by Sue Wilder
“Eat up.” He didn’t look at her when he opened a canvas bag. Lexi huddled on the bunk, knees drawn up as she ate, watching his every move. She wasn’t as disoriented, and when the Spaniard tried to slip into her mind telepathically, Lexi pushed him aside, not far enough to alert him but enough to keep him in the more emotional area of her thoughts. She ramped them up, added a little hysteria and fear.
And watched the self-satisfied smile curve his lips.
It was almost too easy. Lexi fed his expectations back to him—a silly human who wasn’t a threat. Phillipe taught her the mental manipulation, and as Lexi nibbled another bite from the power bar, she let her pulse race. Immortals could pick up on subtle physical signs. They’d expect her to be frightened and upset by her circumstances. She thought of Renata, terrified and running, then cringed beneath the feeling of insects creeping beneath her skin, allowing the psychic invasion as proof she was too human to resist.
After the first several minutes the Spaniard withdrew, disappointed, and Lexi held herself stiff as sweat pooled along her spine. She wanted to wipe it away but didn’t, thought about Christan instead, what he had asked her to do: hunt with him. Her instincts sharpened, and she memorized the details. What the Spaniard looked like, the brand of the water in the bottle, the sense of direction as the fishing vessel put out to sea. Despite their estrangement, Christan would look for her. She would gather information and somehow get it to him, so he could do what he did best.
Go to war.
Lexi glanced at the window. The night was black without stars.
“What time is it?”
“Whatever time you want it to be, chica.”
“Midnight? Earlier? Later?”
“It’s just past two in the morning, not that it matters.”
Which meant she had been missing for five hours and he didn’t think it upset anything if he told her the time of day. Lexi looked at the energy bar in her hand and forced herself to eat. Her nerves were jittery. She needed the food but the texture was dry and got stuck in her throat even with the water. When she finished eating, the Spaniard finished rummaging and turned. He set a roll of white gauze beside the bunk and looked at the paper wrapper clenched in her hand.
“Do you need more to eat?”
“Do you have anything more?”
“Another power bar. You’ll get food in the morning if you cooperate.”
Lexi wanted to keep him talking. “How long will I be here?”
The Spaniard shrugged.
“Are we going someplace specific?”
He reached out and slid a finger down her face, then pressed hard at the base of her throat. “Do you want more food or not?”
Lexi felt her heart lurch sideways and shook her head. When he touched her again, it was to force her back until she was lying down. With swift movements he tied each wrist to the welded bars, using the gauze and tying the knots as if he’d tied similar knots many times before, then dug in the bag and pulled out a bulky set of earphones. Strands of her hair tangled while he adjusted them. He seemed to enjoy her tiny flinch of pain, dragging his calloused finger down her face again.
“Relax, chica.” He stood with hands on his hips and stared hard enough to worry her before he flicked off the light, plunging the small stateroom into the dark of midnight.
Lexi’s fingers began to tremble.
“Sweet dreams,” he murmured and closed the metal door.
✽✽✽
The music started with a single, pure note—a gong being struck in the clear cool air. The note sounded again… and again… until Lexi’s breathing aligned with the vibrations and she recognized the fugue state. She resisted, pulling her wrists against the gauze, but there was no give. The sounds repeated and a voice spoke in a soothing monotone. The mantra was familiar, but worse now because the music would crack open her subconscious and let the dreams filter to the surface. She fought back, remembered Phillipe’s voice as he explained, brick by brick, how to rebuild the walls in her mind. Then she focused on Marge, on her cottage, on the heat of sunshine and the scent of wild oranges.
But Lexi could not block the voice, the chanting, and in the dark, in the damp cold, she slid beneath the surface of the dreams. She saw herself running as something chased her. Trying to hide. Then she was standing naked. After that, fire burned all around before she stood freezing in a hall with too many doors.
Then the dreams altered.
She saw a little brown and white fluff and knew it was her puppy, the one named Cammi, after the warrior girl from the stories her meme told her. She was Gabrielle, and the puppy was racing through the tall grass until something hidden sliced off the two hind paws. The puppy sat down and then stood in a panic, the paws flying while the bloody stumps turned red and it was Luca’s blood, spraying over her face and in her mouth…
Lexi sucked in a breath. It was a night terror, containing the same horrific aspects as the night terror of the little boy dancing in the street, when the truck had run over him while his arms and legs reached up to hug the tire.
But Christan said the little boy’s death never happened, that he knew every moment of her existence. He told her the truth was hidden in the details. That the forced dreams were sharp, designed to cut deep and hard. The information gave her the means to tell reality from manipulation and she used it now, concentrated on the thudding pain of a migraine behind her eyes as she fought back.
The gong kept pounding. Lexi tried to ignore the sound but couldn’t as her thoughts raced around the pointless decisions and repeated mistakes, lifetime after lifetime. She’d heard it in Christan’s thoughts, heard him tell her he was a flawed man with nothing to offer, that there was no hope. The hot ache filled her throat and by the time the gong sounded again, she was afraid they would never be together. Afraid he had already given up on her.
“I would never do that, cara.”
“Christan?”
“Yes, love.”
“How can you be here?”
“I can be anywhere you are when you dream.”
Lexi opened her eyes, saw him standing beside her narrow bed. Christan looked so beautiful, so sad. She tried to reach up to touch him, and he knelt to untie the gauze from around one wrist. When her hand was free, she brushed the tips of her fingers against his face and watched the image shimmer.
“You’re not real.”
“I am real in your mind, cara. Do you feel me?”
“Yes.”
“That makes me real.”
“I’m scared Christan,” she whispered. “I was so frightened for you, and then when Luca…”
“There’s nothing left to do for Luca—you sang the lamentation for him. It was the greatest honor we could have given him.”
“I don’t know where I found the words.”
“Somewhere deep in your soul.”
“I wanted to tell you.”
“I know.”
Tears filled her eyes and burned near the corners. The gong kept ringing until it was impossible to distinguish real from unreal. Christan curved his big hand against her cheek.
“Don’t cry. It breaks my heart.”
“You can’t find me.”
“But I’m trying hard to find you.”
“We’re in the middle of an ocean. On a boat. There are metal noises and the stink of fish. But it’s dark, and I can’t pick up any impressions.” Her panic raced, and he smoothed his fingers across her forehead.
“I will always find you. You are the extension of my soul. I should have told you before.”
“It’s okay,” she said, trying to nod her head despite the bulky earphones. And because she feared she’d never tell him face to face, she said the words now. “I’m sorry for confronting Six without thinking what it would mean for you—what he did afterward. But I was afraid to tell you then.”
“I understood, cara, and I was just as frightened to tell you how courageous I thought you were.”
“I made it worse.”
/> “No, you reminded me of something important.”
“I shouldn’t have walked away. You said there was no hope, but I knew you were angry and I should have stayed and fought for us.”
“And I wish I’d never spoken those words, cara. I’m sorry I told you to go.”
They were both silent, and then she asked what had happened.
“Six has taken you, but he won’t keep you.”
“Are we hunting together?”
“Yes.”
“How can I help you?”
“By talking to me, reminding me how strong you are and who I used to be.”
The gong sounded, so sharp it increased the blinding pressure behind her eyes. Lexi needed a few seconds to control her mental voice.
“Christan?”
“Yes, cara?”
“When we were at Luca’s safe house and you came in, and you pulled all the sheets from the bed and said you wanted me there?”
“I remember.”
“I wanted to be there. I wish we’d been in that bed and not at One’s compound.”
“I wish that too.”
He bent down and kissed her forehead, her nose, lingering at the corner of her mouth. She reached up and held the back of his head as if she could keep him there, searing his energy into her mind. Her soul. Every time she closed her eyes, he was there. She felt him now as he pressed his palm against her heart, offering a pulse of warmth before he straightened.
“You’ve been so strong,” he said, “and I have to ask you to be strong a little longer.”
“You have to leave.”
He stroked the hair from her face. His calloused thumbs brushed against her eyes and wiped away the moisture. She memorized his clean male scent, the strength in his arms, the connection through the tattoos beneath his skin. He tied the gauze around her wrist with infinite care. She hated that she could no longer touch him, and she cried harder. Christan stretched out on the narrow bunk beside her. His body was warm but weightless, not really there. He held her cheek against his chest and she listened to the rhythmic, steady beat of his heart until it faded into an ephemeral imprint.
“Don’t be afraid to dream tomorrow night. I will come back to you.”
She knew when the dream ended. The room was so cold she shivered. The gong sounded one last time, and she slept.
CHAPTER 16
Christan rose from the bed, knocking the table lamp to the floor as he swung at an invisible attacker. Telepathic projections left him vulnerable, caught between where he was and where he had been, and under normal circumstances he could adjust. But these were not normal circumstances. Only Arsen understood, coming to stand in the doorway as a gesture of support. Christan chose to ignore him as he picked up broken glass and tossed it into an ornate waste container.
Arsen waited patiently. “I take it the dreaming worked.”
“She’s on a boat. They have her tied to a bed while they play that crap in her ears.”
“Well, there’s the good news.” Arsen offered an encouraging smile. “You were able to talk to her.”
Christan scrubbed a hand through his hair but it was an irritable gesture. He stalked across the suite One provided, glanced around, then found the wet bar. He needed a drink, whiskey preferably, but selected the mineral water and ripped off the cap.
“She’s on a fishing vessel,” he said while Arsen watched him. “That narrows the search.”
Christan finished the water and reached for a second bottle. Phillipe had produced several computer printouts, white sheets of paper spread out across the desk. The man’s spy network was extensive. His informants dealt more with information than blood since Three’s decision to become respectable changed her tactics. Details on Swiss bank accounts sat next to shipping manifests, but the list of fishing vessels and container ships sailing from Ancona drew Christan’s attention. His braced his palms and leaned in, noting the automatic identification system numbers and individual times of departure. If Ethan hacked into the data feed, they could watch each ship in real time and track the locations.
“They can’t be more than four hours out of Ancona.” Christan picked up a pen and blacked out the ships that left port before Lexi’s captors reached the coast. “Where’s Phillipe?”
“Negotiating with One for access to her satellite.”
“Ethan will be faster.”
Arsen was typing on his phone. “We should assemble a team and fly ahead to Patras, spread a wide net, intercept all vessels coming out of the Adriatic Sea.”
Christan studied the list of ships and then walked to the map they’d mounted to the wall. Little red pins marked several locations, and if there were holes in the walls when they were done, then he didn’t care. One had enough money for repairs.
“We’re dealing with five fishing vessels that can disappear once they reach the Mediterranean,” Christan said, his focus on the pattern of pins as they spread out along the image of a coastline. “I intend to find her before they get that far.”
“How did she sound?”
“Not good. Tired. I confused her at first.”
“It’s the disembodied projection, they think they’re seeing a ghost.”
“You’ve used it?”
“I don’t have a blood mate.” Just one who hated him. “Did she tell you anything?”
“She said nothing was working right, couldn’t sense her environment.”
“She’s in the middle of the Adriatic, so that shouldn’t be surprising.” Arsen kept his tone neutral. “Did she mention anyone with her?”
“Kace wasn’t there.”
“Then we should move as soon as possible.” Arsen reached for his own bottle of mineral water. “We’ve received offers to help.”
“Who?”
“Warriors from around the world once news of Luca got out. Throw in that lamentation, and it’s growing into a full-fledged war. They all remember what that song means, Enforcer.”
“Thank them,” Christan said, “and we’ll use them if needed.”
Arsen nodded. “Phillipe is looking into who killed Luca. The sword was a weapon of opportunity, not a planned attack.”
“The work of a warrior or an amateur?”
“There were a lot of men taking part in the sword dance and any one of them could have been pressed into service.” Arsen shrugged. “Six intended to have her but executing Luca in that garden and in front of witnesses was a huge mistake.”
“A crisis decision, and the man is most likely dead. Six doesn’t keep his mistakes alive.” Christan stared at the print outs. “She wasn’t in good shape, Arsen.”
“How bad?”
“They’re making her dream. She was crying.”
“But she let you into her mind?”
“Not at first. Then she refused to trust herself to accept it was real.”
Arsen sipped the mineral water. “How often will she have to dream?”
“I hope only at night.” Christan turned, stared through the window at the pristine grounds of the villa. The moon disappeared hours ago, nothing but darkened shadows. “I can’t see Six destroying her mind. He needs her to remember Gaia, to find details that will lead him to Two.”
“Maybe he’s thinking about Libya. Take her to Cyrene and see if her memories return. He knows she can read the earth, pick up old impressions. He might try to use her talent.”
“The boat will be the first choice. Isolate her, keep moving so we can’t track her. He can pound at her subconscious in private, then risk Cyrene if it doesn’t work.”
“Six can’t teleport her. He tried and failed, which means they move her around as if she’s human. That should make it easier for us.”
Christan’s phone chimed. The caller was Ethan, and he clicked the speaker icon as he answered.
“I’ve hacked the international system for tracking illegal fishing,” the warrior said. “I’m sending a screen shot and the data points are thirty minutes old—five trawlers and longline boats sai
ling from Ancona within our time window. I’ll update you every hour and you can track the progress.” The phone pinged and Christan opened the image.
“Background checks and countries of origin will come through in a few minutes,” Ethan continued, “although that won’t give us much if they’re using a shell corporation or a single operator. I’ll send you what I find.”
“How exact are these data points?” Christan asked.
“They’re exact to within a few yards of where those targets were half an hour ago. International law requires vessels over 65 feet to have an automatic identification system, but they can hide her on anything and turn off the tracking beacons.”
“She thinks it’s a fishing vessel.”
“There are hundreds of illegal Chinese boats in the Mediterranean and they all move around,” Ethan explained. “She’ll be hard to pinpoint.”
“If I get close enough, I’ll sense her energy.”
“What about the satellite feeds?” Arsen asked.
“I’m working on it,” Ethan said, his voice distracted. “But now we’re talking about tight security. It might take time to hack in.”
Christan stared at the map again. “How secure are you?”
“Very. Robbie is ready if you need him. Marge sends her love.”
“I need Robbie with you. Tell Marge not to worry. We’ll get her back.”
“Never doubted it, Enforcer.”
✽✽✽
The night was dark and when Christan walked to the windows he tried to count the first five stars. It was not a good night for stargazing since there were storm clouds scuttling across the moon. Christan remained at the window, counting the faint points of light until he reached four. Before he found the fifth star, there was a knock against the suite door. He turned away, a faint shimmer in his obsidian eyes as Darius entered the suite.