by Barb Taub
Jeremy waved to Harvey Arlen, who came over to clear their dishes. The restaurant owner smiled at Carey. “Who’s your date, Jeremy?” His eyes widened as Jeremy made the introductions, and he was still staring when he dropped off their check a few minutes later.
As Jeremy reached for their check, she realized she hadn’t had a chance to get information from him. “Do you have to be at work early tomorrow? Or would you like to go somewhere for a drink?”
“I have all night. If you want, we could go for a beer, or if you’d like a cup of coffee, we could head back to my house. It would be quiet, easier to talk there.”
“Your place sounds fine. Let me just make a call first and tell my friends.”
The look on his face said he’d just won the lottery but was trying to play it cool as he went up to pay their check. Carey headed for the ladies’ room, and opened her phone to text Claire.
Carey: I’m heading to Jeremy’s house for coffee.
Claire: You slut.
Carey: Working here.
Claire: If you are, then I am too. Working on Peter.
Carey: Who’s a slut?
Claire: We’re engaged. Sluttage is practically required.
Carey: What is everyone else doing?
Claire: If you mean Iax, you should just say so.
Carey: Bitch much?
Claire: Iax is calling me every five minutes to see if I’ve heard from you.
Carey: You’re going to tell him I haven’t checked in, aren’t you?
Claire: Hell, yeah.
Carey: That’s why I love you. Don’t wait up.
Claire: You know Iax will find you, don’t you?
Carey: Tell Peter I said it’s past your bedtime.
Claire: Funny, he was just saying the same thing. And be careful.
Carey: Sorry. Don’t understand those “be careful” words you use.
Claire: Don’t make me come after you. Impatient fiancé in my bed says g’night.
Carey: Night.
She was smiling as she headed for the door Jeremy was holding for her. This time she didn’t even fight him for it. As she climbed into Jeremy’s truck, she noticed Harvey Arlen staring at them through the window of the diner.
They were on Jeremy’s couch, both sipping coffee. Carey was trying to work the conversation around to the events following the attack on the St. Helens. As she did, she considered Jeremy. He was human, like her, and although she didn’t think he had any special gifts, his strength gave him a rugged appeal. When they had arrived, she recognized his family house, a Victorian with pretty gingerbread trim and generous tree-filled lawn. She looked around at the big old house, remembering it filled with teenagers during one of the post-game parties Connor dragged her to. His parents would poke their heads in occasionally, yelling at them to keep the noise down or the sheriff was going to show up again.
Jeremy was easy to talk to and fun to be with. His life stretched out in front of him—successful business, comfortable house waiting for a family, a small town that knew and liked him. That was all good, right?
Reaching for her cup, Jeremy placed it on the vintage trunk that served as a coffee table. He gently wrapped an arm around her and leaned in. “Carey.” His lips brushed hers. “You’re so beautiful. Is there anyone?”
“No.” Iax’s dark face filled her mind. “Not anymore.”
Jeremy was familiar but new, and above all, human. She moved closer, lifting her arms to circle his neck. This could work. Why shouldn’t it? She opened her mouth and their lips met. Yes? Please? But…no.
They fell apart slightly. “I’m sorry.” She leaned back and picked up her coffee.
To his credit, he managed a smile. “I guess Mr. Not Anymore is still in there, right?”
“Damn him.”
He picked up his own coffee and sipped. “So, did you get together with your sister?”
She froze. Nobody in Whitman knew about Gaby. “What do you mean?”
He looked surprised. “After you…left, a lawyer came around to talk to people in town. He said your sister was looking for you and Connor, and offering a reward—twenty-five thousand dollars—to anybody who could help find you.” His laugh sounded uncertain. “I’ll bet Harvey Arlen has called them by now for sure. They left their cards with everyone. Dad kept his for a long time, because he wanted to thank you for that money order. In fact, it’s probably still stuck to the fridge.” At the look on her face, he stood up. “I’ll just go get it.”
She pulled out her phone and dialed automatically. “Iax,” she interrupted him in mid-growl. “Someone—probably Narcorial’s team—left a trap, and I walked right into it. I’m at Jeremy’s house, the big Victorian on the corner of Fourth and Avery. I’ll try to get him to safety, but you’d better get everybody mobilized and out of the motel. It’s on.”
As she spoke, she pulled out her little gun and checked it. Jeremy stared at her from the doorway, a battered business card forgotten in one hand. Well, he probably wouldn’t have worked out as boyfriend material anyway. Might as well go for broke.
“Do you have any weapons here?” Eyes wide, he shook his head, but she pressed. “Really? Wasn’t your dad a hunter?”
Light dawned, and he headed for a locked room off the family room. Opening a safe, he pulled out a hunting bow. “I never hunted so Dad gave his guns to my brother-in-law. But he got this right before they decided to take their trip, and Mom wouldn’t let him bring it.”
Score! It was a powerful composite bow, light enough for a hunter to carry. She loaded the attached quiver and checked the sight. Nice. Peering into the safe, she spotted a bowie-style hunting knife as well. Lifting it from its leather sheath, she tested it for balance and weight and grinned, ignoring Jeremy’s involuntary flinch. Things are definitely looking up.
“Okay, Jeremy. Listen and don’t even think of breathing without asking me first. We’re about to be attacked. I’ll try to get us away, and I’ll try to protect you. Do not try to protect me. If I go down, leave me and get away. Your only advantage is that you’ll know the town better than the ones coming after us. So be smart and do whatever it takes to stay hidden. Find Iax, the man I was with at your store. And whatever you do, be quiet.”
As she spoke, she was pulling on his father’s camouflage jacket and pants hanging from the back of the study door. Luckily, Mr. Whitmore was lean and on the short side. With a regretful sigh for her boots back at the hotel, she kicked off the high heeled sandals and stood in bare feet. She spared an approving glance for Jeremy’s dark T-shirt and jeans, and tossed his black leather jacket to him. “Do you have a back way out of here?”
“There are side and back doors, plus we have a root cellar through the basement, and it has doors that open out.”
She heard the sound of a vehicle stopping down the street. “I think they’re here. Get us down to the basement.” Her voice, issuing from that eerie place of frozen serenity that surfaced when she was in danger, was absolutely calm. He nodded and led the way.
The basement was low-ceilinged and dark as they made their way to the doorway at the far end that led to the old root cellar. “Does this lock?” Carey’s voice was the barest whisper. He shook his head. When he closed the door behind them, she looked at the latch thoughtfully. “Hinges are on our side, and that door looks like solid oak. Do you have any change?”
Looking confused, he held out a handful of coins. She leaned against the door and wedged a penny between the latch and the doorjamb, but it was still loose. Then her eyes lit up as she saw a pencil hanging from a pegboard. Jamming the pencil point-first between the penny and the latch, she broke off the end. When she tried it, the latch was pressed too tightly to be moved. The door was thick, old-fashioned. They wouldn’t be kicking that one open. Satisfied, she led him through the small cellar to the outside doors.
Working as silently as possible, they raised the bar holding the storm doors until she could peer through the crack. Two dark figures stood about ten feet away
where they had a good view of both the house and the street approach. Their crossbows were clearly silhouetted against the street lights overhead. Easing the doors closed, she put her mouth against Jeremy’s ear.
“We only have a couple of minutes at most before they search the basement. I’m going to need you to open the doors without making a sound, and then stand back. As soon as I take care of the two guards, you need to follow me and not make any noise. Can you do that?”
His eyes were wide, but he nodded. She tucked her little gun into the pocket of the camo jacket, and put the knife into her waistband. Jeremy looked horrified. “Maybe we should try to talk to them first. Explain?” His whisper was shaky.
“Jeremy.” She put a steadying hand on his cheek and leaned close. “Just ’cause trouble comes visiting doesn’t mean you have to offer it a place to sit down. They killed everyone at the St. Helens. And they sure as hell didn’t come here with weapons drawn in the middle of the night for a nice chat.” Her voice was cold, confident. “Right now, I’m your only chance to still be breathing when the sun comes up. But you’re in luck. I’ve trained all my life for this, and I’m the best there is. You’re doing great. Just be strong for a little longer.”
He took a breath, but nodded. She raised the loaded bow and jerked her chin to the doors, hoping the guards hadn’t moved. As soon as he had the first door open, she aimed and fired. One soldier fell while she reloaded and shot again.
Warned, the second man was turning and bringing up his bow for a blind shot as her arrow went wild. Without a pause, she threw both shuriken in quick succession. Pulling the hunting knife from her belt, Carey raced to their fallen forms. The first man lay unmoving, but the second was still trying to rise. Without hesitation, she slit his throat, then wiped the knife on his shirt, returned it to her waistband, and retrieved both shuriken.
She motioned to Jeremy to follow but he was staring, transfixed, at the arrow in his shoulder. Grateful that he wasn’t making a sound, she ran back to him. Getting closer, she saw that the arrow had just clipped his shoulder, pinning his jacket to the door. She cut him free, checked that the bleeding wasn’t serious, and gave him a quick hug.
Finger to her lips, she motioned him to follow her into the bushes at the far edge of the yard. As they reached the darkest corner, she signaled him to crouch there. Thinking furiously, she considered how many enemies might be waiting in the night. There had been very little time, and logic said it was unlikely the Outsiders would have a large force stationed there on the off chance she’d show up after so many years. The fact that only two had been left outside meant at least one with their vehicle, and possibly another three to four inside.
Easing to the edge of the yard, she could make out the shape of a few cars on the street. Lips against Jeremy’s ear, she whispered, “Can you tell if any of those cars don’t belong here?” He squinted into the darkness and pointed to an SUV barely visible in a pool of shadow. Her voice was a breath against his ear. “Wait here. Keep quiet.”
It would be more efficient to cut through the backyard and come up from the opposite direction. But she had no idea how long it might be before the soldiers in the house came outside to search the yard. Bending over, she scooped a handful of dirt to rub over her face and hands. Those shadows hiding the enemy vehicle could work two ways. On her belly, she slithered through bushes and under the waiting car. A swift prick to each tire had them slowly easing flat. A few minutes later, she went back for Jeremy. From the look on his face, she guessed the minutes had been long ones for him. She gave him an encouraging thumbs-up.
Now for the tricky part. She eyed the tree next to the porch. It was a risk, but that icy place inside calculated odds. No way could she take the group in the house unless she could pick them off one at a time. That meant taking the high ground.
Slinging the bow across her back, Carey shimmied up the tree and swung over to the little gable jutting out from the second story. Reaching up, she grabbed for the gutter edge and flipped herself up to the roof proper. Despite the old Victorian’s steep roofline, she moved at a quick crouch and then listened. It was a few minutes before the sound of a door opening quietly sent her over to the back side roof.
A soldier came out cautiously and moved into the backyard. From the way he glanced back, she guessed another just inside the doorway was covering him. As the first man moved out of the direct line of sight to the doorway, she eased out the crossbow and shot. He let out a grunt and dropped. With any luck, the ones inside wouldn’t know where her arrow came from.
The house was quiet for almost five minutes. Then front, side, and back doors boiled open, soldiers bursting out with weapons ready. Her arrow took the one heading for the corner where Jeremy was hiding. But another arrow missed the man heading for the curb. And the third one…where was he?
Bushes rustled on the side of the house. She slithered over the roofline to get into position and waited. Finally, he stepped into a patch of light. She was starting to aim when she felt a slight vibration to the roof beneath her body. Rolling to the side, she pulled her gun and fired at the figure on the roof behind her. A crossbow shaft buried itself where she had been a second earlier, and the shooter stared at her as blood began to pour from his mouth. He was still trying to raise the bow again when her second shot hit his forehead.
She grabbed his fallen crossbow and dropped back down, her mind racing in icy concentration. Probably no more in the house or they wouldn’t have risked the decoy maneuver. And the one with the car would hold back to report if the mission failed. That left one. Piece of cake.
“No! Please…don’t!” At the sound of Jeremy’s voice, she peered down to see him in the yard, the soldier behind him holding a knife to his throat.
“Throw down the gun and the bow. Then stand up with your hands in the air. Or your friend here can start learning how to breathe through his throat.” She caught a movement behind the man and grinned.
“Okay!” She slowly threw the bow off the roof, counted to ten, and yelled down. “Iax. You about done down there?”
“Pretty much.”
“Well, I got four and you only got one. So I win.”
“Two. There was one trying to drive off in a car with four flat tires. And I saved you and your friend here. So I win.”
“Call it a draw?”
“I don’t think so.”
Without pausing, he threw Jeremy to the side and fell flat. A moan came from the porch beneath her, and then silence.
Anton called up to her. “It’s okay. I got the one on the porch.”
Okay…so she calculated wrong, and one was still left in the house. Bite me.
“You missed that one,” Iax called up to her. “You’re welcome.”
She couldn’t help the grin as she recognized her own words from the night they’d met. “Fine. You win. This time.”
“I don’t think I could ever get tired of hearing that.”
Still smiling, she swung back to the tree and began to climb down. Before she could drop the final feet, she felt his arms around her. She leaned into Iax’s embrace, feeling that icy battle-core of resolve melting. Damn, he was trouble.
When she looked up, Jeremy was staring at the dark forms on the ground, his face white and glistening with sweat. He swayed, and she moved to take his arm. Gently easing him down onto the porch steps, his back to the body sprawled across the top, she pushed his head down to his knees. At the sound of sirens heading their way, Carey moved to face him. “We have to go. Tell the sheriff to get in touch with Director Kurt Jeffers of the Seattle Accords Agency. He’ll work out all the details.” She pulled out her phone and punched in numbers.
A moment later, his pocket vibrated, and he pulled out his own phone, staring blankly as if trying to figure out how it got there.
“Jeremy.” Her tone was urgent, and his eyes lifted to her face. “I have to go, but I just texted a phone number to your cellphone, and I want you to call it as soon as I leave. Can you remember? As
k for Kurt Jeffers at the Seattle Accords Agency. Tell him I sent you.”
“Kurt Jeffers. Accords Agency, Seattle,” Jeremy mumbled as if his tongue was stiff. “Carey?”
“Jeremy, some monsters are real.” She put a gentle hand on his arm, but dropped it when she felt him cringe. And I’m one of them. “I’ll try to keep them away from you. We’ll stop by the livery at dawn to collect those horses, and head out. I’d suggest you join your parents on their trip for a few weeks. Only…I wouldn’t mention to Harvey Arlen where you’re going.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
July 2011: St. Helens Ranch, Whitman, Washington
“I’ve got four ponies that are good with kids. We usually keep them for brand-new riders.” The livery manager paused, looking up from the bridles he’d just brought from the tack room. “Jeremy called last night. He said to give you whatever you need and put it on his account. Told me he was called out of town sudden. Family business.”
He waited for Carey to provide details. When she said nothing, he tried a friendly smile. “If you tell me where you want to go, I can probably do a better job of picking horses, and also help with the route.”
Carey didn’t remember him from the old days, although the genial man who introduced himself as Joe Decker said he’d known Harry. With his direct gaze, neat beard threaded liberally with gray, and strong handshake, he seemed the definition of friendly and straightforward. She smiled back, remembering one of Director Jeffers’ first lessons. In your walks of life you will come upon piles of horse droppings. You can walk around them or jump in the middle of them; the choice is yours. She’d done more than her fair share of jumping, but this was definitely a walk around.
“Thanks, but we’ll just stay near town.”
Joe stared when he led the four saddled ponies out to “children” who turned out to be four-foot-tall red teddy bears. Without missing a beat, Claire murmured, “Costume birthday party. You know, from that Cowboys and Demons movie?”
“Gotcha.” He nodded. “Sure beats the princess costumes we usually get.”