Twilight Crossing

by Susan Krinard

  Hearing the urgency in her voice, Timon got to his feet. He followed her a little distance away and stopped, frowning at her with obvious concern.

  “Have you changed your mind?” he asked.

  She met his gaze. “I am only concerned about our blood-bond. You won’t be able to take nourishment from me once I’m Opir.”

  Timon gave a short laugh, only a little strained. “I didn’t tell you, did I? I was able to get the antidote before things turned sour on us. There’s no risk to me whatsoever.”

  “Thank God,” she said. But a small, selfish voice inside her mourned the fact that another bond between them would be broken.

  * * *

  Timon saw the sadness in her eyes and cursed the lie.

  If he admitted that there wasn’t an antidote he was certain she’d refuse to go through with the change. She’d assume the worst—that he wouldn’t survive without her blood—but he knew it was possible to break the bond through harsh discipline and suffering. Suffering no worse than that which the infected Opiri had already been forced to endure.

  Unlike them, at least he had a chance.

  “Is there anything else that bothers you?” he asked.

  “No,” she said. “It’s a good idea, Timon, as long as your mother is strong enough.”

  “I’ve never known anyone stronger,” Timon said.

  “And if she has to fight for me?”

  “If she becomes unable to help, she’ll tell us. And I’ll be nearby.”

  She searched his eyes, but he refused to let her see even a shadow of doubt. All that mattered now was getting through the next few days, and giving Jamie a place to retreat to if things went wrong. Once her own people were free, she would take fewer risks with her own life, and he could concentrate on finding the cure for Artemis and Garret.

  If the Erebusians had it, that would be proof enough of their guilt.

  Artemis came up behind them, a silent huntress. “When would you like to begin?” she asked Jamie.

  “Now,” Jamie said.

  “Then allow me a few moments with my son.”

  Jamie nodded with a brave smile. She touched Timon’s shoulder and walked toward the bosk. Timon watched her go, holding himself rigid so that he wouldn’t run after her.

  “You love her,” Artemis said. “Why haven’t you told her?”

  “How do you know I haven’t?” Timon asked coolly.

  “Because she doesn’t know how you feel about her.”

  “She guessed, and decided that there was no future for us.”

  “It didn’t look to me as if it was over between you.”

  Timon turned sharply to face her. “It’s far more complicated than you could understand,” he said.

  “Emotions are always complicated.”

  “I’m going to find the cure,” he said. “All I ask is that once you’re well again, you take care of her for as long as she needs you.”

  “What aren’t you telling me, Timon?”

  “I haven’t been a boy in a very long time,” he said. “Trust that I’m doing the right thing. And be careful with her.”

  “As if she were my own daughter.” She looked toward the bosk. “I will go to her now. We will have privacy near the river.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Timon said.

  “I’m sure she will want you to be there.” Artemis started toward the trees, showing no signs of illness. Timon followed her to the river’s edge.

  Jamie looked up with a smile, just a little strained. “I’m ready,” she said.

  “Sit, and make yourself comfortable,” Timon said, taking her arm to help her down beneath one of the cottonwoods. He crouched beside her on one side, and Artemis knelt on the other. Timon squeezed her shoulder as Artemis prepared to bite.

  A brief shudder ran through Jamie’s body as Artemis’s teeth pierced her flesh, but she gave no other sign that she was afraid. Within a minute it was over, and the small wound on Jamie’s neck was already healing.

  “It’s done,” Artemis said, meeting Timon’s gaze over Jamie’s head. “Are you all right?”

  Jamie mumbled something in her throat, her eyes tightly closed. Timon bent over her and touched her cheek.

  “She’s cold,” he said, his pulse jumping.

  “Every human reacts differently,” Artemis said. “Be patient.”

  But Jamie didn’t open her eyes. Timon listened intently. Her heartbeat was slow and her breathing shallow.

  “This isn’t right,” he said. “Jamie, can you hear me?”

  Her lips curved up in a faint smile. “I hear you,” she murmured.

  Timon closed his eyes. “You may feel a little weak,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

  “I’m not...worried,” she said. “I’m just tired.”

  “It would be better if we returned to the others,” Artemis said.

  “I’ll carry her,” Timon said. But as he reached out to lift Jamie in his arms, she whimpered in obvious pain. He lowered her carefully and cradled her body against his.

  “Something’s wrong,” he said. “She can’t be moved.”

  “Then we’ll bring everything she might need here,” Artemis said, the first hint of worry in her voice. “I’ll go back now.”

  She left, and Timon released his rigid control over his emotions, holding Jamie as close as he dared. His gut told him what was wrong, though he’d been too blind to see the most terrible risk of all.

  The virus. It had altered the Conversion.

  Jamie moaned. Timon bent his head close to her mouth.

  “What is it?” he asked, gripping her had. “I’m here.”

  “I won’t...get old now, will I?”

  “No, Jamie.”

  “So you and I...can be together.”

  Timon raised her hand to his lips and told her what she needed to hear. “Yes. As long as you want.”

  “Good.” She gasped, her back arching. “It hurts.”

  “I know.” He stroked her damp hair away from her face. “Stay with me.”

  She tossed and turned, her skin alternately hot and cold, as Timon waited for his stepmother to return. Artemis finally arrived with several of her Freebloods, leading horses and bearing bedrolls, clean water and a change of clothing for Timon and Jamie. Timon tried to make Jamie drink, but she only turned her head away.

  “You know what is wrong with her,” Artemis said, settling beside Timon.

  “Yes. Jamie already carries the virus, making her react negatively to the change. I never even considered the possibility.”

  “Nor did any of us,” Artemis said. “Not even Jamie.” She placed her hand over Timon’s. “It has made her ill, but it has not killed her. She is clearly fighting these negative effects with all her strength.”

  Jamie moaned, and Timon forgot about his stepmother. For the remainder of the night, he stayed beside Jamie, held her, spoke to her of any nonsensical thing that came into his mind...anything but the subject she herself had brought up. We can stay together.

  Chapter 36

  At dawn Jamie was finally still. Her breathing was steady, her heart rhythm normal, but nothing about her had changed. Her hair showed no streaking of white, which usually appeared within a day of Conversion; her teeth, when Timon gently parted her lips, were still flat-edged.

  None of that mattered. She was alive, and when she opened her eyes and smiled at Timon, he felt as if he had been given the greatest gift of his life.

  Artemis shooed Timon away and examined Jamie in private. When she rejoined him, she was shaking her head.

  “I see no signs that the change has taken hold,” she said.

  “The virus may have delayed the process,” Timon said.

  “Or it may have stop
ped it entirely,” Artemis said. “We have no way of knowing until we see how she responds to the light, and even then some of the newly changed maintain tolerance for sunlight for as long as several days.”

  “I’m not letting her go back to the Conclave unless I know she’ll be acknowledged as your vassal,” Timon said.

  “There is one other test,” she said, following him back to Jamie’s side. She knelt and took Jamie’s hand.

  “Jamie, look at me.”

  Jamie turned her head and met Artemis’s eyes.

  “Try to sit up.”

  Using the tree trunk for support, Jamie inched her way into a sitting position without apparent difficulty.

  “Now I would like you to get up, walk over to the river and throw a pebble into it.”

  With a grunt of concentration, Jamie planted her hands on the ground and tried to push herself up. Timon fell to his knees at her side.

  “Are you crazy?” he demanded of Artemis. “She’s in no state to—”

  “I know she isn’t,” Artemis said. “But she would have tried to obey me no matter how difficult it was. She’s become my vassal, Timon.” She smiled at Jamie. “It’s all right. Relax.”

  Easing Jamie back down, Timon hunched over her as if he’d fight Artemis like an animal defending its prey from an interloper. “Don’t do that again,” he said.

  “I don’t intend to. But your question is answered. She may not have visibly changed yet—perhaps she never will, entirely—but she is fully under my protection according to Opir law. No one will be able to touch her without first going through me.”

  Timon exhaled. “Thank you.”

  Artemis rose. “I have spoken to our people,” she said. “They have agreed to assist us in our mission. Now we must make plans.” She looked at Jamie. “Are you feeling well enough to help us?”

  With Timon’s assistance, Jamie sat up again. “I’m ready,” she said.

  A half dozen Freebloods joined Artemis, and they all discussed possible tactics to deal with the Rider guards and hostile Opiri while the Freebloods released the San Francisco delegation, and Jamie and Artemis approached the Committee. When they had made their plans, Timon helped Jamie walk a few steps and allowed her to test her strength. She never mentioned the words she had spoken in her fevered state.

  Timon helped her into a hooded daycoat, and as they rode back to the Freeblood camp, he explained what had happened to her and what they’d discovered about her condition. She accidentally confirmed that she hadn’t changed in essentials when her hood slipped off her head and her horse walked into a patch of bright sunlight. She suffered no ill effects.

  “But I may still change more,” she said. “I feel strong, Timon. And I’m not talking about recovering from my illness. I think I’ll really be able to fight.”

  He dismounted. “Now isn’t the time to test your abilities,” he said.

  Jamie slid out of the saddle and, without warning, charged at Timon. Her technique was awkward, but she managed to land a blow to Timon’s belly and evade his attempts to catch her afterward.

  A little breathless, Timon laughed. He feinted one way, moved in another, and finally caught Jamie in his arms.

  “You’re right,” he said, his face very close to hers. “You are stronger.”

  “Artemis won’t have to protect me,” she said, a hint of defiance in her voice.

  Timon pinned her arms at her sides. “Follow her lead,” he said, well knowing that his stepmother would never let Jamie act recklessly, strong or not. “You won’t have a choice, anyway.”

  “Your stepmother doesn’t underestimate me the way you do.”

  “Underestimate you?” He held her back, his hands softening on her arms. “I’ve never done that, Jamie.”

  “You underestimate both of us,” she said softly.

  Timon let her go. “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  Her expression went blank. “No,” she said. “I certainly don’t crave blood.”

  “Let me know as soon as you feel any kind of hunger or thirst,” he said. He glanced toward Artemis, who was speaking intently with Garret and a group of Freebloods. Beyond them, the others in the band were armed and clearly prepared for a fight.

  “As we agreed,” Timon said, “we’ll be riding among the Freebloods toward the center of the band, so that we can get as close as possible to the encampment without being seen. I’ll break off first and try to get the attention of as many Riders as I can. If Cassius is there, I’ll get him to chase me. Artemis will be with you when the Freebloods attack the Quarantine tent, and you’ll go straight to the Committee. After that, we’ll have to make this up as we go along, but promise me you won’t—”

  “I know. You’ll be the one in the most danger.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it.” He moved his hands, unsure of what to do with them, longing to hold her again. At last he touched the edges of her hood with his fingers and pulled it down a little lower over her face. “Remember, keep this hood up even if the sunlight doesn’t bother you. Even without the physical changes that would mark you as a new Convert, you can pass as one if you behave the right way.”

  “I won’t forget.”

  “Maybe you should share your secret with the Committee. Knowing we all come from the same stock could knock some sense back into both humans and Opiri.”

  “Not yet,” she said. “I’m afraid it’ll make things worse if enough people reject what I have to say. They’ll only have my word for it, Timon.”

  “You still have the research notes that they can read for themselves.”

  “Not when they’re so busy fighting each other,” she said. “We’ll only get one chance.”

  One chance, Timon thought. One chance for so many things. But it wasn’t the time to discuss feelings or a future beyond what the next few hours might hold.

  “I wish—” Jamie began.

  Timon pressed his finger over Jamie’s lips. “You have everything you need to do what has to be done,” he said.

  She wrapped her arms around him fiercely and buried her face in his jacket. “Thank you,” she said.

  “For what?” he asked as he breathed in the warm, earthy scent of her hair.

  Jamie looked up. Timon stared at her lips. A single kiss wouldn’t make promises he might not be able to keep, or claims that she might reject. He lowered his head.

  “Riders!” someone shouted.

  Timon grabbed Jamie’s hand and jogged toward Artemis, who was ready to mount her horse. He helped Jamie into the saddle behind her, and then found Lazarus among the Freebloods who were preparing to mount.

  More than twenty Riders were approaching at a gallop, rifles at the ready. The timing could not have been worse. Timon prepared to break off from the others and face his former Brothers alone, hoping that somehow he could lead them away from any confrontation with the Freebloods.

  But when Orpheus rode to the front of the line of Riders, Timon waved the Freebloods back and went ahead to meet his friend with cautious hope.

  “Timon?” Orpheus called out as Timon approached. “Are you all right?”

  “Were you sent to find Jamie and me?” Timon asked, keeping his distance.

  “In a manner of speaking,” Orpheus said in a dry voice. “But nothing is that clear-cut anymore.”

  “Did Cassius order you to take us prisoner?”

  “If he did, I didn’t hear him,” Orpheus said. “And neither did any of these Riders.” He gestured toward the Freeblood band. “Who are they?”

  “Freeblood travelers on their way to the Conclave,” Timon said.

  “They should turn around and go back the way they came,” Orpheus said.

  “Will you try to stop them?”

  Orpheus looked at Timon through narrowed eyes. “What are y
ou doing with Freebloods?”

  “One of them is my father. We didn’t go looking for them. They found us.”

  “Then you should know the encampment is in virtual chaos. Mobs have taken over the Opiri district, and the Administrative Committee is in protective custody.”

  “Their own idea, or someone else’s?”

  “Cassius...suggested it. He has Rider guards around the tent.”

  “What about Jamie’s people?”

  “Still under guard, as well. They’re being kept with the quarantined humans. They haven’t been given any kind of hearing, but half the camp thinks they’re guilty, and there’s only a handful of Riders protecting them from the mobs.”

  “Where is Cassius?”

  Orpheus’s expression hardened. “He seems to have lost his mind. He doesn’t care about restoring peace. He gives conflicting orders and stands by while fights break out, and he’s away from camp half the time personally hunting down humans who are trying to leave. More Riders are beginning to notice that he’s actively impeding our peacekeeping efforts.”

  “And the Riders with you now?”

  “They doubt that Cassius can continue to lead us. It’s as if he wants the Conclave to fall apart.”

  Timon nodded. “Cassius has thrown away his neutrality, Orpheus. He has hostility toward the San Francisco Enclave that has nothing to do with their possible involvement with the virus.”

  “I believe you,” Orpheus said grimly. “I saw him meeting privately with the Erebusians. He obviously didn’t want anyone to know what he was doing.”

  “Did you actually hear anything?”

  “I couldn’t get close enough. But afterward, I persuaded these men to stand aside and observe before taking any controversial action on Cassius’s orders.”

  “Controversial, as in executing the suspects?”

  “It’s a real possibility. Our people still need a leader, and I’m not the one to fill that role. They’ll hear whatever you have to say.”

  “Will they?” a new voice called. A horseman burst out from among the others, a familiar face bobbing above the horse’s head.

  Cahill. He was disheveled but appeared unhurt.