Xander was a unique being. Tempered in steel from his years in the army, when she’d met him, he’d been nothing more than a hermit, living off the grid on top of a mountain, a runaway from life. He was alone by choice, with only Thor for company, hunting the woods for food, growing what he couldn’t shoot and kill, playing his piano to the squirrels and deer. Money wasn’t important to him. He routed his military pension to his parents in Colorado, only withdrawing cash from the account when it was absolutely necessary.
Meeting Sam had given him purpose again. She knew that, as much as she knew he gave her a reason to get up in the morning, too. It was getting harder for her to imagine a time without him, and she knew that was a good thing. It didn’t matter anymore that they hadn’t known each other very long. The heart wants what it wants, and you can try to deny it, or give in, let go and acknowledge you sometimes don’t have one hundred percent control over your life. Destiny and fate have a say, too.
But today’s argument had been much worse than any little squabble they’d had over the past three months. She chalked it up to the pressure-cooker situation they’d been thrust into, but part of her knew it was more than that. Xander had checked out from the world on purpose. Being with Sam was forcing him back into it. And she wondered if that was a good thing.
Saying he’d be good at something that wasn’t along the lines of the life he’d chosen was tantamount to saying she wanted to change him, and she honestly didn’t. She was perfectly content with his choices. They brought him peace, a peace he’d earned after his service, after what he’d seen.
What she was wondering was how they were going to align his desire to be left alone on top of his mountain with her clear desire to be in the thick of things.
She wasn’t ready to deal with the knowledge that being at FBI headquarters, seeing Baldwin, working with him on this case, was bringing back a long-dormant part of her psyche—the part that made her such a good medical examiner in the first place.
Curiosity.
She had it in spades.
She’d been a reluctant participant in anything more complicated than determining whether a person died from cardiac arrest or cerebral hemorrhage for nearly two years. She could tell that was over. Done. She wanted to be involved in this case. Wanted to help solve it.
And wanted, perhaps, to work on some more.
So what did that mean for her and Xander?
She glanced over at him, driving in the now deep darkness through the dimly lit streets of Georgetown, arm casually resting on the steering wheel, a hand over his shoulder massaging Thor’s ears. It was going to take some doing to get him to fit seamlessly into this new world she was walking into.
But she loved him enough to make it work.
“Hey,” she said softly.
He looked over, face hopeful. He’d caught her tone, heard the unspoken apology.
“I was a bitch this afternoon. I’m so sorry.”
He touched her knee with his right hand. “No, you weren’t. I can see how intriguing this is for you. You’re all lit up inside. Watching you in action today, seeing you save that woman’s life—I was a bit in awe, to tell you the truth. And a little jealous. I can see it might steal your attention.”
“This is what I’m good at.”
“That’s clear as glass, sweetheart. I’m not going to stand in your way anymore. Just promise me something.”
“What’s that?”
“Be careful. I can’t lose you, not to something that would have been easily avoidable if I went all caveman on you and forced you to stay home making me pancakes. All right?”
They hit the red light at M Street and Wisconsin Avenue. She smiled, scooted over in the seat, leaned over the gearshift and kissed him. She wasn’t gentle about it, either, and she felt him respond. Teasing, she pulled away, back to her own space.
“Light’s green,” she said.
“I don’t care. Come back here.”
He kissed her, hard, and she felt it all the way through her body as if she’d been struck by lightning.
The car behind them laid on the horn, three long bursts, and they came up for air, laughing. It felt good. Right. This was how things were supposed to be between them.
She let her hand linger on his thigh. “We’re only a few minutes from home. Hurry.”
Chapter
37
Georgetown
THE HOUSE WAS dark when Xander pulled the Jeep to the curb. Sam waited on the front step while he took Thor for a quick potty break. They joined her quickly, and as she went to unlock the door, Thor suddenly started growling.
Sam could feel Thor’s sides quivering, the hair standing on end on his neck. “What is it, boy? What do you hear?”
Thor took two steps toward the front door, completely on alert.
“Pass auf!” Xander said, a term she’d heard him use before. It meant heads-up. All of Xander’s commands for Thor were in German, ensuring that a stranger couldn’t confuse him with his own orders.
Thor quivered, sniffed the air and barked once. Something was wrong with the house.
Xander pulled Sam back, reached for the doorknob, turned it slowly. It was unlocked. They never left the door unlocked.
Xander’s entire demeanor changed. He went operational in a second, so quickly Sam didn’t even see him reach for the Glock 17 he had stashed in his ankle holster.
“Stay here,” he whispered to her, then spoke to the dog. “Thor. Voran! Such!”
She knew the commands—take the lead, search.
He pushed open the front door. Thor burst inside. Xander followed with the gun leveled. They disappeared into the dark and Sam paused, but there was no way she was going to stand on the stoop alone. She stepped just inside the door, heard Thor going wild in the living room, barking his meanest, deepest warnings. A decidedly female shriek rang out.
Xander gave another command that Sam didn’t hear, but the dog stopped barking immediately. At least he hadn’t set Thor to attack.
Sam rushed into the living room to see a young woman cowering in the corner of the couch. Xander had turned on the small lamp on the secretary against the western wall and it cast a gentle glow over the girl’s features. She was wearing a red T-shirt and cargo pants, and had both her hands up as if she’d been caught robbing a bank. Thor had her covered, Xander’s gun was pointed at her chest and she was white as a sheet.
“Who the hell are you?” Sam said.
The girl turned a hopeful face in her direction. “Please, ma’am, don’t let them hurt me. My name is Kaylie Rousch.”
Chapter
38
HOW DO I explain myself to this woman? She is so much more beautiful in person than the photos I’ve seen. They didn’t capture the light in her clear brown eyes, the color of the whiskey Doug would drink occasionally, if he was in a very good mood, or a very bad one. They didn’t show the kindness of her face. Even furious with me, she seems gentle, breakable.
Her man isn’t. He looks like he wants to tell the dog to rip out my throat, and if the dog disobeys he’ll reach over and do it himself without a second thought. He looks dangerous. I don’t like him. He is one of them, another Y chromosome, only able to hurt and break, yell and scream. His fists are like rocks, his eyes nearly black, full of rage. What is she doing with him? Doesn’t she realize he is a monster?
The woman says, “Xander, put the gun away,” and he listens. The dog is still unhappy with me, but after a guttural command, he backs away, too.
The man she called Xander says, “I’m going to search you. Stand up.”
I can’t let that happen.
I shrink into the corner of the sofa, and the words blurt out in a panic. “No. No way. You can’t touch me. Please, ma’am, don’t let him hurt me. Don’t let him touch me.” He takes a step closer
and I swear my heart is going to burst from my chest. I can’t help myself; a small moan comes from my mouth, from somewhere deep and primal.
I am amazed to see his face soften. He no longer looks like a devil beast, only a man. When he speaks to me this time his voice is gentle, cajoling, eminently reasonable, as if he’s talking to a spooked horse.
“Listen to me. People thought you were dead for sixteen years, and your DNA was suddenly found at a murder scene. Several people related to this case are actually dead. And now you’ve broken into our house. With your permission, Dr. Owens would like to make sure you mean her no harm. Will that be okay?”
A woman’s touch doesn’t frighten me. Not anymore. I spread my hands wide so they can see I don’t carry any weapons and nod.
“Yes. I can live with that. But I am not here to hurt you. Either of you. I need your protection.”
At a nod from her man, Samantha crosses the room, asks me to stand. She runs her hands gently down my back to the small space where my too-small T-shirt is tucked into my cargo pants, then down my legs and across my torso. She stops there because it’s clear I can’t hide a weapon inside these too-tight clothes and she wishes to spare me the humiliation of touching the inside of my thighs.
Of course, that’s where I have taped the knife. I honestly don’t intend to use it on her. So long as she doesn’t give me a reason to.
“She’s clean,” she says.
No, I’m not. I will never be clean again. But maybe, with her help, I can find a way to become whole.
When she’s finished, I bow my head slightly and say thank-you. My voice sounds very small and childish. I haven’t heard that tone from myself for a very long time. I thought I was a grown-up. I thought things were going to be okay.
And then Doug was dead and gone, and the cocoon of safety I’d wrapped myself in split wide apart and dumped me wriggling into the mud, caught between chrysalis and butterfly. The world we’d created over the years disappeared, and the gaping maw of reality rushed in, grabbed me by the throat and ripped my heart out.
I can’t help myself. I start to cry. It begins gently, just a tear brimming in the corner of my eye, and the woman reaches over and touches me gently on the cheek, and the floodgates open. Before I can stop myself I am sobbing in her arms like a child.
She doesn’t shy away, but wraps me in her love and drags me to a seated position on the sofa and holds me while I cry my heart out.
This is perfect. This is what I’ve always wanted. This simple contact, this loving embrace. I’ve never felt it before, not like this. It’s almost as if an angel lit on this woman’s shoulder and brought my real mother with her. I can feel her arms around me. She smells of vanilla and tea and the sweetness of roses, not the vapid emptiness of vodka and cigarettes and hate.
It makes me cry harder. It’s not fair, damn it. What happened to me, what happened to Doug, what’s going to happen now—none of it is fair.
But life’s not fair. Life’s a kick in the ass, and you’re damn lucky if you make it to the bent and gray stage. There is evil in the world, evil that searches for the innocent to alter them. That is its only purpose, to convert good to evil. And it sends its minions to do its dirty work, and people like Curtis and Adrian heed the call willingly.
Why does it happen? Free will? An evil God overpowering a benevolent one? I don’t know.
I don’t know.
Samantha hands me a tissue and presses something soft into my hands. I wipe my eyes and look down to see an old stuffed lion, once the prize of my existence, my most favorite toy. My father gave it to me for my birthday the same year I disappeared. Before that I wouldn’t go anywhere without it.
“Where did you find this?” I ask her.
“We just came from a visit with your parents. In case you’d gone to see them.” Her face clouded. She must have met Maureen. “We found this in your old camp. Did you stay there last night?”
“Yes. But I didn’t see Simba. I used to love this thing.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I’m reminded of who I was before, who I might have been. It’s disconcerting. If I’m not careful, it’s going to deviate me from my path.
I’d debated over breaking into my old house last night, but figured I was safer in the camp. I hadn’t realized the police were this close on my trail.
I must be more careful.
Chapter
39
SAM HELD THE girl and let her cry herself out. To his credit, Xander simply shrugged and went into the kitchen to put on the kettle. He emerged five minutes later with a teapot, three thick mugs and a bottle of Bunnahabhain.
Kaylie’s sobs were slowing into hiccups and breathy gasps. She loosened her hold and collapsed back into the sofa, exhausted.
Xander poured the girl a cup of tea, and held up the bottle of Scotch enticingly. She took a deep breath, wiped her nose with her fingers and nodded. He poured a healthy slug and handed her the mug, then repeated the process for Sam and himself. They all took a polite sip, then Sam cleared her throat. This girl was clearly tough, but also as fragile as a soap bubble. Sam was worried that if she said or did the wrong thing, the girl would simply up and disappear right in front of their eyes. She was careful to keep her voice gentle and soft.
“Kaylie, why did you break into my house?”
She didn’t hesitate. “To be safe. I couldn’t wait outside on the steps in case he came for me. He found me in the woods, but I managed to get away. I jumped off a cliff. He didn’t see that coming.”
Sam looked closer. The girl had a bruise across her jaw. She noticed Sam looking and her hands went to the spot, covering it in shame.
“He did that to you?”
She nodded.
“Who’s he? The man who killed Doug Matcliff?”
“Yes. He is a bad man.”
She sounded like a child when she said it, though it was as matter-of-fact as saying the sky was blue and the sun yellow.
“Who is he? Who killed Doug? Who’s chasing you? And where have you been all these years? With Doug?” Sam stopped. “Sorry. Sorry. You tell us what you can, at your own pace. As you can see, we have a lot of unanswered questions.”
“So you promise I won’t get into trouble if I tell you the truth?”
“Not with us. No.”
Her face clouded. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Until you tell us what happened, sweetie, we don’t know what to do to help you. Who is the bad man?”
“He is the angel of death.” Her eyes grew far away, revisiting a remembered loss, and Sam exchanged a look with Xander, who sighed quietly and took a deep sip of his tea. They were in for a long night.
“The angel of death. Does he have a name?” Sam asked.
Kaylie shuddered. “Adrian. He is her Sacrificiant. He is the one who kidnapped me. And did awful, unspeakable things to me. All because she told him to. But I think he liked it.”
“Okay. Good. His name is Adrian. And she would be?”
Kaylie took a deep breath and seemed to snap back into reality. Her eyes focused on Sam. She took a gulp of tea.
“I’m sorry,” Kaylie said. “I forget that other people might not know about Eden. Let me explain it as best I can. She is Curtis Lott, the Mother of Eden. Eden is a group of people who live an exalted life, close to the land, even closer to God, by simply being in Curtis’s presence. Curtis is God’s representative on earth. She was chosen from immaculate conception, as all the leaders of Eden are. They spring from their mother’s wombs with the knowledge of the universe, and it’s their divine duty to share this with the people who can hear the truth.
“Curtis is the fifth Mother of Eden on this earth. There have been many others in many worlds. Their sign, the triskele—you did the autopsy on Doug, I saw you turn him and see the t
attoo—is the sacred mark, one given by the grace of God, and all the members of Eden have one. It’s a great honor. For each bit of the tattoo, a member of Eden gives their blood to be mixed into the ink and shares a truth they have learned while their section is being done. So you’re both marked and enlightened, and it means everyone is one with the other. There is no self-actualization once you’ve been marked. You are the collective conscience, and you think, do, say, wear and act the way Curtis decrees, because this is what God wants for you. It is a very painful but fulfilling experience, or so I’ve been told. For me, it was just painful.”
“May we see it? Your tattoo?”
Her face grew tight. Then she shrugged, turned and lifted her shirt. Her back was covered in intricate marks. Just like Doug Matcliff’s.
Seeing the tattoo in real life, on a living body, knowing about the blood in the ink—Sam was both fascinated and horrified. The triskele seemed to be alive, moving and flowing with Kaylie’s every move. It rippled as her muscles contracted under her fair skin. Sam resisted an urge to touch it, to feel it coiling under her fingers like a snake.
“They did all this in a single night?”
Kaylie pulled her shirt down. “Yes. It is their way. There is a second ceremony, and a final piece of the mark put into place, when you become. I am missing the centerpiece because Doug got me out before I was made an official sacrosanct. Those are the women of Eden. Women are sacred, and Curtis’s purpose on this earth is to see them glorified. But few are worthy of this honor. That’s why there were never more than fifteen sacrosancts at a time.”
Xander was taking notes so Sam could continue coaxing the story from their surprise guest.
“And Adrian was one of the marked?”
“He was hers. Every leader of Eden has a fiery sword, a man who does their bidding, who fathers the pods, who metes out punishment and rewards. He is to be feared and respected and treated as a god second only to Curtis. She is his only master, but he is our Great Father.”
When Shadows Fall Page 19