Keepers of the Cave

by Gerri Hill

  “Thanks. I don’t normally put a cornmeal batter on when I bake fish,” Paige said, “but I figured you would like it better this way.”

  CJ was touched that Paige would even concern herself with what CJ might or might not like. Especially since their argument the other night, of which they had yet to speak or apologize for.

  “Thank you,” CJ said. “But since I don’t cook, I can’t exactly be picky. You don’t have to alter things for me.”

  “I know I don’t have to.”

  The silence lengthened, their earlier levity giving way to suppressed tension again. CJ, for one, had had enough of it. She reached for her wineglass, taking a large sip. She had never been one to talk about things—feelings. She knew it stemmed from her childhood, where talking never happened. As an adult, she’d never been in any kind of relationship where it was required. But she was stuck here with Paige for what could be several long months. If these first few weeks were any indication, they would end up killing each other before they reached the end of their assignment.

  “Let’s talk about it,” she said. “Let’s get it over with, clear the air.”

  Paige put her fork down. “What do you mean?”

  “Let’s talk about that night. Let’s talk about us having sex. Let’s talk about our argument last week. Let’s just do it and get it over with. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells around you,” she admitted. “I hate it.”

  Paige stared at her for a long moment, and CJ thought she was going to refuse to talk. But apparently she had only been gathering her thoughts. She nodded. “Okay.”

  “You go first,” CJ suggested.

  “I don’t—” Paige cleared her throat. “I don’t normally do things like that. Like that night,” Paige said. “That’s your game, not mine.”

  CJ shook her head. “No, Paige, you’re just like me. You just don’t want to admit it.”

  “That’s not true. You don’t date. You probably don’t even bother learning their names.”

  CJ tilted her head. “And you date? I mean, other than Seth?”

  “I don’t date Seth, but yes, I date. Occasionally. If I wanted to, I would. If I met the right person,” she said, taking a sip of her wine. “This job makes that somewhat difficult.”

  “Right. And that’s part of the problem. I don’t have the time or the energy to devote to dating,” CJ said. “And on occasion, I like to have female company.”

  Paige snorted. “On occasion?”

  “Yes, on occasion. When we have a bad case, I like to just forget it all and escape. I’m no different than you in that regard.”

  “Yes, you are. I normally go home and take an hour-long bubble bath and drink a bottle of expensive wine. I don’t lose myself in anonymous sex.”

  CJ laughed. “What makes you think I don’t do the same?”

  “Oh, come on. Really?”

  “What? You think every morning when you see me looking like crap that means I’ve been out with a woman the night before?”

  Paige smirked. “Doesn’t it?”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “Come on, CJ. Ice and Billy gossip worse than a bunch of girls. I know everything that goes on, just like you do.”

  CJ sighed. “Okay, so sometimes I don’t want to come home to an empty house. Sometimes I don’t want to be alone. The bar is the alternative, to find a willing partner and go to her place.”

  “Why always her place?”

  “To keep it anonymous. I never bring anyone to my place.”

  Paige stared at her, eyebrows raised.

  “Okay, well, you, but you were the first,” CJ conceded.

  “You really expect me to believe that?”

  CJ thought maybe she should lie and tell Paige that many women had shared her bed. For some reason, the fact that Paige was the only woman she’d ever brought to her apartment stunned her. She thought back to that night at the bar, when their touches had become more urgent, their kisses blistering. With other women, she would have walked away before inviting them into her personal space—her apartment. But with Paige, that thought never crossed her mind. The only thought crossing her mind had been getting naked with Paige as quickly as possible. She looked up, locking gazes with her now, wondering if she, too, was remembering their time together. Did Paige realize the hold she’d had on her that night? Did she realize CJ would have begged her to come home with her? Which, of course, hadn’t been necessary. Paige had willingly followed her to the apartment. Obviously, now, Paige had nothing but regrets about that night.

  She finally nodded, answering Paige’s original question.

  “Yes, it’s true. There hasn’t been anyone but you in my bed.”

  Paige looked astonished, an eyebrow arching. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why me and no one else?” she asked quietly.

  CJ looked away uncomfortably. She didn’t know the answer. Was it because she knew Paige and knew it was safe? If so, it was completely subconscious. The fact was, at the time, she was too aroused to care. She’d always been attracted to Paige, even though she knew Paige was out of her league. She decided that was not the answer to give.

  “I don’t want anyone to know where I live,” she said instead. “I don’t want the complications.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because I knew you,” she said, meeting Paige’s questioning gaze. “I felt...safe with you,” she finally admitted.

  Paige nodded. “Do you regret that night?”

  CJ smiled. “Probably not nearly as much as you regret it.”

  Paige smiled too, then added more wine to both of their glasses. “I don’t know if regret is the right word,” she said. “I was actually terribly embarrassed to face you the next day.”

  “Why? We were both willing participants.”

  “Yes. But like I said, it’s not something I do.”

  “It’s not like I was a stranger, Paige.”

  “True.” She looked like she wanted to say more, and CJ could nearly see her warring with herself. She apparently lost the battle. “I was embarrassed that I was no different than any of the other women you snag at the bar and have sex with. Another notch for you, as it were.”

  Those words hurt more than they should have, CJ knew, but the pain was acute. The other women, they knew the game. A quick hookup, then right back out there. It was different with Paige. As she’d said, it wasn’t a game she played. CJ felt like she’d dragged her down in the gutter with her. In truth, it wasn’t like that at all. It was probably the most satisfying night she’d ever had. A wonderful give and take between them, they’d made love as if they knew each other’s touch well. In fact, she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t looked for Paige again at the bar, hoping for a repeat.

  “You weren’t a notch, Paige. It wasn’t like that with you.”

  Paige only gave her a sad smile. Apparently she didn’t believe her. “So? Any word on the gate log?”

  CJ acknowledged the change in subject, knowing their discussion was over with. “I sent the file to Ice this morning. I looked at it. It looked like a text file but it’s just numbers all running together. Avery gave me a list of everyone’s ID numbers on the vehicle bar code,” she said. “If Ice tries to decipher this himself, it might take a while. I hope he requests help with it.”

  “Let’s hope it’s not Billy’s help he solicits. We all know how he is with numbers.”

  “Yeah, he flips them. And I found out Richard Barr was working the gate that night when Belden paid a visit to Avery.”

  “Did you tell Chief Aims what happened?”

  “No. Avery thinks we shouldn’t call attention to it.”

  “So what about Barr? Any idea why he’d let Belden in? Especially since it was after hours?”

  “I’m guessing it’s because Fiona was in the car.” She shrugged. “Security is obviously not as tight as it’s made out to be.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Ester opened the door slowly, as if not to distu
rb anyone inside. That thought always struck her as funny, but she kept her levity to herself. This room was hallowed, viewed only by a select few. The beds were all handcrafted, made by Devin, Gretchen’s father. His hands were riddled with arthritis now and useless to her, but her final resting place was already prepared. She hoped she wouldn’t need it for many years yet, but it still unsettled her to see the bed made for her. Perhaps she was premature in having Devin construct it. There was no one coveting the purple robe. Not like she’d been when her mother wore it. Of course, her mother’s reign was short-lived, thanks to her sudden illness.

  Ester looked at the bed where her mother lay, a small smile playing on her lips. Her mother had been a fool and far too trusting. Ester had learned to make the magic potion quite by accident. Her mother simply loved the taste of it.

  There were eight beds in all, seven occupied. She moved slowly past them, stopping in front of her beloved grandmother. Everything she knew, she learned from her. If only she had lived longer, the flock might still be thriving. As it was, even she had to admit the flock was dying a slow death. Of course, he lived through the flock. If the flock died, what would become of him? Would he be satisfied just hunting? The way the world was today, it was too dangerous. No, he needed them to protect the caves.

  They first discovered him when her ancestors were settling the area after the Texans had defeated the Mexican army. They stumbled upon the entry to the underground caverns and, because of the stream that flowed through it, settled here. She often wondered how it would have been if it hadn’t been a Hogan who had discovered him. Even then, it was always the females who he bestowed the gift to—the power to see things, the power to do things. All but her own mother. For some reason, she had been skipped over. All the better, as Ester had been strong enough to end her reign and take over. She glanced slyly over at her mother. Near the end, her mother had discovered the poison, but it was too late by then. At least Ester had given her a place of honor here in the burial room. She looked down the line of beds, not really knowing the history of them all. Some had been quite young when they died, their reign short. She knew that both Velma and Opal had only lived into their thirties. Of course, her grandmother had only been in her fifties when she took ill, forcing her unprepared mother to lead the flock.

  But now there was no true Hogan to pass the gift on to. She had coupled several times, always unsuccessfully. The men were deemed flawed and were culled. She’d coupled with her brother, Antel, hoping for a pure bloodline but that failed as well. A male child was born. He should have been culled when she realized he would not—could not—speak, but he had proven to be her only weakness. In punishment, she had very nearly had Antel offered up as a sacrifice, but he hadn’t been interested. Rodel, her child, was gone now, put out of his silent suffering by one of her magic potions. No one knew of his passing. Not even Antel. She had always kept him secluded from the flock, not wanting to see the doubt, the questions in their eyes as to why she—Mother Hogan—had produced a flawed child. But now there was hope for their future.

  Fiona.

  Desperate times, they were. While Antel had coupled with Fiona, it was not Antel’s child she was carrying. She smiled at the thought, thinking this, finally, would save the flock.

  She touched the lace covering her grandmother’s leg, her eyes traveling up the skeletal remains to the face, no longer able to make out her features.

  “Goodbye, Mother Estelle. I’ll come visit again soon.”

  She closed the door quietly, pausing to lift the hood of her robe over her head. It was time. The flock would be gathering in the chamber. They would offer up their sacrifice tonight.

  Then they would feast on the lamb the men had been preparing all day.

  And he would feast on the young girl after he toyed with her, giving chase in the caves.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Paige drove slowly down the winding country road, feeling nearly claustrophobic as the giant pines that lined each side forbade any glimpse of the horizon. Nonetheless, she found the pace enjoyable, so different than the constant rush she was used to in Houston. The backseat was filled with groceries from her shopping trip to San Augustine, along with a TV she’d purchased for CJ. The deal they’d made was for her to get the TV and CJ to secure satellite service. Whether they were going to be there for another month—or six—they would at least have some sort of entertainment.

  She didn’t really mind the solo shopping trip. It gave her time to think, time to reflect on the week. She’d left the school at two, after the group of girls had come to what they were now calling dance class. She really didn’t care what the other teachers thought, the girls were enjoying the Zumba DVDs and even she could see a difference in them. Some were quite good at it and at least they were exercising. But she supposed, at some point, she would have to actually learn something about basketball and volleyball so they could do real team sports. CJ had offered to teach her, but so far she’d declined. She and CJ had enough interaction as it was.

  The past week had been unbearably hard. Not because she and CJ argued or didn’t get along. Quite the opposite. CJ had been on her best behavior, flirting teasingly with her at times, even surprising her in the gym one day with a cup of real coffee. Paige had been so touched by the gesture that she’d very nearly kissed her, a seemingly natural reaction. She’d backed off at the last minute, then blushed freely as CJ chuckled good-naturedly.

  Of course, the nights were the worst. On two occasions this week she’d woken during the night to find their arms and legs tangled. The first time, she’d tried to move away only to have CJ mumble something incoherently as her grip tightened around her waist. Paige had stilled, praying CJ wouldn’t wake. And last night, again, she’d found herself curled around CJ, her head resting on her shoulder. And it was her hand, not CJ’s, which was in a compromising position. She’d managed to reclaim her hand, but she couldn’t make herself move out of CJ’s arms and she had fallen back into a peaceful sleep. When the alarm had gone off that morning, CJ was already up and Paige found herself—thankfully—on her own side of the bed.

  All of which was making her extremely nervous about the dancing trip they were taking with the others tomorrow night. Knowing CJ, she would take full advantage of the situation.

  “There’s going to be kissing,” she murmured, surprised by the sudden jolt of arousal that thought brought to her. She wouldn’t lie to herself. She was attracted to CJ. She didn’t want to be, but she was. Why else had she followed her to the lesbian bar in the first place? She could tell herself CJ wasn’t her type—and she most definitely wasn’t—but that didn’t change anything. There had always been an attraction there. She wished she could just throw caution to the wind and go out with the group, play her role with CJ without any worries that their actions while in public would carry over to their private time alone.

  She let out a deep breath, quickly shaking her head, trying to dispel the image of them in CJ’s bed, doing much more than kissing. She hated when memories of that night surfaced. Being around CJ every day like she was, those memories were becoming more vibrant, becoming much more than just fuzzy snapshots.

  ***

  CJ turned the TV on, thrilled to finally have some form of entertainment. The satellite had been hooked up that morning and she settled back now, clutching the remote possessively as she flipped through the channels.

  “Are you happy?”

  She glanced at Paige with a smile. “Very. You’re the best girlfriend ever,” she teased.

  “Thank you.”

  “So, you need some help in there?” she offered.

  Paige shook her head. “Stay out of my kitchen.”

  It was just enough of a challenge for CJ to bite. She forgot all about trying to find a good movie to watch. Instead, she sauntered into the kitchen, moving up close to Paige, brushing her body against her.

  “Where’s the meat?”

  “There is none,” Paige said, taking a step away from
her.

  CJ stared at the hands that held the knife, the sharp blade fading to the background as she remembered waking during the night to find Paige’s hand under her T-shirt, dangerously close to her breast. She should have done the proper thing and rolled away but she didn’t, secretly hoping Paige’s fingers would finish their journey.

  “Are you trying to turn me into a vegetarian or what?”

  “Well, since the only exercise I’ve seen you do is jog, I thought you might need a low-fat meal.” Paige waved the knife at her stomach. “You know, to keep up those rock-hard abs that chicks love so much,” she said, obviously remembering CJ’s description of them.

  CJ grinned and lifted up her shirt. “You want to check them out? See if I’ve lost anything?” She leaned closer. “You remember what they feel like, don’t you?”

  Paige turned on her, her eyes glaring. “I have a knife in my hand. Don’t tempt me to use it.”

  CJ laughed. “Oh, baby, you’re so damn beautiful when you’re angry.”

  “And don’t call me baby. I hate it. I’m not your baby.” Paige slammed the knife down. “And even if I was your baby, I don’t want to be called baby. Got it?”

  CJ arched an eyebrow, wondering how their teasing exchange had turned ugly so quickly.

  “Are you PMSing?”

  Paige literally growled at her, then spun on her heels, slamming the bedroom door with enough force to rattle the walls.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” she murmured. She eyed the pile of vegetables and the two pans that were on the stove, trying to figure out what Paige had been making. A stir-fry of some sort? She was about to grab the vegetables and toss them in one of the pans when the bedroom door opened.

  “Don’t touch it.”

  She held her hands up defensively. “Okay.”

  “Get out of my kitchen.”

  “Absolutely,” she said, backing up.

  Paige picked up the knife again, going back to her chopping. CJ slunk back to the sofa, keeping a wary eye on Paige...and the knife.