Twilight Crossing

by Susan Krinard

  “We’ll stop by your camp on the way back,” he said, looking away from her. “As long as you’re sure you don’t need medical attention...”

  “I don’t,” she said. “And I want to come with you.”

  “If he returns to consciousness—”

  “I’m not worried,” she said. “But I have a particular interest in this situation. And I’m a scientist. There aren’t many illnesses that afflict Opiri, and I’d like to know what it is.”

  “If it’s an illness.” He frowned. “I don’t like having you go into the Opir precinct.”

  “You don’t really have any say in the matter.”

  Timon sighed. “I suppose you have the right,” he said. “And you’re on good terms with the Tenebrian delegation.”

  “How will you get him there?” she asked.

  Without a word, Timon got up, dragged Nereus to his feet and slung the Opir over his shoulder with seemingly no effort at all. Jamie wondered how she could have doubted his strength.

  They made their way through the rows of human tents and across the central thoroughfare and Hub to the Opiri side. Opiri wandered here and there, pausing to stare as the human woman and half-blood Rider walked by.

  In spite of herself, Jamie shivered. Timon shifted Nereus’s weight and continued unerringly toward one of the clusters of bannered tents. A pair of Opiri stood outside one of the peripheral tents, deep in conversation. They stopped as Timon and Jamie approached. Timon lowered Nereus to the ground, where he slumped on his knees.

  “What is this?” one of the Opiri asked.

  “One of yours seems to be having a little problem,” Timon said. “We need to speak to Lord Dimitri.”

  “What did you do to him?” the other Opir demanded.

  “He attacked this woman without provocation,” Timon said, staring into the Opir’s eyes.

  With an exchange of glances, the Opiri split up, one entering the tent, the other disappearing around the corner. Jamie could sense Timon’s impatience as they waited, and she felt on pins and needles herself. Only part of it was due to being surrounded by Opiri.

  The rest was Timon.

  Stop it, she told herself, squeezing her eyes closed.

  “What has happened?” a familiar voice said. She opened her eyes to find Lord Dimitri, flanked by two of his aides, standing very close to Timon. Threateningly close.

  “Nereus attacked Jamie,” Timon said bluntly. “There was no provocation. He wanted her blood and was prepared to hurt her to get it.”

  That wasn’t exactly the way it had gone, Jamie thought, but she wasn’t prepared to argue the point here and now. “I’m all right, Lord Dimitri,” she said, “but Nereus was behaving very strangely, and we thought we should discuss it with you before Timon takes him to Security.”

  One of Dimitri’s aides moved to take Nereus, but Timon blocked his way and kept a grip on Nereus’s shoulder. “He committed a crime, to which I was witness,” he said. “He is still bound for a cell, but if you have some explanation for his behavior, it will be considered.”

  Dimitri’s nostrils flared, and the pleasant aspect he’d shown Jamie before was replaced by barely veiled hostility. “Nereus would never attack anyone,” he said.

  “But he did,” Timon said. “And it’s not likely to be a coincidence that he attacked the same human woman who volunteered her blood in the past.”

  “That is precisely why he would never harm Ms. McCullough,” Dimitri said.

  “He didn’t appear to be completely sane. His behavior was that of an animal.”

  Tense silence fell as more Tenebrians gathered behind their leader. “He has been ill,” Dimitri admitted grudgingly.

  “What kind of illness?”

  “We do not know. We were watching his condition closely.”

  “Then how did he come to be hunting Ms. McCullough?”

  “We did not realize that he had left our camp,” Dimitri said. “Give him to us, and we will make certain that he causes no further trouble.”

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible.”

  The Tenebrians crowded closer. The hair rose on the back of Jamie’s neck.

  This was not good. She was prepared to bet that the Tenebrians wouldn’t simply let Nereus go with Timon, and the Rider wasn’t going to let the Opiri have him. If Dimitri’s party attacked one of the Riders, there could be nasty consequences.

  “Wait,” she said. “I will not press charges against Nereus, as long as you keep him confined and let the medics examine him.”

  “Human medics?” an aide said, his upper lip twitching.

  “Some of whom have considerable knowledge of Opiri physiology,” Jamie said. “And humans understand illness as most Opiri do not.”

  “We can promise to confine him,” Dimitri said. “As for the other—”

  “Rider Timon,” Jamie said formally, “I do not wish to press charges.”

  Timon narrowed his eyes. “Ms. McCullough, it isn’t your decision to make.”

  “I was the injured party,” she said. “But I’m afraid I no longer remember much of the incident. If you question me, I may not be of much help.”

  Sweeping the gathering with his gaze, Timon seemed to be making a quick calculation. Jamie knew him well enough to believe he’d reach the same conclusion she had. Punishing Nereus, when he obviously wasn’t in his right mind, was not worth the conflict that would arise if Timon didn’t remand the Tenebrian into the custody of his own people.

  Timon released Nereus with a slight shove, and the Opir began to fall forward. Several of the Tenebrians rushed forward to take charge of him.

  “If I see Nereus outside your camp again,” Timon said, holding Dimitri’s gaze, “I will arrest him.”

  Lord Dimitri inclined his head, and Jamie imagined she saw relief in his eyes. Timon took Jamie by the arm and pulled her away from the Tenebrian camp, taking long strides that she could barely match.

  “I hope you’re satisfied,” he said.

  “I’d hoped to learn more,” she said.

  “We just let a possible future killer go free.”

  “But you knew what would have happened if we didn’t.”

  “I would have taken him in if you hadn’t been there.”

  Jamie dug in her feet and forced him to stop. “I wasn’t afraid of them. I only wanted to make sure—”

  “I should never have let you interfere.”

  “You are not my personal guard, Timon. I don’t need your constant protection.”

  “Maybe Cahill and Parks will start taking better care of you.”

  “I realize that you’ve had to save my life several times, but you know I’m not a child.”

  “Oh, yes. I know.”

  A pulse of desire ran through Jamie’s body. Then she remembered that Timon would expect her to learn of his conversation with Greg once she returned to the San Francisco camp, and he wouldn’t have to tell her that he was through with her.

  Tamping down her anger, Jamie jerked her arm free and walked beside Timon, careful not to touch him.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Obviously,” she said.

  “I don’t mean physically,” he said, stopping abruptly. “This must have felt a lot like the attack you suffered in the Enclave as a child.”

  “I think I’ve finally put that behind me,” she said. “What have you put behind you, Timon?”

  They gazed at each other. Timon looked away first. They continued to the San Francisco camp, where Timon left her without a word.

  Chapter 21

  Timon didn’t report the incident. But he relived it, again and again...imagining what would have happened if he hadn’t been there to stop Nereus.

  Jamie didn’t want his prot
ection. She’d said so. But he could no more ignore any danger to her than he could give up his place among the Riders. Whatever he might feel—or not feel—about her didn’t change that.

  He’d known that Jamie was right in wanting to give Nereus back to the Tenebrians; now all he had to do was hope they’d hold to their promise and keep Nereus under strict control.

  But he’d betrayed Cassius in not doing his job as he should have. For Jamie’s sake.

  His thoughts bleak, Timon reported the incident of the Opir chasing the human woman, leaving the problem in the hands of Cassius’s investigators, and went in search of one of the donor stations, where humans volunteered to provide Opiri delegates with blood. He entered one near the Rider headquarters, pausing to examine the small signs above each of the closed stalls. They indicated the gender of the donor, and whether said donor was already engaged.

  He chose one of the female booths and found an older woman with a round and pleasant face and graying hair pulled up on a knot. She smiled at Timon and indicated the seat next to hers.

  Timon hesitated in the doorway. “How often have you donated today?” he asked.

  “Twice,” she said in a soft, musical voice. “You will be my last.” She tilted her head. “You needn’t worry, you know. They don’t expect us to donate too much in a day, or too often.”

  “I know,” Timon said, entering the booth.

  “You’re a Rider, aren’t you?” the woman asked, patting the seat. “My name is Maggie. I’m from the San Antonio Enclave.”

  “Timon,” he said, taking the seat. His seat and hers stood side-by-side, facing in opposite directions to facilitate feeding from the front of her throat. Timon was grateful that Maggie was so pragmatic about it, when he knew not all humans were so easy about donation.

  “You seem worried,” Maggie said in a sympathetic voice. “I know the Riders have the job of security for the entire Conclave. It must be quite a burden.”

  “Everything’s been peaceful so far,” Timon said, seeing no reason to share the complete truth. “How does your delegation stand on the Conclave’s goals?”

  He had no right to ask, but Maggie seemed unperturbed. “They’re for peace, of course,” she said. She bared her throat. “We’re really all the same in the end, you know.”

  As Jamie said, Timon thought. Here was one human who wouldn’t resist the truth when it finally came out. But so far, he hadn’t done a damned thing to help Jamie arrange to share the information.

  “You have done this before, haven’t you?” Maggie asked, gently teasing.

  “It won’t be painful,” Timon assured her.

  “Please go ahead.”

  After another few moments of hesitation, Timon accepted her invitation. He leaned into her and placed his mouth close to her throat. He could feel her pulse, hear her steady breathing.

  He bit carefully, numbing the area as soon as his teeth pierced her skin. She sighed. He began to drink.

  He’d hardly taken a mouthful when he realized that something was wrong. The blood tasted sour, almost tainted, and he stopped immediately. He withdrew, healed the small wounds and got to his feet.

  “What’s wrong?” Maggie asked, rubbing her neck. “Why did you stop?”

  “I don’t know,” Timon asked, dazed and off balance. “Something’s not right.”

  “With my blood?” She searched his face. “The other two had no problem with it.”

  “I have no explanation,” Timon said, nearly stumbling over the chair as he made for the door. “I’m sorry.”

  Maggie rose. “Are you ill? Is there something I can do?

  Timon shook his head, unable to speak. He nodded thanks to Maggie and rushed out of the booth, stopping to lean heavily against one of tent poles.

  What was wrong with him?

  His body aching with newly aroused hunger, he looked for another booth. The last one was open. A much younger woman waited inside, a pretty, almost fragile-looking female with deep brown eyes.

  “I’m Clary,” she said with a smile.

  “Timon,” he said. He sat without any of the previous niceties and leaned toward her. Her heartbeat increased, and her breathing quickened.

  He knew the signs. She was sexually aroused by the act of being bitten, but he wasn’t in any state to back out. He heard her gasp as his teeth touched her, feeling her body shudder as he began to feed.

  Then it happened again. Nearly spitting, Timon reared back and wiped his mouth. Clary stared at him in confusion.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, backing away. “It isn’t your fault.”

  “But I—”

  He left without hearing the end of her sentence. The first rays of morning sunlight struck the tops of the mountains to the east, and for a moment he was blinded.

  Still pierced with hunger, he strode away from the donor station. Every human he came across was a potential source of blood, but he felt nothing but revulsion.

  It was only when he found himself standing outside the San Francisco camp that he realized what he was seeking.

  Jamie’s blood. The only blood he wanted, just as she was still the only woman he wanted, regardless of his inability to return her deepest feelings.

  There were several possible explanations for his need for her blood alone. But Timon feared the worst. Time would tell; if he continued to reject all other donors, he’d know that something profound had happened between him and Jamie on their journey.

  It was almost certain that they’d formed a blood-bond, and no other blood would ever satisfy him again. And if that was true, he’d become utterly dependent on her.

  He couldn’t accept that. It would be grossly unfair to her, and intolerable for him. There must be another explanation. He would have to keep trying. And if the worst happened, he would simply have to overcome it.

  And Jamie could never know.

  * * *

  For two weeks, Jamie heard nothing from Timon.

  She saw him often enough, riding through camp, he and his band carrying messages from one delegation to another, or from the Conclave administration to other departments responsible for running the huge encampment. Sometimes she caught him looking in her direction, and it seemed he passed the San Francisco camp a little more often than he ordinarily might. She got the strong impression that he was protecting her from a distance, keeping an eye on her as his duties permitted.

  But he never stopped to speak to her. She heard nothing more about the scientists he’d met and promised to put her in touch with. There was an emptiness inside her, an emptiness that seemed to curse her insistence on loving a man who couldn’t return that love.

  She turned her concentration to her role as aide to her godfather. The negotiations in the Assembly tent had begun in earnest, and Jamie could see early on that they would not be easy ones. On a personal level, some of the delegates could seem friendly, even charming; during the opening statements they revealed their true feelings in dry language that held a wealth of emotion behind it. Many of the Opiri were arrogant, their sense of superiority impeded only by the fact that they needed new and regular sources of blood; some humans were distrustful, wary, even hostile toward the Opiri, remembering years of slavery under the old system of serfdom.

  Jamie’s primary duty was to fetch and carry for Amos, as well as take copious notes. But she kept two notebooks, and in one she recorded little observations, informal ones, that might be vital later on: certain subtle signs from this or that delegation that indicated a willingness to compromise, or hinted that the delegation in question would take a great deal of convincing to make a new peace.

  In between sessions, she looked for levelheaded scientists with whom she might share her secret, but every time she found one, she couldn’t bring herself to make a move. If her judgment was wrong, as it had been so wrong
with Timon...

  “Are you all right, Jamie?” Amos asked, taking her elbow as the latest session broke up. “You’ve seemed out of sorts lately.”

  “There’s a lot to think about,” she said. “I never imagined myself in a place like this.”

  “I don’t think any of us did.” He guided her through the crowd. “Have you heard anything more from that young Rider?”

  Jamie started, wondering if Amos had spoken to Greg. Greg had come to her after his conversation with Timon, making it clear without actually repeating the words that the Rider had gone his own way and that he had simply used Jamie for his own convenience. Greg, on the other hand, had fully “forgiven” her.

  He still loved her. She could still marry him, as Amos wanted. They could have a future together.

  But Jamie knew it would never work, and she wasn’t so certain that a happy future was sure for anyone. She could only be grateful that no one besides her, Timon and the Tenebrians seemed to know about Nereus’s attack.

  “Jamie?”

  “No, I haven’t,” she said, belatedly answering Amos’s question.

  “It’s just as well,” he said.

  Jamie didn’t reply. She went along quietly until they reached their camp and retreated to her tent. She sat cross-legged on the bed and opened her mother’s frayed journal, reading some of the old, familiar passages and the dense notes so few others could understand.

  What would Eileen have said about Timon? Would she have encouraged Jamie to forget him? She had loved her husband... Would she have understood that you couldn’t just solve a complicated relationship and file it away like a mathematical problem?

  Jamie set down the journal and stared at the plain blanket that served as her bedcover. It couldn’t go on this way. She wasn’t going to let Timon off so easily. She’d find him and make him tell her to her face. Tell her it was over, that no lingering trace of affection bound them together.

  She swung her legs over the side of the cot and noted the time. Just after sunset; maybe not the best hour to wander around the tent city, but she wasn’t going to let the memory of Nereus’s attack stop her.

  Pulling on her jacket, she left the tent and walked to the front of the Enclave camp. She was startled when Sergeant Cho rode up to Amos’s tent, dismounted and rushed inside.