I had just ducked behind a tree when Aurora and Zen came out the door followed by the members, their expressions beatific. The children filed out in an orderly row, their little faces grave with the import of the Calling.
A slow shudder worked its way from my head to my toes. Somewhere in these dark woods, a killer still lurked. A single shot, and a precious life could be extinguished.
And with an assault rifle…
My stomach clenched. So far I’d only seen them fire three-shot bursts. But what if they could go fully automatic? One deranged man could mow down an entire column of innocent people…
The last of the members filed silently into the woods, and I whispered, “They’re in the woods now. Should I follow them and cover?”
“Negative.” For the first time Skidmark’s voice held worry. “Moonbeam is incoming. She won’t say how bad it is, but she’s moving slow. Take care of her, Storm.” I heard him swallow, and suddenly he sounded like a frightened old man. “Take care of my lady.”
The knots in my stomach tightened. “Tell me which way to go. I’ll meet her.”
His voice steadied. “Northwest, a couple hundred yards. I’ll tell her you’re coming so she doesn’t try to take you out.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, and half-hopped, half-jogged northwest as fast as my ankle would permit.
I spotted the pale oval of her face first. Hugging her left arm, she picked her way unsteadily through the undergrowth. The flowing caftan was gone, revealing a slim figure clad all in black with a holster at her shoulder and a large knife strapped to her thigh. A moment later I realized the caftan had been sacrificed to wrap her injured arm. A slow dark trickle ran from her fingertips.
Already pinched with pain, her brow furrowed more at the sight of my unsteady gait. “She’s injured,” she snapped, presumably to Skidmark. “You said she was all right.”
“I fell off the roof, but I’m okay except for my ankle,” I explained, and offered her a hand.
She shook her head and tottered forward. “No, dear, I’m fine. Don’t overtax that ankle.”
“Let me see your arm.”
“When we’re inside, dear,” Moonbeam insisted. “Keep moving.”
I blew out a breath of frustration and limped beside her.
By the time we reached the building her face was paper-white, sweat glistening at her temples. I made for the west door but she stopped me with an outstretched hand.
“No; the north patio, directly into the kitchen,” she commanded. “I don’t want to bleed across the main hall.”
“For shit’s sake…” I began, but she was already navigating around the side of the building, swaying precariously and steadying herself against the wall.
I hurried after her. As we rounded the corner, my throat closed at the sight of a black empty space where one of the windows should have reflected silver moonlight like its neighbours.
Oh God, had the last terrorist broken in?
Nichele was in there.
I drew my Glock and ran, ignoring the pain in my ankle.
Ducking below the level of the windows, I scuttled to the door. Still crouched, I wrenched it open and snapped a glance around the room, my gun sights tracking across the woodstoves. Nichele still lay in the corner on her blanket, the abandoned bucket and cloths beside her. Nothing moved.
I switched to thermal, but saw only the angry glows of the woodstoves.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when Moonbeam spoke softly behind me. “Go. I’ll cover you.”
When I looked up, her pistol was rock-steady in her right hand. Her left dangled at her side. The dark trickle was faster.
Beyond fear, I switched back to night vision and hurried across the room. My lips and hands and feet felt icy; numb and tingling at the same time. Massive adrenaline overdose. Soon the uncontrollable tremors would start and then I’d be useless.
And if I had to fight the terrorist in that condition, shortly afterward I’d be dead.
As if on autopilot, I ducked into the main hall, gun at the ready. Scan and sidle to the next door. The empty meditation room. Scan.
Then the storage room…
Moonbeam sagged in the doorway of the kitchen. Her gaze still followed me, but her gun dangled by her side as if the weight of the weapon was too much to support.
When I cleared the last room and turned back to nod at her, she slid slowly down the doorjamb to slump on the floor. A broad streak of crimson smeared the white wood, marking her path.
Heart clenching, I hop-jogged into the kitchen to snatch one of Nichele’s blankets before hurrying back to wrap it around Moonbeam. She let out a half-sigh, half-moan, and I eased her down to lie flat. Grabbing the corners of the blanket, I towed her across the floor to the stove next to Nichele, avoiding the scattered shards of glass.
With a short but fervent prayer that the remaining terrorist was nowhere in the vicinity, I lit one of the propane lanterns. Even in its warm light Moonbeam’s face was stark white. Her eyelids drooped half-closed, but her gaze still followed me while I dragged a chair over and elevated her feet.
When I unwrapped the caftan from her arm at last, my stomach twisted at the sight of a slice from wrist to elbow. Blood still welled from the wound, and I rapidly cut and folded the caftan into bandages and bound the pads of fabric tightly.
Her pulse was rapid but strong, and I drew a breath that might have been relief if I hadn’t been so terrified.
“Aydan here,” I said to Skidmark. “Moonbeam has a bad cut on her left arm. It doesn’t look as though any arteries have been cut but she’ll need stitches and she looks like she’s going into shock.” As I spoke I dumped some wood into the stove and put the kettle on. “She’s conscious so I’ll get some hot chocolate into her but she’ll need to go to the hospital as soon as possible.”
Moonbeam plucked at my pant leg and shook her head feebly, but I gave her a stern look and she subsided.
“We can’t get past that military roadblock,” Skidmark said. “They’re still shooting out there. Karma’s a doctor. I’ll tell him to get over there as soon as he’s got Rand stable. Any word from Kane or Helmand on that last hostile?”
“Not yet.” I swallowed a lump of fear. Apparently I had some emotion left after all.
Tremors were slowly taking over my body, beginning in my guts and rolling through my arms and legs. Moonbeam wasn’t the only one who needed hot chocolate.
The mugs rattled like maracas in my hand while I dug out the spoons and powdered hot chocolate. Then I sat on the floor beside Moonbeam, shivering in the heat of the stove.
“Turn off the lantern,” she whispered. “We’re sitting ducks.”
Dragging myself to my feet again, I turned off the lantern and put on my night-vision headset. I didn’t dare sit down in case I couldn’t get up again. Instead, I hovered over the stove until the water was hot enough.
Mug in hand, I knelt beside Moonbeam. “I’m going to lift you up enough so you can sip,” I whispered. “Tell me if you feel faint.”
“I’m fine.” She struggled up on one elbow. “Sit back to back with me. That will prop us both up and help keep us warm.”
I set the mugs on the floor and obeyed, hugging my knees to keep from overpowering her slight weight against my back. We sipped in silence for a while and my tremors began to abate, but they seemed to be transferring themselves to Moonbeam.
I drained the last sugary dregs from my cup and twisted to eye her over my shoulder. Her hand lay lax across her lap and when my body shifted she slid sideways as though unable to catch herself.
Chapter 37
“Shit!” I caught Moonbeam’s shoulders and lowered her to the floor.
“I’m… fine…” she whispered, her eyes closed.
“Skidmark, where’s Karma?” I demanded.
“He’ll be there soon.”
“Talk to me, Moonbeam,” I urged.
“Moonbeam… Meadow… Sky. Please.” Her lips turned up at the corners, her eyes s
till closed. “Vibrations, dear.”
“Sorry. Moonbeam Meadow Sky,” I corrected myself. “Keep talking. Tell me how the vibrations work.”
“Just basic… numerology,” she murmured. “Not proper… calculations. I only… dabble… with names…” Her voice faded.
“Moonbeam!” I patted her cheek, my heart thumping painfully. “Keep talking. Tell me about auras. Do you really see them or is that just part of your hippy schtick?”
Her eyes snapped open. “Yes, dear, of course I see them. I have since I was a child…” Her eyelids drifted down again. “Cosmic River Stone… always could, too.”
I gulped and made a mental note never to lie to Stemp again. Just in case.
“He was… such a lovely child,” she went on. “My dearest boy… I always wanted... lots of children…”
She trailed off into silence again.
“Why didn’t you and Karma have more children?” I prompted.
“Oh, he might not be Karma’s, dear.” She smiled without opening her eyes. “He might be Skidmark’s. We were never sure.”
“Uh…” I didn’t quite know how to respond to that.
Fortunately she went on, her voice a dreamy singsong. “It was the 1960s. Free love… We were young… Thrown together in the jungle…”
When she didn’t go on, I murmured, “Tell me about Vietnam, Moonbeam. You need to keep talking.”
“Ah. Yes…” She peered heavy-lidded at me for a moment before her eyes slipped closed again. “No contraception, of course. I got pregnant…”
She fell silent and I was about to prompt her again when she continued, “I was eight months along… when I was shot.”
Her voice wavered with emotion. “Emergency caesarian… in a filthy hut in the jungle… I got an infection, of course… nearly died…” A tear eased from the corner of her closed lids and trickled slowly into the hair at her temples. “Scarring… No more babies… for me.” Her voice choked off.
My heart squeezed. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered around the giant lump in my throat. I took her good hand and stroked it. “I’m sorry to make you relive it.”
“It’s all right, dear… It was… long ago…” Her breath eased out on a sigh and she went limp.
“Moonbeam!” I lurched to my knees, fresh adrenaline scorching my veins. “Moonbeam, wake up!” I patted the waxen cheeks desperately.
“Yes, dear?” she whispered.
“Oh thank God.” I slumped back down on the floor. “You scared me. I thought you’d passed out.”
“Still… here. Please… Moonbeam…”
“…Meadow Sky,” I finished. “I’m sorry, I’ll try to remember. How did you get out of Vietnam?”
“Airlifted…” A smile tugged her lips, but her eyes didn’t open. “When we got home… Skidmark didn’t want a child… at the time… but Karma Wolf Song did… very much. We agreed… to register as Cosmic River Stone’s parents. It was easier… with the citizenship… anyway…”
Her smile widened. “We didn’t know then… that Skidmark would… live his life here… after all.” Her chest rose and fell in a deep sigh, her smile softening at the corners. “My dearest men…” Her hand went limp in mine. “If only…” Her voice faded so I had to lean close to hear. “…we could have… had… grandchildren…” The last word ghosted out on a faint breath and her face relaxed.
“Moonbeam! Come on, Moonbeam!” I patted frantically, but she didn’t speak again.
Heart hammering, I fumbled for her pulse. It was still there, stronger than I had expected, but not so rapid now.
“Skidmark, where the hell is Karma?” I snapped. “We need him here now!”
“What’s happening?” he demanded.
“Moonbeam’s passed out.”
“He’s still with Orion. Helmand and Kane haven’t shown up yet. I thought you said she was okay!” His voice rose in fearful accusation.
“Just send Karma,” I begged.
Crouched in the dark silent room between the two unconscious women, I stroked Moonbeam’s hair and patted her hands and face, feeling utterly useless.
I should have made her drink more hot chocolate. Too late now.
Oh God, if she died it would break Stemp’s heart. And Karma’s and Skidmark’s.
And mine.
I rocked miserably beside her, fighting tears. Too soon for such a sweet woman to die. She was so full of life and love. She hadn’t gotten to meet her little granddaughter…
Her hand was cold and motionless in mine.
No more blankets available.
I lay down and pulled her close, wrapping my jacket over her to share my body heat.
“Oh, Moonbeam,” I whispered into her hair. “Don’t go yet. Anna needs you. She wants to meet her grandma, I know she does.”
The bang of the door and rapid footsteps made me jerk up, my hand flying to my holster, but Skidmark spoke in my ear at the same time. “That’s Karma, don’t shoot.”
A moment later he barrelled through the door and dropped to his knees beside Moonbeam, his fingers already reaching for her pulse.
His brow furrowed. “Strong and steady…” he muttered, sounding puzzled.
Moonbeam’s eyes popped open, her lips stretching into a grin of sheer exultation.
“Karma Wolf Song, Skidmark, we’re grandparents!” she cried.
My mouth dropped open and I rocked back to plop flat on my ass. “Wha…? You…”
Relief choked me for a moment before giving way to furious indignation. My mouth opened and closed a few times before I could get my voice working again.
“You played me! You… you… ruthless… cold-hearted…” Words failed me and I tried again. “…manipulative… conniving… you’re exactly like Stemp!” It was the worst insult I could come up with on short notice.
“Like mother… like son,” she said faintly, still grinning. “I’m sorry, dear.” She drew a breath as though she couldn’t quite get enough air. “I was hoping… you’d confess your love… for Cosmic River Stone… but a granddaughter… is even better…”
She closed her eyes and panted for a moment, her cheeks still bloodless.
“She might have overacted a bit but she’s not faking this,” Karma said, concern wrinkling his brow.
“Of course… I am, dear,” Moonbeam whispered. “I’m perfectly… fine…”
“Shhh. Of course you are,” he agreed. “Let’s get some more fluids into you and get you out of here. Storm, if you could find it in your heart to forgive? And maybe make some more hot chocolate?”
My anger drained away at the sight of her white face and rapid breathing. “Of course.” I hauled myself upright and plied the kettle.
Skidmark spoke in my ear. “They’ve secured the last of the terrorists at the roadblock. They’ll be cleaning up for a while but it’s safe to approach.”
“Good,” Karma said, and I realized Skidmark must have spoken to all of us simultaneously. “Rand will need to be medevacked,” Karma went on. “I’ve stabilized him but he’ll need surgery.” He turned to me. “No word from Helmand or Kane yet?”
“No.” Caught up in Moonbeam’s drama I had almost forgotten the remaining gunman, but now fear slithered cold tentacles into my belly again. I hesitated. “I don’t want to call them unnecessarily,” I decided. “If they’re stalking this guy…”
I trailed off. Or if he was stalking them…
Don’t think about it. Deal with what you can control.
“Will you look at Nichele?” I asked Karma. “John thought she’d been drugged, and I’m worried about her. She’s been breathing okay and she moved a bit when Ratboy hurt her, but she hasn’t moved since we got here.”
He nodded and went to her side, pulling out a small flashlight to check her pupils and closing his fingers over her pulse.
“She’s definitely been drugged,” he said as he rose to return to Moonbeam. “Without examining her more thoroughly I can’t be sure, but I’d suspect an intramuscular injection
, maybe haloperidol or something similar. Or he could have slipped an oral sedative into her food or drink. Her vital signs are strong so I don’t think there’s any reason for concern unless the drug doesn’t wear off over the next several hours. But she won’t remember much about this, if anything.”
“Thank God.” I finished mixing the hot chocolate and handed the mug to him before going over to kneel next to Nichele. “I’ll get her cleaned up and back in her tent and maybe she’ll think it was just a bad dream. She always used to sleepwalk as a kid so that might work.”
Karma wrapped an arm around Moonbeam’s shoulders, easing her into a semi-reclined position. I watched them for a moment, cuddled together while he fed her sips of hot chocolate.
My eyes prickled and I turned back to Nichele and picked up a cloth.
A few minutes later, Karma put the empty mug back on the table. “I’ll take her back to our tent,” he said, and picked Moonbeam up as though she was made of thistledown. “As soon as I have her settled I’ll come back and take Nichele to her tent, too.”
“Karma Wolf Song… I’m perfectly… capable… of walking,” Moonbeam protested.
Karma winked at me over her head. “Yes, dear,” he agreed, and made for the door. “But I need you to cover us, and you can’t do that if you’re trying not to pass out. Now pull out your pistol and let’s go.”
Her fussing and his fond answering rumble receded as they crossed the hall out of sight, and I turned back to Nichele.
Her face was finally clean but her hair was sticky with drying blood and bits of tissue I preferred not to identify. Her nice clothes were probably done for, but her shoes weren’t stained. Small mercies. They probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.
I sponged busily, refusing to think about Kane and Hellhound creeping through the darkness. Refusing to think about the shots that might erupt at any moment.
My back crawled with the sensation of being watched by malevolent eyes.
A cold draft snaked through the broken window, coiling around Nichele’s wet hair and clothes. She began to shiver but didn’t open her eyes. I hesitated for a moment, then stripped her clothes off and wrapped her in both blankets, the clean one next to her skin and Moonbeam’s blood-soaked one around it. Several rinses later I deemed her hair clean enough to wrap in a tea towel.
Spy High Page 30