Twilight Crossing

by Susan Krinard

  “I’m sure it will be.” She licked her lower lip, holding his gaze. “Goodbye, Timon.”

  She fled from the tent, her towel streaming behind her. Timon ducked into the shower stall and shed the rest of his clothes. Even being near her had made him hard, and it took several moments of meditation to clear his mind and settle his body.

  He wondered how he could ever be near her as a “neutral” Rider when anyone with eyes could see how much he still wanted her.

  Chapter 17

  Jamie had thought she’d seen amazing things when she’d first entered the tent city of the Conclave, but seeing the main Assembly tent made her realize the wonders had just begun.

  Twice as large as the second-biggest tent in the camp, the space was filled with people. The risers that would serve as chairs during the formal negotiations had been pushed to the very edges of the tent to provide room for the hundreds of delegates, informally mingling and introducing themselves as they drank clean spring water and smiled with teeth pointed or flat.

  “Remarkable, isn’t it?” Amos said, tucking Jamie’s hand through the crook of his elbow. “Nothing like this has been seen since the War began half a century ago.”

  “Yes,” Jamie said, seeking out the one face that meant more to her than anyone else’s in the room. But if Timon was present, he wasn’t in plain view.

  Just as well, she thought. She was here as an aide to her godfather, not as a moonstruck lover. And if she was lucky, she might even acquaint herself with other scientists at the Conclave, people she could trust with her secret.

  As she’d rightfully trusted Timon.

  She smoothed her gown and patted self-consciously at her hair. She wasn’t used to this kind of gathering or the need to dress herself so glamorously. The dress was the only one she’d brought with her, and she was relieved she wouldn’t have to make the choice of what was appropriate for which event.

  “You look lovely,” Amos murmured. “Ah. Good evening,” he said to an Opir lord in a long tunic and high boots. “I am Amos Parks, President of the City Council of the San Francisco Enclave.”

  The Opir examined him minutely, and Jamie began to bristle. As if he’d sensed her mood, the Opir tilted his head to stare at her.

  “Lovely, indeed,” he said, showing his teeth. “I am Lord Charon of Irkalla Citadel. You have come a long way to join us.”

  For a moment all Jamie saw was Charon’s teeth. Then she smiled. “It was well worth the journey,” she said.

  “Indeed,” Amos said with a brief glance at his goddaughter. “It is our city’s fervent hope that this Conclave will be a success.”

  “As it is ours,” Charon said, his gaze still on Jamie. “Miss—”

  “McCullough,” Jamie said. “Aide to the Councilman.”

  Charon took her hand and kissed the back of her fingers. “Charming,” he said. “I trust we will meet again soon.”

  “That is also my wish,” Amos said.

  Once Charon was gone, Amos whistled under his breath. “I’m proud of you,” he said to Jamie. “If you feel up to it, we have other guests to meet.”

  Jamie accompanied Amos as he approached the leaders of other delegations, gravitating naturally toward the humans. They had come from old Texas, from Colorado and Arizona and, of course, old California, as well as surrounding areas. While Amos spoke to the head delegates, she occupied herself with looking over the other members among their ranks.

  Frustratingly, she soon discovered that lesser members of the delegations, such as the scientists, had been left behind in camp or outside the tent, like the Enclave’s soldiers.

  “Good God,” Amos muttered, gripping her arm. She looked up to see another Opir delegation approaching, three richly dressed Bloodlords who moved with such arrogance that Jamie disliked them on sight.

  “Ah, Councilman,” the lead delegate said, inclining his head to Amos. “We were pleased to hear that you reached the Conclave safely. So many dangers along the way.”

  “And your journey from Erebus was also successful, Lord Makedon,” Amos said, an uncharacteristically cold note in his voice. “I trust you found sufficient nourishment?”

  “Ah,” Makedon said, his gaze shifting to Jamie. “We met few humans who believe in sharing, as you do. And of course we had no supply of our own to bring with us.”

  Jamie clenched her teeth. He was speaking of human serfs, the Enclave “convicts” who had once been sent to Erebus to provide blood and status to the lords of the Citadel. That supply had been cut off at the source years ago, but it was well known in San Francisco that many older serfs still remained in a state of slavery in Erebus, and that some Opiri, in defiance of the old agreement, bred their own human slaves.

  But Makedon was pretending that such serfs no longer existed. Staring fixedly at the heavy pectoral necklace worn by the Opir lord, Jamie lost her grip on her previous feelings of hope. It would take considerable pressure to make the Erebusians give up their serfs and their traditional way of life. With Opiri like them to deal with, was there any chance that a lasting agreement could be reached?

  “Ms. McCullough,” Makedon said. “We hear that you were kidnapped by barbarian humans and were separated from your fellows. You came to no harm, I hope?”

  “No lasting harm,” she said. “Thank you for your concern.”

  “It would have been such a waste of beauty,” Makedon purred. “And blood.”

  Jamie froze. That Makedon should be so blatant astonished her, but she didn’t dare react.

  “It didn’t go to waste,” she said. “The Rider who saved me had free use of it.”

  “She’s generous with her friends,” a familiar voice said. Jamie turned to find Timon at her side, wearing a light jacket and clean, well-fitting clothes. He smiled, all teeth, at Makedon, who narrowed his eyes.

  “Friends?” he said. “I wasn’t aware that Riders had such relationships outside their Brotherhood.”

  Oh, Timon, Jamie thought. She experienced a deep sense of pleasure that he wanted to protect her from a perceived threat, but at the same time knew he’d just compromised his own neutrality. She couldn’t let that stand.

  “Friend is one word we use for allies,” she said. “I know the whole concept is difficult for some Opiri to grasp.”

  “Then the Riders have allied with humans?” Makedon asked.

  “We’re here to prevent open conflict between delegates and their parties,” Timon said, following Jamie’s lead. “We have no other interest in this Conclave.”

  “Since there is no conflict here,” Makedon said, “surely you have more vital things to do.”

  Timon flashed a glance at Jamie, inclined his head and retreated. But Jamie could feel that he hadn’t gone far, and she was certain that he was still watching.

  “Pardon us,” Amos said, drawing Jamie away. His face was pale and set, and Jamie wondered if she was going to get an earful for speaking so frankly.

  “I’m afraid you haven’t fully recovered from your experiences after all,” he said, guiding her toward the tent’s main entrance. “I’ll have Cho escort you back to our camp.”

  “Councilman,” she said formally, “I assure you, I won’t—”

  “Ms. McCullough.”

  An Opir Jamie recognized walked up to them, interrupting her reply to Amos.

  “Councilman Parks,” she said, “I think you’ve met Lord Dimitri of Tenebris.”

  Amos took the Opir’s offered hand. “Of course,” he said. “Good to see you again.” He glanced at Jamie. “Are you two acquainted?”

  “Indeed,” Dimitri said, smiling at her.

  “My Rider escort and I met with the delegation from Tenebris not long before we arrived at the Conclave, Councilman.”

  “And Ms. McCullough was kind enough to share her blood
with Lord Nereus,” Dimitri said.

  “He was still ill after we met with you?” Amos asked in obvious surprise.

  “Your generosity was much appreciated,” Dimitri said, “but it seems he required more.”

  Looking past Dimitri’s shoulder, Jamie glimpsed Nereus, who seemed no better than he had when they’d met before. In fact, he looked about as sickly as any Opir could, with deep hollows under his eyes and cheekbones and skin that looked as thin and fragile as tissue. He looked at her as if he didn’t really see her.

  “I’m pleased that Ms. McCullough was able to be of help to you,” Amos said smoothly.

  “It was my pleasure,” Jamie said, carefully concealing the lie with a smile.

  “And perhaps a small step toward peace that will be duplicated many times here at the Conclave,” Amos said.

  “I’ve no doubt of it,” Dimitri said. He bowed to Jamie. “Ms. McCullough.”

  “Lord Dimitri.”

  The Opir and his party moved away as Amos took her arm again and continued toward the entrance.

  “You didn’t tell me that you’d shared blood with anyone but Timon,” he said.

  “I couldn’t very well let a sick Opir die if I could do anything to prevent it,” she said, remembering Nereus’s empty stare. “The Tenebrians told us they’d already met you.”

  “I wish you’d spoken of this earlier,” Amos said, “but you have clearly won over at least one Opir delegation.”

  “You did just as much for them,” she said.

  “It will not only be the lead negotiators who actually work to earn the trust of our former enemies,” Amos said. “Strange, though, that Nereus still required blood again so soon after we offered ours.”

  “He still looks unwell to me.”

  “Indeed,” Amos said. “Very strange.”

  He led her out of the tent and craned his neck, looking for the Enclave soldiers. “I still want you to go back to the camp and rest. I’ll be returning in a few hours.”

  “I don’t need an escort,” she said, looking for Timon out of the corner of her eye.

  “Do you expect him to pop up again?”

  “What?” Jamie shook herself. “You mean Timon? I don’t know why he—”

  “I’m an old man, but I’m not blind, goddaughter. I suspected that a close relationship had formed between you and the young Rider, but I didn’t realize it would continue beyond your arrival here.”

  “I—I—” she stammered.

  “Have you met with him, aside from today?”

  “We...ran into each other at the showers. We can’t pretend we’ve never met.”

  “Can’t you?” Amos said. “He might at least avoid inserting himself into private conversations.”

  Flushing, Jamie looked away. “That was a mistake,” she said. “I’ll have to talk to him about it.”

  “Is he imposing on you? I can speak to the Riders’ captain.”

  “No,” she said. “I’m sure he knows that what he did was foolish.”

  “As you know how foolish it would be if you were to continue seeing him.” Amos sighed. “I know you have good intentions, Jamie. But it’s obvious that this Timon isn’t going to ignore you, in spite of his commitment to the Riders and their neutrality in these negotiations. He obviously has some kind of attachment to you that he hasn’t let go.”

  Jamie’s heart began to pound, but not only with anxiety. He hasn’t let go, she thought. And neither have I.

  “I’d hoped that you would remain close to Greg,” Amos said. “He has the power and will to protect you from any harm, and he loves you.”

  “What would he need to protect me from in the Enclave?” she asked. “I know you’ve always worried about me, but I’ve already made my decision about Greg. We wouldn’t suit, for so many reasons.”

  “Jamie,” Amos said, taking both her hands, “I want you to listen carefully. You heard Makedon’s accusation about a Rider alliance with humans. Timon’s friendship with you can only appear to be favoritism toward our delegation. The situation here is too delicate to risk any such speculation.”

  “I don’t understand what a single Rider’s attention could to do benefit one delegation over another.”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t want to find out. Stay away from him, Jamie. Don’t give him the slightest encouragement, and this will pass.”

  Jamie stared at the ground. “You’re right,” she said.

  “That’s my girl.” He released her hands. “Ah, here’s Sergeant Cho. He’ll see you back to our camp.” He exchanged nods with the soldier. “We’ll speak more when I return.”

  Her steps heavy, Jamie was just turning to accompany Cho when she looked up to see Timon with another man in Rider’s clothes: older than Timon, gray-haired and forbidding in appearance. His gaze met Jamie’s across the crowd, and she flinched at the hostility in his eyes.

  Was this Timon’s captain? Was he giving Timon the same lecture Amos had given her?

  Afraid to catch Timon’s eye, Jamie let the sergeant take her arm and guide her away from the Assembly tent.

  Before today’s encounter, she’d already decided to keep meeting with Timon. But she couldn’t openly seem to disobey her godfather or do anything to put the Conclave at risk even in a way that appeared insignificant to her.

  She’d need to arrange to see Timon in private, to make things clear between them. To make sure what had happened in the Assembly tent never occurred again and remind him to keep their future rendezvous absolutely secret.

  That would have to be enough...just as the sex would have to be enough, if she couldn’t have the one thing her heart yearned for more than anything else in the world. Even more than the success of the Enclave itself.

  Chapter 18

  Jamie lay awake with her thoughts, Akesha asleep in the other bed, when she heard scratching on the side of her tent. She knew it was Timon before she heard his voice.

  “Jamie?”

  She crept to the front of the tent and slipped out, unnoticed. The night was dark, lit only by the torches scattered about the human half of the tent city. Timon waited for her at the back. He took her hand and pulled her away from the Enclave camp, hurrying her along until they reached the nearest bathhouse.

  At this time of night it was deserted even by the Opiri, as good a secure meeting place as any in the Conclave. Huddled together in a shower stall, neither of them seemed willing to speak first.

  “Timon—” Jamie finally began.

  “Jamie,” Timon said, speaking over her. “I’m sorry for what happened at the reception. I had no right to interfere.”

  Jamie took Timon’s hand and held it between hers, basking in his warmth. “You know it was dangerous,” she said.

  “I could have compromised the Riders’ neutrality,” he said. “How bad was it?”

  “We didn’t speak much to the Erebusians after you left,” she said, “but I don’t think any serious damage was done.”

  “Your godfather...what did he say?”

  Jamie thought of what Amos had really said and pushed the thought away. “He knew about our relationship,” she said. “He wasn’t happy, and he doesn’t want it to continue.”

  “My captain guessed, as well,” Timon said.

  “And he doesn’t approve of our seeing each other.”

  Timon gave her a rueful smile. “No. But as long as I use my brain next time, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Jamie looked down at their interlaced hands. “We both need to keep our heads. And our secrets.”

  He pulled his hands from hers so gently that she almost didn’t feel the motion. “Did you learn anything useful at the reception?” he asked.

  “It seems the people I’d like to meet weren’t there,” she said. “
What about you?”

  “I have my eye on two scientists from other Enclaves,” he said. “They seem like reasonable people. If I think they’re suitable, I can arrange a meeting.”

  “Wonderful,” Jamie said, wishing she could kiss him. “How will you get a message to me?”

  “I’ll leave a note under your pillow,” he said.

  “My pillow? How can you get into my tent unnoticed?”

  “Riders are taught many skills,” she said. “I can avoid being seen.”

  Jamie believed him. “All right,” she said.

  Awkwardness fell between them, and Jamie felt more confusion. She couldn’t read Timon’s face. Was he trying to pull away from her, or being cautious? He knew how foolish it would be to do anything other than talk here, in the middle of the encampment.

  So did she. But her heart gave her the courage to reach out and pull his face down to hers, to kiss him with all the passion she couldn’t seem to express in words.

  His tongue plunged between her lips, and the very air around them seemed to crackle with desire.

  “Jamie,” he said, breaking away. “This isn’t wise.”

  “I don’t care,” she said, breathless. “I don’t care about anything but us.”

  “The success of the Conclave—”

  “Can go hang,” she said, no longer bewildered by the sudden change in her priorities. “How can there be any peace if people who...care about each other can’t be together?”

  Timon froze, and Jamie understood why an instant after she had spoken. Were even the words care about too much for him, even though he’d proven his concern for her a hundred times in the past two months?

  “Jamie,” he said, taking a step away from her. “You honor me with your trust, and your—”

  She covered his mouth with her hand. “Not now. You’re right...this isn’t the place or the time.” She ducked out of the stall and moved cautiously to the bathhouse entrance. “There’s no one out here. We can—”

  She broke off as she saw a figure race past the bathhouse, the woman’s hood half fallen off her gray-laced brown hair. She glanced at Jamie as she went by, her mouth forming an O of surprise.