Twilight Crossing

by Susan Krinard

  Then she was gone. Jamie slipped back into the tent, Timon right behind her.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said, deeply unsettled. She peered outside again, just in time to see another figure—male this time, and obviously Opiri—running in the same direction as the woman. He didn’t look at her, but she caught a glimpse of his profile.

  The Opir was one of Lord Makedon’s aides, from the Erebusian delegation.

  “Something’s wrong,” she said to Timon. “An Opir was chasing a human woman.”

  She showed Timon the way the runners had gone, and by unspoken agreement they walked in the same direction, Timon constantly watching for observers. Twice they had to hide when Opiri passed by, presumably on nightly strolls.

  It soon became clear that they weren’t going to find any trace of the runners. They were already approaching the border of the Opiri precinct, which Jamie couldn’t enter without permission.

  “Why do I have the feeling that the Opir was deliberately chasing the woman into his territory?” she asked.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Timon said. “I don’t want you going anywhere near the Opir precinct unless you’re with your godfather or one of your guards.”

  “Or you,” she said.

  He didn’t look at her. “Let’s go back,” he said. “If I hear anything about a problem between Opiri and humans, I’ll let you know.”

  “What if he was chasing her for her blood?”

  “I’ll do what I can to find out,” Timon said. He took her hand and led her by roundabout ways back to the Enclave camp, where he left her in front of her tent. He vanished before she could say good-night.

  * * *

  Timon ran.

  He didn’t care who saw him, or what they thought of his flight. He raced through the human precinct and kept on going to the very edge of the tent city, beyond the colony camps to the place where vendors and locals had gathered to serve the needs of the delegates. He ran into the area set aside for the Wanderers with their brightly colored vehicles, where small fires burned down to ashes as the people of the wagons sought their beds.

  A horse in the nearby corral lifted its head and whinnied softly as Timon approached the wagons. No one stirred. Timon wove his way among the vehicles, looking for the one he knew so well.

  Caridad sat up in her bed when he entered the wagon, her black hair tousled and her eyes heavy-lidded. They widened when she saw Timon, and her full lips curved in a smile.

  “I wondered if you’d come looking for me,” she said.

  Timon leaned against the door. “I didn’t know if you’d be here so soon.”

  “Our horses are very fast and strong,” she said. “We left the camp at the foot of the pass not long after you did and arrived just this afternoon.”

  “Then I should let you rest,” Timon said, his hand on the doorknob.

  Caridad leaped out of bed and cornered him, her hand on his arm. “I am not tired,” she said. “I would welcome the company and the tale of the last part of your journey.”

  “It wouldn’t interest you,” Timon muttered.

  “Then there are other ways to pass the time.” Her hand slid down to his and pulled him toward the bed. “Sit, and I will brew us some tea.”

  Clearing his throat, Timon perched on the end of the bed, aware of Caridad’s rich, warm scent on the tangled sheets. He had shared that same bed dozens of times over the course of his years as a Rider, whenever he and Caridad’s troupe of Wanderers met during their travels. He knew what to expect when she invited him to her wagon, and he never left it without feeling well satisfied both physically and emotionally.

  He didn’t know if that was possible now. He had come to find out.

  The sweet-and-spicy smell of Caridad’s tea filled the wagon, and she let it steep as she returned to Timon and knelt to untie his boots. He let her do it, though his body was taut as a wire.

  Caridad would know how to relax him. She knew how to work the knots out of his muscles, how to tease away his cares without demanding more than he was willing to give in return.

  “You are troubled tonight,” she said, tugging off his boots and setting them aside. “Was your expedition so terrible?”

  He was certain she had already guessed. “There was no trouble,” he said as she pressed her fingers into his shoulders.

  “Then the girl is here with her people?”

  “Yes.”

  “I wonder what she would think if she saw you here with me.”

  Timon’s muscles twitched. “Why should she care?”

  Caridad gave a rich, throaty laugh. “I should say she cared when she saw you taking my blood before.”

  “She was only surprised.”

  “You hadn’t taken her blood yet?”

  “She had suffered unpleasant experiences in the past.”

  Digging her fingers more deeply into his trapezius, she leaned her head close to his. “I’ll bet she wanted you to do it, after you and I were together.”

  Timon kept his face blank. “Why are we talking about Jamie? I came here for...to—”

  “Get away from her?” Caridad purred. “Stop thinking about her?”

  “Where do you get these ideas, Caridad?”

  “I keep my ear to the ground.” Her lush black hair spilled over his neck as she spoke against his cheek. She moved around and began to unbutton his shirt.

  “What are you hearing?” he asked, pushing her hands away.

  “Oh, nothing important. As you said, let’s forget about her.” She knelt before Timon and resumed unbuttoning his shirt. She slipped her hand inside to lay her palm on his chest. “Your heart is beating fast. I hope it is for me.”

  To prove to himself that it was, Timon kissed her. He knew it was wrong the instant his mouth touched hers.

  Caridad ended it before he could. “Ah,” she said, disappointment in her voice. “It doesn’t beat for me, after all.”

  “Caridad—”

  “Don’t apologize. I know it is beyond your control.”

  “I shouldn’t have come here tonight. I’m not myself.”

  She got up and walked away, trailing her fingertips across his hair. “Indeed. My wild Rider has vanished, tamed by a woman.”

  “I’m not a horse to be broken.”

  “But you have fallen in love with someone else, have you not?”

  Chapter 19

  Timon jumped to his feet, fumbling at the buttons of his shirt. “Is it possible that you’re jealous, Caridad?” he demanded. “Is that what’s making you see things that don’t exist?”

  “Is it possible you don’t even realize it?” She turned to face him, sipping a cup of tea. “I can have my pick of any man, human or Opir, in this encampment. If you choose to seek your entertainment elsewhere, I won’t try to stop you.”

  Finishing with his shirt, Timon yanked on his jacket. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

  “It’s always a pleasure to see an old friend.”

  Caridad opened the door for him, and he hopped down the stairs. He could imagine her watching him with a mocking smile, but when he looked over his shoulder he saw that her expression seemed almost sad.

  Fallen in love. He clenched his teeth and strode back into the camp, wondering why she had spoken to him with such spite.

  Because you hurt her, he thought. Because even if they’d been naked in her bed, he couldn’t have followed through.

  It isn’t love, he thought. It’s only—

  His thoughts came to a sudden stop when he saw the three men standing in the deep shadows under one of the outermost tents. All wore hoods. One, his senses told him, was human, while the others were Opiri. One of them moved, and Timon caught a glimpse of the Er
ebusian sigil on his belt. Timon thought nothing more of it until he saw the human’s face.

  City Council President Amos Parks, Jamie’s godfather. Why would he be meeting in secret with Erebusians at the edge of camp?

  He had no answer, but he was not to be left to his own speculation. As he walked farther into the camp, Greg Cahill strode out of the darkness to meet him.

  “Stay away from Jamie,” the human said, stopping just a few feet from Timon.

  Timon laughed. It was either that or knock Cahill down and cause an incident that would reverberate throughout the entire Conclave.

  “I’m honored,” he said with a mock bow, “that you came so far to find me, Senator Cahill.”

  The man worked his mouth as if he were ready to spit. “I know you’ve been seeing her privately,” he said.

  “You’ve been following her?” Timon asked, his fingers working into fists.

  “I’ve been protecting her,” Cahill said.

  “Why? Has she complained about me?”

  “I know what you Riders are, and how you’ve convinced Jamie that you care for her.”

  “You’re mistaken, Senator.”

  “Do you think she didn’t confess to me what you did while you were traveling here?”

  “I know she did.”

  “So you have her confiding personal conversations to you. She might even jeopardize our mission, if you continue to compromise your people’s neutrality.”

  To hear such a suggestion from his captain was one thing; to endure it from this foul-tempered human quite another.

  “Accusations like that can be dangerous,” Timon said.

  “To me?” Cahill grinned. “You’d like to take me down, wouldn’t you?”

  Timon only stared at him, unwilling to take the bait. “Does Jamie know you’ve come to speak to me?”

  “No. But she knows I’ve forgiven her indiscretions. You’ve twisted her loyalties and taken her away from us. Her godfather is deeply concerned.” Cahill’s strident tone softened. “She is one of us, Rider...our kind. Human. For you, she’s only a way to pass the time.”

  Timon struggled to find the right answer. Caridad’s words still echoed in his mind. Fallen in love. She claimed he didn’t even realize it.

  But that wasn’t possible. He had never intended to steal Jamie from her world. He cared for her...enough to keep from poisoning her relationships with her own people. And to keep from leading her on when she thought she loved him.

  “I am not ashamed of the time Jamie and I spent together,” he said. “But it’s over.”

  Cahill’s face cleared. “Then you will stay away—”

  “I won’t avoid her, Cahill. But I won’t seek her out. My responsibility is to the Brotherhood, wherever that takes me.”

  * * *

  Jamie clamped her lips together and breathed through her nose, swallowing the soft protest that bubbled up in her throat.

  He doesn’t mean it, she thought, grasping at fading hopes. He’s trying to disarm Greg.

  But she knew it wasn’t true. He hadn’t even denied that he’d “twisted her loyalties” or that he regarded Jamie as “only a way to pass the time.”

  Damn him, she thought. He’d led her to believe...

  Nothing. He’d never been anything but honest with her.

  She got to her feet and snuck away from her hiding place, praying that Timon didn’t spy her out in the shadows. She wasn’t worried about Cahill; he’d never so much as sensed her presence even when she was nearly within touching distance.

  Unable to bear the thought of returning to the Enclave camp, she skirted the edge of the tent city, keeping to the human side. No one called after her. She walked blindly, ignoring the few people she passed, and found herself moving toward the Rio Grande. Cottonwoods rustled overheard; the river itself spoke in soft hisses and gurgles, gliding around fallen tree trunks and sandbars.

  Jamie sat on the bank and tossed stones into the water. Reflected stars shone like mysterious lights under the surface. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, but she refused to give in.

  The snap of a twig brought her head up sharply. She scrambled to her feet, searching for the source of the noise. The sound didn’t repeat, so she brushed off her pants and slowly started back toward the Enclave camp. She wasn’t prepared when the arm closed around her neck and a man dragged her back among the riverside shrubs. She gasped and tried to pry his arm away; he only pulled harder, nearly choking her.

  Abruptly he let her go, and she fell. It was difficult to see his features in the darkness, but something in the gauntness of his face, the hollows under his eyes told her who had taken her down so easily.

  Nereus.

  He bared his teeth in a grimace that seemed more mad than threatening. She subdued her terror and held up her hands.

  “Nereus,” she said softly.

  The Opir blinked as if he hadn’t expected her to speak. The whites of his eyes were so bloodshot that they were nearly red.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, scooting away from him. “Can I help you?”

  “Hungry,” he said, his voice like rocks clashing against each other.

  “You need blood?”

  His eyes widened, and he licked his lips. Jamie weighed her options. There was obviously something very wrong with Nereus, just as there had been earlier during the reception. His fingers were like crooked sticks, and in spite of his Opir strength he moved like an old man. His veins showed clearly through his skin.

  If she gave him blood, he might calm down. He would have no reason to injure her; she’d cooperated with him before, and if he’d meant to kill her he’d have done it already.

  “You can have my blood, Nereus,” she said. She got to her feet, suppressing her shivers, and held out her hands again. “There’s no need for force.”

  But if Nereus understood her, he gave no sign. He bared his teeth again and lunged toward her. She hurled herself to the side and tried to rise, but a tiny forest of branches plucked and pulled at her clothes.

  Then his hands were on her, long fingernails scraping her skin, teeth snapping at her neck as he grunted like an animal. She wasn’t able to make a sound.

  “Nereus!” someone shouted.

  The Opir hesitated, his fangs grazing Jamie’s neck. Hands clamped around his shoulders and yanked him backward, dragging him off her and throwing him to the ground.

  “Run, Jamie,” Timon said.

  Chapter 20

  Jamie didn’t run. She stumbled well out of reach of both men and looked around for a stick big enough to club Nereus with.

  For Timon had his hands full. Nereus was on his feet seconds after he hit the ground, his fingers curled into claws and his eyes aflame with madness. He launched himself at Timon, who ducked and threw Nereus over his shoulder.

  Again Nereus jumped to his feet, and this time Timon was obviously prepared for violence. He fell back, gathered his body and met Nereus in midleap. The two men grappled fiercely, Nereus’s nails seeking to rake Timon’s face, but Timon kept his head just out of the Opir’s reach.

  Searching with both eyes and hands, Jamie found a thick tree branch and inched her way closer to the men. Timon flung Nereus away, but not before his opponent’s fangs tore a piece out of his shirt.

  Darting toward Nereus, Jamie swung at his head as hard as she could, and he grunted as the branch made contact. It barely seemed to affect him, but Timon was on him as soon as Jamie lifted the branch for another blow. He pinned Nereus to the ground with his hands around the Opir’s neck and his teeth just above Nereus’s throat.

  “Stop!” he commanded. “Lie still!”

  Nereus thrashed under him. Timon bore down with his hands until Nereus’s struggles ceased and then closed his teeth lightly on Nereus’s ne
ck.

  “No,” Jamie whispered, sucking in her breath. But Timon didn’t bite down, and Nereus didn’t move. His eyes closed, and he shuddered as if he were in the midst of a seizure.

  “There’s something wrong with him,” Jamie said, dropping the branch. “He’s ill, not just physically. His mind—”

  Timon lifted his head. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice rough with worry.

  “I’m fine. He didn’t really hurt me.” She ventured closer. “Is he unconscious?”

  Timon studied Nereus’s face. “He seems to be. But I didn’t do it.”

  “It must be part of whatever’s wrong with him,” she said. “Look at his face.”

  Sucking air through his teeth, Timon shook his head. “I’ve never seen an Opir look like that,” he said.

  Reality hit Jamie all at once, and she sat down hard. “I can’t see why he’d attack me if he was in his right mind. I gave him blood willingly before.”

  “And blood is available from volunteers in donor stations all over the Conclave,” Timon said. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a thin but strong-looking rope. “I should take him to my captain immediately.”

  “Wait,” Jamie said. “What would your captain do? Confine him until he comes out of it? What if he doesn’t?” She hesitated. “I think we should take him back to his own people, to Lord Dimitri, and try to find out what’s wrong with him first. Then you can take him to the captain.”

  Timon cocked his head, weighing her words. His gaze lingered on her, moving from the top of her head to her knees, as if he were verifying that she hadn’t been hurt. His eyes held a peculiar expression, perhaps reflecting his memory of what he had told Greg, even though he wouldn’t know she had overheard.

  “All right,” he said after a long silence. “I’ll take him to his delegation and question them first.”

  Relieved, Jamie got to her feet. Her heartbeat had nearly returned to normal, and she felt safe even before Timon rolled Nereus over and lashed his wrists together behind his back.