedside lamp and cuddled her daughter again. “No big, bad men are going to come into your room. You’re safe. Everything’s all right.” Her own heart was still beating too fast.
“I want Daddy.”
Erin closed her eyes, and a sob filled her up inside. “Me, too.”
She caressed Gwen’s hair. She remembered the dream clearly and wondered if all those forgotten dreams in the past were similar. In her dream, Gary’s friend was a miserable jerk. Was it true? She shuddered, remembering how the big brute had smacked her to the floor like a beanbag, but then she’d gutted him. His sticky blood had run all over the floor—she even remembered its metallic smell. It made her feel sick to her stomach.
Her thoughts drifted back to Henry Bagley. He had said he wanted her to slice Gary open like she had that giant. Anger grew inside her again.
Erin turned out the light, then pulled the blankets to her chin, keeping one arm wrapped around Gwen.
Chapter 39
The buildings facing the dark street were shades of leaden gray and black. Michael stood with his back to the edge of the wet concrete walls, and the rain poured over him, drenching his cloak and hat, seeping into his boots, and splashing from his collar into his face. He wiped his eyes and mouth with his hand and turned his head, looking up and down the street. Nothing moved except the crow that flew overhead. It landed on top of a burned out streetlight and cawed. Michael retreated into the hollowed-out doorway of the building where he blended into the darkness of the shadows.
He heard the faint sound of running feet approaching from a distance. The sound grew louder until he could hear the splash as each step hit the water pooled in the street. He tensed, his hand on his sword hilt, and pressed against the wall. The footfalls grew louder and echoed down the street as the running man passed right in front of him and kept on going.
Michael peered out and watched him recede into the distance. When he turned a corner, Michael raced after him, his boots making no sound in the pounding rain. The crow flew overhead, seeming to follow as Michael hurtled down the street, careful to keep the runner in view.
When the man turned into an alley, Michael slowed and trailed him close to the buildings. The crow flew ahead and stopped at the place the runner had turned. It landed on the ground and drank from a puddle of water, then cawed and flew on, following the new route the runner had taken.
Michael quickened his pace and saw him turn into a doorway, push the door open, and step inside. The crow rested on an overhang above the entry, and Michael slowed, edging his way close to the walls until he reached it. The building was made of concrete blocks, but many were cracked, and all were drenched. Water ran down the walls and poured over the gutters.
He turned the knob and silently pushed the door open. Icy air flowed out. He stepped inside and closed the door, shutting out nearly all the light. When his vision adjusted, he saw the hallway and crept down it toward the first room. A sweet, rotten stench hit him in the face. He pressed his back against the wall of the passage.
“What have you brought us?” a thin, hollow voice asked from inside the room. A mortifer’s voice. The sound of a chair scraping against the old wood floor pierced through the voice, and Michael shivered. His stomach tightened.
The silence from the room felt like ice, frozen and immovable. Michael held his breath.
The chair scraped across the floor again. Michael nearly jumped.
A man’s voice croaked. “Information.”
“What is it?” the hollow voice hissed.
“I … I know where he’ll be.”
The deep, hollow voice laughed. “Who?”
There was silence for a moment, then the man whispered again, so quietly Michael barely heard him. “The viator.”
The scornful laugh was louder. “And what do you want for this information?”
“Kill Grekov—destroy him.”
“We’ve already killed one man for you. You haven’t yet paid us for that.” The hollow voice was menacing.
Again, there was silence.
“This information will fulfill that debt,” the man said. “And I brought you one viator already.”
The mortifer’s voice was harsh. “That was not part of our bargain, fool. You had to prove yourself. But I see we may need to require further proof from you.”
“No, no you don’t. I understand. And I can get you something more.” The man’s voice quavered.
“What do you have for us?”
“Not yet. I can get it, though, if it is valuable to you. A flask.”
Silence stretched out like a frozen river. The mortifer spoke again. “That might have some small value. You must let us see this flask.”
The man’s voice was calm. “I can possibly do that.”
Again, the mortifer laughed. “Aaah … We’ll see. Well, we’ll take care of Grekov, but only after you destroy the viator.”
The chair scraped over the floor again, and Michael heard the man scramble and fall to the floor. “No, I can’t.”
Michael felt frozen to the wall, listening. His heart was pounding. He’d heard enough. He slipped back down the hall and out the door into the rain. He crept into the shadow of the doorway of the closest building and waited.
The man burst out of the building and started to run back down the street. Michael stepped out of the shadows and grabbed him as he ran. He threw him against the wall. The man screamed and crumpled to the ground. Michael picked him up by his shoulders and held him up high, pressing him against the wall.
“What the hell are you doing, Arthur?” Michael said through gritted teeth.
Gary’s eyes were wide
. His face was twisted, spittle on his chin. “Fuck. What are you doing here?”
Michael shook him, banging his head against the wall. “What are you doing with them?”
“Nothing.” Gary’s voice was a squeak. “Nothing.”
“Like hell, you stupid shit. You didn’t think I’d find you.”
Gary stared at him. Michael put him down but still held a tight grip on his shoulders.
“They’re trying to make me do things, but I told them no,” Gary said in a shaking voice.
“Don’t lie to me. What man did they kill for you?”
“No one,” Gary yelled. “I didn’t.”
Michael still held him, his face twisted with anger. “And you led a viator to them?”
“No. They’re lying.”
“Was it Sean?”
“I didn’t. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Dreamers don’t bargain with mortifers unless they choose to.”
“Go to hell. You don’t know everything,” Gary swung his arms up and around, breaking Michael’s hold on him. He shoved Michael back. Michael grabbed him by the throat and pressed him to the wall again. Gary choked, his eyes wide, face turning red. He flailed his arms, grasped Michael’s hands, trying to get free, but Michael pressed him harder.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Michael whispered, teeth clenched. “I would kill you now if I could.”
He let go of Gary, and Gary staggered, coughing. He rushed at Michael and took a swing at his face, but Michael moved and took the hit in the shoulder. Michael shoved him away. Gary stood still for a moment and sneered. “Why are you even pretending to threaten me? You can’t hurt me. Isn’t it against your rules?” He spat on the ground, wiped his chin, turned and ran down the road.
Michael stood for a long while in front of the building in the shadows while the rain poured over him. He finally closed his eyes and faded from the street until he felt the warm softness of his bed. He opened his eyes to the darkness and lay awake, staring at the ceiling until dawn.
Chapter 40
Viator (The Viator Chronicles Book 1) Page 22