One hundred miles from old Albuquerque and the Rio Grande River, they caught sight of another party’s dust on the eastern horizon. Too eager for caution, Jamie kicked Lazarus into a run.
A sharp whistle brought the horse to a stop. Timon rode Chloe in front of Lazarus, blocking Jamie’s way.
“We don’t know who they are,” he said sternly. “I’ll ride ahead.”
“They’ll see us soon enough,” she pointed out.
He removed his field glasses from his saddle pack. “At least we’ll have a chance to run if they prove to be unfriendly.”
Timon’s proposal was reasonable, as always, and so Jamie hung back while he rode ahead to identify the other travelers. He paused once or twice to look through the glasses, and then continued on until he was lost in a haze of dust.
When he returned, his expression was neutral, but there was the slightest set to his mouth. “They’re an Opiri delegation from the Citadel of Tenebris near the Los Angeles Enclave,” he said.
“You spoke to them?” she asked.
“They wear heavy hoods and carry banners,” he said, “and they have wagons. They wouldn’t be out here for any purpose but joining the Conclave.”
“Is there a reason we should stay away from them?”
“Not unless you prefer it. If you have any doubts—”
“We’ll be seeing them sooner or later,” she said. “Let’s go on.”
With a brisk nod, he turned Chloe around and led the way.
* * *
Timon watched Jamie closely as they rode up to the group. All eyes were on them as the column’s leader brought the delegates to a halt, and two mounted, hooded and gloved Opiri split off from the others to meet Timon and Jamie.
One of them raised a hand in salute. “You are going to the Conclave?” he asked.
“We were separated from our party,” Timon said. “My name is Timon, of the Brotherhood of Riders. My companion is Jamie McCullough of the San Francisco Enclave delegation.”
“I am Dimitri of Tenebris,” the Opiri said, “and this is Kyros.” His eyes flickered to Jamie again. “Will you join us?”
Timon glanced at Jamie. There was no doubt in his mind that she felt uneasy. Timon maneuvered Chloe in front of Lazarus, blocking Dimitri’s view of her.
“If you have water—” he said.
“We have water in the wagons,” Dimitri said. “Please, share it with us.”
“With gratitude,” Timon said, inclining his head. He managed to keep his horse between Jamie and the two Opiri, and she made no objection, not even with a glance.
The Opiri moved ahead of them, and Timon reached surreptitiously for her hand. “All right?” he murmured.
“Yes.” Her chin was lifted, her profile defiant. “Stop worrying about me.”
She rode with body and head held high into the midst of the Opir delegation, smiling and acknowledging the reserved greetings offered by her hosts. Water was produced and shared with the delegation’s guests.
But there was definitely a tension in the air that made the hair stand up on the back of Timon’s neck. Something wasn’t quite right here. Nothing overt; no hostility, no contempt of “lesser” humans and half-bloods. But a thread of anxiety seemed to run through the voices of the Opiri, as if they were waiting for something to happen.
Timon urged Jamie to take a rest in the shade of one of the wagons, though he remained standing beside her. After a while, Dimitri approached him.
“May I speak with you?” he asked Timon.
“It’s all right,” Jamie said, shading her eyes to look up at the men. “I’m fine here.”
Not wholly convinced, Timon reluctantly followed Dimitri a little distance away. Dimitri’s disquiet was palpable, and Timon balanced on his toes, ready to sprint back to Jamie’s side.
“Please,” Dimitri said, “do not be troubled. There is no danger here.”
“Then why is everyone walking on eggshells?” Timon asked. “Why do you stare at Jamie as if you’re ready to jump her?”
Dimitri flinched, a dramatic gesture in an Opir. “You and she are...”
“I’m her protector until we reach the Conclave.”
“Then I will be honest with you, Rider. Some of us have not fed in several days. We did meet with your delegation two days ago, but the humans were weary and only half of us were able to take advantage of the Conclave agreement regarding the sharing of blood.”
Subtly moving his hand toward his knife, Timon shook his head. “I’m sorry to hear it,” he said.
“We have, of course, been subsisting on animal blood for much of our journey. But, as you know, there are some Opiri who do not do well in the absence of human blood.”
“And that’s why you’re so interested in Jamie,” Timon said, his muscles tensing to spring.
“I am sorry if we’ve alarmed you,” Dimitri said, sounding as if he meant it, “but we are very concerned for one of our companions, Lord Nereus. He has been ill for the past two days, and will not take any animal blood.”
“I can’t speak for Jamie,” Timon said when Dimitri was finished. “She did take the oath, with the others, to provide blood to Opir delegates. But she has been keeping me in good health for many weeks, and I don’t know if she is up to donating to anyone else.”
“I understand,” Dimitri said. “I only ask that you consult with her and explain the situation.”
Easing his hand away from the knife, Timon returned to Jamie. She looked up, a question in her eyes.
He knew what he wanted to tell her. Let’s leave this place. They won’t come after us.
But he owed her more respect than that. He crouched beside her and relayed Dimitri’s message without emotion, letting her make her own judgment.
She was quiet for some time after he finished. “It’s only the one Opir?” she asked.
“So Dimitri says.”
“But you think otherwise?”
Timon took her hand. “Some of these Opiri haven’t had human blood in some time. They are civilized, but once they smell your blood, some may become aggressive.”
“Aggressive enough to...” She swallowed. “To force themselves on me?”
“Not as long as I’m alive,” Timon said, squeezing her hand. “If you want to leave, we can go anytime.”
“No,” she said, her jaw tightening with familiar stubbornness. “I’ll do it.”
His whole body on alert, Timon relayed Jamie’s answer to Dimitri. The Opir seemed openly relieved, though his eyes were still hidden under his hood.
“Tonight,” he said, “when we can move about freely, we will bring Nereus to her. Please extend our gratitude to Ms. McCullough.”
“You can do that yourself,” Timon said.
He joined Jamie again, sitting very close to her, listening to her heartbeat speed and slow as her emotions changed. He wanted to sweep her up and carry her away, where childhood memories couldn’t touch her.
But they weren’t his memories to expel. Perhaps this experience, if it went well, would help her leave those old terrors behind once and for all.
If it went well. No one would be able to save this Nereus if it didn’t.
Chapter 14
Night fell swiftly in the desert, the sun sinking behind the mesas to the west. Jamie leaned against the wagon, breathing deeply and steadily, only a slight twitch at the corner of her eye betraying her feelings.
As promised, Dimitri and two others brought Nereus to her. The Opir was, indeed, a little sickly looking, with shadows under his eyes and a strange way of jerking his head to one side. When he saw Jamie, his lips lifted away from his teeth in an instinctive reaction to the smell of her blood.
Timon stepped in front of Jamie to face Nereus. “I warn you now,” he said softly
. “If you cause Ms. McCullough any hurt, I will stop this.”
The Opir’s gaze darted to Timon’s. “I understand,” he said in a harsh whisper.
“I am ready,” Jamie said, bracing herself against the wagon.
The other Opiri took a step back as Nereus approached Jamie. Timon remained within touching distance, heedless of the Opiri custom of keeping a good distance from a feeding. Nereus put his mouth to Jamie’s throat. She stiffened and then tried to relax as Nereus, the tendons standing out on his neck, bit into her skin.
Timon almost grabbed the Opir to fling him aside. A wild possessiveness gripped him, though he knew he had no right to the emotion. Jamie did not belong to him.
No right, he told himself over and over again. No right. But every muscle in his body was ready to move, and he had to look away while Nereus lapped up Jamie’s blood. He looked back in time to see Jamie staring at him out of the corner of her eye, carefully concealing her panic from everyone but him.
He was ready to put an end to it when Nereus finally finished and withdrew. The bite mark was only a red patch on Jamie’s neck, but Timon had to fight all an Opir’s most primitive instincts to keep from attacking Nereus. The human in him despised his other half, the part that took and took without giving back.
Pushing Nereus out of the way, he put his arm around Jamie and led her apart from the wagons. She stumbled once, and he carried her to a tall juniper bush.
“Are you feeling weak?” he asked.
She brushed hair out of her face. “No. Just a little—” She broke off. “I’m fine.”
Timon clenched his fists behind his back. “You were very generous to Nereus.”
“It was good practice.” She reached up to touch her neck but let her hand fall without making contact.
“Does it hurt?” he asked. “I can help.”
“Really, I’ll be all right.”
Timon felt more pride in her than he could express. “I’ll bring the horses here, and we’ll stay in this spot for the rest of the night. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”
“Do you think some of the others might expect to—”
“No. But we should stay apart from them, just in case.”
“In a few days we’ll be in a camp full of Opiri.”
“And humans,” Timon reminded her. “Your people.”
She closed her eyes. “My people. Can I really call them mine when I’ve been keeping secrets from them since before we ever left the Enclave?”
Forgetting to breathe, Timon pretended a calm he didn’t feel. Secrets. Like the ones he’d been asked to uncover in a mission he had deliberately ignored over the long weeks of their journey? The ones he’d nearly convinced himself didn’t exist?
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said.
“I didn’t know who to tell,” she murmured. “Not even my godfather knows. I found the old research, buried away in a basement storage area no one seemed to remember. When I saw it, I knew it could make all the difference in this Conclave.”
“What research, Jamie?”
She met his gaze. “I’ve learned to recognize my own mortality, Timon. I could die tomorrow. If something was to happen to me...”
“Hush,” he said, pulling her into his arms. He kissed her forehead with no regard for any Opiri who might be observing. “Nothing will happen to you, now or later.”
She rested her cheek against his. “I told myself when I left the Enclave that I would do everything within my power to accept the shared humanity of all the people I would meet, including the Opiri. I’m afraid I didn’t do a very good job of living up to my principles.”
“Shared humanity?” Timon asked, genuinely puzzled.
She moved to face him, taking both his hands in hers. “That is what I learned, Timon. That we’re all related. Opiri, humans...we’re all of the same stock. Sometime thousands upon thousands of years ago, the line of our ancestors branched off. One branch continued to develop into humanity as we know it today. But the other branch...”
“The other branch,” he said with wonder, “became Opiri.”
“Yes,” she said. “I don’t know how the pre-War anthropologists missed it. Why, over hundreds of years, they never found the remains to suggest the presence of vampires and parallel evolution. But during the War, someone studied Opiri prisoners. They did extensive DNA tests, with advanced technology we don’t have full access to today. And these scientists uncovered facts so startling that they must have known what could happen if everyone knew the truth.”
“If anyone would believe them,” Timon said, still dazed by her revelation. “Are you sure they did learn the truth?”
“I saw the records of everything they’d done. It all added up, Timon. It explains why humans and Opiri can have offspring, like you half-bloods. Why Opiri and humans are alike in so many ways.”
“Do you have these records?”
She touched her jacket. “I couldn’t carry all of them, but I have the extensive notes I took, stitched inside the lining.”
“Why are you telling me this now?” he asked cautiously.
She gripped his hands more tightly. “Timon, you can see what this would do if it came out in the wrong way. It will be a great shock to many, many people on both sides. This information could ensure the success of the Conclave. That’s what I hope.”
“I see you have to plan it carefully,” Timon said, his mind racing. If this was the secret Captain Cassius had wanted so badly, how did it support the idea that the San Francisco Enclave might intend some mischief at the Conclave? This was Jamie’s information alone, and she wanted it to be used for good.
“What happened to the scientists who discovered this?” he asked. “It’s possible they’re still alive, even if they’re elderly. Have you tried to find them?”
“Of course,” Jamie said, her gaze distant. “But I could find no trace of them in personnel records, or locate anyone who knew or remembered them. It’s as if they just vanished.”
And they might have, Timon thought, if someone wanted to quash this incredible discovery. Jamie was right; it wouldn’t be only certain Opiri who wouldn’t want this getting out. Hatred was an emotion that fed on itself, like a flame that never died.
“I have to get this information to the right people,” Jamie said. “Not politicians who might use it the wrong way. Scientists, men and women who will understand and could interpret it for the Conclave when the time is right.”
She had no idea what she was talking about, Timon thought. She could never be sure that the people she told, even scientists like her, wouldn’t be careless with the information, or even misuse it. Someone could decide to eliminate the one who carried the proof.
If something was to happen to me... she’d said.
“You can help me, Timon,” she said, her words cutting into his grim thoughts. “You said the Riders would be handling security. You can watch and listen where I can’t, and help me decide who to approach.”
With a bitter inner laugh, Timon thought of what he should do as soon as they reached the Conclave. He would have to report to Cassius and share the very information Jamie had entrusted to him. That was his duty.
And he should tell her. Explain that they had to confide in someone immediately—someone neutral like the elected leader of the Riders, whose job it was to keep the Conclave peaceful, playing no favorites. A man whom Timon trusted with his life.
But what would Cassius do with the secret? Report back to those who had hired Timon’s band to find it, employers Cassius had never revealed and whose motives remained unknown?
It isn’t your responsibility to make these decisions, he told himself. But he had made Jamie his responsibility. Whatever he chose to do, he would be betraying someone close to him. Cassius—like a second father to him, and to whom
he owed his first loyalty—or Jamie, who trusted him.
“I’m telling you this now because I know we’ll be going our separate ways,” she said, unaware of his inner turmoil. “Now that you know what I know, maybe I won’t feel so alone.”
Timon looked away. “We never spoke about how things would change when we reached the Conclave.”
“I thought about it many times, but I never had the nerve to bring it up.”
“Our being here doesn’t have to mean we’ll never see each other,” he said.
“You mean we can still be lovers.”
It sounded almost crude, even to his own ears. But he wanted it. He wanted it very badly.
“It won’t be like our time together during the journey,” he said, turning back to her.
“No. We’ll have to hide it, won’t we?”
“Do you think I’m ashamed of you, Jamie?”
“Will you tell your captain about us?”
“He’ll assume I took your blood.”
“Yes.”
“He may assume the rest, as well.”
“But you’d rather not give him confirmation.”
“It’s none of his business, as long as it doesn’t interfere with my duties at the Conclave.”
Yet even the thought of her interferes with my duty. The idea of giving her up was intolerable. But if she chose to break it off, he’d soon be with his own kind again.
A world without Jamie.
Chapter 15
The tent city was immense, stretching in a lopsided circle a half mile in diameter. Along the flattened western border ran the Rio Grande River, with its winding bosque of tall cottonwood tree on either side; to the east, beyond the perimeter of the encampment, stood the high Sandia mountains, and between lay a wide stretch of desert dotted with juniper bushes, scrub, sturdy wildflowers and scattered ruins.
Jamie’s first thought at seeing the city was that it was almost a colony in itself, though there were no walls to keep enemies at bay. Instead there were rows upon rows of smaller tents inhabited by the various delegations, grouped in smaller “camps.” Solar panels had been set up everywhere, and a wide central thoroughfare ran between the two distinct halves of the encampment: one human, one Opir. At the center of the camp lay the “Hub,” containing the administrative offices, Assembly tents, Administrative Committee chamber, human medical clinic, mess hall, donation booths and the security headquarters. The biggest tents included the meeting place where the delegates would determine the course of the future.
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